THG
UNIYeRSITY Of CALIFORNIA
LIBRARY
ON IMITATIVE ART: ITS PRINCIPLES
AND PROGRESS.
ON
IMITATIVE AET
ITS PRINCIPLES AND PROGRESS
WITH
PRELIMINARY REMARKS ON
BEAUTY, SUBLIMITY, AND TASTE.
BY THOMAS H. DYER, LL.D.,
AUTHOR OF "THE CITY OF ROME," "ATHENS," A "HISTORY OF EUROPE,' 1 ETC.
" Nunc celebres in ea arte quam maxima brevitate per curram quondam
vel in transits, et in aliorum mentione, nominasse satis erit." Plin., N. H. }
xxxv., 34.
J I ?: ;
.
CALIFORNIA
LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
COYENT GARDEN.
1882.
[AU rights reserved.']
CHISWICK PRESS : CHARLES >HITTINGHAM AND CO.
r f r r r r r r' r 'T>OKS ovoe, ox-slayer), as
guardian of humanity, whose curse rested on its
violators those who refused the use of fire and
water, to direct those who had lost their way, to aid
the burial of a neglected corpse, in short, to perform
such offices as are comprised in the Christian precept
to do unto others as we would be done by. The
Athenians alone of all the Greeks had erected an altar
to Clemency, as sensible of its need in the vicissitudes
of human life. 1 Instead of the bloody sports of the
arena, which formed the chief delight of the Romans,
in the Grecian festivals ingenuous youths amicably
1 Petit, "Legg. Att.," lib. v., t. ii., 5, &c. ; Plato, " De Legg.," p. 782 c. $
Pausan., i., 28, 11.
GREEK CHEERFULNESS. 41
contended for the simple meed of a laurel wreath.
The additional honour of a statue was allowed at the
expense of the victor's friends, or of the State to which
he belonged. Here was a further encouragement to
Art, and especially in the rules by which such statues
were regulated. They were required to be of ideal
beauty, except in the case of a champion who had been
thrice victorious, when a portrait statue was allowed.
Greek cheerfulness is manifested in many ways.
Although the u Iliad " abounds with scenes of battle
and slaughter, they are rarely T or never, revolting,
and are intermixed with pictures of feasting and
revelry among the immortal gods themselves, who
are sometimes seized with inextinguishable laughter.
No such scene occurs in the u JEneid," nor, I think, in
any other epic poem. The picture in the " Odyssey "
of the infernal regions is almost an Elysium in com-
parison with the Christian hell. Attic tragedy was
naturally more severe. But even here murder and
death were forbidden to be shown on the stage; and
the poets who contended for the dramatic prize were
obliged to add to their tragic trilogy a satiric play, in
which the tricks and humours of the Bacchanal crew
relieved the minds of the spectators from too sorrowful
a tension. The terrible Furies were converted into
venerable and benign goddesses, and were represented
in Art of beautiful aspect. Even Medusa's petrifying
head wanted not a certain beauty. Death was personified
not, as with us, by a hideous skeleton, but as the gentle
twin brother of Sleep, and so far from terrible that
statues of him have sometimes been mistaken by
modern critics for Eros, or Cupid. The brothers
closely resembled each other. 1 There is in the Louvre
1 A statue of one in the Uffizi at dito," No. 320,) has been wrongly re-
Florence (" Gabinetto dell' Ermafro- stored as Eros. Instead of a bow, h
42 GEEEK BEAUTY.
(No. 493) a charming statue of Death, or the Genius of
Eternal Repose, 1 which, though of Roman execution,
was doubtless taken from a Grecian model. A beauti-
ful youth, crowned with poppies, leans against the
trunk of a tree ; his hair descends in flowing curls, his
arms are crossed over his head, his sweet and somewhat
feminine features seem relaxing into a gentle sleep.
It may be observed that his legs are crossed, in which
position both brothers were represented in order to
denote repose. When Hera would persuade Sleep to
visit Zeus, she promises him a throne made by He-
phaestus, with a footstool for his feet, 2 doubtless be-
cause he made but little use of them.
As the ideal world of the Greeks thus abounded with
images of dignity and beauty, so the real world also
presented the same ideas incorporated. In physical
beauty the Greek race has probably never been
equalled. Adamantius, who wrote at the beginning of
the fifth century, has described its characteristic
qualities before they were debased by barbarian mix-
ture. A physician by profession, Adamantius was
well qualified to observe and appreciate peculiarities of
physiognomy and form ; and his curiosity had led him
to consult earlier writers on the subject, as Polernon
and others. The Hellenic and Ionic races, where their
purity had been preserved, were in stature rather tall,
should have held the horn of dreams, Lessing's difficulty arose from a mis-
or a torch reversed. Pausanias's de- translation.
scription of the twins has been sometimes J It is called Death in the Louvre
misunderstood (v. 18). Lessing, in his Catalogue, but, as there are no attri-
treatise, " How the ancients represented butes, it might equally be Sleep. In
Death," observes that it is not clear the chest of Cypselus, which Pausanias
from his words which was the white one describes, the brothers were distin-
and which the black (" Prose Works," p. guished by their colour ; but this is not
221, Bell and Sons). Yet it is plain to be regarded as a rule. Horace speaks
enough that the white boy is Sleep ; oipallida Mors.
for he was really asleep, whilst the 2 " Iliad," xiv. 240.
other, Death, only seemed to be so.
MODE OF WEARING THE HAIR. 43
broad-chested, well-built; the head was of middling
size and round, the neck robust, the legs were straight,
the extremities finely moulded. The somewhat square
face was characterized by the unbroken line formed by
the forehead and nose, the cheeks retired from the chin
with a gently-rounded surface, the forehead was low
arid but slightly curved, protuberances over the inner
angles of the brows marked the stronger characters.
The nose was perfectly straight, the upper eyelid
projected sharply, the inner part of the eye was deeply
set, the ears were beautifully formed. A striking
feature was the round and nobly-moulded chin, some-
times, but rarely, indented with a dimple. The lips
were thin, but the mouth had a sweet expression. The
eyes, full of light, were at once moist and vivid ; the com-
plexion inclined to the fair, and the hair was yellow. 1
This description must apply to a handsome Greek
ephebus, and its general truth is attested by the statues
that have come down to us. Finer models it was
impossible to have. The females partook the general
character, with the natural differences of sex. A
distinction among men was the mode of wearing the
hair. In ancient times long locks (fioaTpvyoi) were
usually worn by youths. Orestes is described in the
u Electra " of Euripides, 2 as cutting them off at his
father's tomb, and the old man who finds them advises
Electra to compare them with her own ; for in children
of the same father it was natural that both should be
yellow. This coloured hair seems to have been pre-
valent with the well-born, and eulogies of it are often
found in the ancient poets. Sculptors denoted the
colour of hair by the way in which they executed it.
Mengs, the friend and sometimes the instructor of
1 Adamantius, ap. Miiller, " Archaeol.," p. 473.
3 Ver. 515 seq.
44 HOW PHEIDIAS FOUND SCULPTURE.
Winckelmann, observes that black hair is shown rough,
as in the heads of Zeus, whilst light hair is smoothly
wrought, as in statues of Dionysus, Aphrodite arid
Apollo. 1 In the "Bacchae" of Euripides Pentheus
remarks that the flowing locks of Dionysus were meant
to recommend him to the female sex. 3 Among the
more ancient Athenians, it was customary to gather
the hair into the Ionic crobylus (/c/owjSuAoc), or top-knot,
as we see in statues of Apollo, Eros, Artemis, etc.
But the youthful athletes and gymnasts wore it cropped
and slightly curled, like that of Hermes. The stiff and
formal rows of curls seen in archaic statues are Doric.
Eyebrows that met together seem sometimes to have
been admired, as those of Antinous, but occur not in
ideal Greek statues of the earlier period. Philostratus
regards them as an agreeable trait in Rhodogyne, but
still more so their arched form. 3 She also had hair
more yellow than gold, and if her brows were of the
same colour, they would not have had that somewhat
repulsive effect of meeting black ones. The beard, its
more or less volume, or its absence, was also of course
a distinctive mark of age and character.
In the youth of Pheidias sculpture had reached a
point which needed only the hand of genius to perfect
it. In what state he found it may be seen by many
examples still extant. Among the best are the pedimeii-
tal statues found at the temple of Athena, sometimes
styled of Zeus Panhellenius, in the island of JEgina. 4
The original remains, restored by Thorwaldsen, are now
in the Glyptoihek at Munich ; a collection which, though
inferior to our own in the value of its contents, is
1 '*Opere," t. ii.j p. 27, natica," and Thiersch in his "Amal-
a Ver. 453 seq. thsea." Drawings by Cockerell in the
3 "Imagines," p. 817 (ed. Jacobi, "Journal of Science and Art," copied
p. 60). in Miiller's " Denkn.aler," B. i. There
4 Described by Miiller in his ".ZEgi- are casts in the British Museum.
^EGINETAN SCULPTURE. 45
admirably arranged to display the progress of sculpture.
The .'Eginetan temple appears to have been built soon
after the Persian wars, or about B.C. 480, and conse-
quently in the generation immediately preceding that
of Pheidias. Both pediments represented combats
under the presidence and conduct of Athena, whose
statue occupied the middle space. The figures of the
western pediment are best preserved, and are supposed
to represent the fight of the Greeks and Trojans for
the body of Patroclus, whilst the eastern one showed a
like struggle over the fallen Oikles. The statues are
under life-size, that of Athena, the largest, being only
five feet nine and a half inches high ; but for finish and
delicacy of execution they are among the finest of the
period. Their distinguishing character is truth to
nature. The muscles, bones, and joints are strongly
and correctly marked, the gestures are animated and
varied, but the outlines are hard and angular. We
should look in vain for the ideal beauty before de-
cribed. The heads are characterized by a retreating
forehead, pointed nose, long flat eyes, flat cheeks,
angular and strongly-marked chin, and high-placed
ears. But the most remarkable characteristic is the
expression of the faces, or rather the want of it.
Although the struggle is a life and death one, they
have nothing ferocious ; on the contrary, they wear
that complacent, one might say insipid, smile, which
seems in general to characterize early Greek art. In
one of the metopes of the temple at Selinus, which was
about a century older, this trait, perhaps from want of
technical skill in the sculptor, becomes absolute
caricature. Perseus, with a smile of satisfaction, is
cutting off Medusa's head, whose enormous mouth
wears a grin which would be hideous were it not
ludicrous. In the .zEginetan sculptures the arrange-
46 THE THESEUM.
rnent of the hair, and of what little drapery there is,
is stiff and formal. There are traces of colour, and
holes in the marble show that weapons and other
objects in metal were originally attached to the statues.
The sculptures on the temple erroneously called
Theseum, at Athens, show an equally, or perhaps more,
advanced stage of Art. Liibke, indeed, attributes them
to Myron, which would make them later than Pheidias ;
but it is difficult to reconcile that opinion with his view,
probably a correct one, that the temple is of the age of
Kimon. Its history, however, is involved in obscurity.
The sculptures which adorned the pediments, if they
ever existed, have disappeared. The friezes at the pro-
naos and posticus are the earliest extant examples of
that kind of sculpture. The former appears to represent
the battle of the gods and giants; the latter, the com-
bats of Kentaurs and the Lapithaa. These are executed
with great freedom and animation. The metopes are
sadly mutilated. The subjects of those of the eastern
front are the labours of Heracles; those which adorn
each side of the temple at its eastern end represent the
exploits of Theseus, and it is from these that the temple
has got its current name.
Another example of this, or, perhaps, a rather earlier
period, is the large triangular pedestalin the Louvre com-
monly called the Altar of the Twelve Gods, but which,
no doubt, was the basis of a tripod. The three sides
are covered with sculptures in low relief. In the three
upper compartments are represented the twelve greater
gods; in those beneath, on a larger scale, are the three
Charities, or Graces ; the three Horw or Seasons ; and the
three Eumenides or Furies. 1 Miiller thinks the work may
be a copy from the Altar of the Twelve Gods, erected by
the Peisistratidae about Olympiad 64 (B.C. 524). Thestyle
1 Engraved in Miiller's u Denkmaler," pi. xx., xxi. * Ibid., xii.. xiii.
HIERATIC SCULPTURE. 47
of the figures, their pose, the symmetrical folds of the
drapery, the formal arrangement of the hair and beard,
are archaic ; but the freedom and grace of the attitudes
show a great advance in Art ; whence some critics have
conjectured that they are a later copy from some antique
monument; an opinion which strengthens Miiller's
view. For this archaic style, called also the hieratic,
because sculpture was principally employed in adorning
temples, was adopted for that purpose after sculpture
had attained to greater perfection. Sacerdotalism is
averse from change, and the same custom will be
observed in the history of Italian Art. The Pompeian
Artemis in the Neapolitan Museum is a good example
of it. The style of the statue is archaic; the hair and
drapery are stiff and formal ; but the general freedom
of the execution shows that it belongs to a later period
than these traits would seem to indicate. It is also
valuable as an example of circumlitio, or painting. When
found, the colours were quite fresh, and it still bears
traces of gilding. Of the style of Canachus there is a
specimen in the bronze Apollo in the British Museum.
The relief of Castor taming a horse, in the same col-
lection, is probably a copy from an original of the same
age, and shows a near approach to the vigour and
freedom of the Parthenon frieze.
The so-called Harpy monument in the British
Museum is another example of the Art of this period.
Also the relief of the Marathonian hoplite Aristion, at
present kept in the Theseum at Athens. As it must
have been executed soon after the battle of Marathon,
B.C. 490, a date with which the characters of the inscrip-
tion agree, it may be regarded as an undoubted work
of the generation immediately preceding Pheidias.
The sepulchral stele on which it is sculptured, besides
the name of Aristion bears also that of the sculptor,
48 STELE OF ARISTION.
Aristocles. It is a flat marble column about seven feet
high and one and a-half broad, but tapering towards the
top. The figure, being of large life-size, pretty well
fills it, and represents in profile, with the rigidity of
the period, a warrior in complete armour with a larico
in his hand. 1 Traces of colour are still visible. It
may be observed that there are several faults in this
figure. The thighs are disproportionately large; the
hand is badly executed, and though the figure is in
profile, the full eye is shown, in the Egyptian and
antique Grecian manner. Hence it may, perhaps, be
inferred that sculpture had not yet made such progress
a,t Athens as in others parts of Greece, especially Argos
and Sicyon. This view gains probability from the fact
that Pheidias, though an Athenian, took not a fellow-
countryman for his master, but became the pupil of
Ageladas of Argos. We need only compare this monu-
ment with the tomb of Teisander, erected B.C. 414,
discovered at Athens a few years ago, to perceive what
influence Pheidias had exercised on Art. The men and
horse sculptured on this tomb might almost be worthy
of a place in the frieze of the Parthenon. 2
The above examples may serve to show the state
of sculpture when Pheidias began his career. Con-
siderable technical perfection had been attained; the
human form was pretty correctly shown, but in a
realistic style and deficient in ideal beauty and grandeur.
Hegias, or Hegesias, who initiated Pheidias in the rudi-
ments of the Art, and his contemporaries at Athens,
Critios and Nesiotes, are described by Lucian 3 as having
had a correct but stiff and formal style, which, we may
1 See the coloured plate in Rangabd, 2 Engraved in Dyer's " Athens," p.
" Ant. Hell.," t. i. (end). Also the en- 497.
graving in Overbeck, " Gesch. der Plas- 3 " Rhetor. Prsecept.," 9.
tik,"B. i., S. 140.
AGELADAS AND HIS PUPILS. 49
conclude, very much resembled that of the JEginetan
marbles. Critios and Nesiotes made statues of Har-
modius and Aristogeiton to replace those which had
been carried off by the Persians. Of these some copies
are still extant, that in the Neapolitan Museum being
considered the best. But the history of the group,
which appears to have been in bronze, is so obscure
that the marble copy at Naples can hardly be regarded
as a safe criterion of the Art of the period.
As already intimated, Pheidias, dissatisfied with his
Athenian master, sought instruction from the Argive
Ageladas, of whom Polycleitus and Myron were also
pupils. But that sculptor, as Overbeck remarks,
seems not to have had genius enough to found a school ;
for his three pupils, each eminent in his way, are dis-
similar in style, and show no traces of a common
teaching. It is probable that Pheidias acquired from
Ageladas somewhat more correctness and a great deal
more freedom than he could have learnt at Athens ; his
grandeur was the product of his own genius. He
endowed these realistic figures with ideal beauty, and
animated the lifeless stone with an apparent soul;
qualities which seem riot to have been inspired by
Ageladas, for they are not found in Polycleitus and
Myron.
It is unnecessary to dwell upon the style of Pheidias.
It is, perhaps, better known and more readily dis-
tinguished than that of any other ancient sculptor,
both from its singular grandeur and from considerable
specimens of it being still extant. A visit to the
British Museum will convey a better idea of it than
any description. It should be noted, however, that the
works of Pheidias were far too numerous to have been
executed by his own hand. The Parthenon was com-
pleted in a few years, and how should a single workman,
E
50 AGOKACRITUS AND ALCAMENES.
sometimes employed also by foreign States, have exe-
cuted all the sculptures which adorned it ? It is
probable that in most cases he gave only the designs,
and put the finishing hand to the most important of
them. He presided over a large school of able pupils,
whose names will be found recorded in the histories
of Art.
Pheidias died imprisoned on charges of peculation
and impiety, falsely made for political purposes, in
B.C. 432, at about the age of fifty-six. .The lives of men
of genius have often been unhappy ; but that so great
an artist, who had done his country immortal honour,
should have thus ignominiously perished is, perhaps,
unparalleled in the annals of misfortune. His two most
distinguished pupils, Agoracritus and Alcamenes, con-
tended for the execution of a statue of Aphrodite to be
placed in the gardens just outside the walls of Athens.
Alcamenes is said to have carried off the prize, not so
much by the merit of his work as from his being an
Athenian by birth. 1 However this may be, it cannot be
doubted that beauty was the forte of Alcamenes .
Pheidias is said to have put the last hand to his
Aphrodite, which was a model of female loveliness.
Alcamenes even gave a certain grace to a statue of
Hephaestus by representing his lameness in a way that
almost concealed it. Thus, even in the first Attic
school the transition was already preparing from the
grand to the beautiful. It may, indeed, be doubted
whether the different Grecian schools are to be sepa-
rated by the hard and fast lines laid down by some
systematizing writers. The grandeur which is said to
have characterized the first school seems to have existed,
in any eminent degree, only in the works of Pheidias.
This school embraced all the subjects found in later
1 Plin., " N. H.," xxxvi., 4, 3.
CHARACTER OF FIRST ATTIC SCHOOL. 51
Art, and ranged from the sublimity of gods and heroes
to the common place of atheletes and portraits, and from
the tragic and pathetic to the trivial incidents of
domestic life. Thus Polycleitus took for a subject two
naked boys playing at dice, and Myron the pristce, or
sawyers. This last artist was celebrated for his repre-
sentations of animals. His cow became the theme of
several poets, and his oxen were thought worthy of a
place in the temple of the Palatine Apollo. But this is
hardly a high walk of Art. His gods seem to have been
wanting in majesty, his heroes had little dignity or
expression, and were remarkable only for the lifelike
rendering of the body. A celebrated work of his was
a statue of the Argive runner Ladas, who gained the
prize at Olympia, but died in consequence of his exer-
tions. He seemed to be in the act of springing to
seize the prize, whilst the last breath of his exhausted
lungs fluttered on his lips. 1 We are thought to possess
several copies of his Discobolus, or quoit- thrower*
One in the Villa Massimi at Rome, and another in the
Vatican, differ only in the position of the head. In
that in the Vatican, the head is inclined downwards,
and the player seems intent on the direction of his cast.
In the other statue the head is turned upwards towards
the right shoulder and the quoit, as if putting forth all
his strength in the throw. The latter is undoubtedly
nearer to the original ; for Lucian, on whose authority
it is attributed to Myron, describes it in such an atti-
tude, and graphically remarks that the player seems
about to throw himself with the quoit. 2 Its originality
is also attested by Quintilian, who calls it " elaborately
distorted ; " but he questions whether one who should
condemn it on that account would not be but a poor
judge of Art, since it might claim a high plac.e for its
1 Pausamas> iii., 21-, 1. 2 " Pkilopseudes," 18.
52 POLYCLEITTJS.
novelty and difficulty. 1 The head of the Vatican copy,
and of another similar one in the British Museum, seems
to be no restoration, but part of the original work;
which may serve to show what may be seen in other
instances, that copyists both of statues and pictures
occasionally took liberties with the originals. It may
be possible, however, that the artist himself sometimes
made alterations in a replica.
Polycleitus, who has been placed by several ancient
writers in the first rank of sculptors, often took his
subjects from common life. Xenophon put him on a
level with Homer and Sophocles as poets, and with
Xeuxis as a painter; 2 and Cicero was of opinion that he
reached perfection. 3 But a later and more fastidious
school discovered that while in the beauty of the human
form he improved upon nature, he failed to give majesty
and authority to the gods. 4 The statue called the
Diadumenos, a youth binding his head with a fillet,
formerly in the Villa Farnese at Rome, and now in
the British Museum, is thought to be a copy from
Polycleitus. 5 Another celebrated statue of his was
the Doryphoros, spear-bearer, or guardsman, which from
its admirable proportions was esteemed a canon of the
youthful manly form. 6 We probably possesss several
copies of this; one in the first corridor of the Uffizi
at Florence; another in the Palazzo Pitti ; one, much
mutilated in the Braccio Nuovo of the Vatican ; and a
fourth at Naples, in the third portico of the Museum.
His Apoxyoinenos, or athlete scraping himself with a
strigil, may probably have been the model of that
attributed to Lysippus.
Even Pheidias disdained not to enter into competi-
1 " Instit," ii., 13. 4 Quint,, ibid., xii., 10, 7.
2 <; Memor.," i., 4, 3. 5 Lucian, loc. cit.
3 u Brutus," 18, 70. e Idem., " De Saltat.," 75.
CRESILAS. 53
tion in this more familiar style with artists who prin-
cipally excelled in it. He contended with Polycleitus
and four other sculptors for the statue of an Amazon,
to be placed in the temple of the Ephesian Diana. The
palm was adj udged to Polycleitus ; Pheidias took the
second place, Cresilas the third. 1 Such a result con-
veys a high opinion of the merit of Polycleitus in the
more realistic style. We are thought to have copies of
these works in three statues which, with certain diffe-
rences of attitude, &c., are so similar in size, general
style, dress, and motive, as to suggest a great pro-
bability that they were executed in competition for a
given subject. The only one, however, which can be
referred to its author with tolerable certainty is the
wounded Amazon in the Capitoline Museum, as Pliny
describes that of Cresilas to have been so represented. 2
The Amazon of Pheidias was resting on her lance; 3
whence it has been thought that the statue in the
Vatican, with the right arm raised above the head, may
be a copy from it. She is shown on a gem in the same
attitude, but with the addition of the lance, which she
grasps with both hands. The Amazon in the Braccio
Nuovo, showing her wearied and exhausted, the right arm
resting on her head, is supposed to represent the
original by Polycleitus ; but the authority for this view
is but small. 4
Cresilas seems to have been fond of taking wounded
or dying persons for his subjects. Pliny describes a
statue by him of a man dying of his wounds, so admi-
rably executed that one might reckon how much breath
was left him ; 5 a description which would suit the
1 Plin., " N. H.," xxxiv., 19. Plastik," B. ii., S. 346. But the en-
2 Ibid., 15. graving of that attributed to Polycleitus
3 Lucian, " Imagg.," 4. is from a bronze statuette at Florence,
4 For descriptions and engravings of and not from the marble statue in the
these statues see Overbeck, " Gesch. der Vatican. * " N. H.," xxxiv., 19, 14.
54 STATUE OF DIITREPHES.
Dying Gaul of the Capitol; a work, however, probably
two or three centuries later. There was discovered on
the Athenian Acropolis, long before the German excava-
tions were begun, the basis of a statue with an inscrip-
tion purporting that it was erected in honour of
Diitrephes by his son Hermolycus, and that it was made
by Cresilas. Pausanias, with that accuracy which all
who have had occasion to follow him must have
observed and admired, records the existence of such a
statue at the exact spot where the base was found, and
says that it was a bronze portrait statue (ILKUV) of
Diitrephes pierced with arrows. 1 He appears to have
met such a death at the hands of Boeotians in B.C. 414,
and Pausanias expresses surprise at the manner of it;
as no Greeks, except Cretans, used the bow. But
Cresilas was a native of Cydonia in Crete, and may
have adopted the weapon most familiar to him. The
characters of the inscription agree with the date
assigned for his death, which shows that Cresilas must
have been a younger contemporary of Pheidias. Such
painful subjects were not uncommon in the first period
of really classical Art. The Philoctetes by Pythagoras
of Rhegium may be cited as another instance ; in which
the pain of his ulcered foot was so accurately rendered
that the spectators themselves seemed to feel it. 2
The progress of painting is more obscure than that
of sculpture, not only because there are no remains of it
in its earlier stages, but also because its history is
defective, as the Greeks did not treat of it till long
after they had written on sculpture. Nevertheless, two
facts seem to stand out distinctly : first, that it had a
very early origin ; second, that it was not subservient
to religion, but to civil and political life.
Drawing necessarily preceded painting. It must
1 Lib. i., 23, 3. a Plin., xxxiv., 59.
ORIGIN OF PAINTING. 55
have been known in the age of Homer, as is plain from
his description of the shield of Achilles. Yet that
poet mentions not coloured drawings, or pictures,
though paint was then used in adorning ships. Ac-
cording to Pliny, the first drawing was made by
tracing round a shadow cast on a wall. The story
runs that the daughter of Butades, a Sicyonian potter,
being enamoured of a youth who was going abroad,
drew lines round the shadow of his face thrown on the
wall by a lanthorn. Her father made a copy in baked
clay, which was preserved in the Nymphgeum at Corinth
till that city was taken by Mummius. 1 Se non e vero k
ben trovato. The Sicyonian Telephanes and the Co-
rinthian Aridices are said to have first made other lines
within an outline, showing apparently the joints and
muscles. 2 Cimon of Cleonae, whose age is uncertain,
drew his figures looking backwards, upwards, or down-
wards; before which alteration there could hardly
have been a proper picture. He also showed the
joints and veins, and the folds in drapery. 3 The first
attempt at painting seems to have been in monochrome.
The Corinthian Ecphantes first used colours, made by
grinding a shell or a piece of pottery. That the Greeks
learnt colouring from the Egyptians is, probably, a
story arising from the tendency to ascribe to imitation
what were, probably, independent inventions.
The antiquity of painting is attested by some well-
authenticated accounts. We learn from Pliny that in
his time some temple paintings still existed at Ardeae
which must have been older than the reputed founda-
tion of Rome ; and that there were also at Lanuvium
two figures of Atalanta and Helena which the Emperor
Caligula had tried to remove as much for their beauty
as their antiquity. 4 Candaules, King of Lydia, who
1 Plin., " N.H.," xxxv., 43. 3 Ibid., 15. 3 Ibid., 34. Ibid., 6.
56 POLYGNOTUS.
was about contemporary with the date assigned to
Romulus, paid with its weight in gold a picture by
Bularchus of a battle of the Magnesians. 1 Cleanthes,
and Aregon of Corinth seem to have been among the
first to paint compositions with many figures; but
their date is unknown. They adorned the temple of
Alphsea, near Olympia, with pictures of the taking of
Troy, the birth of Athena, and of Artemis borne on a
Gryps. 2 Samos and Thasos appear to have had famous
schools of painting. Mandrocles, a Samian, painted
the Persian army passing the bridge over the Bosporos. 3
Calliphon, also a Samian, painted the combat of Ajax
and Hector with an Eris of dreadful aspect standing
between them. Also in the temple of Artemis, at
Ephesus, the fight at the Grecian ships. 4 Such pictures
must necessarily have contained a great many figures.
Aristides, a later artist, painted for Mnason, tyrant of
Elateia, a battle with 100 combatants. It may be
doubted whether any modern picture, even Raphael's
fresco of the battle of Maxentius, contains so many.
But the greatest artist of the Thasian school, and
indeed one of the most eminent of all antiquity, was
Polygnotus. His father and instructor, Aglaophon,
was also a famous artist; from whom he learnt that
simple mode of colouring which, down to the time of
Quintilian, 5 was preferred by some amateurs to all the
gorgeousness of the greatest subsequent painters. He
used, like Zeuxis and Timanthes afterwards, only
four colours, and the chief beauty of his pieces lay in
the drawing. 6 Polygnotus flourished in the time of the
Athenian Kimon, with whose sister, Elpinike, he was in
love. In the picture of the taking of Troy, which he
1 Plin., " N. H.," xxxv., 34. 5 "Instil.," xii., 10, 3.
Strabo, viii., 343. 6 Cic., Brut.," 18, 70 ; Plut., " Def.
3 Herod., iv. , 88. Or.," 47.
* Pausan., v., 19, 1.
THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 57
painted for the Pcekil'e at Athens, he gave Laodike the
features of Elpinike. He painted in encaustic, and
all his pictures were on a large scale. He gave his
figures an ideal beauty, but accompanied with ex-
pression. He was the first to open their mouths and
show the teeth, thus varying the ancient stiffness, and
by other alterations obtained that pathos for which he
was famous. He also departed from the rigidity of his
predecessors by introducing greater variety of attitude,
and was the first to paint women with transparent
garments. 1 Painting, however, was still very far from
technical perfection, especially in the article of per-
spective.
The above sketches of the progress of Grecian art
may for the present suffice to show under what
influences, moral, political, and religious, sculpture and
painting were developed. It will be seen that sculp-
ture, though originating in religion and always one of
its handmaids, was yet not so restricted to it as to be
unable, even in its earlier days, to apply itself to
profane subjects ; that it sought the beautiful and the
majestic, rather than the terrible and revolting; whilst
painting, but little subservient to religious purposes,
delighted chiefly in depicting the great events of
history. I will now turn to consider with like brevity
the progress of the same arts in what is called the
Italian Renaissance.
Italy at the revival of Art, like Greece at its birth,
was divided into many little independent States, in
which political passions, and perhaps also the arts of
government, are carried to a higher pitch than in large
ones. But though resembling in this respect, there
was an essential difference in the way in which these
States had originated. In Greece they were the
1 Plut., Cim.," 4 ; Plin., " N. H.," xxxv., 35 5 Lucian., " Imagg.," 7, &c.
58 STATE OF ITALY.
offspring of a new civilization, in Italy of an ancient
one that had been in great part destroyed ; the shattered
remnants of a mighty Empire, striving for a new and
substantive existence. Hence their respective tradi-
tions could hardly be more dissimilar. The nature of
those of Greece has been already indicated. There
history, in its proper sense, was unknown, and its
place was supplied by mythical and semi-fabulous
traditions, for the most part handed down and em-
bellished by poets. They showed gods contending
among themselves, or with monstrous and gigantic
broods of earth, for supremacy. Demi-gods and heroes
did superhuman deeds in curbing the devastating
powers of nature, in chastising the insolence and
tyranny of oppressors, in founding cities and preparing
the way for civilization and order. The history
of the Italian States, on the contrary, was but a too
well-known matter of fact. The Italians felt that they
were the descendants of a people-king, and that their
little territories were but specks in that vast empire
whose boundaries had once been commensurate with
the known world. There was nothing to excite
national pride, nothing to stir the imagination with
glorious recollections. Whilst Greece had gathered
fresh strength and glory from the overthrow of a bar-
barian invader, Italy had succumbed to the northern
spoiler, and after the lapse of ages was only beginning
to recover from a shock which had overthrown her
civilization and her arts, had changed her manners and
even her tongue. Many of her leading spirits were
filled with the desire of restoring a semblance, at least,
of her ancient glory by reuniting their country under
that phantom of an Empire, restored by Charlemagne,
which still subsisted in Germany. But another power
had arisen whose rule was over the minds of men, and
GUELFS AND GHIBELLINES. 59
used it as an engine to seize also the temporal power
of the Caesars. The Popes had joined the sword with
the pastoral crook, which being both in one hand no
longer respected each other. A monstrous alliance,
destined to produce unnumbered ills, and instead of
elevating, to disgrace and befoul the Church and her
vocation :
" Di oggimai che la Chiesa di Roma
Per confondere in se duo reggimenti
Cade nel fango, e se brutta e la soma." l
All Italy was split into partisans of Pope or Emperor,
Guelfs or Ghibellines, watchwords which augmented
and embittered the factions and jealousies with which
her cities were filled through their own rivalries and
ambition. Terrible is the picture which Dante draws
of his country in the sixth canto of his " Purgatory " :
" Enslaved Italy, abode of sorrow, tempest-tost and
pilotless ship, no longer Queen of provinces, but a
brothel! The bare name of a common country had
moved the shades of Virgil and the Mantuan poet,
Sordello, to a cordial greeting ; 2 but now there is no-
thing but hatred and war even among those who dwell
within the same walls. Look around thee, Wretch,
from thy shores to thy very heart, where wilt thou
find peace? In vain Justinian gave thee a bridle, for
the saddle is empty : thy shame had been less without
it. Oh sacerdotal tribe that should'st be devout if thou
understood'st the word of God, let Caesar bestride the
saddle. See, when the hand is laid on the bridle how
proud and restive the beast is, for want of the spur ! "
Then, after an angry apostrophe to the Emperor
Albert, invoking a curse on him and his posterity for
abandoning Italy, Dante invites him to cure her ills by
1 Dante, " Purgatorio," xvi., 127. Sordello was a Trovatare; perhaps, also,
8 He had just recorded their meeting. Podesta of Mantua.
60 DANTE'S APOSTROPHE TO FLORENCE.
visiting Rome, a lone widow calling on him day and
night. u If thou hast no pity for us, blush at least for
thy fame ! The cities of Italy are filled with tyrants,
every clown who can gather a party becomes a Mar-
cellus." The poet then addresses his native city in a
bitter and ironical apostrophe : " My Florence, content
thee with this discourse, it touches thee not, thanks to
thy wise and reasoning people ! Many love justice at
heart, and all have it on their lips ; but her arrow is
slow of flight, for much is the talk before fitting it to the
bow. Many shirk the public burthens, but thy people
waits not to be called, and cries, ' Behold my back/
Therefore be joyful, for thou hast cause ; thou art rich,
at peace, and full of understanding; just look, now,
whether thy condition proves not my words. Athens
and Sparta, who of old gave the law, who were so
civilized, made but poor attempts at a well-ordered life
in comparison with thee ; whose ordinances are so subtle
and so wise that what thou weavest in October lasts
not till the middle of November ! How often in thy
remembrance hast thou changed thy laws, thy currency,
thy office-bearers, and even thy constitution ! If thy
memory and thine eye-sight be good, thou wilt see thy
likeness in a sick woman, who finds no repose on her
bed, and strives to lighten her pain by constant change
of posture."
Again, in the 15th Canto of the " Paradiso," Dante
contrasts the state of Florence when bounded by the
first circle of walls, 1 to that which it presented in his
time. Then the women were chaste, unpainted, con-
tent with modest apparel; the birth of a daughter
alarmed not the father with thoughts about her dowry.
1 These ran near the Sadia, from of Dante may still be seen near the
which the hours terza and nona were Abbey,
still sounded (Ibid., v., 98). The house
PROGRESS OF FLORENCE. 61
One took care of the cradle and soothed the infant with
her songs; another, whilst she spun, talked with her
family of the Trojans, of Fiesole and Rome. It would
have been as great a marvel then to see a Cianghella, or
a Lapo Salterello, 1 as it would be now to meet there a
Cincinnatus or a Cornelia.
But in spite of Dante's irony, for which, however on
the whole well founded, allowance must be made as the
outpouring of a soul embittered by misfortune and
exile, great progress had been made at Florence, which
was on the eve of becoming the mother of Italian art
and literature. The castles and towers of the feudal
nobles, whose quarrels had filled the city with dis-
turbance and alarm, had in great part been reduced
and wholly or partially destroyed ; their owners, thus
compelled to become peaceable citizens, even enrolled
themselves sometimes in the trade-guilds. Some
remains may still be seen at Florence of their lofty
and prison-like towers, whence they would issue forth
with their followers to fill the streets with slaughter
and blood. The establishment of the guilds, or Arts,
which became an integral part of the constitution,
shows what progress had been made not only in
democracy, but also in wealth and commerce. Florence
had so much increased in extent that in 1285 it was
found necessary to build a third and more extensive
circle of walls. Within, magnificent churches and
other public buildings were rising. In 1294, the
Commune employed Arnolfo di Cambio, or di Lapo, to
make designs for the church of Sta. Reparata, which
afterwards, under the name of Sta. Maria del Fiore,
became the present cathedral. No expense was spared
on the building: Arnolfo was authorized to make a
handsomer and more magnificent temple than any to
1 A woman and man of Dante's time, infamous for their pride and vice.
62 PROGRESS THROUGHOUT ITALY.
be found in Tuscany. 1 Dante took great interest in
this building, the Campanile of which was designed by
his friend Giotto, the artist. An inscribed stone still
marks the spot where the poet is said to have sat and
watched its progress. Other famous churches arose
at the same epoch; as Orsanmichele, Santo Spirito,
Santa Croce, Santa Maria Novella, and others.
The movement, however, was not confined to Flo-
rence : it was general throughout Tuscany, and indeed
the greater part of Italy, and had had in several cities
an earlier beginning. The cathedral at Lucca, once
the leading Tuscan city, had been founded in 1060;
that of Pisa in 1063, though it was not consecrated till
1118. Some years later the Baptistery and Campanile,
or Leaning Tower, were erected; but it was not till
1278 that the Campo Santo was begun. Thus the
Pisans, who by their maritime commerce were in those
days far superior to Florence in wealth and power, so
that the Florentines were sometimes obliged to render
them the homage and aid of humble and subservient
allies, had taken precedence of them by more than a
century in adorning their city with magnificent build-
ings and temples. The Duomo of Siena also arose
somewhat earlier than that of Florence, and its
artists have laid claim to priority in releasing Art in
some degree from the shackles and conventionalism of
the middle ages. But the glory of these towns was
doomed to pale before the rising splendour of Florence,
which eventually became politically the leading State
in Tuscany, and also the true centre of Art. The very
versatility with which Dante justly brands her, was the
outcome of her stirring genius ; which must also have
been sharpened by the forensic disputes engendered by
1 " Venustiusethonorabilius templum Decree, ap. Reumont, " Tavole Crono-
aliquo alio quod sit in partibus Tuscite" logiche," anno 1299.
EARLY ITALIAN LITERATURE. 63
her constitution. The instructions about the cathedral
before alluded to show that she had been piqued and
excited by the example of neighbouring cities, and that
she was determined to outstrip them in the splendour
of her public buildings. And it was these which gave
direct encouragement to Art, by requiring the aid of
the painter to adorn their walls, and offering abundant
space for his most ambitious efforts.
Thus Art began to flourish both at Athens and
Florence when those cities had attained a considerable
degree of wealth and civilization, when religion de-
manded her services, and when literature, her constant
companion, was making rapid strides. The previous
indigenous literature of Italy, if such it can be called,
had consisted almost entirely of ecclesiastical or
monkish legends, far inferior in beauty to those of
pagan mythology, though excelling them in extrava-
gance. But a better time was now approaching.
Thomas Aquinas, the greatest philosopher as well as
theologian of the middle ages, died in Dante's boyhood;
Brunetto Latini, one of the most learned men of the
time, was Dante's tutor. Historical literature was
initiated by the contemporary chroniclers, Ricordano
Malespini and Giovanni Villani. The " Cento Novelle "
still hold a place among works of the imagination, and
several no mean poets were Dante's contemporaries; as
the Mantuan Sordello, already mentioned, Guittone
d'Arezzo, Guido Cavalcanti, Dante's intimate friend,
and several more Florentine writers. But it was the
u Divina Commedia " that stamped the epoch, and
became the great Italian epos as the u Iliad " was that of
the Greeks. Between the two poems how wide the
chasm! They resemble each other only in one par-
ticular, that both are for the most part carried on in
action, and hence in great part the spell which they
64 THE DIVINA COMMEDTA.
cast upon the reader. Aristotle likened the " Iliad "
to a drama, and Dante called his poem a "Commedia,"
as showing the great drama which contains all the rest
the whole fate of man and his final punishment in
hell or beatitude in heaven. This last feature forbade
its being called a tragedy, though so great a part of it
is sad and terrible. How striking the contrast in the
tone of the Greek and the Italian poem! In Homer
there is nothing to appal the imagination ; everything
is cheerful as the light of day ; even the slaughter of
battle has scarce any repulsive imagery, and his heroes
seem to die with that smile upon their lips already
noted as characteristic of early Greek sculpture. The
Italian poem, on the contrary, abounds with images of
despair and terror. To cite instances would be to
quote nearly all the "Inferno" and " Purgatorio."
The cheerful pictures of the " Paradiso," on the other
hand, have a mystical radiance which belongs not to
earth.
The tone of Dante's poem was partly influenced by
his own character, but still more so by that of his age.
He possessed all the learning of his time, theological
as well as classical; hence his work shows a strange
mixture of heathen mythology with Christianity. That
he had a deep feeling of religion is evident from ma,ny
passages. His Confession of Faith in the 24th
Canto of the Paradiso shows his knowledge of the
schoolmen and fathers. He is even thought to have
worn at one period the Franciscan frock. His devotion
appears in several passages. He paraphrases the Lord's
Prayer and that of S. Bernard. 1 He sought not the
Laureate bestowed on temporal poets in the Roman
Capitol, but hoped to return to his native city and
receive the poetic crown in the Baptistery where he
1 " Purgat.," xi., inif. ; " Farad.," xxxiii., init.
GROWTH OF MONASTIC! sM. 65
became a Christian. 1 But his faith was unaccompanied
with any narrow bigotry. He invoked Apollo and the
Muses as well as the Virgin ; he studied and admired
the Old Testament equally with the New, and had
among his friends the Roman Jew, Manoello. 2 Natu-
rally austere, he looked with disgust on the Roman
Court, though not yet so deeply stained with those
scandalous crimes which disgraced it a century or two
later. Its more conspicuous vices at that period were
ambition and the lust of gain. The love of money had
converted the Pope into a wolf; he and his Cardinals
had forgotten Nazareth, and abandoned the study of the
Gospel arid the Fathers for the more profitable one of
the Decretals. 3 Nevertheless, in spite of all the faults
which he saw and lamented, he wished still to retain
the Pope as spiritual head of the Church.
A marking feature of the age, and one which had a
great influence on Art, was the growth of monasticism.
In the preceding century or two, religious asceticism
had developed itself in the establishment of some of the
severer monastic orders. The celibacy of the clergy,
established by Pope Gregory VII., had rendered them
a peculiar caste, a saintly soldiery released from all
worldly duty, and designed only to serve the Church
and promote her interests and power. The Franciscans
had been founded by S. Francis of Assisi; the Domi-
nicans, an order which became the handmaid of the
Inquisition, by S. Domenico of Calahorra in Old
Castile, u Benigno a suoi, ed a 7 nemici crudo." S.
Benedict and his followers had taken possession of
Monte Cassino, the picturesque height which overhangs
the road from Rome to Naples; S. Thomas Aquinas, the
Seraphic Doctor, had written the works which became
1 " Farad.," xxv. init. 3 Farad.," v. . 77 ; " Epist. de Witte,"
1 Burckhardt, "Cultur," i., 336. p. 35,
F
66 THE TERRORS OF RELIGION.
the text books of the Church. Under the auspices of
S. Francis, S. Clara had founded at Assisi one of the most
ascetic of the female orders. Her dress was a hair tunic,
her bed vine-cuttings or a sack of straw. Her tomb and
her body, or rather the dress which covered it, may still
be seen in the Church which bears her name at Assisi. 1
The New Testament, meant to be a Gospel of Love,
is easily convertible into a Gospel of Fear. The doc-
trine of original and inherited sin presents a gloomy
view of humanity from which paganism was free.
Sorrow, the foundation of Christianity, is only an acces-
sory in the mythology of the ancients. The promised
method of redemption under the second Revelation was
terrible indeed. The Almighty was to assume the human
form, to be betrayed and deserted by his followers, to
be mocked and put to an ignominious death by his
enemies; his resurrection, typifying that of all mankind,
only called them to the Last Judgment, to meet
perhaps in the majority of cases the terrible punish-
ment of everlasting fire; whilst Satan and his imps
were ever prowling for their prey and endeavouring to
bring about that horrible catastrophe. The Church had
soon discovered an inexhaustible fund of gain in the fears
of the superstitious. Hence the invention of Purgatory,
and the power assumed by the Church of abridging its
torments for a suitable fee. The public mind was
saturated with terrible descriptions of hell and its
eternal fires with which the pulpits resounded. So
strongly were the Florentines imbued with these, that
in 1304 the infernal regions were represented on the
Arno. It has been sometimes thought that the scene
was suggested by Dante's " Inferno," but that poem
1 Dante, " Farad.," iii., 97. When nun of the order who slept on the floor,
the writer saw her tomb in 1874, he and ate once a day bread moistened in
was told by a Polish lady who was also warm water and salt. She expected to
visiting it, that she knew at Rome a be canonized !
ART DIRECTED BY THE CLERGY. 67
was not yet written. It was the pure outcome of the
ideas which had got possession of the public mind.
Dante himself was no doubt also imbued with them,
and they became the source of his inspiration. They
also took possession of Art, and long gave it its domi-
nant tone. Already before the representation alluded
to, Giovanni Pisano had sculptured scenes of hell on the
facade of the Cathedral of Orvieto. From that date
till Michelangelo's fresco of the Last Judgment in the
Sistine Chapel, or for a period of more than two cen-
turies, the genius of the Italian artists seems to have
absolutely revelled in the terrible.
A modern writer has well remarked that suffering
destroys all idea of grandeur; it begets resignation, but
takes away majesty. Zeus never suffers. He is too
great to feel pain and sorrow ; the Greeks were chary
of showing them even in human subjects. Under the
Christian dispensation all suffer, apostles, martyrs,
saints, even the divine founder of it himself. 1 These
sufferings were the favourite subjects of the Italian
painters, but were in a great measure forced upon them
by the necessity of their position. The clergy, who
rewarded their labours and offered space for them on
the walls of their churches, took upon themselves the
direction of the works to be executed. They chose
the subjects, prescribed the manner of their execution,
and left scarce anything but the technical part to-
the artist. In the second Nicene Council one of the
speakers says : u The making of pictures is not to
be left to the invention of painters, but to the legis-
lation and tradition of the Catholic Church, with a
fitting reverence for antiquity, according to S. Basil." 2
1 Houssaye, " Apelles," p. 48 scg. approbabilis legislatio et traditio, atque
" Non est pictorum adinventio iraa antiquitati congruens reverentia, secun-
ginnm factura, sed Catholieae Ecclesise dum Divinum Basilium. . . . r Igitur
68 ITALIAN ART THE REVERSE OF GREEK.
In such fetters Art had but little power to develop
itself, and it is not surprising to learn that in some
remoter places the c arly ecclesiastical style lasted down
to nearly the eighteenth century. 1 In like manner it
has been seen that the hieratic style of Greek sculpture
was preserved long after it was out of date. Sacer-
dotalism is everywhere the same, but fortunately its
influence was less mischievous in the art of the Greeks.
Their mythology readily admitted new fables; they
had no intolerant dogmas, and martyrdoms were un-
known. We meet, indeed, now and then, with such
subjects as the flaying of Marsyas, or Niobe's children
perishing by the darts of Apollo. But here vengeance
is wreaked by the offended deity himself, not by man
assuming his power, and often exercising it with cir-
cumstances of the most refined and barbarous cruelty.
Pictures of S. Sebastian put to death with arrows, of
the stoning of S. Stephen, of S. Catherine broken on
the wheel, are almost innumerable. But these are mild
in comparison with some that are absolutely revolting.
Domenichino, with his fine genius for art, debased it
by revelling in subjects of this sort, some of which it is
difficult to imagine could have proceeded from the
same hand which painted the Chase of Diana in the
Borghese Palace or the lovely Sibyl in the same collec-
tion. 2 Gothe compares this style of art to the marriage
of the children of God with the daughters of men. " We
admire," he says, u the execution of Guido, but avert
eorum (patrum) est ingenium (kirivoia) munion of St. Jerome in the Vatican
et traditio (Trapadoffig ), non pictorum." is an evident plagiarism from Agostino
" Conciliorum collectio regia maxima," Caracci's of the same subject in the
t. iv., col. 360, Paris, 1714. Bolognese Gallery. The saint is in the
1 Lanzi, t. v., p. 18, who observes same attitude, with the lion at his feet
that the antiquity of such pictures is to and the turbaned figure behind him.
be judged of by the adjuncts, not by the But Domenichino has wonderfully im-
figures. proved upon the prototype in the group-
2 His great picture of the Com- ing and the expression.
DOMENICHINO AND GUIDO. 69
our eyes from his subjects criminals, madmen, fools;
so, to save himself, the artist introduces a naked youth,
a pretty maiden, as spectators; treats his sacred heroes
like lay figures, and covers them with well arranged
drapery. Out of ten subjects hardly one that should
have been painted, and in that one the artist was afraid
to take the right point of view. He worked with the
knife at his throat. Thus religion revived the arts, but
superstition got the upper hand and destroyed them." l
There is a great deal of general truth in these remarks,
but Go the might have chosen a better subject for their
illustration than Guido, who offends less in this way
than most of his contemporaries. He painted, indeed, a
good many S. Sebastians ; but the mode of that saint's
martyrdom has nothing disgusting, and presents an op-
portunity for delineating a fine figure. He generally
avoided the terrible, and his second style at least is
characterized rather by grace and beauty than by force
and expression. At one time, indeed, he seems to have
emulated Caravaggio, both in the choice of subjects and
in the manner of their execution. An example may be
seen in his Crucifixion of S. Peter in the Vatican,
which resembles in its strong chiar-oscuro Caravaggio's
Entombment in the same gallery. But he soon aban-
doned this style for one more congenial to his nature.
Even in such a subject as the Slaughter of the Inno-
cents, in the Bologna Gallery, he has, as Burckhardt well
remarks, contrived to avoid the repulsive, and to make
the scene pathetic rather than horrible. In this respect
he may be favourably contrasted with Domenichino in
the two rival pictures of the Martyrdom of S. Andrew
in the chapel near S. Gregorio at Rome. Domenichino
1 " Der Glaube hat die Kiinste wieder hat sie abermal zu Grande gerichtet."
hervorgehoben, der Aberglaube hin- " Ital. Reise," Brief v. Bologna, Oct.
gegen 1st Herr iiber sie geworden, und 19th, 1786.
70 MONKISH ABSURDITIES.
shows us the saint stretched on a table, scourged,
tortured, mocked ; whilst Guido represents him only on
the road to execution, arid the cross is seen on a distant
hill. Domenichino's love of the terrible is also shown
in the contrast between his picture of the death of Peter
Martyr in the Bologna Gallery, and that of Titian on the
same subject formerly in the church of S. Giovanni e
Paolo, at Venice. 1 In Titian's picture the murder was
kept more in the background, and the expression, both
of the murderer and his victim, was not so horrible.
Domenichino's flying monk was evidently suggested by
Titian's ; he is in the same attitude, with the cloak flut-
tering above his shoulders, but the act of flight is not
rendered with the same reality and force. In Titian's
picture he seemed to be starting from the canvas.
If the more gloomy pictures of the Renaissance dis-
gust by their horror, the cheerful ones too often dis-
please by their absurdity. Monks were the chief patrons
of art, and indeed several of them were themselves
eminent painters. Hence monkish legends became
favourite subjects for the pencil; whilst the apocryphal
Scriptures then current, from the wonders they con-
tained, often had the preference over the orthodox books.
Thus the artist filled his pieces with subjects revolting
to common sense and contrary to everyday experience.
Monastic traditions, apart from these absurdities, were
but ill fitted for pictorial art, and very far inferior to
the legends of ancient mythology. Hume observes:
"The place of Hercules, Theseus, Hector, Romulus,
is now supplied by Dominic, Francis, Anthony, and
Benedict. Instead of the destruction of monsters, the
subduing of tyrants, the defence of our native country,
1 The writer had the good fortune to which once seen can never be forgotten,
see it a few years before it was burnt It is now replaced by a bad copy,
in 1867. It was one of those pictures
PICTURES OF MIRACLES. 71
whippings and fastings, cowardice and humility, abject
submission, and slavish obedience are become the means
of obtaining celestial honour among mankind." l Pic-
tures from such subjects are ill fitted to stimulate the
genius of the artist or elevate the mind of the spectator.
It must be observed, however, that under this monkish
humility lurked an immeasurable ambition; under
pretence of renouncing the world, it was sought to
obtain dominion over its chiefs and governors. In this
lay the ambition and the pride of monachisin, which dis-
played itself in pictures of such triumphs ; as in those
of Spinello in S. Miniato at Florence, of S. Benedict re-
ducing the Emperor to obedience.
Another triumph and glory of the Church and its
militant orders was the power of working miracles. On
this in great part rested the authority of the saintly
founders of these orders. But the pictorial representa-
tion of them necessarily involved the grossest absur-
dities. We acquiesce in the sight of angels flying in the
air, because we conceive of them as a sort of ethereal
beings performing the office of messengers, as Hermes
did of old. But when we see, as we so often do in the
works of Giotto and the earlier Italian painters, S.
Francis or S. Anthony cleaving the air without wings,
we are sensible only of the incredible and absurd. Yet
such monstrosities were continued for some centuries.
When Tintoretto, in a picture in the Venetian Academy,
often deemed his masterpiece, and no doubt in many
respects a fine composition, shows us S. Mark, a heavy,
unwinged figure, having moreover a large volume, ap-
parently his Gospel, in his hand, descending head-fore-
most from the skies, and bursting through the vine-clad
trellis, we are seized with the apprehension that he must
inevitably be dashed to pieces. The foreshortenings, no
1 " Natural History of Religion," sect. 10.
72 PICTURES IN PLACE OF STATUES.
doubt, are wonderful, and to show his skill in them
seems to have been Tintoretto's chief concern. At the
same time, it must be acknowledged that, in spite of
thsir absurdities, some of these legends contain consider-
able pathos, and occasionally no mean vein of poetry ;
one relating to the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt
describes them as entering a forest, when all the trees,
with the exception of the aspen, bowed down in reve-
rence to the infant God. On this account He pronounced
a curse upon it, whereat the aspen began to tremble,
and has never ceased doing so down to the present day. 1
A fable which might be paralleled with some of the
stories in Ovid's " Metamorphoses ! "
During the establishment of Christianity as a national
religion it was often found necessary to make some com-
promise with paganism. It is impossible by a mere
fiat to eradicate among the uneducated and greater por-
tion of mankind the love of religious usages inherited
from their forefathers. Hence many still existing rites
of the Catholic Church have a pagan origin ; as the
eastern position of the altar, candles, holy water, &c.
To attract the wavering and undecided, a visible repre-
sentation of deity was an urgent want; and pictures,
which were not literally forbidden in Scripture, seemed
to offer a valuable counter-attraction to the statues of
the heathen temples.
Although essentially spiritual and not anthropo-
morphous, like the religion of Greece, Christianity easily
lent itself to the representation of deity in human form.
The Almighty Himself is described in the Old Testa-
ment as having the members of a man; He descended
upon earth and conversed with our first parents in the
human shape. Christ, His Son, assumed for many years
the substance, and not the mere semblance, of a man,
1 Mrs. Jameson, " Legends of the Madonna," p. 234.
EARLY REPRESENTATIONS OF CHRIST. To
whilst His reputed parents and relatives were altogether
human. Hence it seemed possible to present paintings
of deity as substitutes for the sculptured Zeus, Apollo,
or Hermes of paganism. Scripture, as Dante remarks, in
consideration that nothing can enter the human intel-
lect that was not previously in the senses, assigned feet
and hands to God, but with an allegorical and recondite
meaning, and so Holy Church shows us Gabriel and
Michael and the other angel who restored the sight of
Tobias (Raphael) in human form:
" Cosi parlar conviensi al vostro ingegno,
Perocche solo da sensato apprende
Cid che fa poscia d'intelletto degno.
Per questo la Scrittura condescende
A vostra facultate, e piedi e mano
Attribuisce a Dio, ed altro intende.
E santa Chiesa con aspetto umano
Gabrielle e Michel vi rappresenta,
E 1' altro che Tobia rifece sano."
" Parad.," iv., 40 seq.
But the idea of the Christian deity is of a nature so
much more elevated and sublime than that of the pagan
gods, some of whom had been originally mortal, that
all representations of Jehovah or the Saviour, considered
merely as works of ail, are very far from affording the
satisfaction which may be derived from the less trans-
cendant ones of the deities of paganism. Where is there
a representation of Jehovah that can be compared with
the Otricoli Zeus ?
The second Revelation in a great measure superseded
the first, and the worship of Jehovah, compared with
that of His Son, had but a small place in the devotions of
the Church. In visible shape, Christ was made the
first object of adoration; and He appears. to have been
represented as early as the third century with the
traits of Jupiter or Apollo, 1 and even under the more
1 Crowe and Cavalcaselle, " Hist, of Painting" (Jordan's Tranl., B. i., S. 2 seq.).
74 THE TERRIBLE PREDOMINATES.
earthly symbol of Orpheus taming the beasts with his
lyre. Such representations were not merely compro-
mises with paganism ; they also resulted from the edu-
cation of the artists who painted them. Many ancient
paintings still existed, and formed their models. Hence
the dresses of the persons represented resembled those
of the heathen mythology; scriptural figures were
accompanied with pagan symbols, and Cupids fluttered
in the vine-garlands which surrounded the Redeemer.
For some subsequent centuries the Saviour was shown
under the allegorical, but more appropriate, form of the
Good Shepherd ; till, about the eighth century, the terrible
image of His death and sufferings became predominant.
It was partly, perhaps, the wish of the Church to inspire
terror, that gave birth to ideas more melancholy and
severe ; partly also, it may be, from the admixture of
the Italians with northern blood. The semi-barbarians
of the North associated the terrible with their ideas of
religion. Even at the present day, the observant tra-
veller, who passes from the northern and German Tyrol
to the southern and Italian, will be struck by the dif-
ferent character which the same religion respectively
assumes. In the former, the object of adoration offered
to the wayfarer is usually a Crucifix ; whilst the Italian
population prefers the more attractive image of the
Madonna and Child.
The earlier pictures of the Saviour were calculated to
inspire terror. He was often represented of colossal
size, and with a fixed stare which seemed to penetrate
into the soul of the beholder. The Crucifix, which was
sometimes in painting, sometimes in sculpture, was an
object that awakened feelings of a more mixed nature.
It called to mind the hereditary sinfulness of man and
the bounty of the divine Being who had expiated it by a
painful and ignominious death ; hence in the devout be-
THE CRUCIFIX. 75
liever contrition was mingled with feelings of love and
pity for the Redeemer, and all united, tended to foster
devotion arid piety. It is in this view that the Crucifix
may be justified for minds that need the excitement of a
sensible image. But what an object for Art! And it is
only in that view that it is to be here regarded. A God
in the shape of a man, an immortal put to death in the
cruel and ignominious manner appointed for the vilest
malefactors ! A Greek would have averted his eyes from
it with a shudder.
The Crucifix alone, however, though great skill has
been expended on it both by painters and sculptors, is
not so much to be regarded as a work of art as a piece
of church furniture, an emblem to awaken and fix the
devotion of the pious. But in process of time other
figures were added, and it was thus developed into a
picture which represented the actual scene of the Cruci-
fixion, or some of its attendant circumstances, as the
descent from the cross, the interment, &c. Some of these
pictures are miracles of art, so far as its technicalities are
concerned ; but it is, I think, to be regretted that so many
great artists have wasted their powers on so ungrateful
a theme. They had, however, their justification in the
original destination of such pictures for churches and
convents, where they might serve to adorn and to aug-
ment the sanctity of the place, and to foster the devotion
of worshippers ; but when removed into galleries, and
thus separated from the religio loci, as so many of them
now are, they come to be regarded in the light of
works of profane art, and the faults and improprieties
both of subject and execution become more apparent.
The expression of these views may appear presump-
tuous, since many eminent critics have bestowed the
warmest approbation on such pictures. But on exami-
nation it will be found, I think, that their praise is
76 CRUCIFIXIONS.
mostly confined to technical merits. Thus Vasari, in
his account of Daniele di Volterra's Descent from the
Cross, in the church of Sta. Trinita de' Monti at Rome,
speaks only of the richness of the composition, the skill
of the foreshortenings, and the good drawing of the
nude. 1 In like manner Reynolds, in his criticisms of
Rubens' Descent from the Cross at Antwerp, of his
Crucifixion in the Church of the Recollets in the same
town, and of Vandyck's Crucifixion at Mechlin, confines
himself almost entirely to the technical parts. 2 He calls,
indeed, the Christ in Rubens' picture one of the finest
figures ever invented ; yet his praise is limited to the
technical parts the difficulty of the attitude, and the
unsurpassable representation of the heaviness of death.
But it is especially the colouring that excites his admi-
ration, of which he was himself so great a master and
so good a judge. We imagine what delight he felt at
seeing difficulties overcome which he must sometimes
have felt to be formidable, if not un surmountable, as,
for instance, that of representing white linen in juxta-
position with flesh. But such technicalities will hardly
much attract the attention of the lay spectator, who in
most cases, indeed, is unable to appreciate them, and
only desires to be stirred or gratified by the story repre-
sented. And all such pictures have a fatal fault in the
selection of the moment. The catastrophe is complete,
and nothing is left to the imagination no room for
hope or fear. Again, by the introduction of the Virgin
Mother and friends, the picture loses its divine nature,
and becomes a family scene, with lamentation and woe,
with weeping and fainting women. Thus it falls at once
to the level of human life. Christ is no longer the hero
of the piece ; He is nothing but a corpse, and the spec-
tator's attention is attracted in preference to the by-
1 " Vite de' Pittori," t. iv., p. 576. 2 " Journey," p. 223, &c.
CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 77
standers, and even to the men employed in the work of
the crucifixion. Hence these figures, and especially the
Virgin Mother and her female companions, form the
chief interest of the piece, and are often represented with
wonderful pathos. They form the chief attraction of
Daniele da Volterra's Descent just mentioned, where
the swooning Virgin is a miracle of art. Yet Vasari
does not mention her.
Some of the events in the history of the Saviour con-
nected with the sufferings which preceded His death
are less liable to the objections stated above. But even
these, apart from any religious view of them, and the
emotions which they may raise in the devout, and re-
garded only as subjects of art, are hardly eligible ones.
Reynolds, in a passage before quoted, observes, that in
pictures where the Saviour is introduced, He is generally
inferior to the other persons, since a perfect character
makes but an insipid figure. And he goes on to say that
Rubens succeeds only with a dead Christ ; that in his
live ones, child or man, there is no divinity. To the
like effect, Winckelmann 1 observes that, according
to the prediction in the Psalms, Christ should be repre-
sented as the comeliest among the sons of men ; but the
greater part of his representations, without excepting
those of Michelangelo, seem to be taken from works of
the decadence ; and that nothing can be more vile and
vulgar than some of the heads of Jesus. He except s
Raphael in a small design for the Entombment in the
Farnese collection, which shows all the beauty of a
beardless hero, in which he was followed by Annibal
Caracci in three pictures of the same subject one in
the same collection, one in S. Francesco a Ripa in
Rome, and another in the chapel of the Pamfili Palace.
1 Lib. v., c. 1. Fea justly remarks on this passage that some of Guide's
heads should be considered.
78 RAPHAEL AVOIDED CRUCIFIXIONS, ETC.
Also Leonardo's Christ in the Last Supper, which has
the most sublime manly beauty.
Perhaps it must be allowed that no great artist has
altogether succeeded in conveying a perfect idea of
divinity, and least of all where Christ is represented
suffering; for an object that excites our pity and com-
passion can hardly convey at the same time a sense of
its divinity. The feelings are incompatible, and cannot
be shown together. Perhaps the finest things in this
way, in point of expression, are Sodoma's fresco, at
Siena, of Christ bound to the column ; Guido Reni's
chalk-drawing, at Bologna, of the Ecce Homo ; and
Vandyck's, in the Uffizi at Florence, of Christ Mocked.
But the sentiment they awaken is compassion, not reli-
gious awe. Raphael, whose taste more nearly ap-
proached the standard of classical antiquity than that
of any other Italian painter, avoided such subjects.
Among his numerous works, only two or three can be
mentioned that turn on Christ's sufferings and death.
He painted only one Crucifixion, and that in his earlier
days. The Entombment, in the Borghese Palace at
Rome, is also an early work, and, though already show-
ing some of his peculiar excellences, hardly to be
reckoned among his best. There is something of stiff-
ness and affectation in the posture and expression of the
bearer who fills the middle of the piece. The picture
of Christ bearing His Cross, called the Spasimo di Cecilia,
now at Madrid, I have not seen ; but, from the descrip-
tions and engravings of it, it would appear to be a
masterpiece of pathos, especially in the attitude and ex-
pression of the Virgin. But it contained not the com-
pletion of the sacrifice ; the cross was seen in the
distance, and it, therefore, contained nothing repul-
sive.
The religious art of the Renaissance found a much
PICTURES OF THE MADONNA. 79
more pleasing subject in the Madonna. But it was long
before the Virgin attained to those divine honours which
ultimately threw the adoration of her Son into the shade.
In some of the earlier representations, she is shown, not
as a divine being to be worshipped, but herself in the
humble attitude of prayer. She is so represented in an
ancient bas-relief, now in the church of S. Maria in
Porto, at Ravenna. She does not appear to have been
painted till about the fourth century. Her figure is
rarely seen in the Roman catacombs, except in conjunc-
tion with the Magi. In one of the mosaics in S. Maria
Maggiore at Rome (Ann. 432-440), the Bambino occupies
a high throne while adored by the Magi, and the Virgin
sits on one side. 1 It seems to have been in the fifth cen-
tury that the Church allowed her divinity, and that she
became an object of worship. One of the earliest repre-
sentations of her in this character is a mosaic altar-piece
in the chapel of the archiepiscopal palace at Ravenna,
which was built about the middle of the sixth century.
She is there represented of colossal size, and with the
customary blue mantle. 2 As the representations of her
Son became more terrible, she began in a measure to
supersede, or at all events to counterbalance them, by
delineations of her in the amiable light of a tender
mother nursing her infant. But, from the necessity of
the case, it was not till Art had arrived at a great degree
of perfection that she came to be represented with much
female loveliness. There are two Madonnas by Cimabue
at Florence one in S. Maria Novella, the other in the
Academy which cannot be said to show much beauty,
or any very great advance on the Byzantine masters.
From awe of ecclesiastical traditions, he may possibly
have feared to add feminine charms to the mother of the
Saviour; to depart from the adust complexion which
1 Harford, " Michelangelo," i., 295. a Crowe and C. (Jordan, B. i., S. 27).
80 RAPHAEL'S MADONNAS.
usage had sanctioned, and was thought to be con-
formable to Holy Writ. 1 Nor, indeed, can much more
be said for Giotto's Madonna in Sta. Maria Novella,
which was hailed with such extravagant acclamation.
The first picture of the Madonna with any pretensions
to female beauty is one in the ancient Palazzo del
Popolo at Perugia, by an unknown artist, but certainly
painted before Giotto's time. It is called the Maesta
(or Vergine) delle Volte, from its being painted under
the vaultings of the building. 2 It may, perhaps, have
been the source whence Pietro Perugino, and after him
his pupil, Raphael, derived those traits of beauty and
grace which characterize their Madonnas. Another
beautiful early Madonna was that by Taddeo Gaddi, a
pupil of Giotto's, in a chapel of the Pisan Campo Santo.
But, after all, representations of the unaccompanied
Virgin are little more than idols. They may serve to
fix the wandering thoughts of the worshipper, but they
tell no story, and can hardly fill the imagination with an
awe purely divine. An exception may be made for
Raphael's Madonna di San Sisto, one of the divinest
works ever portrayed by human pencil, and, perhaps,
for one or two more. For grace and beauty, the types
of no other artist can be compared with those of Raphael ;
yet many even of his have in them something fleshly,
as the Madonna della Seggiola in the Pitti Palace, which
savours of the Fornarina ; or, on the other hand, when
heavenly purity is sought to be combined with earthly
beauty, the result too often borders on insipidity. Such
a type, too, admits of but little variety, and hence the
sameness prevailing in many of Raphael's Madonnas.
As a French writer observes, 3 they are to be distin-
1 " Nigra sum, sed formosa." See a Ibid., p. 148, where is an engrav-
Rosini, " Storia della Pittura Italiana," ing of it.
t. i., p. 134. 3 Houssaye, " Apelles."
DONATIVE PICTURES. 81
guished only by their adjuncts, as the Madonna del Car-
dellino, del Pesce, &c. Yet no artist has succeeded in
such figures like Raphael. Those of Andrea del Sarto,
and even of Titian, are commonplace, if not absolutely
vulgar ; and the same may be said of most of those of
the Spanish school. Michelangelo's Madonna, in the
Tribune of the Uffizi, is majestic and statuesque rather
than beautiful.
As the crucifix was expanded into a picture of thf>
Crucifixion, so also, in process of time, the Virgin was
represented accompanied by other figures ; as saints,
whose faces were often portraits of the munificent
donors who had presented the picture, or by archangels,
apostles, prophets, and fathers, mingled together in
admirable confusion. Of such pictures, Mrs. Jameson
has made an ingenious defence in her excellent work,
" Sacred and Legendary Art." She divides the religious
pictures of the Roman Catholic Church into two classes
the devotional and the historical. The first are such
as present objects of veneration, either singly or in
groups, but not engaged in any action ; the historical
are either scriptural or legendary, the latter consisting
principally of miracles and martyrdoms. Pictures of the
Virgin and Child, such as those before alluded to, come
naturally under the first class here defined. And, in-
deed, I am not sure that there are any others which can
be strictly brought within it. Where Christ is repre-
sented with other figures, the subject is always histori-
cal ; at least I cannot call to mind any composition where
He is enthroned, or posing, as an object of adoration for
the figures that stand by. The contrary is the case
with the Madonna, who, where she is not a mere solitary
idol, or represented with her family in domestic life, is
most frequently surrounded by worshipping angels and
saints. And it is to such pictures that Mrs. Jameson's
G
82 PERUGINO'S DEVOTIONAL PICTURES.
remarks most forcibly apply. Against the charge of
anachronism often brought against them, she makes an
eloquent and successful defence. " The personages here
brought together in their sacred character, belong," she
observes, a no more to our earth, but to heaven and
eternity ; for them there is no longer time nor place ;
they are here assembled together in the perpetual 'com-
munion of saints ' immortal contemporaries in that
kingdom where the Angel of the Apocalypse proclaimed
that ' there should be time no longer.' " l
Let us take as an example of this kind of picture one
by Perugino in the Academy at Florence (No. 55). At
the top is God the Father, 2 lifting His right hand in ex-
hortation, and having His left on what is apparently the
sacred volume. In the middle of the picture is the
Virgin, encompassed in a mandorla, or full-length
glory, and surrounded by angels and cherubim. In the
foreground, larger and more conspicuous than the rest
of the figures, are Cardinal S. Bernard degli Uberti,
S. Giovanni Gualberto, S. Benedict, and the Archangel
Michael. It is reckoned among Perugino's finest works ;
the figures are noble, and the colouring still brilliant.
But which is here the real object of adoration ? And
how are the figures on earth employed ? The two
middle saints are, indeed, contemplating the heavenly
glories above ; but the Cardinal and the Archangel seem
to be wholly unconscious of what is going on, and to
have nothing to do but to pose in somewhat lackadaisical
attitudes. In fact, though Perugino painted so many
religious pictures, he threw but little life into them, per-
haps from the circumstance of his devotion not being
very warm. According to Yasari, he did not believe in
the immortality of the soul : money was his god, and
1 Vol. i., page 14.
2 According to the Catalogue, but the semblance is more that of Christ.
RAPHAEL'S MADONNAS. 83
the chief object of his art. 1 There is another picture by
the same artist in the Bologna Academy, which, though
inferior, very much resembles this, in which two of the
male saints are replaced by female ones.
Kaphael himself, in his earlier days, sometimes made
pictures like Perugino's, as in the Madonna del Baldi-
chino in the Pitti Palace, where the enthroned Virgin is
surrounded by S. Peter, S. Bernard, S. James, and S.
Augustine. In this piece, for which Raphael only made
the sketch, he is said to have emulated the style of Fra
Bartolommeo. There is, indeed, in the Uffizi a grand
and somewhat analogous design by that artist in chiaros-
curo, intended for a picture which he did not live to
finish. The Virgin, with the Bambino on her lap, and
the little Baptist at her side, sits in the middle, sur-
rounded by saints. Standing at her back, S. Anna,
with upturned eyes and expanded hands, invokes the
heavenly hierarchy. The grouping is admirable, the
heads very fine, especially that of S. Anna. The Vir-
gin in Titian's Assumption, in the gallery at Venice, so
much resembles this figure that it might almost be
thought a plagiarism. It may, perhaps, have been
among the things which, Vasari tells us, Titian saw and
admired at Florence. Lanzi justly calls this piece a
lesson in Art. I shall only mention further, Raphael's
Madonna di Foligno, or del Donatore, in the Vatican
gallery. It is, perhaps, the best among pictures of this
kind, for the Madonna di San Sisto hardly comes under
this category. It seems to represent a vision. The
Virgin, with the infant Christ in her arms, is seated on
clouds, surrounded with a circular glory lined with
cherubim. The character is very different from the
San Sisto. Instead of the ineffably divine and intellec-
tual expression both of Virgin and Child in that picture,
1 " Vita di Perugino," Opere, t. ii., p. 528.
84 THE MADONNA DI FOLIGNO.
both these figures, though of great beauty, have a more
cheerful look, and come nearer to every-day life than
any, perhaps, that Raphael ever painted. The Infant is
playing with His mother's robe, and seems to look down
with pleasure on the beautiful little angel who stands,
holding a tablet, in the middle of the picture. He may
bear comparison with the angels in the San Sisto. In
the foreground, on the right, is the Donatore Count
Conti, one of the Pope's chamberlains on his knees, in
an attitude of prayer. It is said to be a portrait, and
has all the appearance of one. The bony head and
strongly-marked features have a rather weak expression.
Behind him, S. Jerome, a noble figure, identified by
the legendary lion at his back, seems to be presenting
him to the Virgin. On the left side, S. Francis, with a
look of ecstasy, kneels in adoration ; behind him the
Baptist, whose sheepskin dress and dishevelled hair de-
note a life in the wilderness, stands erect, with his left
hand on his staff, and as one domesticated with the
Holy Family, with his right pointing out to the spec-
tator the adorable vision in the heavens. The Baptist's
head is very fine ; and, perhaps, on the whole, these
figures are the best in any picture of the sort. They
are not mere lay figures; there is an action going on in
the presentation of the donor ; whilst, on the other hand,
the vision thus invoked excites the piety of S. Francis,
and explains the attitude of the Baptist. What adds to
the charm of the piece is the beautiful landscape, with
the distant city enveloped in a rainbow a symbol of
escape from tempest which formed the motive of the
votive offering.
Besides the lack of interest in the greater part of such
pictures from the want of action, there is another draw-
back from the difficulty of understanding them. They
OBSCURITY OF DEVOTIONAL PICTURES. 85
were painted for particular persons and places ; and this
takes them at once out of the category of cosmopolitan
Art. They had no doubt a local meaning, and were
well understood in the churches and convents for which
they were designed ; but a great part of them have now
migrated into public or private galleries, where they are
perfect riddles to the uninitiated. And this not only
from ignorance of the occasion of them, but also of the
legendary figures introduced. This last objection, in-
deed, applies not only to donative pictures, but also to
others which Mrs. Jameson ranks under the head of
non-historical and devotional, such as the Coronation of
the Virgin, the Adoration of the Lamb, &c. To know
the subjects of these, and consequently to have a proper
relish for them, one should be well acquainted with the
ecclesiastical and monkish legends. But how many,
even among well-educated Roman Catholics, possess
such knowledge, except, perhaps, a few of the more
popular legends of patron or national saints ? It would
demand a lengthened study. The fruits of Mrs. Jame-
son's researches during many years are several large
volumes, most useful to those who would know the
meaning of particular pictures. How many are there
who can afford the time, or would take the trouble, to
acquire such knowledge ? which, after all, though some-
times highly poetical, in general verges on superstition
and absurdity. For my own part, I feel grateful for
Mrs. Jameson's researches, and the pleasant manner in
which they are conveyed ; for, though taking great
interest in Art, I should never have had the courage to
make them for myself.
Mrs. Jameson rightly excludes pictures of the class
mentioned from the strictly historical kind. But when
she says of those she ranks under the head of devotional,
86 LIPPO LIPPI'S CORONATION.
that u they place before us no action or event, real or
supposed they are neither portrait nor history,"
such a description belongs only to the tamest sort of
donative pictures ; for even in these there may be action,
as I have shown in describing the Madonna di Foligno.
And in such pictures as the Coronation of the Virgin
and the Last Judgment, which she rightly places under
the devotional head, there is both event and action;
not, however, of the historical kind, but wholly imagina-
tive. They are pictures of poetical action, just as much
as are Polygnotus' picture of the infernal regions, or
Domenichino's of the Chace of Diana. I will mention
in connection with this subject two pictures of the
Coronation, one by Fra Filippo Lippi, the other by
.Raphael. The comparison may serve to show the
difference between mere talent and genius.
Lippo Lippi's picture is in the Florentine Academy
(No. 41). It is in good preservation, painted in lucid
tints, and abounding with fine heads, but of the realistic
and old Florentine type ; among them his own portrait,
and under it the somewhat vain label, "Is perfecit opus"
The scene appears to be in a church. In the middle of
the picture, at the top, a figure habited like a priest is
placing a crown on the head of the kneeling Madonna.
Of the numerous congregation present, the greater part
of which is composed of women, scarcely one is attend-
ing to what is going on. They are mostly looking out
of the picture, and at the spectator ; some even turn
their backs on the scene.
This composition may be characterized as heaven
brought down to earth ; that of Raphael in the Vatican
gallery as earth raised up to heaven. It is, however, in
Raphael's earlier style ; and Vasari speaks of it as so
closely resembling that of his master, Perugino, as to
1 Vol. i., p. 11.
RAPHAEL'S CORONATION. 87
be easily mistaken for one of his pictures. It may be
doubted whether Pietro was capable of such a design.
Yet, with all its beauty, it can hardly be ranked among
Raphael's masterpieces. The outline only appears to
have been his, which, however, is the most essential
part. According to Passavant, it was finished by Penni
and Giulio Romano, whilst others say that Pinturicchio
had a hand in the drawing. 1 In the foreground is the
Virgin's tomb, from which she has ascended into heaven.
Its purity and freedom from corruption are shown by
the flowers that spring up in it, among which the lily is
conspicuous. It is surrounded by the twelve Apostles,
whose gaze for the most part is fixed on heaven, where,
surrounded by angels and cherubim, Christ is seen
placing the crown of immortality on the head of His
mother. The four Evangelists are distinguished by
holding a book. The youthful figure with flowing hair,
on the extreme left, is S. John ; further on, S. Peter
is seen with the key. From the solemn sedateness, not
to say severity, of all the figures, they would seem to
be assisting at the funeral of the Virgin rather than the
joyful event of her coronation. This objection applies
more forcibly to the heavenly than to the earthly group.
The countenance of Christ, and that of the Virgin her-
self, is sad ; the very angels who surround them, dancing,
and playing on musical instruments, have a melancholy
expression, ill-befitting the occupation in which they are
engaged. How far Raphael's original design may have
been altered by those who carried it out it is impossible
to say ; but with the exception of this fault, for such I
cannot help thinking it, the subject could hardly be
conceived in a more poetical manner.
I shall not here say more of pictures of this kind, as
1 See Rosini, " Storia della Pittnra," Vasari does not mention it. See his
iv., 33. That author wrongly says that " Vite" ("Opere," Hi., 137, Flor., 1822).
88 RAPHAEL'S HELIODORUS.
there will be occasion to consider representations of the
Last Judgment further on. Such pictures, as repre-
senting a future event, cannot, of course, be historical ;
but, as will be seen, they may give room for the display
of the most lively action. Both the Old and the
New Testament afford admirable scenes for the painter,
and some of the finest pictures in the world are taken
from them. But some of the artists of the Renaissance,
and especially the earlier ones, preferred to take their
subjects from the monkish legends, a circumstance that
may be accounted for from the predominance of
monachism already alluded to. That such subjects,
when not too extravagant or repulsive, and when treated
by the hand of genius, may form admirable pictures, I
am far from denying. One of them, indeed, is a master-
piece of Raphael's his fresco in the Vatican of the ex-
pulsion of Heliodorus from the Temple by the Archangel
Michael. But this piece contains nothing revolting to
good sense, nothing that the imagination may not
readily acquiesce in. That Antiochus IY. employed
Heliodorus to rob the temple of Jerusalem may pro-
oably be a fact ; that he should have been repulsed by
the Archangel Michael may be likened to the divine
machinery often employed by the epic poets of antiquity,
and has nothing that offends the imagination. 1 Figures
like the mounted archangel and the two accompanying
avenging angels, neither winged nor using their feet,
but with gliding motion like that ascribed to the heathen
deities, 2 have never, perhaps, been equalled even by
Raphael himself. What spirit in that horse, what
majesty in the rider ! It is to be lamented that Raphael
found himself bound by the nature of his service to
turn it into an allegorical picture in honour of Pope
1 The story is told in the " Speculum Dante alludes to it in the " Purgatorio,"
Salvationis," and in Maccabees ii. 3. xx. 113. 2 Vera incessu patuit Dea,
ANCIENT ITALIAN PICTURES. 89
Julius II., and typical of the expulsion of the French
from the States of the Church. At the extremity of
that magnificent architectural vista is seen the Jewish
temple with the candelabra, and the chief priest Onias
at his devotions before the altar; whilst on the left of
the piece, the Pope, on throne of purple and gold, is
being borne into the church, the foremost bearer being
Raphael's friend, the engraver Marcantonio Raimondi.
The inconsistency is sometimes explained by the scene
being a vision of the Pope, but this hardly agrees with
the consternation shown by the bystanders, mostly
women, at the apparition. But in point even of techni-
cal excellence, drawing, grouping, and foreshortening,
this must rank among the first of Raphael's works.
Besides the, in general, objectionable nature of the
subjects offered to the earlier Italian painters, they
laboured under two other disadvantages the influence
of the Byzantine school, and the ecclesiastical love for
splendid colours and gilding. If the worshipper could
not be attracted by beauty, he could at least be dazzled
by splendour and awed by magnificence. As it was at
Byzantium that Christianity first obtained the sanction
of the State, so also it there assumed its first orthodox
form, its established ritual, and the emblems and deco-
rations that were considered appropriate to it. In that
capital Art appears to have experienced a severer fall
than even in Italy, where traces of the ancient and
better style were still preserved in the Middle Ages.
In the fifth century the church of S. Paolo at Rome
was decorated with portraits of Popes. In the church
of S. Urbano were painted Scripture histories, and others
of titular saints, as S. Cecilia, which have nothing Greek
in the faces or drapery, and are inscribed with the name
of an Italian artist and the date of 1011 .* There are also
1 Lanzi, t. i., p. 2.
90 GREEK PAINTINGS.
traces of a better style even among the Greeks. A
Greek picture of the funeral of S. Ephraim, of the
eleventh century, has many figures very fairly done. 1
The Greek artists especially excelled in illuminations.
The colouring of their pictures was equal to oil ; no
modern painting can rival the brilliancy of one in the
Museo Mediceo. 2 The Byzantines appear to have pre
served some of the technical methods of the ancient fresco
painters, whence they passed on to Cimabue, Giotto, and
the early Italian school. 3 But the pictures designed for
the decoration of churches were of a semi-barbarous
type. It was Byzantine artists, or Italians under
their direction, that were employed to decorate the
rising churches and cathedrals of Italy. Giunta of Pisa,
who is by some accounted the first Italian painter, was
instructed by Greeks. 4 Guido da Siena, who according
to some began to paint in the first quarter of the
thirteenth century, improved a little on the Byzantine
style; but the date of 1221 on a picture of the Madonna
at Assisi is disputed. 5 His half-length colossal Madonna
with the Infant Christ on her arm, in the Siena gallery,
a good deal resembling the celebrated Madonna of
Cimabue, is thought to have been painted in 1260.
There is in the same gallery a large anonymous picture
(No. 8), dated 1215, representing the Redeemer in a
mandorla with an open book on His knees, and on each
side an angel with spread wings. He is giving the bless-
ing in the Latin fashion, from which it may, perhaps,
be inferred that the painter was an Italian. 6 But it
1 Plate in Agincourt. to the Sienese edition of Vasari, p. xli.
2 Lanzi., ibid., p. 32. Specimens of Giunta's paintings at As-
3 Donner, " Die aiitiken Wandmale- sisi are given by Agincourt, PI. cii.
reien in technischer Bezieung.," S. cxviii. Italian imitations of the Greeks, PI.
4 " Juncta Pisanus ruditer a Grsecis civ. sqq.
instructus primus ex Italis artem appre- 5 Ibid., PI. cvii. ; Burckhardt, " Cice-
hendit circa ann. sal. 1210." P. Angeli, rone," p. 742.
quoted in Pietro della Valle's Preface 6 "Lettere Sanesi," t. L, p. 247; t.ii.,
ALTAR PIECES. 91
can hardly be doubted that the chief impulse of eccle-
siastical art in Italy was derived from Byzantium.
The first requirement was an altar-piece. In the earlier
ages this was a merely mechanical work, in which the
painter's share was less highly valued than that of the
carver and gilder; and it was he, not the artist, who
often put his name to the work. This view of the matter
continued to prevail throughout the greater part of
the thirteenth century. 1 Under the altar-piece was the
altarino (little altar), called also ancona* made of wood
elaborately carved to imitate the fa$ade of a temple or
palace in the Gothic style. They had tabernacles, small
pyramids, niches with statuettes, sculptured friezes and
pediments. Being made to fold in two or three com-
partments, they were also called diptychs and triptychs.
A step (grado or gradino) was often added, on the divi-
sions of which Scripture subjects, or legends from the
Bollandists, might be painted. These were often taken
from the miniature paintings which adorned the illu-
minated manuscripts of the Middle Ages; a source,
indeed, from which were supplied many of the largest
frescoes of later times.
The Byzantine pictures were generally painted upon
gold grounds ; gilding was profusely employed in the
dresses of the persons represented; their heads, and
sometimes their whole figures, were surrounded with
golden glories. The former, called from its oval shape
the vesica, or bladder, was borrowed from representations
of pagan gods, and may sometimes be seen on ancient
bas-reliefs. The elongated glory, from its oval form,
p. 270. In this gallery is a picture of 1 Lanzi, ib., p. 32.
the Sposalizio, by Bartolo di Maestro 2 ' : Un quasi altarino di legno contro
Fredi (13531410), in which a young pitture," idem, t. iv., p. 72.
man in red tights is breaking a wand on
his leg, just as in Raphael's picture in
the Brera.
92 PICTORIAL FINERY.
had the name of mandorla, or almond. As the heathen
gods had their emblems, so also they were bestowed
upon Apostles and Saints; the eagle of Zeus was ap-
propriated to S. John the Evangelist and S. Jerome,
and the ox and the lion emulated in other sacred per-
sonages the owl of Athena and the panther of Dionysus.
The gildings and glories vanished only gradually before
the progress of good taste, till at last in the full bloom
of the Renaissance the latter came to be indicated only
by a circle round the heads of holy personages. The
ecclesiastical love of finery may be illustrated by an
anecdote in Yasari. 1 When Cosimo Rosselli was em-
ployed by Sixtus IV., in company with other cele-
brated artists, to paint subjects in fresco in the Sistine
chapel, feeling that he had not much invention, he re-
solved to make up for this want by the gorgeousness of
his piece. He used in it the finest ultramarines and
other brilliant colours ; he gilded not only the robes of
his figures and the clouds, but even the grass and the
trees. Loud and long was the laughter of his fellow-
artists when he uncovered his fresco. But Rosselli
knew the taste of the Pope, who had promised a reward
for the piece which should most please him, and it was
at once awarded to Rosselli. The other painters were
directed to make their pictures as rich with colour and
gilding as Rosselli's, and with heavy hearts set about
spoiling what they had done. In like manner the fond-
ness of the Roman Church for pomp, strove to give to
the humble origin and nature of Christianity all the
splendour of worldly greatness, and thus led to many
inconsistencies and absurdities. The birth of Christ was
often represented among magnificent ruins instead of in
a stable ; the Virgin was supposed to have been crowned
in heaven with a regal diadem, and Apostles and Saints
1 "Opere,"t. ii.,p. 384*??.
MERITS OF THE CHURCH. 93
were honoured with titles of nobility. Thus Dante
alludes to S. Peter as "quel Baron;" 1 and Boccaccio
calls S. Anthony " Baron niesser S. Antonio."
But, in spite of these drawbacks, the great merits of
the Church as the chief reviver and munificent patron
of Art, must not be ignored. It must be acknowledged
that the subjects which it proposed were, on the whole,
advantageous. They were such as might, in those ages,
excite and satisfy the imagination of the faithful, stimu-
late the artist's fancy, keep him from mean and trivial
subjects, and direct him towards something sublime and
above the human mould. It could not have been a bad
beginning which, as bigotry diminished and the Popes
themselves became half pagan, led ultimately to the
divine works of Lionardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo.
Neither Protestantism, nor private patronage, too often
of the vulgar and uneducated rich, could have led to
such a result. We have the proof of it in the Dutch
and English schools, whose works, with all their merits
in their own lines, cannot for a moment be compared
with the grand productions of the Italian pencil. Art,
too, was fortunate at its revival in the almost unlimited
space offered for its labours, and the kind of painting
which it demanded. The extensive walls of churches
and other public buildings necessitated subjects to be
represented on a large or life-size scale, and the techni-
cal skill of the greatest artists was required and im-
proved in the working of them out in fresco.
I will close this section with an account of two ancient
and two modern paintings which bear some analogy to
one another, and may thus serve to illustrate the diffe-
rence between Greek and Italian Art. These are the
Capture of Troy, and the Nekyia, or Infernal Regions,
by Polygnotus, and the Triumph of Death and Hell, in
1 "Parad.,"xxiv., 115.
94 PICTURES OF POLYGNOTUS.
the Pisan Campo Santo, attributed to the Orcagnas.
The Greek and Italian painters flourished in very similar
stages of art; when considerable perfection had been
attained in the delineation of the human figure, and in
expression, but when there were still many technical
defects, and especially in perspective.
Pausanias, who in general is very chary of descrip-
tions, has fortunately given us long accounts of the pic-
tures of Polygnotus, from which I have here selected
the following traits. They were in the Lesche l at
Delphi, and so large that they filled the whole building.
The subjects were taken partly from Homer, partly from
the cyclic poets; and hence, as the characters were not
generally known, Polygnotus had inscribed their names
above them. This, in the case of a proper name, does
not show that the art was bad, as it would in the case
of a generic object; and indeed we meet with the prac-
tice in some of the most beautiful bas-reliefs of later
ages. So also in the Triumph of Death, the meaning is
aided by scrolls.
The Capture of Troy showed the coast before that
city, and the ship of Menelaus with a crew of men and
boys; in the midst of whom stood the bearded pilot f
Phrontis, holding two long boat-hooks. Ithsemenes
was carrying clothes on board, and Echaeax was leaving
the vessel with a brazen pitcher. Near the ship, the
tent of Menelaus, and an adjoining one, were being
struck. Briseis, Diornede, and Iphis were looking with
admiration at Helen, who, with Eurybates, sat near. A
female slave stood behind her, another was fastening
her sandals; a sign that the hour of departure drew
near. Beyond Helen was Helenus, and some wounded
men ; on a line with her were seen the mother of Theseus
and Demophon his son : meditating, as it seemed,
1 A sort of ancient casino. Pausan., x., 25-31.
THE CAPTURE OF TROY. 95
whether he should be able to save ^Ethra, a slave of
Helen's, whom he had begged of Agamemnon, whilst
Eurybates was soliciting her from Helen. Hecuba, and
other Trojan women were seen lamenting. Andromache
and Medecicaste wore veils; Polyxena had her hair
bound high above her head, in maiden fashion. The
last figure towards the end, where the sea terminated
the prospect, was Nestor, with a spear in his hand, and
wearing a w r oollen cap.
Between Nestor and .ZEthra, and above them in the
picture, or, as we should say, in the middle distance,
were Creiisa and several captive women, and further
on, others on a couch. In the background was seen
the wall of Troy, and Epeus, naked, engaged in de-
molishing it ; above it appeared the head of the wooden
horse, before it stood some of the Grecian victors.
Among them was Polypoites, binding his hair with a
fillet; Acamas, putting on his helmet; Odysseus, ad-
justing his breast-plate; the Oilean Ajax, at an altar,
taking an oath about his outrage on Cassandra, who sat
on the ground and grasped the image of Athena.
There also were the two Atridse. On the shield of
Menelaus was depicted the serpent seen at Aulis,
portentous of the sacrifice of Iphigeneia. Neoptolemus
had just killed Elasus, and was despatching with his
sword Autonous, who had fallen at his feet. An altar
with a breast-plate on it, by which stood Laodike, was
grasped by an affrighted child. Next Medusa, by some
deemed a daughter of Priam, was seated on the ground,
and grasped with both hands a stone basis. Then was
seen an old woman, with her hair shaved off, and in
her lap a naked child holding its hand before its eyes,
for fear. Among the slain were Palis, unclothed and
lying on his back; Eioneus and Admetus, with their
breast- plates still on, and others beyond. Priani,
96 STYLE OF POLYGNOTUS.
Sinon and Anchialus were carrying off the body of
Laomedon. Antenor's house had a panther's skin
hung over the entrance, a sign to the Greeks to spare
it. Theano was there with her sons ; Glaucus sat on a
breast-plate, Eurymachus on a rock. Beside him stood
Antenor with his daughter Crino carrying a child.
The faces of all these showed a deep sense of their
misfortune. Domestics were placing a box and other
articles on an ass's back, on which also sat a child.
The incidents and horrors attending the capture of a
city are here admirably shown, whilst the more revolt-
ing scenes are kept in the background. A want of
perspective may perhaps be inferred from the emotions
of the distant figures being distinctly shown. They
were probably almost as large as those in the fore-
ground, as is also the case in Orcagna's Triumph of
Death. The striking of the tents and preparing the
ship for sea must have presented an animated scene.
The beauty of Helen is well indicated by the admiring
looks of Briseis and her companions ; as coming from
her own sex, perhaps a higher tribute than that of the
old men on the walls of Troy in Homer's beautiful
description. The whole subject offered many incidents
for the display of character and pathos (% /cat iraOrj) ,
in which lay the superior excellence of Polygnotus.
Such are the anxiety of Demophon, the admiration of
Briseis, the grief of the Trojan women, the despair of
Cassandra, still clutching the image of the goddess
whom she served; above all, the child who grasps the
altar, and he who covers his eyes for fear.
The Nekyid, or descent of Odysseus to the infernal
regions, is too long to be described, nor is it of equal
interest. In that gloomy realm, hope and fear, the
great motive passions, are at an end, and curiosity is no
longer excited or gratified by the expectation or the
FRESCOES IN THE CAMPO SANTO. 97
spectacle of some catastrophe. But even here Polygrio-
tus showed his skill in depicting character and ex-
pression. Hector sat with an afflicted air, with hands
round his knee, ruminating on the fall of his native
city. Sarpedon covered his face with his hands. Paris
still retained his amorous propensities, and was clapping
his hands to attract the attention of Penthesilea, who
appeared to despise him. Phaedra, still of remarkable
beauty, seemed to be attaching the rope with which she
hanged herself. Fortunately the ancients were unac-
quainted with the Devil and his imps; and if the
picture showed some appropriate and well-merited
punishments, there was nothing disgusting and re-
pulsive. Pausanias concludes his account by express-
ing his admiration of the number of the figures and
the general beauty of the picture. That it should have
lasted so many centuries shows that the earliest Greek
artists must have used excellent colours and been
acquainted with the best methods of preserving them.
The lofty and spacious walls of the Pisan Campo
Santo, erected towards the end of the 13th century, and
enclosing earth from the holy land for the reception of
the bones of the faithful, offered an extensive space to
the artist, and at the same time suggested the nature of
his subjects. Death with all its consequences naturally
formed the inspiration of the place. The subject has
been admirably treated in the fresco called The Triumph
of Death, which represents the course of human life,
its frivolous pleasures, its industrious pursuits, its
misfortunes and disasters, and the common end of all
alike. Had the artist, whether he be Andrea Orcagna,
as is commonly supposed, or Lorenzetti of Siena, as
Crowe and Cavalcaselle think, 1 attained a technical
I C<
Hist, of Painting," vol. i. p. 444 It may be observed that the scrolls in
sqq. (B. ii.,Kap. 1, S. 26, Jordan's tr.). the piece, which cannot now be well
H
98 THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH.
proficiency equal to the strength of his fancy and
invention, we should have had in this fresco one of the
most extraordinary pictures in the world. The chief
difficulty lay in designing a scene which, without too
great a violation of propriety, should be capable of
embracing so many and such widely different subjects.
It must necessarily be a spacious one, and therefore
demanded a knowledge of perspective which, as in the
time of Polygnotus, had not yet been attained. It is
chiefly on this head that the spectator will be called
upon to make allowances, and not complain too loudly
if distant figures seem too near, or mountain, valley,
and sky are thrown together in strange confusion. In
other respects, and particularly in expression, there is,
as in the Capture of Troy, nothing but what is ad-
mirable. We must therefore content ourselves, as in
reading the " Divina Cornmedia," with the separate
scenes it presents. For as Dante, with whose spirit the
painter seems to have been impregnated, leads us from
one scene to another, first in Hell, then in Purgatory, and
lastly in Heaven, so we have here pictures of happiness
and misery on earth, of preparations for another Hfe, of
the coming of Death and the fate of the wicked and the
just.
The examination of the picture should begin on the
right hand side, where a goodly company of ladies and
gentlemen are seated under the shade of orange-trees.
They are supposed to be portraits, but the memory of
all has perished except that of Castruccio, Lord of
Lucca, a great general and dreaded enemy of the
deciphered, have been supplemented by the slightest doubt of its authenticity.
Vasari (" Opere," t. i., p. 194) from C. and C.'s argument is founded en-
Orcagna's published works, a fact that tirely on the internal evidence of style,
affords strong proof that the picture was in which I pretend not to follow them,
by him. C. and C. do not mention this But I shall return to this subject when
circumstance. Vasari attributes the considering the progress of the Renais-
piece to Orcagna, without intimating sance.
DEATH PREPARES TO STRIKE. 99
Florentines in the early part of the 14th century. 1 He
sits in the middle of the group, having an azure-
coloured hood, and in his hand a falcon. On the ex-
treme left a cavalier, also with a falcon on his hand, is
avowing his passion to a lady with a lap-dog. Above
them hover two little Amoretti. 2 Couples behind seem
also to be whispering words of love, whilst some on the
right of the group are listening to the notes of a lute.
The whole scene reminds one of the " Decameron,"
from some of the tales in which we gather what a
favourite pursuit hawking then was ; but as that work
was not published till 1353 7 it could not have suggested
a picture painted by any of the Lorenzetti, though
Orcagna would doubtless have read it.
To the left of this joyous group and near the middle
of the picture, Death, with clawed hands and feet and
the wings of a bat, hovers triumphant. He has already
mown down with his huge scythe a heap of persons of
every age, sex, and condition, and prepares to strike at
the company just described. Behind him, in the air,
two Angels hold a scroll on which Vasari read :
" Ischermo di savere e di richezza,
Di nobiltate ancora e di prodezza,
Vale niente ai colpi di costei."
But he has spared another group of halt and blind, of
old and maimed, who in vain invoke his aid :
" Da che prosperitade ci ha Jasciati,
O morte medicina d' ogni pena,
Deh vieni a darne omai 1' ultima cena."
In the air above angels and demons are carrying off
1 "Vasari," i., 193. of the defunct, besides being larger,
2 Crowe and Cavalcaselle call them have the bodies of birds. Besides, Death
Genii of death. But they have com- himself is about to strike this pair with
pletely the human figure; whilst the de- his scythe.
mons who are carrying away the souls
100 THE THREE KIXGS.
the souls of the departed, to heavenly bliss, or to
precipitate them into the volcano of a distant mountain.
Some of these angels are of exceeding beauty.
In contrast with the gay company on the right, is
another at the extreme left, consisting of three kings
with their ladies on horseback, who are going a-hawk-
ing. On their way they are stopped by S. Macarius,
who points out to them the corpses also of three
coffined kings in various stages of decay. This scene
is depicted with wonderful power. The mounted king
in the middle, said to be Andrea Uguccione della Fag-
giuola, holds his nose at the stench, whilst his horse,
with outstretched neck, snorts in dismay. The king
on his right seems, as the cant phrase runs, to be " im-
proving the occasion " by pointing out the bodies to the
lady riding at his side. Her sadness at the sight, droop-
ing her head and raising her hand to her chin, is admi-
rably expressed. The remaining king rises in the
stirrups and peers over his horse's head in well ex-
pressed alarm.
The moral of the piece is conveyed by the group of
monks or hermits, on a hill which overhangs the royal
cavalcade. These characteristic figures, worthy of
the pencil of Giotto, are elevated by their pursuits
above the moral world as they are by their position
above the material one. They have exchanged the
pomps and vanities, the cares and pleasures of the
groups below for study and devout contemplation, and
all their worldly business seems to be to prepare the
simple diet required for the passing day. One is milk-
ing a goat; others are reading or absorbed in holy
contemplation. The innocence of their lives is typified
by the deer and the rabbit quietly reposing near them.
It is from this holy company that S. Macarius has de-
scended to arrest at the hill's foot the gay cavalcade
OKCAGNA'S
and remind them of the fate of all human things. Com-
pared with ancient art, such a picture is as indicative of
the changed spirit of the modern world as Dante's poem
is compared with Homer's or Virgil's. In pagan anti-
quity it would have been simply impossible.
The fresco of Hell, on the same wall, sometimes sup-
posed to be the joint work of Andrea Orcagna and his
brother Bernardo, is too terrible and disgusting to
dwell upon. It is, too, in so dilapidated a condition that
some parts of it can with difficulty be made out. This
is particularly the case with the middle portion, which
contains the most striking and original figure in the
piece, namely, Satan, in the shape of a bestial, bull-like
figure of enormous size. He is in the centre of several
bolgie, or compartments appropriated to the punishment
of particular sins, in imitation of Dante's " Inferno."
The delineation of disembowelled persons, of others
folded in serpent coils, or holding their heads in their
hands, demands not much imagination, and where it
does not revolt can excite only ridicule.
SECTION II.
ON THE NATURE AND KINDS OF IMITATIVE ART,
THEIR ENDS AND QUALITIES.
TZj^INE Art consists in the imitation of visible objects
-^ by means of form and colour ; by form alone, or
mostly so, in sculpture, and by both combined in paint-
ing. Imitation of itself, without reference to the object
imitated, is capable of giving pleasure. This is well
shown by Aristotle, who observes that representations
of the most loathsome reptiles, and even of dead ones,
from which, when alive, we should turn with disgust,
are capable of giving delight. This delight, he goes
on to say, arises from the recognition of some object
already known ; otherwise, if it had not been previously
seen, the pleasure would not spring from imitation, but
from the workmanship, the colour, or some such cause. 1
A most important principle of art, and applicable not
only to the simple objects before mentioned but also to
the most elaborate pictures of the greatest artists.
Lessing rightly insists on the necessity for this previous
knowledge, and supports it also by Aristotle's authority,
as conveyed in an anecdote told by Pliny of his counsel-
ling the painter Protogenes to take his subjects from
the history of Alexander the Great, which was univer-
sally known and would always be remembered. 2
Painting has often been compared with poetry from
1 "Poet.," c. 4. So also Byron says: to see." Quoted by Mr. Moore in his
"I know nothing of painting, and de- edition of the " Poetics."
test it, unless it reminds me of some- 3 " Laokoon," xi. ; Plin., " N. H.,"
thing I have seen, or think it possible xxxv., 36, 20.
IMITATION IN POETRY- Ai\T> ART. -,- - .
the capability of both to convey images and actions to
the mind. Nay, Aristotle ranks poetry itself under the
imitative arts. But as a general comparison, it is some-
what lax and undefined. To call a narrative poem,
like the " ^Eneid " for example, imitative, is surely an
abuse of terms, for imitation and narrative are distinct
things. The drama alone is truly and essentially imita-
tive, and this in a much higher degree than even paint-
ing or sculpture. For while these arts appeal only to
the eye, a play addresses the ear as well. We not only
see the different characters, but also, as in real life,
hear their sentiments and the nature of the action in
which they are engaged. An heroic poem also, when
conducted in Homer's manner, with continual action
and frequent dialogue, much resembles a drama ; and
particularly must this have been the case when recited
with proper gesticulation by the doiSo/, or bards. It
was these two kinds of poetry that were prevalent in
Greece in Aristotle's time, and probably suggested the
comparison.
This resemblance has induced some critics to carry
the parallel throughout, and to maintain that whatever
can be described in a poem may be represented in a
picture, and, vice versa, whatever may be shown in a
picture may be told in a poem. On this principle
Count Caylus proposed a series of pictures from Homer,
the absurdity of which has been admirably exposed by
Lessing, from the different nature and method of the
two arts. 1 I think, however, he would have done better
by avoiding the metaphysical distinction which he
draws between the arts from Space and Time : viz., that
a picture, since it requires room is an art in space, and
a poem, as being delivered by successive words and
sentences, an art in time. I venture to think that it
1 " Laokoon," xi. seq.
101 ARTS Ttf SPACE AND TIME.
would suffice to draw the distinction from the means
at the disposal of each art, and the different fa culties, or
senses, to which they are addressed. Time and Space
do nothing. They are merely the necessary conditions
for doing something; the first elements, in fact, of
existence in all its kinds. Instead of saying that a
picture is an object in space, and a poem an object in
time, would it not be both simpler and truer to say
that a picture is an object composed of lines and
colours addressed to the eye, a poem of words addressed
to the ear; and that, therefore, from the nature of those
faculties the eye, in many cases, comprehending the
object at once, the ear only by slow degrees it is
impossible that an object fit for the one method should
always be so for the other ?
Lessing illustrates his position by taking a single
figure, a Venus, or an Armida, and nothing can be
more just than the way in which he shows the unsatis-
factory nature of all attempts to describe their per-
sonal charms in detail, which the poet must necessarily
do; whilst, on the other hand, a picture presents them
to the eye complete and at once. But if we carry our
view a little further, to an historical painting for ex-
ample, it will be found that a thorough comprehension
of it often requires as much time, or even more, than
would be necessary for the recital of the episode which
it represents. Take, for instance, Raphael's cartoon of
S. Paul at Lystra. The whole story is told in eleven
verses of the Acts, 1 and would take about a minute to
recite ; lovers of art might spend at least ten in contem-
plating that picture, and mastering all its details. How
much more would this be the case in larger composi-
tions ! The School of Athens for example, or Michel-
angelo's Last Judgment ?
1 Ch. xiv., v. 8-18.
PERSONAL BEAUTY SHOULD NOT BE DESCRIBED. 105
Lessing's distinction is no doubt fundamentally true ;
but it is a useless and pedantic one, and teaches us
nothing. Everybody is aware that a picture, or a
statue, must have room to stand in, and that a poem,
or a piece of music, must be consecutive in delivery,
and therefore occupy more or less time. Perhaps it
would hardly have been necessary to advert to this
subject did not Lessing's view seem likely to be car-
ried a great deal further than he probably intended.
Mr. Sandys, in his excellent edition of the Bacchae of
Euripides (p. xcix) adopts, apparently from Prof.
Colvin, the terms time arts for music and poetry, and
space arts for painting and sculpture. Lessing did not go
so far as that, and would, I think, have revolted from
such a nomenclature. If we must give them new names,
ear-arts and eye-arts would have been better. But it is
better still to be plain and simple, and to make no such
classifications, for their usual names convey a sufficient
idea of their nature. The Germans call music a tone-
art, which being derived from its material, is a just and
proper name. But it is to be hoped that it will not be
introduced into our language, for music contains the
whole idea that it presents. And if we are to range the
arts under new categories, should not the poet and
painter be considered as well as the hearer and spec-
tator ? In which case it will be found, I think, that
the painting of a great historical picture has often taken
a great deal more time than would the composing of
the narrative on which it may be founded.
It seems to me that Lessing's remarks on the im-
propriety of describing personal beauty might, with
great advantage, be carried further. It has latterly be-
come the fashion to give long descriptions of landscapes,
which sometimes extend over several pages, yet, speak-
ing from niy own impressions, leave but a very vague
106 DESCRIPTIONS OF LANDSCAPE
idea behind. They are liable to the same objection as
the description of a person; all the component parts
must be described separately, and then put together in
the reader's mind, who has probably forgotten some of
them, or gives an undue prominence to those that have
struck him most. In a merely technical point of view,
and without reference to the subject, landscape is the
peculiar triumph of pictorial art. In the representation
of figures it shares with sculpture ; in that of scenery,
it stands alone. The vivid colours blending together in
the foreground, or melting in the distance ; the transi-
tion from tones of earth to those of sky; the effects of
storm and sunshine ; of the different times of day, or
various seasons of the year, are so delicate and indistinct
that no language can convey an adequate idea of them.
One might as well attempt to discriminate, and fix in
words, the subtle differences of the sense of smell, or
the endless variety of the tastes of the palate. We can
indicate their prevailing qualities only by a few general
and abstract terms, as sweet, sour, bitter, and so forth ;
and the same is the case with tints and colours. Form,
indeed, may be more easily described, as the shape of a
tree, the contour of a mountain, the expanse of a lake,
or the windings of a river. But to describe all the
minute differences of form in these would be an endless
task, and would, after all, only give us a pencil sketch,
and not a picture.
The ancient writers did wisely in abstaining from all
lengthened descriptions of scenery. They contented
themselves with giving the principal and marking
features, leaving to the fancy the completion of the pic-
ture. There is a good example in the Bacchse of Euri-
pides, where the Messenger describes the glen in which
he found the Maenads. It was shut in with precipitous
rocks, watered by a stream, completely shaded by
AVOIDED BY THE ANCIENTS. 107
southern stone-pines, whose bushy, umbrella-like heads
formed an impervious shade. Here, with only three
features, we have a striking picture of a gloomy ravine.
Any additions to it would only weaken the effect, as
Mr. Sandys has well shown by comparing this descrip-
tion with one of Shelley's, of a similar subject. That
poet, not content with the pine, must also have cedars
and yews with intersecting trunks; and he mats the
a tangled hair," that is, the foliage of all these trees
together with ivy into a solid shade, which is unnatural,
or rather impossible.
" High above there grew,
With intersecting trunks from crag to crag,
Cedars, and jews, and pines ; whose tangled hair
Is matted in one solid roof of shade
By the dark ivy's twine." x
Here the general effect of the scene is weakened, from
the attention being called away from it to the details of
the objects which produce it. A somewhat similar
example may be cited from the opening scene of the
u Philoctetes " of Sophocles; where the solitary abode
of the crippled and foot-sore hero on the desolate shore
of Lemnos is described in a few touches: a double-
mouthed cavern in the pathless mountain ; below, a
little spring of water; within, a rude wooden cup,
materials for lighting a fire, and a few putrefying rags.
What a subject was here for amplification in the modern
style !
It must not be supposed that the ancients had no
feeling for the beauties of nature because they avoided
all lengthened and impertinent descriptions of them. It
might as well be said that Homer had no sense of female
beauty, because, instead of a minute description of
Helen's person, he merely indicates its loveliness by the
1 "Cenci," iii., 243 scq. Cf. Eurip., "Bacchae," 1051 seq. ; Sandys, "Introd.,"
p. Ixx. seq.
108 DESCRIPTIONS OF HOUSES, ETC.
admiration which it excites in the Trojan elders. By
such an indirect indication he raises more admiration of
it, as Lessing well observes, 1 than any detailed descrip-
tion could have done. Such a description, he knew,
would be a mistake in poetical art ; and the same obser-
vation applies to scenery. It is the business of the poet
to rouse the fancy by a few striking touches, and leave
the rest to the imagination of the reader. This part of
the subject has also been well illustrated by Lessing in
his remarks upon Yon Haller's " Alpen." ' 2
In familiar and domestic narrative, however, such as
the novel, the description of a house, or a room, and
the furniture it contains, has sometimes a good effect,
because it helps us to understand the characters of the
persons who occupy the scene ; and because such ob-
jects, being productions of art, may be easily and accu-
rately described. Such descriptions may be compared
to a little Dutch picture, which at once makes us at
home with the inmates. Dickens excelled in describing
such scenes. But here, also, moderation should be ob-
served. The practice is now repeated usque ad nauseam,
and seems, indeed, to form the chief stock-in-trade of
some of our writers. But it is a cheap sort of art,
requiring but little fancy or invention, and having
sometimes a close affinity to a broker's catalogue or
inventory.
The end both of poetry and art is to strike the imagi-
nation. But this may be done in a great variety of
ways. We may be pleased and dazzled by mere beauty,
or our thoughts may be elevated by the contemplation
of grandeur and sublimity, which last, however, as be-
fore remarked, falls from its vagueness almost solety
under the domain of poetry. A much wider field is
opened where human actions and passions are con-
1 " Laokoon," xxi. a Ibid., xvii.
DIVISIONS OF ART. 109
cerned. This comprehends in endless variety all the
acts and emotions which spring from love, hatred,
jealousy, revenge, ambition, and all the other passions
which agitate the soul. And as these alone are capable
of rousing in us a sympathetic interest, they are the
fittest subjects for the poet and the artist. Art thus
falls into two main divisions: 1, that which represents
mere physical objects; 2, that which combines with
them the representation of some action. Under the
first class fall pictures of still life, landscape, also por-
trait, in so far as it shows no action, though, from the
association of ideas, it may be capable of awakening
sympathy. In the second class are comprehended all
representations of an action, and what are called his-
torical pictures. It may be observed, however, that the
actions of men, besides being grand or pathetic, are often
mean, trivial, and ridiculous. These form the subjects
of what is called genre painting and of caricature. Genre
pictures may often interest by their pathos, or amuse by
their naturalness and humour, and hence they are ad-
mirably adapted to adorn our houses. But it is the
object of the present work to speak only of that higher
kind of art shown in the historical picture and the chefs-
d'oeuvre of sculpture. It is in these that the artist be-
comes in some sort the rival of the poet and historian.
Richardson observes : " To be an accomplished painter
a man must possess more than one liberal art, which
puts him on a level with those that do that, and makes
him superior to those that possess but one in an equal
degree : he must be also a curious artificer, whereby he
becomes superior to one who equally possesses the other
talents, but wants that. A Raffaelle, therefore, is not
only equal, but superior to a Virgil or a Livy, a Thucy-
dides, or a Homer." 1
1 " Works," p. 18 (ed. 1792).
110 THE MOMENT IN ART.
There is a foundation of truth in this high-flown
panegyric, which, however, requires considerable abate-
ment. That a Raphael or a Lionardo must have a
genius somewhat akin to a Virgil or a Homer, in so far
that he must be able to enter entirely into the purpose
and spirit of the author, is indisputably true ; but this
does not put the artist in the same rank with those
poets. For theirs is the creative genius which invents
and sets before him the subject which he only copies.
Skill of hand, however excellent, against this mental
excellence, can only be as dust in the scale. The prero-
gative of the poet is invention ; that of the artist, imita-
tion words which at once show the difference of genius.
It is, however, further true that a painting or a piece
of sculpture may recall at one view all the -emotions
which the poet has called forth only slowly and by
degrees, with the further advantage that objects pre-
sented to the eye strike us more vividly than the images
of them conveyed through the ear. But for this, as
before remarked, it is necessary that the subject repre-
sented in art should be previously known; and the skill
of the artist will be displayed in selecting for represen-
tation that stage of the action which shall best recall
the story and its catastrophe. His chief talent is shown
in choosing a proper subject one, if grand, not in-
credible, if tragic, not revolting, and in representing the
proper moment.
This last choice is, perhaps, the touchstone of the
genius of an artist and demands the greatest care.
Lessing observes that the moment should be one that
allows the free play of the imagination, and must not
therefore contain the highest stage of emotion; for as
nothing remains beyond this, the wings of fancy are
clipped. If Laocoon only sighs we can imagine him
shrieking ; but if he shrieks, the imagination can neither
THE PICTURE OF MEDEA. Ill
go higher nor lower without seeing him in a less inte-
resting condition. It hears either a mere moan, or sees
him already dead. 1 Further : as the single moment of
art is unchangeable, it must not show any mere tran-
sitory feeling. Democritus always laughing, would
look like a fool ; Laocoon always shrieking would dis-
play either effeminate impotence or the petulance of a
child. And he illustrates this position by the picture
of Timomachus of Medea and her children. He did
not paint her in the act of murdering them, but a few
moments before the deed, when motherly love was still
struggling with the promptings of jealous fury. We
see plainly enough what the result will be; but, for
that very reason, the irresolution of Medea, made per-
petual by art, is so far from giving offence that we wish
it could really have been so.
Lessing's remarks about Laocoon are founded on a
wrong idea of his physical condition. He is, in fact, in
the very extremity of bodily suffering, as will be shown
in the next Section. Instead of speaking about the
highest stage of emotion, I venture to think that it
would have been better to have said the last stage.
Lessing is of course contemplating the state of Medea's
mind from the moment when, stung by the jealousy and
hatred she has conceived of Jason, she first entertained
the project of murdering the children she has borne to
him, down to the time when she carries it into execu-
tion. The question then occurs, when is this emotion
at its highest point ? Surely it must be in that terrible
struggle when torn by two conflicting passions, maternal
love on the one hand and thirst for vengeance on the
other, she remains for some moments irresolute. At
1 "In dem ganzen Verfolge eines hat, als die hochste Staffel desselben.
Affects ist abcr kein Augenblick der Ueber ihr 1st welter nichts." u. s. w. ,
diesen Vortheil (i.e., was der Einbild- " Laokoon," iii.
nngskraft freies Spiel lasst) weniger
112 THE PROPER MOMENT.
last, when the uncontrollable sense of the wrongs she
has suffered gains the mastery, the emotion changes its
character. Maternal love has given way to jealous fury;
and as there is no longer any struggle in the mind of
Medea, so there is no longer any balance between hope
and fear in the mind of the spectator, and his pre-
vious sympathy with the injured mother changes into
abhorrence.
Instead, therefore, of saying that the moment chosen
should not contain the highest stage of emotion (eines
Affects), it seems to me better to say that it should
not represent the last stage of it. For surely if the
end of art be to strike the imagination, how can that be
better done than by depicting the highest degree of
emotion? And such is that of the irresolute Medea
torn by two conflicting passions.
It may be further observed that Lessing's remarks
can apply only to subjects of a tragic character, and
not to all of these; for there are some acts that cannot
be shown at all except in their completion. Such are
Elymas struck blind, and the death of Ananias, in
Raphael's cartoons. This is still more the case with
merely historical subjects. How could Constantine's
baptism, or his donation to the Pope, or Theodosius
denied admission to the church by S. Ambrose, be re-
presented except in the act ?
From these considerations it appears to me that, in
subjects at least of a tragic nature, instead of defining
the proper moment as that which allows the free play of
the imagination, a better definition would be, that which
is capable of exciting the greatest amount of sympathy.
This feeling is not so much stirred by death, the com-
mon lot of all, nor by the perpetration of a deed of horror,
as by the circumstances which precede the final cata-
strophe. The reason is, that most of us have, in a greater
PICTURE OF A.TAX. 113
or less degree, found ourselves in some such circum-
stances ; or at all events to an extent that may aid the fancy
in picturing sufferings and emotions more intense. "'One
touch of nature makes the whole world kin." For my
own part, at least, I must confess that when I look upon
such a picture as that of Medea, I am more touched by
the terrible storm of conflicting passions depicted in the
countenance and bearing of the heroine than by any
thoughts of what may follow; though, according to
Lessing's theory, we are not so much moved by what
we actually see, as by the idea of what is to come.
The pictures of Medea and Ajax, with which Lessing
illustrates his argument, were pendants, and the work
of Timomachus of Byzantium, who lived in the time of
Caesar's dictatorship, and acquired by them a world-
wide renown. They are alluded to by Cicero in his
action against Verres 1 for their extraordinary beauty,
and were bought for eighty talents by Caesar, who placed
them in the temple he had dedicated to Venus Genitrix.
Ajax 2 was sitting in his tent, surrounded by the
slaughtered sheep which, in his insane fury, he had sup-
posed to be Trojans. His eyes still retained an expres-
sion of rage mingled with despair, and he was evidently
meditating the suicide which he eventually committed ;
the most touching moment, as Lessing observes, in
which he could be represented.
When Lessing says that the moment chosen must not
show any mere transitory emotion, he would seem alto-
gether to forbid the depicting of emotion ; for by its very
nature all emotion is transitory ; and if it were a per-
manent condition, it would not be emotion. In looking
at such pictures as the Ajax or Medea of Timomachus,
the beholder is well aware that he sees only one
1 iv. 60, 135. Cf. Plin.,N. EL," 3 See Philostrat,," Vita Apollon/'ii.,
xxxv., 40, 30. 22.
114 TRANSITORY EMOTION.
moment of an action, and does not suppose that the ex-
pression will be always the same in those persons, though
it must necessarily be so in their pictures. The irreso-
lution of Medea is a transitory feeling : yet Lessing says
that we are so pleased with it as to wish that it might
be perpetual, as it is made by art. We have here an
implied admission that the objection to the depicting
of emotion cannot be grounded on its transitoriness.
On what then is it thought to rest ? Apparently on the
nature of the emotion. You may depict Medea irreso-
lute, but you must not show Democritus laughing, or
Laocoon shrieking. Whether he shrieks or not is a
moot point which I shall discuss hereafter. But the
answer to the objection has been already given the
spectator does not suppose that he will be always shriek-
ing. Democritus is in the same predicament. The
busts of Voltaire have a perpetual sardonic grin, which,
however, is very far from being a foolish one ; and the
same may have been the case with Democritus. The
Kentaur-Faun, who has laughed perhaps twenty cen-
turies, still commands the admiration of the world.
The moment itself may be liable to very subtle dis-
criminations, in which, as much as in its selection, the
genius of the artist may be displayed. They are such
as no mere precepts can teach. Eichardson has well
illustrated this matter in his " Treatise on Painting "
by a supposed picture of the woman taken in adultery.
Here might be represented the Scribes and Pharisees
making their accusation ; or our Saviour writing on the
ground ; or bidding the Pharisees to cast the first stone ;
or, lastly, giving absolution to the woman. The first
method must be rejected, as showing the Scribes and
Pharisees the chief actors. The second places Christ
in an ungraceful posture, and contributes nothing to the
progress of the action. The fourth must also be rejected.
NICETIES IN THE MOMENT ITSELF. 115
For although it is the principal act, and has the most
dignity, yet the chief actors would have departed, and
the story be at an end. Thus the third method is the
best. For in it also Christ is dignified; the accusers
are abashed and confounded ; whilst hope and joy are
springing up in the face of the accused. 1 It may be
added that it also tells the story more completely than
any of the other methods could have done. From the
accusation, or the writing on the ground, nothing can be
inferred; but the confusion of the Pharisees shows a
charge rejected, and foreshadows the acquittal of the
accused.
A nice choice of the moment may also be illustrated
by two ancient pictures of Medea. They are both
copies of some famous piece, possibly that of Timo-
machus before alluded to; but it is well known that
copyists often took the liberty of making some varia-
tions from the originals, which they doubtless considered
to be improvements. In a Pompeian picture Medea is
seen with an expression of irresolution, as before de-
scribed, but in the act of drawing her sword, whilst her two
children are playing at dice, and their psedagogue turns
away alarmed. In another picture at Herculaneum, or
rather a fragment of one, in which only the figure of
Medea remains, but which Herr Donner has shown to
have originally formed part of a large picture compre-
hending, no doubt, the children and pedagogue also, 2 she
has the same irresolute expression, and stands in the
same attitude as in the Pompeian fresco ; but instead of
drawing the sword, she holds it before her in an almost
perpendicular position, the handle downwards and her
" Works," p. 27. ing, are the same, and the backgrounds
' The artist was compelk-d to make of both pictures are much alike. Don-
Medea an isolated figure, from the fresco ner, " Abhandlung," S. Ixxx., prefixed
having dried too rapidly. The drapery to Helbig's " Wandgemalde."
of the two figures, and even the colour-
116 BASSANO'S RAISING OF LAZARUS.
thumbs meeting over it. An attitude which portrays
indecision much better than the other picture; for it
must have been at an end had she once begun to draw
the sword, and her irresolute face is then no longer in
keeping with the act. This Herculanean picture was
doubtless nearer to the original. A still further degra-
dation of the subject is shown in a group found at Aries,
where Medea had completely drawn the sword, and the
affrighted children were nestling together. 1
Here the question might be raised, what figure should
be most prominently shown in depicting a catastrophe?
In most cases, no doubt, it should be the piincipal actor ;
and Richardson rightly decides, in the instance adduced,
that it should be Christ. But this may not be always
the case. It may be sometimes preferable to call atten-
tion to the person who is the object of the action rather
than to the actor. Kugler objects to Leandro Bassano's
fine picture of the Raising of Lazarus, in the Venetian
Academy (No. 494), that the astonishment of the by-
standers is excited more by the figure of Lazarus than
by Christ. 2 But it seems to me that this is as it should
be. The principal object of the picture being to show
the miracle, Bassano took the best method of accom-
plishing it by depicting the astonishment of the spec-
tators at the sight of Lazarus reviving, which must have
momentarily overpowered every other feeling. The
subject presented two moments: the wonder of the
spectators at seeing the miracle, and their admiration
of Christ as the worker of it. But the miracle is the
cause of all, and therefore deserves the first place. And
thus in a fresco in the Brancacci Chapel, in the church
of the Carmine at Florence, of a youth resuscitated by
1 Helbig, " Wandgemalde," p. 151. Doge Grimani that he got a sort of
2 " Handbook," p. 471 (ed. Eastlake). craze. See Rosini, " Storia della Pit-
This picture was Leandro's masterpiece, tura Ital.," t. v., p. 261.
and procured him so much honour from
RAPHAEL'S PAUL AND BARNABAS. 117
S. Peter, the bystanders are represented looking at
the object of the miracle, and not at S. Peter. The
same is the case in Raphael's cartoon of the death of
Ananias.
Lanzi l has carried this matter to a very high pitch of
refinement. He observes that as the painter has only
one moment, he must endeavour to show not only what
is then doing, but also what is going to be done, and
which is still more difficult, what has been done already :
which amounts to saying that he must aim at showing
the whole progress of the story, and thus emulate the
poet. Lanzi at once illustrates his position and shows
Raphael's great excellence in design, by citing his car-
toon of S. Paul and Barnabas at Lystra. Here we not
only see the preparations made for sacrificing to Paul,
and his abhorrence and refusal shown by the rending of
his garments, but also what led to the act, by the intro-
duction of the cripple, who has thrown aside his crutches
and displays his gladness and admiration at Paul's mi-
raculous achievement. Some painters, says Lanzi,
might have been content with this trait; but Raphael
has added a group of people who lift the cripple's gar-
ments, and gaze on his healed legs with wonder.
This is a legitimate way of emulating the poet ; but
some artists, both ancient and modern, in their attempts
to do so, and to tell the whole story in one canvas, have
mistaken the nature of their art, and have only suc-
ceeded in destroying the unity of the subject. The
Greeks often introduced two moments into a bas-relief. 2
They also did so in painting, but apparently seldomer.
On a painted vase found at Canosa even three moments
are shown : Merope hastening to her chamber with her
magic crown on fire ; again in her chamber falling dead
on her bed ; and, lastly, descending to the infernal re-
1 " Storia," &c., t. ii., p. 80. a Tolkien, " Ucbcr das Busrclicf," p. 86 seq.
118 DOUBLE MOMENTS.
gions. 1 But among all the pictures found in the buried
cities of Campania, there is only one which certainly
contains a double moment. It is a landscape with
the story of Diana and Actseon in a house in the Vicolo
dell' Anfiteatro at Pompeii. On the left Diana is seen
naked and about to bathe in a stream which falls
from the rocks, whilst Actaeon peeps over a wall which
conceals her. On the right is seen his punishment.
He is defending himself against a dog, whilst Diana,
now fully clothed, is setting on another, and herself
preparing to attack him. 2
The Italian painters frequently committed the fault
in question, for such it must be called. In the Bran-
cacci fresco of the tribute money, which is undoubtedly
by Masaccio, Christ is seen in the foreground speaking
with the Apostles on the subject, whilst on the left of
the same picture is shown the taking of the fish with
the money, and on the right the payment of the tri-
bute. What makes the matter still worse, one of the
Apostles is calling Christ's attention to the payment,
though he is still directing Peter to fetch the money.
In another fresco is seen on one side S. Peter accused
before Nero, and on the other side his crucifixion.
This is defended by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, 3 on the
ground that there is an open door between the two
pieces, by which S. Peter may be supposed to have been
carried out ; but this makes some demand on the spec-
tator's ingenuity, for the fresco is all in one piece. In
a third fresco of S. Peter resuscitating a youth, that
Apostle is seen on the right, enthroned in a sort of niche
in an attitude of devotion, and three kneeling figures
1 Jacobs, Prsef. in " Philostratorum subject, in the House of Sail list, seems,
Imagg.," Not. 20, p. xlvi. however, to present Actaeon twice.
2 Helbig, " Wandgemalde der ver- Ibid., 2496.
schiitteten Stadte Campaniens," No. 252, 3 "Hist, of Ital. Painting," Jordan's
p. 70. Another picture of the same Transl., B. iii., S. 186.
INSTANCES OF DOUBLE MOMENTS. 1 Ij.
before him. The story is thought to be taken from the
Golden Legend telling how Peter recalled to life the son
of Theophilus, Prince of Antioch. 1 Here at least there is
no artificial division of the two subjects ; and indeed three
figures who turn to S. Peter enthroned appear to belong
to the very same group which is intent on his miracle.
Andrea del Sarto frequently offends in this way.
There is a very gross instance in his fresco in the An-
nunziata at Florence, of the death of S. Philip. The
dead boy, who is brought to life by the touch of the
saint's bier, is doubly represented, first as lying dead,
and then as springing into life. It may be said that
painting has no other way of showing such an event.
Allowed : but in that case the painter should avoid such
a subject, and not trench upon the province of the poet
or historian. The same thing is rather better done in the
fresco, just mentioned, of the son of Theophilus, where
his death is indicated by a skull and bones. The same
piece of Del Sarto, though beautifully painted, has also
another and perhaps greater fault in presenting two
subjects. Most of the assistants are occupied with the
dying saint, whilst the attention of those in the fore-
ground is engrossed by the reviving boy. Thus the
unity of the subject is destroyed, and the spectator
knows not whether he is called upon to witness the
saint's death, or the miracle which ensued upon it.
Correggio sometimes falls into the fault in question.
In a picture of the contest of Apollo and Marsyas no
fewer than three moments are presented; the actual
contest, the condemnation of Marsyas by Minerva, and
his punishment. 2 One would think that by some in-
genuity like that exercised by Raphael in his cartoon
of S. Paul at Lystra, before alluded to, the preceding
events might have been indicated in the catastrophe.
1 " Hist, of Ital. Painting," Jordan's Trnr.sl., b. ii., R. Ill seq. 2 Lanxi.
^20 RAPHAEL'S LIBERATION OF s. PETER.
I know not whether Raphael himself is wholly exempt
from this error. In his admirable fresco of the libera-
tion of S. Peter in the Stanza of Heliodorus in the
Vatican, there are two moments. The piece, indeed,
is divided by the architecture into three compartments.
In the middle one is seen the sleeping Peter awakened
by the Angel who looses his chains. In that on the
right, the Angel leads him forth from prison without
awakening the two sleeping guards. In that on the
left are four other guards, three of whom are alarmed
by the supernatural light proceeding from the Angel,
whilst the fourth still slumbers. It can hardly be said
that the architectural divisions make three pictures.
For, first, the supernatural light proceeding from the
Angel pervades all three : second, the four guards in
the left hand compartment tally with those in the right,
and by their alarm at the effulgence show that they
belong to the same subject. The general effect, how-
ever, is so striking and magnificent that one could
hardly desire any alteration. The introduction of the
waning moon in the third compartment has been some-
times objected to, but it seems to me to have a double
meaning : first, to indicate the night-time, which, from
the great light in the picture might otherwise be over-
looked; second, to enhance the effect of the Angel's
effulgence, which overcomes not only the moonlight but
also that of the torch carried by one of the guards, who,
by pointing to the Angel, indicates to an affrighted
comrade whence the supernatural light proceeds. This
effulgence is also well shown by the attitude of the
guard at the top of the steps, who bends his head and
lifts his arm to screen it from his eyes. In Correggio's
Xotte. where there is a similar effulgence from the new-
born Saviour, Richardson justly objects to the introduc-
tion of the full moon, seen through the trellis, which he
RAPHAEL'S TRANSFIGURATION. 121
says only troubles the eye. 1 It was doubtless done in
accordance with St. Luke's account that the shepherds
who came to worship were keeping their flocks by night;
but it has not, in point of art, the same motive as Ra-
phael's moon. The Rembrandt-like effect of Correggio's
picture might have been shown in the stable only ; and
probably the addition of a landscape was another motive
for introducing the moon; for I cannot agree with
Richardson that the light from the Saviour diffuses itself
over all the picture.
The critic just cited brings a serious charge of the
nature here under consideration, against Raphael's grand
picture of the Transfiguration, as distracting the atten-
tion of the spectator from the principal action to a sub-
ordinate one. He truly remarks that " the incidental
action of the man's bringing his son possessed with the
dumb devil to the disciples, and their not being able to
cast him out, is made at least as conspicuous, and as
much a principal action, as that of the Transfiguration." 2
A more recent critic observes: " A page further in the
Gospel is the story of the boy possessed by a devil.
What a moment was that when the artist thought of
uniting both scenes ! " ' Such remarks are not very edi-
fying unless some motive be suggested which may have
led the artist to unite them. It occurs to me that Ra-
phael's motive was, perhaps, the further glorification of
Christ. As the scene above displays Him in the high-
est glory, so that below shows the inferiority of the Apos-
tles by their impotence to work a miracle in His ab-
sence. To show their consciousness of this impotence,
some of them are pointing to the Mount. I can imagine
no other motive which would in the slightest degree
connect the subjects. The earthly scene below, how-
1 ' Works," p. 53. 2 Ibid., p. 29.
3 Buivkharilt, " Cicerone,'' p. 91 9 See 8. Matthew, ch. xvii.
122 PLACING OF THE CHIEF ACTORS.
ever, detracts from the heavenly one above ; as the larger
figures in the foreground, and their animated action,
divert attention from the sublime spectacle on the Mount.
An historian of painting says that he can find no double
action in the piece, and that the charge might be as
justly brought against pictures of Christ in the garden,
with the sleeping Apostles waiting for Him below. 1 But
the difference is obvious. In the latter case there is no
action, whilst in the subordinate group of the Trans-
figuration it is most lively. On the whole, I cannot
help thinking that Raphael has here committed a fault
u quandoque bonus dornaitat Homerus." Of other
objections not connected with the subject in hand, as
the anatomical untruthfulness of the boy's figure, 2 I
need not here speak.
Guercino's large picture of S. Petronilla, in the Capi-
toline Gallery at Rome, may perhaps escape the censure
of a double moment, on the ground that the figure be-
low being taken from the grave is her body, whilst that
above, in the skies, is her glorified soul. But perhaps
this last figure alone, with an empty sepulchre and
figures standing round, as in Raphael's picture of the
Coronation of the Virgin, in the Vatican gallery, would
have told the story better.
Another, and perhaps even graver, fault than a double
action is such a presentment of a story that the main
incident and principal personages are not the most con-
spicuous objects in a picture, but are obscured either by
their position, or by the attention of the spectator being
distracted by other and incoherent groups. As an in-
stance of this fault, I will adduce Baldassare Perruzzi's
large fresco in the church of S. Maria della Pace, at
Rome, of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple.
1 Eosini, cap. xxix. (vol. iv., p. 248, 2 Bell, " Anatomy of Expression,"
note 26). p. 161.
PERUZZl's PRESENTATION OF THE VIRGIN. 123
Peruzzi, being a great architect, and a master of per-
spective, has filled the background with magnificent
architectural views, and most of the figures in the piece,
especially that of the young woman descending the
steps of the Temple with a child in her arms, are beau-
tifully delineated and skilfully foreshortened. Crowe
and Cavalcaselle, who have given a plate of this fresco, 1
are justly loud in the praise of these particulars, which,
after all, are technical ones ; but when they proceed to
commend the grouping, and the grandeur and beauty of
the whole composition, I must venture to differ from
their opinion. The figures of the Virgin and her mother,
and of the some half-dozen persons who seem to take
any interest in the act which forms the subject of the
picture, are quite in the middle distance; and though
by their position on the steps of the Temple, they are
elevated above the heads of the figures in the fore-
ground, yet these by their greater size and more con-
spicuous situation, almost exclusively arrest the attention
of the spectator. A vulgar-looking groom, holding a fine
horse, and in anything but an elegant posture, occupies
by far the most prominent place. The master, who has
dismounted, 2 is clothed in robes very unsuitable for a
horseman, and is giving alms to a stalwart naked man
in the left corner, who shows no signs of decrepitude
or disease, but seems capable of enduring any sort of
labour. Between the master and his horse are two
figures ; one of a woman with her back turned, who, by
raising her hand seems to testify surprise at such an act
of charity ; next, an elderly man sitting on the lower
step of the Temple, and absorbed in that crowded
thoroughfare in reading a book. The remaining figures
1 Vol. iv., ch. 11. the true one. C. and C. give a different
8 This description of the action is from one.
Vasari (t. iii., p. 283), and is evidently
124 INVENTION IN PAINTING.
seem to be only idlers, and how any of them can be
connected with the presentation in the Temple it is diffi-
cult to see. There may, perhaps, be some legend which
explains what appears inexplicable, but Mrs. Jameson,
my only guide in these obscure subjects, alludes not to
the picture in her " Legends of the Madonna." Nor
does she mention the fresco on the subject in the cloi-
sters of Sta. Maria Novella at Florence, which, as Mr.
Ruskin says, 1 evidently suggested Titian's picture in
the Academy at Venice. In spite of faults in perspec-
tive, the subject is worthily conceived and treated; the
high priest especially is a noble figure.
The faults which have struck me in Peruzzi's fresco are
all faults of Invention, which is the very highest quality
in painting, and in comparison of which all the rest are
chiefly mechanical. u Invention," says Mengs, " is the
Poetry of Painting. It selects the first idea of a work,
which the painter should not lose sight of till the last
stroke of his pencil. It suffices not that he should
form good ideas, and fill his canvas with many figures,
unless they all serve to explain the principal subject,
and unless the whole composition acquaints the be-
holder with the motive (assunto) of it ; so that he may be
able to appreciate the expression, and the appropriate
actions of the chief figures. Without this, it signifies
nothing to depict violent emotion and varied action, as
some do who wish to pass for ingenious inventors." 1
It was in Invention that Raphael far excelled all
other painters, and became facile princeps in his art ; for
to the greatest technical skill he united a truly poetical
genius. It is from him we may learn how the composi-
tion should be managed when the principal figures are
remote ; for it is by no means always necessary and
1 " Mornings in Florence," p. 36. He attributes it to Giotto.
2 Opere," t. ii., p. 53.
THE SCENE OF AN ACTION. 125
sometimes impracticable that they should be in the fore-
ground. In his fresco in the Vatican, of the Coronation
of Charlemagne, the Emperor and Pope are among the
furthest figures ; but the lines formed by the rows of
bishops, and the opening in the middle of the picture,
with the kneeling guardsman pointing towards the Em-
peror, at once direct the eye to the principal subject.
The same is the case in the fresco of Constan tine's do-
nation of Rome to the Pope ; where a similar opening,
or lane, and the gestures of the assembled persons, point
out the chief actors. It were, however, to be wished
that the boy and his dog were out of the way.
The end of Art being to strike the imagination, and as
that is best done by the representation of some action,
it may be inquired whether painting or sculpture is the
better fitted to effect this purpose ?
Painting, besides the figures engaged in an action,
shows us also the scene in which it takes place ; sculp-
ture can do this in bas-relief alone, and even there, ac-
cording to the best canons of art, only in a very slight
degree. The addition of the scene undoubtedly gives
interest and reality to a subject. Round sculptures
standing in a room, or gallery, offer no fitting accom-
paniments, nay, often some which distract. In painting,
however, the scene, whether it be landscape or architec-
ture, should not be such as to divert the attention from
the action, especially if the subject be a pathetic one.
In ancient pictures the scene is always a very subor-
dinate part only enough to indicate the locus in quo.
Such was also the view of the earlier Florentine painters
who were very indifferent about landscape, and be-
stowed their chief attention on the action and figures of
a picture. Botticelli is related to have said that if a
sponge wetted with various colours were thrown upon
a wall, a beautiful landscape might be made out of the
126 ' GHIRLANDAIO'S BIRTH OF THE VIRGIN.
stain which it left. 1 This was an exaggerated view of
the matter; but many modern painters often give too
much importance to the scene. This is a frequent fault
in Paolo Veronese. One is so dazzled by the architec-
ture, generally too by the crowd of persons introduced,
who are not much concerned in the action, that one
loses sight of the main subject. In his picture of the
Magdalene anointing Christ's feet, now in the royal gal-
lery at Turin, the scene is an open street, showing a
magnificent Corinthian fagade and other buildings.
Paolo seems to have done this to show his architectural
skill, and he adopts the practice in his profane pictures,
as well as in his sacred ones. Other artists have done
so by following church legends instead of scripture, with
the mistaken view of adding grandeur to scriptural his-
tory, as before pointed out. To the instances there
given may be added, amongst many others, Ghirlan-
daio's fresco of the birth of the Madonna, in the choir
of S. Maria Novella, at Florence. It seems not to have
been inspired by any scriptural ideas, but by the legend
of Joachim and Anna, which represented them as rich. 2
But this is altogether inconsistent with the scriptural
history of the Virgin Mary, and her marriage with
Joseph the carpenter. In Ghirlandaio's fresco, the birth
takes place in a magnificent chamber, the walls of which
are elaborately sculptured ; over the bed is a frieze of
boys, sometimes called Angels, but they have rather an air
of the cupids of profane antiquity, for they have fruits,
and vases, and are playing on lyres. In the foreground
a bevy of ladies richly dressed, some of which are said
to be portraits, are come to visit Anna. Mrs. Jameson
calls the composition u elegant," and some of the figures
1 Lionardo da Vinci, " Trattato 2 Mrs. Jameson, "Legends of the
della Pittura," p. 56 (ap. Jordan, b. Madonna," p. 148.
iv., s. 205).
LANDSCAPES WITH FIGURES. 127
certainly are so ; but I agree with Mr. Ruskin that the
piece wants truth and nature and animation. I think,
however, that he has misconceived the posture of S.
Anne. 1 She is sitting up in bed, not to give directions
about the child, but, naturally enough, to greet the
visitors, towards whom her looks are directed. In
Giotto's fresco, which Mr. Ruskin contrasts with Ghir-
landaio's, and in which, I must be pardoned for saying,
he finds more meaning than is easily discoverable, there
is only a single acquaintance who has not yet fully en-
tered the room, and therefore S. Anne is shown reclin-
ing. Andrea del Sarto's fresco of the same subject at
the church of the Annunziata is much better conceived
than Ghirlandaio's. The chamber is not nearly so mag-
nificent, the figures in it are much more graceful as well
as natural, and the little boys above are real angels and
not sculptured cupids.
In some modern landscapes in which figures are in-
troduced, it is difficult to say whether they or the
scenery are the predominating subject. Such is the
case with several of Nicholas Poussin's pieces, and also
of Zucherelli's. Landscape of itself, though essentially
a representation of inanimate nature, is capable of
affording much pleasure, as it may embrace a vast ex-
tent of country with all those varying effects of moun-
tain and plain, vegetation, sun and shade, sky and
water, which strike the imagination so agreeably in the
reality. But its principal charm is, perhaps, that it
connects us, by association of ideas, with human life ; as
when it presents temples, houses, ships, and the like ;
and especially when figures are introduced, though they
may be of a character subordinate to the scene, and not
engaged in any action of exciting interest. Thus a view
of cornfields becomes more interesting when reapers are
1 Walks in Florence," The Golden Gate," p. 29.
128 PAINTING BEST FOR HISTOKY.
at work and preparations making for the harvest. Sal-
vator Rosa's forest scene gains much by the introduc-
tion of Mercury and the Woodman. In a view of a
storm-tossed or shipwrecked vessel the interest is much
augmented by the sight of some of the crew. Even
cattle add a charm to the scene, as in the works of Cuyp
and Potter, of Ward and Landseer.
The principal cause that makes painting more fit than
sculpture to represent an historical action is the diffe-
rent nature of the materials which they employ. In
such a subject several figures must be introduced, often
a great many. This is easily done in painting by
means of perspective and chiaroscuro, which allow the
artist to group the figures, to place one before another,
and to show some near and some at a distance. This is
impossible in round sculpture, which is intended to be
immediately present to us, and shows all the figures of
the same size. If many such figures were put together
they would take so much space as not to be synoptic,
and consequently would not tell the story; and any
attempt to group them, besides concealing some of the
figures, would throw them into confusion. I do not
think that any such attempt was ever made in the more
classic times of Grecian art, though we know of one in
its more degenerate days. Attalus I. of Pergamus, who
visited Athens in B.C. 200, presented the Athenians,
among other gifts, with a series of sculptures represent-
ing the Gigantomachia, 1 the battle with the Amazons,
the battle of Marathon, and the overthrow of the Gauls
in Mysia, or two mythical and two historical subjects;
1 Some sculptures in high relief, fury and the grimmest horror pervades
thought to have belonged to the frieze the scene. The altar was probably
of an altar of 40 feet in height, repre- erected by Attalus I. to commemorate
senting the Gigantomachia, were found his victories over the Gauls. The sculp-
in the Acropolis of Pergamus in 1879. tures are now in the Berlin Museum.
The slabs are 2-30 metres high, and the Julius Schubring, in "Athenaeum,"
figures colossal. The gods are full of Jan. 31, 1880.
ATTALUS GROUPS. 129
of which the first three belonged to Athenian tradition
and history, whilst the fourth redounded to his own
glory. These sculptures were placed at the eastern
extremity of the southern or Kimonian wall of the
Acropolis, and thus in close proximity to the Parthenon
and the noblest works of Pheidias. They stood on a
base fifty feet long by sixteen broad, which, therefore,
as the figures were only about half the size of life, would
have sufficed to contain a large number. Supposing
each battle to have occupied a quarter of the base, or
an area of more than twelve feet square, the statues in
it would have been disposed in groups, as, indeed the
subjects required. That representing the Giganto-
machia had in it a statue of Dionysus, which was over-
thrown by a storm, and appropriately fell into the
theatre beneath dedicated to that deity. Ten of these
statues have recently been recognized dispersed in
different galleries. There are four in the Neapolitan
Museum, one in the Vatican, one in the Louvre, one in
the possession of M. Castellani at Rome, and three in the
ducal palace at Venice. These last serve to confirm the
assumption that they were dispersed, and some of them
brought away, when Morosini captured Athens in 1687.
Each of the four groups must have contained a consider-
able number of figures ; for, as Overbeck remarks, 1 since
Dionysus was represented fighting among the gods, we
must also assume that deities celebrated in that combat,
as Zeus, Athena, Heracles, Poseidon, Apollo, Artemis,
Hephaestus, were also found there; and as each god
must have had an opponent, there could not have been
fewer than sixteen figures at least in this group, and
perhaps more. The four groups must have contained
from sixty to eighty statues. This quantity at once
negatives the idea entertained by some writers that they
1 " Gesch. der Plastik," ii. 177 seq.
K
130 ARRANGEMENT OF ATTALUS GROUPS.
might have been in bas-relief; since it would have been
impossible to place them in line, with due intervals
between the groups and the combatants, in a space of
fifty feet. The notion is also controverted by the fact
before mentioned of the statue of Dionysus having
fallen into the theatre.
All the figures hitherto discovered, which, as Pau-
sanias mentions, are about two cubits or three feet high, 1
represent the dead, the dying, or the vanquished ; there
is not one of a conqueror. They are well executed,
but the style is realistic. Among those that may be
pretty certainly recognized are a dead Amazon, whose
right breast is bare and wounded ; two Gauls, one dead,
the other dying; and a dead Persian, identified by his
sabre and trousers. The figure of the dying Gaul has
a considerable resemblance to the dying Gaul or
Gladiator, in the Capitoline Museum. It should be
observed, however, that as the figures are for the most
part naked, or have but little drapery, it is difficult,
and very much a matter of fancy, to assign them to
any particular group.
It may be inquired how these groups could have been
arranged so as to be synoptic and comprehended at a
glance. The different postures of the figures, some
erect as victors, some falling, others prostrate, may
indeed have contributed in some degree to this end,
which may also have been aided by difference of height
in the basis, if the battles were represented as taking
place on rocky or uneven ground. It was probably
also with this view that the statues were made only half
the size of life ; for to place sixteen full-grown figures
together would have required so large a space that they
could hardly have been synoptic except at a distance,
which would have rendered invisible all the beauties of
1 oaor Svo TTTJ^HJV fdcaffrov, lib. i., c. 25.
SIZE IN SCULPTURE. 131
the sculpture. The only other instance of such an
arrangement that I can recall is that of a Niobe group,
mentioned by Pausanias, 1 over the Dionysiac theatre at
Athens; who, however, gives no clue to the size of the
figures or the manner of their arrangement. It is not,
indeed, quite clear from his words whether they were
round sculptures or in bas-relief. The former was
most probably the case ; but even so they may have
been arranged, as Stark suggests, 2 in a line along the
wall, in the manner of a bas-relief, or of a pedimental
group. There were, no doubt, groups of statues in the
vast peribolus of the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and in
the Altis at Olympia, but these do not seem to have
been arranged so as to tell any connected story such as
that of Niobe. Nor did even those placed on a semi-
circular basis in the Altis. In the middle was a group
of only three figures, Zeus, with Thetis and Eos suppli-
cating for their children; and round the border five
pairs of combatants, each consisting of a Greek and a
Trojan. 3 These, therefore, were wholly unconnected
with the centre group. To a proposed grouping of
the Niobe statues in the Uffizi 1 shall have to advert
further on.
With regard to the Attalus statues, not only does the
mode in which they must have bean grouped appear to
me repugnant to classic art, and an invasion of the
painter's province, but also that the figures, from their
necessary diminution in order to be grouped at all,
would have had a, very mean .effect. Size plays an
important part in art, but has very different effects in
painting and in sculpture. Nay, it has considerable
influence on the impressions produced by living men.
1 I. 21, 5. which Pausanias mentions, but by tv
2 " Niobe und die Niobiden," S. 114. avry, he clearly means, I think, within
It lias been sometimes thought that the the grotto.
wore sculptured on the tripod 3 Pausan., v., 22, 2; x., 9, 3.
132 COLOSSAL STATUES.
At first sight, small persons are apt to be contemned.
A schoolmaster who fills the boys' eyes with a stately
presence will more readily have authority over them
than a puny man. In real life this first impression may
be effaced, and even reversed, by moral qualities ; but
in statuary the appeal is solely to the eye. The most
heroic actions of Lilliputians represented in sculpture
would hardly excite admiration. In Swift's amusing
tale they excite laughter, though we only hear of their
deeds and see not their persons. The statues of
Pheidias from the Parthenon would lose the greater
part of their sublimity if reduced to half the size of life.
It might be difficult to account for this effect of size ;
but it must, at all events, be recognized as an ultimate
fact in our nature. The Greeks were well aware of its
influence upon the imagination. When Ares is over-
thrown by Athena he covers seven plethra, or about 700
feet. The helmet of Athena was large enough to
protect the soldiers of a hundred cities. 1 But Poetry
has here a privilege impossible in Art.
The above remarks apply only to round sculpture.
The reason may perhaps be that statues are a perfect
reproduction of the human figure; and we are conse-
quently affected by them in the same way as by the
living body. Add that they are regarded as actually
and immediately present to us. On the other hand,
grandeur of effect is enhanced by somewhat supernatural
size I mean not by actual colossi, which, no doubt, were
originally intended to be placed at such a distance as
should reduce them by perspective to about the natural
size. There cannot be a greater mistake in art than
to place a colossal statue close to the eye. All such
statues should be in the open air, or at all events in a
very large area. But when statues are of the largest
1 " Iliad," v. 744 ; xxi. 407.
SIZE IN PAINTING. 133
human size, or even a trifle above it, they have more
grandeur than when under-sized. It is, I think, chiefly
from this cause that the Capitoline Venus has more
divine majesty than the Medicean, which is even some-
what below the human stature.
In painting, on the other hand, size may be diminished
without much loss of grandeur. Raphael's little picture
of Ezekiel's Vision in the Pitti Palace, painted in the
maturity of his genius, is one of his grandest and, per-
haps, the happiest attempt to portray the Almighty.
Indeed, colossal size in painting has, it seems to me, a
rather disagreeable effect ; as, for instance, in Fra
Bartolommeo's noble figure of S. Mark in the same
palace. This also may be partly owing to its being
placed in a gallery, and it would doubtless have looked
better when seen at a greater distance in its original
position over the entrance to the choir in S. Mark's
Church. The effect of many works of art has been
marred through their having been transferred to galle-
ries. According, however, to Vasari, Fra Bartolom-
meo's S. Mark owed not its birth to an inspiration of
genius, but to a motive of self-love. He had been
taunted with inability to paint on a grand scale,
and produced this picture by way of confuting his
detractors.
It might be difficult to account for the different im-
pressions made by size in painting and in sculpture.
The effect of perspective may, perhaps, be the chief
cause. A picture conveys an idea of distance ; and as
in nature figures are diminished by remoteness, so we
are prepared for the same effect in a painting. Although
at a distance, they may be employed in some great
action, and we are not so much concerned about their
size. But in round sculpture the idea of distance and
perspective does not occur. There is no scene; the
134 RELATIVE SIZE.
figures stand in the same open space with ourselves, and
seem to be present to us. Hence they should neither
be too large nor too small. Statuettes or miniature
copies may, however, have a pleasing effect as orna-
ments for rooms, without aspiring to grandeur.
It is difficult to convey the idea of relative size in
statuary. Critics have observed that in statues of
Dionysus accompanied by his Panther, the animal is
made proportionately small. In all probability, this was
done to magnify the god by the comparison ; but the
result is to make the animal contemptible, so that some
critics have called it a lynx. A recent German writer
on Art thinks that Greek sculptors sometimes took the
liberty of reducing the size of animals for the sake of
convenience, and, in the case in question, in order that
Dionysus might have standing room. That such liber-
ties were sometimes taken is unquestionable. The frieze
of the Parthenon affords an example, where the horses
are small in comparison with the men. This anomaly
has been defended on the ground that the Greek horses
were peculiarly small ; but this seems hardly to have
been the case. In the fine sculpture on the tomb of
Dexileos, just outside the ancient Dipylum at Athens,
and near the modern church of Agia Triada a monu-
ment which must have been erected about the time of
Pheidias, and whose execution is worthy of that best
period of Attic art the horse is in just proportion to
its rider. 1 There was here no necessity for reducing
its size ; but in a crowded composition like the Pana-
thenaic procession, if the horses had been represented of
their natural size, they would have predominated, and
the men would have appeared comparatively insignifi-
cant. Again, Pheidias himself, in the western pediment
of the Parthenon, as shown in Carrey's drawing, made
1 See cut in Dyer's "Athens," p. 497.
SMALL GEOUPS OF STATUARY. 135
the horses in Nike's chariot larger than life, in compari-
son with most of the other figures, though they were
gods ; the only reason for which seems to have been
that they were in the middle and most lofty part of the
pediment, which it was necessary to fill. In like manner
Raphael has submitted to the necessities of art, though
in painting they are more easily avoided or overcome
than in statuary; and in the Miraculous Draught of
Fishes has made the boat ridiculously small in compari-
son with the men on board. He must either have done
that, or made the boat so large as to occupy the greater
part of the picture, thus obscuring the men, and destroy-
ing all the interest of the piece. There may remain
the question whether subjects which compel such devia-
tions from nature and propriety should be chosen. It
is probable that Pheidias, if not absolutely directed to
represent the Panathenaic procession, might in a manner
have felt himself compelled to adopt the subject from
its intimate connection with the work in hand, and from
its fitness for the length of frieze which it was necessary
to fill ; and, at all events, we may congratulate ourselves
that no minor and, perhaps, trivial scruples prevented
the execution of the finest frieze in the world.
A story requiring only a few figures may, perhaps,
be represented with more effect in statuary than in
painting. It may be doubted whether any picture could
show the Laocoon group with the striking and intense
expression of the marble. Pliny gives it the preference
over all paintings as well as sculptures. 1 The same is
the case, in a minor degree, with the group of the
Barbarian and his Wife, in the Villa Ludovisi, at Rome.
These gain in effect, first, from a statue being nearer to
life than a painting ; and, secondly, from being presented
without other figures. Had this last group formed part
1 "N. H.,"xxxvi., 4, 11.
136 PEDIMENTAL SCULPTURES.
of a larger one, as some writers have thought it did, it
would attract comparatively little attention. I do not
mean to affirm that sculpture is in general better
adapted than painting for pathetic subjects, but only
that, in some instances, it is capable of presenting such
subjects in a more vivid and striking manner. And
for a picture to attain the height of pathos, it must con-
form in some degree to the sister art, and show only a
few figures. When Sterne depicted the wretchedness of
slavery, he took a single captive. Such pictures as the
Massacre of the Innocents are not truly pathetic. In-
discriminate slaughter is only revolting. But we may
pick out from such pictures certain groups of maddened
or wo-begone mothers that are truly pathetic.
A single statue may recall a whole story. Such is
the beautiful statue of Diana discovering Endymion in
the Braccio Nuovo of the Vatican. Paris, with Phry-
gian cap and the apple in his hand, in the Galleria delle
Statue of the same collection, is another instance. But
such statues make, perhaps, too much demand on the
spectator's fancy and ingenuity, and' do not tell the story
so well as a group would have done.
Compositions in which grandeur rather than pathos
prevails, and where a considerable number of figures are
required, are infinitely more suited for painting than
for sculpture. This follows in round sculpture from
the reasons already given. But such subjects may be
shown with some approach to painting in architectural
sculpture that is, in reliefs, or in statuary in pedi-
ments, which partakes in a great degree the nature of
relief. The composition of a pediment being necessarily
viewed from a distance, is at once synoptical, and thus
shares in some degree the advantage of a picture. The
pyramidal form of the pediment, again, enables the
sculptor to indicate the principal group by placing it in
BEAUTY AND EXPRESSION. 137
the centre, and the figures in an erect posture, whilst
the subordinate characters are sitting, or reclining, at
the sides. In this way some of the difficulties which
attend the representation of a large subject in stone are
partially overcome ; but, at the same time, the necessity
for placing all the figures on a line, and in a series con-
tinually decreasing in height, not only gives an un-
natural air of formality and constraint, but also prevents
the subordinate and remoter figures from displaying any
interest in the action. I will, however, say no more at
present on this subject, as there will be occasion to re-
turn to it. On the whole, it seems to me that, as an
imitative art, the preference must be given to painting
over sculpture, from its greater fitness to render a story.
And thus we see that ancient writers, when considering
the analogy between Poetry and Art, advert not to
sculpture, but only to painting. 1 Nor in a consideration
of the comparative advantages of painting and sculpture
must the much greater labour and expense required by
the latter art be left wholly out of the question.
Besides beauty, which is essential to all art, expres-
sion is another necessary quality when any story is
represented, especially if it be of a pathetic nature.
These two qualities have been sometimes regarded as
repugnant and as holding a divided empire; and it has
been thought that whilst beauty is the prevalent and
almost exclusive characteristic of ancient art, in that of
the moderns it yields the first place, and is indeed some-
times quite sacrificed to expression. Lessing's "Laokoon"
turns mainly on this subject, and the celebrated group
from which his book is named served to illustrate his
views. Winckelmann had previously appealed to the
same group in support of another theory that noble
simplicity and quiet grandeur, a great and self-possessed
1 Aristotle, " Poet.," c. 2 ; Horace, " Ars Poet, init.," &c.
138 THEORIES OF WINCKELMANN AND LESSING.
soul, are characteristic of the masterpieces of Greek art,
and that these qualities are expressed in Laocoon's whole
figure. Notwithstanding the intolerable agony which
shows itself in all the muscles and nerves of his body,
neither the posture nor the face is outrageously dis-
torted. We see in the whole figure moral grandeur
struggling with physical pain. Laocoon utters no hor-
rible cry, as in Virgil's description; the mouth, only
partially opened, would not permit it ; all that escapes
him is at most an anxious, agonizing sigh. He bears up
against his sufferings like the Philoctetes of Sophocles.
In animadverting on this theory, Lessing has no dif-
ficulty in showing that the reference to Philoctetes is
an unfortunate one, and not only that that hero vocife-
rated most lustily, but also that the Greek heroes in
general, and even their gods, refrained not from express-
ing their emotions by loud wails, by tears, by abuse and
scolding. 1 Both critics, however, are at one in thinking
that Laocoon's face expresses pain only in a modified
degree, but they differ as to the cause of this modifica-
tion. Lessing, after showing by examples that Winckel-
mann's theory of moral grandeur is not necessarily the
true one, proceeds to expound his own : that Beauty is
the supreme law of ancient art, and all other considerations
are made subordinate to it. Hence since certain passions,
as rage, despair, bodily pain, and the like, produce the
ugliest grimaces and postures, ancient art either avoided
them, or represented them so modified as not to be in-
compatible with some degree of beauty. This last was
the method adopted by the sculptors of the Laocoon.
They softened a shriek into a sigh, not because a shriek
according to ancient views would have been incom-
patible with greatness of soul, but because it would have
produced a hideous contortion. Imagine Laocoon shriek-
1 See Sections I. and II.
LESSING'S THEORY EXAMINED. 139
ing with widely opened mouth, and we should avert our
eyes from so ugly and horrible a spectacle. Such a
mouth must be represented in sculpture by a hole, in
painting by a blotch, both of which produce the most
disagreeable effect possible. Laocoon's form, as rendered
by the sculptors, inspires compassion by combining
beauty with pain. If it showed pain alone, so far from
exciting sympathy, it would only cause disgust. This
view is enforced in the next section by the consideration
that as art can show only one moment, which remains
for ever unchangeable, it should not represent a merely
transitory emotion a point which I have before ex-
amined.
With regard to Lessing's theory of beauty, it might
be questioned whether that quality, or what degree of
it, is indispensably necessary to excite compassion ;
though it must be allowed that it has a strange fascina-
tion even in our abstract ideas. Virtue itself, it is said,
is more pleasing in a handsome than in an ugly form,
u gratior et veniens in pulchro corpore virtus." But,
waiving this point, it must be allowed that Lessing's
view derives considerable plausibility from the nature
of the remains of Greek sculpture which we possess, or
rather of the copies from it. For what are the ancient
statues which fill our galleries ? For the most part
those of gods and demigods, or of heroes not engaged in
any exciting action requiring expression. When objects
of worship, it would have derogated from the divine
majesty of the gods to betray any emotion; and the
same is the case with solitary statues of heroes. Hence
Reynolds was led to observe that many thousand antique
statues border on inanimate insipidity; 1 which, with
regard, at least, to the number, is doubtless an exaggera-
tion. Perhaps we may also partly explain the absence
1 " Discourse/' vii.
140 PHYSICAL AGONY AND BEAUTY.
of expression from early Greek sculpture by the fact
that its first and principal productions were statues of
the gods, which became models for artists. In early
art, this passionless face was transferred to men, even
when engaged in fight, or slaughtered and sinking, as
before adverted to in the JEginetan sculptures. 1
From Lessing's observations it would appear that the
figure of Laocoon, as it stands, may be regarded as
beautiful; for he argues that its beauty would be spoiled
if he were represented bawling and shrieking with open
mouth, thus showing a disagreeable hole in the marble.
But this, I think, would not much affect the beauty of
his countenance. An open mouth is not necessarily ugly.
There is in the Uifizi a bust of the dying Alexander in
which the mouth is open ; but the head is one of remark-
able beauty, because the other features are calm and
composed, and he appears to be expiring without any
extreme physical pain. Such suffering produces con-
tortions more frightful than any occasioned by the pas-
sions. That bodily agony is the predominant expres-
sion of the Laocoon is pretty generally admitted ; but I
can hardly reconcile this with Lessing's view that his
beauty is preserved. On the contrary, it seems to me
to be an instance that in ancient art beauty was some-
times sacrificed to expression, or rather truth to
nature. It must, indeed, be allowed that Laocoon' s
form is still noble; but when thus contorted and
writhing, it can hardly be called beautiful.
But I must here confess myself unable clearly to un-
derstand the view taken both by Winckelmann and
Lessing of Laocoon's condition. The former says :
" The pain discovers itself in every muscle and sinew
of his body, and the beholder, whilst looking at the
agonized contraction of the abdomen, without view-
1 Above, p. 45.
FALSITY OF MODIFIED EXPRESSION. 141
ing the face and the other parts, believes that he
almost feels the pain himself. This pain expresses itself,
however, without any violence, both in the features and
in the whole posture." 1 And this view is endorsed by
Lessing; both critics, as before observed, confining their
comments to the mo.uth.
A pain that discovers itself in every muscle and sinew
of the body, and to such a degree that the spectator
might fancy he feels it himself, cannot but be expressed
with violence or, in other words, with a force that dis-
plays the extremity of suffering. If this were not so,
if the pain was a modified and mitigated one, how could
we sympathize with it ? For in that case it would
hardly have been intolerable. No unprejudiced spectator
can, I think, look at the statue without feeling that the
face, as well as the whole body, shows the extremity of
bodily torture. And as such pain produces more fright-
ful contortions than any mere mental passions, what be-
comes of Lessing's argument ?
I shall not, in these general remarks upon expression,
enter into the real cause and nature of that of Laocoon,
as I shall return to the subject when considering the
group in the next Section. I will here only remark
that if the sculptors modified Laocoon's traits merely to
preserve his beauty, they would have committed a great
fault they would have given him a false expression.
This remark does not so much apply to Winckelmann's
theory. It is certainly possible that a man of strong
mind and will might exercise some control over his
features even when in excruciating pain ; but I doubt
whether he would be able at the same time to do the
like with his body, as Winckelmann says that he does.
1 Beasley's translation (Lessing's lence; but there is no reason why Lao-
' Prose Works," p. 7, Bell and Sons, coon should have been affected by those
1879). Perhaps the word Wuth more passions : he is only displaying the most
literally signifies rage or fury than vio- violent effects of physical pain.
142 LAOCOON NO CRITERION OF EARLY ART.
I will only further observe on this subject at present
that both Winckelmann and Lessing appear to me to
have erred in taking the Laocoon group as a criterion
by which to judge of Greek sculpture in general. It
was, as will be shown further on, and as Lessing him-
self ultimately recognized, a late production, and cannot
therefore be regarded as a canon for the earlier Greek
schools. At the same time I am of opinion that
even the first, or Pheidian school, as it is sometimes
called, was not so averse from expression as some
writers have thought. The wounded Amazon of
Pheidias himself displayed suffering, and his figure of
Poseidon in the western pediment of the Parthenon, to
judge from Carrey's drawing, showed all the fury of
disappointment and defeat. Pythagoras of Rhegium,
who was contemporary with Pheidias, made a statue of
a lamed man, probably Philoctetes, which caused even
the spectators to feel the smart. 1 From the same
passage we learn that Praxiteles, whose works were so
remarkable for beauty, made a statue of a matron
weeping. Lessing observes, in conformity with his re-
marks on the Laocoon, that the Greek artists mitigated
anger into earnestness. With the poet, it was the
wrathful Jupiter who hurled the thunderbolt, but with
the artist only the earnest one. 2 How does this agree
with Pausanias' description of the statue at Olympia of
Zeus ''OpKioc, or the avenger of perjury ? 3 It was emi-
nently calculated to strike with terror. Each hand
held a thunderbolt. The face is not described ; but to
assume that its expression corresponded not with the
action, would not only be a libel on Greek art, but
would also have deprived the statue of all the terror it
inspired. We may infer from Pausanias that there
were many more statues of Zeus in a like angry mood,
1 Plin., N. H.," xxxiv., 19, 4, 10. 3 Laokoon," 2. 3 Lib. v., c. 24, 2.
EXPRESSION IN EARLY STATUES. 143
though none so terrible as this. It is nothing to the
purpose to refer, as Mr. Ruskin does, to the Jiginetan
sculptures in proof of his assertion, which agrees with
Lessing's view, that a Greek never expresses momen-
tary passion. 1 I have already endeavoured to show
why those early sculptures were deficient in expression,
or rather wore a wrong one. The instances adduced,
and many more might be found, suffice to show that
Lessing's view cannot be established as a universal
canon. It is also refuted by a passage in Xenophon's
u Memorabilia." Cleiton was remarkable for the
beauty of his statues, but they wanted expression.
Socrates, in a conversation with him in his usual method,
leads him to acknowledge that, besides beauty, there
must not only be truth to nature in the body and limbs,
but also that the passions of the soul should be shown
in the face; that combatants should be represented
with threatening looks the reverse of those at JEgina
and that the countenances of victors should be lighted
up with joy. Cleiton is evidently here selected as
offending against the general practice; for Socrates
could hardly have been introducing, out of his own
head, a new and unexampled rule. In that case also
his remarks would have been extended to sculptors in
general, and not confined to a particular one.
The records which we have of Greek painting, as
well as some still existing examples, show that expres-
sion, as might be expected, was conveyed in that art also.
Polygnotus, as before observed, was famous for it, and
some examples have been given in his picture of the
capture of Troy. Aristophon, Polygnotus' brother, also
painted tragic subjects, as Ancseus and As typale wounded
by a boar, Philoctetes and Jocaste dying, 3 &c. But it is
1 " Aratra Pentelici," p. 187. 3 Plin., N. H.," xxxv., 40, 32 j
3 Lib. iii., c. 10, 6 scq. Plutarch, " Quaest. Conviv.," v., 1, 2,
144 EXPRESSION COMMONER IN LATE WORKS.
needless to multiply examples, especially as I sliall
have to return to this subject, and to examine in-
stances.
I will not, however, deny that expression was on the
whole more common, and perhaps more marked, in the
later than in the earlier works of Greek art. The
reasons for it will be examined in a subsequent section.
All that I contend for is, that neither the Greek schools,
nor their peculiar characteristics, can be set apart and
entirely isolated by those hard and fast lines which it
is often usual to draw. Reasons have been already as-
signed why the earlier Greek sculptures, or rather the
remains of them which we possess, appear to be de-
ficient in expression. It may also be allowed that that
quality prevails more generally in modern than in
ancient art. One great cause of this was doubtless the
superior naturalness and simplicity, the greater freedom
from exciting passions in earlier ages, than in the com-
plicity and conflicting interests of more modern life.
Another cause has been already adverted to in the
difference of religion : the greater cheerfulness of pa-
ganism, and the horrible scenes which were often forced
upon the Christian artist. Of such subjects I speak, of
course, only in their relation to art.
A visitor wandering among the crowd of statues
which people the halls of the Vatican, somewhat
satiated, perhaps, with a monotony of beauty, may
pause with a sense of relief before the pathetic group of
Laocoon and his sons. If in a reflecting mood, he may
be inclined to inquire which has given him most plea-
sure the various exquisite forms of male and female
beauty, without much expression of feeling, or a statue
in which this last feature is predominant. He is thus
brought face to face with a crucial question in art the
relative claims of beauty and expression. It must, of
CLAIMS OF BEAUTY AND EXPRESSION. 145
course, be allowed that the union of both, so far as it
may be possible, should be the artist's aim ; but if they
are incompatible, and to a certain extent they un-
doubtedly are so, whether expression should be sacri-
ficed to beauty, or beauty to expression ?
This is a question which, like Taste, must in some
measure be left to the idiosyncrasy of the spectator.
Some minds may revel by preference in the charms of
beauty, whilst others may be more delighted with the
excitement of action and the display of various passions.
Neither of these tastes, if good in its kind, is to be con-
demned, nor does the one necessarily compel a complete
exclusion of the other. Yet it must be allowed, I think,
that one must necessarily be superior; and perhaps this
question may be decided by an appeal to the objects
and aims of art.
If it be the end of art, as it is of poetry, to strike the
imagination, then it seems to me that it will be better
accomplished by expression than by beauty. Beauty
lulls us into tranquil and pleasurable contemplation;
expression, recalling the subject from which it springs,
stirs the mind with all the emotions which accompany
it. Beauty can tell no story ; the sentiment of it is
merely sensual; whilst expression, the outward token
of the affections and passions of the soul, plunges us at
once into the world of moral action, and fills us with
the hopes and fears, the sympathy or the aversion which
all such action occasions. It is peculiarly in this sense,
as before observed, that art resembles poetry, whilst
with regard to mere visible beauty, they have little
analogy, since poetry is ill fitted to describe it.
Assuming, then, that 'expression should be the highest
aim of art, it may be inquired whether sculpture or
painting be the better fitted to convey it ?
I have observed that subjects requiring only a few
146 PAINTING BEST FOR MENTAL AGONY.
figures, and especially where the chief motive is phy-
sical pain, may be more strikingly rendered by sculp-
ture than by painting. Besides the Laocoon, such figures
as the dying Gaul or Gladiator, Ajax with the corpse of
Patroclus (or Achilles), of which there are several
copies, the Barbarian slaying his wife and himself, in
the Villa Ludovisi, and the like, could not perhaps be
rendered with equal force in painting. But where
mental rather than bodily sufferings or passions are the
motive, painting, I think, must have the preference.
Perhaps the finest ancient statue we possess, in which
mental agony is delineated, and physical pain is entirely
absent, is that of Niobe beholding the death of her
children, of which there is a copy in the Uffizi. The
expression of motherly grief and despair, yet still
tempered with majesty, is wonderfully fine, but it
might be rendered, perhaps, with still greater force in a
painting. In mental emotion the face is the chief seat
of expression, and the only part of the body which be-
trays it by change of colour as well as by the eyes.
Statuary, being colourless, is here deficient. Theon
painted a remarkable picture of a Hoplite suddenly
called to arms by an incursion of the enemy. It was a
single figure, and may therefore be justly compared
with a statue. In the showing of it, Theon resorted to
a little piece of charlatanerie. A trumpeter sounded
the charge, the curtain was suddenly drawn, and the
warrior appeared, armed cap-a-pied, in the act of falling
upon the foe. But the most remarkable feature, and
that which must have struck the spectator with pecu-
liar dread, was the flashing fury of the eyes. 1 This
expression it would have been impossible for the
sculptor to rival. Guercino's beautiful picture of Abra-
ham dismissing Hagar, in the Brera Gallery, shows her
1 yopybv ptv avr$ fl\iirovaiv oi o^aX/woi, ^Elian, " Var. Hist.," ii. 44.
ANALOGY OF ARCHITECTURE AND ART. 147
grief and surprise by the flushed face as well as by the
features. Of this marble would be incapable.
Painting and sculpture have in some respects consi-
derable analogy with architecture, and a treatise on
them which should be wholly silent on what has been
called a sister art, might perhaps by some be deemed
incomplete. But architecture differs in an essential,
and indeed fundamental, point from the plastic arts. It
is not imitative like them, but in its beginning entirely
original, for it has no prototype in nature. The same
qualities, however, which make a good artist, are in
some degree requisite for an architect, and thus we find
that all the three arts have often, and especially in the
earlier times, been combined in one person. Pheidias
and other Greeks were at once painters, sculptors, arid
architects, and we have like instances in modern times
in Giotto, Michelangelo, Raphael, and others. But the
absence of imitation at once places architecture in quite
a different category from the plastic arts. As it can
tell no story, it is unable to awaken sympathies and to
stir the passions. Any moral effects which it may pro-
duce are solely the result of the association of ideas, and
are for the most part connected only with buildings of
an ancient date, around which glorious or sanctifying
traditions have accumulated. Canterbury Cathedral, or
that of S. Denis, derive their moral impressions from
the scenes which have passed in them and from the me-
mories of the famous personages interred within their
walls. Such impressions are the result of memory and
reflection, and move us not, like those of painting and
sculpture, with immediate sympathy or sudden passion.
The older such buildings are, and the more numerous
and more grand the memories connected with them, the
greater is their effect upon the imagination. Every-
body, I fancy, will be struck with a more impressive
148 HOW ARCHITECTURE AND ART DIFFER.
awe and veneration on entering Westminster Abbey
than S. Paul's Cathedral; the effect of which last, as
comparatively recent, and containing not the ashes of so
many illustrious dead, depends more exclusively on the
building alone.
Another circumstance which essentially distinguishes
architecture from the plastic arts is, that its principal
aim is utility, whilst sculpture and painting seek only to
please the fancy or rouse the imagination. To succeed
in these objects, though only calculated for pleasure and
entertainment, demands genius of a much higher order
than is necessary for architecture. When Benvenuto
Cellini valued his Perseus at 10,000 scudi, the Duke of
Florence observed that palaces and even cities might be
built for that sum. u Your Excellency," replied Cel-
lini, u will find numberless men to build your cities and
palaces, but perhaps not another in the world to make
a statue like this." l
Nothing can more strongly illustrate the innate love
of beauty in the human mind than the almost universal
desire to add some of its charms to what is chiefly de-
signed to be useful. A meeting-house, or a barn, may
serve all the purposes of a congregation ; but the man
of taste, nay, we may perhaps say the greater part of
mankind, will prefer for their devotions a fine architec-
tural building. This tendency is so well known that
the sacerdotal order has in all ages sought to attract
worshippers by the beauty of their temples and the
pornp and splendour of religious service. Ancient
temples still afford the finest examples of architecture,
which at Athens must have been all the more striking
from their contrast with the general meanness of private
1 "Come sua Eccellenzia troverebbe non troverebbe forse uomo al mondo che
infiniti uomini che gli sapreno fare delle gnele sapesse fare un tale." " Vita,"
citta e del palazzi, ma che del Persei ei lib. ii., c. 95.
GOTHIC CATHEDRALS. 149
houses. The same was the case in the Middle Ages,
when the Church found no means better to confirm and
extend its empire over the minds of men than by daz-
zling the imagination with magnificent cathedrals. The
originality of architecture to which I have alluded per-
mitted a divergence from ancient patterns which would
not have been practicable in sculpture and painting.
The northern tribes which overran the Roman Empire,
impressed the sacred buildings they erected there with
their own character. Gothic paganism was of a gloomy
nature, the very opposite of Grecian and Eoman. It
adored in the shade of groves and woods an invisible
deity, whom it was forbidden to represent in human
form, but to which human victims were sometimes sac-
rificed. 1 When these tribes renounced the religion of
their fathers for Christianity, they found in it something
similar; a God visible only to the mental eye, and
the commemoration at least of a sacrifice of blood.
Although their descendants, some centuries later, had
of course no actual experience of the religion of their
ancestors, they inherited the gloomy feelings it had
engendered, and built accordingly. The vaulted roof,
the long-drawn aisles, the frequent pillars, the subdued
and flickering light penetrating feebly and uncer-
tainly through many-tinted windows, were calculated
to inspire the same mysterious awe as the umbrageous
avenues and gloomy recesses of the forest. A perfect
contrast to pagan rites ! which attracted by a precisely
opposite method. The deity was held to be present
and visible in an image which became a miracle of
beauty; the simple and elegant temple was the actual
abode of the god, and not a meeting-place for his wor-
shippers, who assembled round his altar in the open air
and cheerful light of day. Thus, when art in either age
1 Tacitus, " Germania," ix.
150 ARCHITECTURAL UTILITY AND BEAUTY.
was but in its infancy, its future character was already
determined by the nature of the religion which gave it
birth in both.
The combination of beauty with utility observable in
architecture, probably gave rise to some of the ideas be-
fore adverted to about the qualities which constitute
beauty ; as that it consists in order, regularity, uniformity,
and the like, and in the proper adaptation of an object
to its purpose. At all events, if such was not their
origin, it is in architecture that they will find their
best, and perhaps only, exemplification. In a building,
utility is the essential quality, and beauty an accident
which is capable of being dispensed with. A building
which answers not its purpose, or is constructed and
ornamented in a fashion foreign to its end, is universally
condemned, however beautiful in themselves may be the
architecture and the ornaments. Yet this common-
place rule is often violated even by eminent architects.
Bacon has observed that the Vatican, the Escurial, and
other huge buildings in Europe have scarcely a fair
room in them. 1 Examples might be found without
going out of London. The rule that the style of a
building should be conformable to its destination is also
frequently transgressed. Palladio's celebrated Villa
della Rotonda, near Vicenza, is a notable example. It
has more the appearance of a heathen temple than of a
villa. Each of its four Ionic faqades has a pediment
supported on columns. Its chief beauty is said to be
the interior rotonda from which it takes its name. The
building is deserted and dilapidated, and it is difficult to
gain admission ; but however beautiful that feature may
be, it can hardly be better adapted than the exterior to
a rural retreat.
It seems to be from considerations of utility that the
1 Essay xlvi.
ROUND BUILDINGS. 151
square, or angular, form, which is repugnant to us in
painting and statuary, has not the same effect in archi-
tecture. It there administers both to convenience and
strength. The idea of boundary becomes agreeable in
buildings, as securing a refuge and shutting us out from
the infinite extension of space. The pyramid is univer-
sally recognized as the emblem of stability, and hence
perhaps the pleasure which its lines afford in architec-
ture. It is doubtless on this principle of solidity and
strength that the old Grecian Doric excites our admira-
tion, as in that beautiful example of it, the so-called
Temple of Neptune, at Pgesturn. Yet even in architecture
the round form is preferable, when the square is no
longer necessary. Round columns are more beautiful
than square ones, and if Trajan's pillar were square, we
should turn from it with disgust. We sometimes see a
hybrid and frightful mixture of both forms in a column.
The aisles of a cathedral would be little admired if the
intervals between the columns were square instead of
arched. All this shows that the sense of beauty is un-
connected with the perception of utility, except where
the latter is predominant and imperative, and where the
neglect of it would mar all the pleasure arising from
more graceful forms. And, after all, fitness and adapta-
tion to purpose occasion only satisfaction, and not the
higher pleasure arising from beauty.
Round buildings are sometimes necessary, as in the
case of theatres and amphitheatres. The effect of the
interior is grand and. imposing. The whole expanse
strikes the eye at a glance, and conveys at once the idea
of symmetry and vastness. The interior of the Colos-
seum fills the mind with an admiration bordering upon
awe. The same is the effect in a slighter degree of
Agrippa's Pantheon ; where, however, if the impression
of grandeur is somewhat less, it is perhaps balanced by
152 AGRIPPA'S PANTHEON.
a more than proportionate sense of beauty. This inte-
rior has always struck me as one of the finest I have
seen, though one of the simplest. The lifting of such a
structure into the air, as in the domes of Sta. Maria
del Fiore at Florence, S. Peter's at Rome, and other
cathedrals, though it enhances the beauty of such build-
ings, somewhat detracts from it, I think, as a substan-
tive and independent structure. The exterior of a cir-
cular building does not equally recommend itself. Only
half of it can be seen, and a square one may be made
equally synoptical by the way in which the Greeks con-
trived the approaches to their temples. The entrance
to the T^UEUOC, or sacred enclosure, faced one of the
angles of the building, thus showing at a view one side
and one front, or half the structure; and a round
building can do no more. Such was the arrangement
at the Parthenon and the temple of Zeus Olympius at
Athens. But I have said enough on a subject that
does not strictly belong to my plan.
SECTION III.
ON ROUND SCULPTURE OR STATUARY.
T N the hands of what has been called the second Attic
school that is, of Scopas, Praxiteles, and their
contemporaries sculpture attained to the perfection of
beauty, and the statues of the gods finally assumed
those forms which, with trifling alterations, became the
models of succeeding generations. The reasons for this
were that the beauty now given to them could not be
surpassed, and that sacerdotalism, always averse from
change r required them to be preserved in the traditionary
manner. The crowd of worshippers, too, having once
associated certain forms with their ideas of particular
gods, would be naturally disinclined, or rather, perhaps,
unable, to dismiss and change them. These remarks
apply, of course, to leading characteristics, and, as
before intimated, do not exclude some slight changes
consonant with the style of particular artists, or the
business in which a god was supposed to be engaged.
For not only were the Pagan deities often busied with
adventures among themselves, or with mortals, but as
many of them combined in themselves various func-
tions, their presentment would naturally vary in accor-
dance with that in which they were employed. Thus
Hermes, as the messenger of Zeus, has different charac-
teristics from those which show him as the conductor of
departed souls, or presiding over the palaestra or the
market. Athena, as the goddess of wisdom, has a diffe-
rent aspect from that which she wears as the goddess of
154 STATUES OF ZEUS.
war ; Apollo, the averter of evil, assumes another air
when he appears as the god of song and leader of the
Muses; Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty, is more
lovely and seductive when seen only as its personifica-
tion than when another character is added, as that of
Venus Victrix or Genitrix; and so of the rest. Yet in
all these cases certain general features are preserved.
Hermes is always proper for agility and exertion;
Apollo always young and graceful ; Athena has a con-
stantly serious beauty; and Aphrodite is ever charm-
ing, even in her severer and more matronly form. Such
variety is less observable in Zeus and Hera, the king and
queen of the gods, as they exercise no subordinate func-
tions, which would derogate from their majesty ; perhaps,
also, in other gods, who, like them, are personifications
of the elements of nature, as Poseidon and Hephaestus.
Majesty and grandeur, mixed with thoughtfulness,
characterized Zeus, the ruler of the universe. Sceptred
and enthroned, his symbols are the thunderbolt and the
eagle. Unfortunately, we have no image of this deity
from the hand of Pheidias, who was best fitted to pro-
duce one. Those which we possess, however, were
probably modelled after an original by him, though
they have doubtless lost something of their grandeur in
the process. The colossal bust, called the Otricoli Zeus,
from, the place of its discovery, now in the Vatican, is
the best that is extant. It shows mature age, but none
of that senility with which Jehovah is commonly repre-
sented in Christian art. That trait was doubtless given
to Him to inspire the veneration which is due to old age ;
yet it is hardly suitable to a Being who has neither
beginning nor end, and who speaks of Himself, even in
regard to the past, in the present tense, I AM. No
other image, however, can be suggested as more suit-
able a circumstance which only shows the futility of
THE OTRICOLI ZEUS. 155
all attempts to represent a Deity whom no man has ever
seen at any time. Zeus, on the other hand, has a
genesis, and from the nature of polytheism, which
brought the gods so much nearer to the level of huma-
nity, may without impropriety admit of representation.
The Otricoli head is magnificent. The countenance, at
once majestic and benevolent, is, as it were, enframed
by that arrangement of the hair which marked Zeus and
his offspring. Rising in the middle of the forehead, it
flows down^ in ample curls on each side of the face, and
the framing is completed by a voluminous beard. But,
though we might willingly recognize in this bust an
exquisite beau ideal of an earthly sovereign, solicitous
at once for the welfare of his subjects and the safety of
his throne, there is a somewhat pinched and anxious
thoughtfulness in the expression which hardly suits a
Being conscious of supreme wisdom and absolute power,
whose nod shook Olympus, and whose will was signified
and enforced by the mere motion of his brows. It may,
therefore, afford an illustration of what has been before
observed, that the true sublime is beyond the reach of
art. Burckhardt, or rather his editor, Van Zahn, has
remarked that, even judging from poor imitations on
coins, the Olympian Zeus of Pheidias was simpler and
more majestic than later copies. 1 The bust in question
has been sometimes considered as a modification by
Lysippus, or an artist of his school, of a grander Phei-
dian head. But it is still much superior to the Delia
Valle Zeus in the Capitoline Museum, the brow of which
is not so grand and thoughtful, whilst the mouth has
even a slight expression of weakness.
Whole-length statues of Zeus or Jupiter are rare.
There is one in the Vatican representing him enthroned,
the upper part of his body un draped, a thunderbolt in
1 "Cicerone," s. 417 (ii te Ausgabe).
156 STATUES OF HERA.
his right hand, a sceptre in his left, under his throne an
eagle. The star-bespangled globe at his feet recalls
Milton's lines :
" Before the starry threshold of Jove's court
My dwelling is."
But the work has been badly restored, and especially
the eagle. Perhaps the finest extant statue of Zeus is
that in the Louvre, called Zeus vainqueur des geants
(No. 31), but it is much damaged. He may be imagined
erect in his quadriga, the motion of which is indicated
by the hair driven backwards by the wind. The face is
at once severe and dignified; the uplifted right arm
appears to have been employed in launching thunder-
bolts at tlje Titans. Some celebrated Greek work was
probably its model, from which also may have been
taken the celebrated engraved gem by Athenion. The
Louvre statue is of Carrara marble, and was therefore
probably executed in Italy.
Hera, or Juno, the sister and spouse of Zeus, and a
thorn in his side, is riot a very interesting deity, and
but a feeble image of almighty power. Subject to the
will of Zeus, who, indeed, sometimes beats her, 1 she has
riot the absolute wisdom and unshakeable resolve which
characterize her lord, whilst she is far outshone by
other goddesses with regard to beauty. Homer finds
nothing to distinguish her but her white arms and oxen-
like eyes (Atv/cwA^oc, jSowTrtc). This last epithet might
convey a poor and even repulsive image to a northern
mind; and some translators have altered it Pope ren-
dering jSowTric paraphrastically by large, majestic, radiant,
&c., whilst Lord Derby gives a near equivalent in stag-
eyed. But those who have seen the large, lustrous, and
deer-like eyes of the cattle of Southern Europe will be
able to appreciate Homer's epithet. The colossal head
" Iliad," i. 588.
POSEIDON. 157
of Hera, or Juno, in the Villa Ludovisi at Rome, tem-
pering majesty with an amiable smile, shows, perhaps,
the queen of the gods to best advantage. Another bust
in the Neapolitan Museum, Hall of Tiberius, is of a
more ancient and severer type, and shows the goddess
in her pitiless mood. It is thought to be after an
original by Polycleitus. Hera's full-length form has a
matronly majesty answering to these heads, and is well
represented in some extant statues. The best is the
colossal one in the Rotonda of the Vatican, repeated in
smaller proportions in the Neapolitan and other galleries.
Earth-shaking Poseidon, or Neptune, god of the sea
and waters in general, and brother of Zeus, to whom he
bears much resemblance, is peculiarly characterized by
breadth of chest, typical of the vastness of Ocean. His
chariot was drawn by Hippo-campi, or sea-horses; his
emblem was the trident. Homer, to convey a high idea
of Agamemnon's person, gives him a head and eyes like
Zeus, a waist like Ares, and a chest like Poseidon. 1
Grandeur and majesty admit not of many types ; a per-
fect beau ideal of them cannot be deviated from without
losing some of its characteristics. Hence deities which
share the power of Zeus, as Poseidon and Hades, or
Pluto, another brother, god of the nether world, are
scarcely to be distinguished from him, except by their
attributes. Wheler, who saw the western pediment of
the Parthenon when it was still pretty perfect, mistook
Poseidon for Zeus. The chief difference between the
brothers seems to have been that Poseidon's features, as
beseemed his variable and often turbulent nature, were
less tranquil and composed than those of Zeus. The
difference is well seen by comparing the head of Poseidon
in the Vatican (Museo Chiaramonti), with its damp and
dishevelled locks, with that of Zeus before described.
1 Iliad," ii., 478.
158 HADES ASCLEPIOS HEPH^STUS.
Whole-length statues of Poseidon are rare, and I cannot
instance any ancient one of superior excellence. Giovanni
da Bologna has supplied a good substitute in his statue
at the fountain in the market-place of that city.
Other water gods partake the traits of Poseidon. They
are generally represented of colossal size and reclining
in majestic calmness; the curls of the hair and beard
are straight and lank with moisture ; in the beard is
sometimes a little waterfall, with small fishes disporting
in it. Types of such deities are the Nile in the Braccio
Nuovo of the Vatican, the Marforio in the court of the
Capitoline Museum, the Tiber in the Louvre, and the
bust of Oceanus in the Sala Rotonda of the Vatican.
Hades, or Pluto, though his features closely resemble
those of Zeus, has a melancholy expression befitting his
functions. Representations of him are mostly of a late
period and taken from the Egyptian Serapis, with the
modius, or bushel-measure, on his head. There is a fine
bust in the Sala Rotonda of the Vatican.
Asclepios, or JEsculapius, god of the healing art, also
bears some resemblance to Zeus, but may be distin-
guished from him by his special attribute, the serpent-
twined club on which he leans. The best statues of him
are one in the third corridor of the Uffizi at Florence,
and another very similar one in the Neapolitan Museum.
That in the Braccio Nuovo of the Vatican is thought to
be a portrait of Antonius Musa, or some other eminent
physician of the Augustan epoch. It has certainly but
little ideal or divine majesty, and we miss especially the
hair and beard of Zeus.
Mis-shapen Hephaestus, or Vulcan, the only child of
Zeus in wedlock, seems to have been but rarely
modelled in ancient times. His lameness must have
hindered him from being a favourite subject for the
chisel. Alcamenes, in a statue which he made of the god,
ARES. 159
contrived to conceal that defect, and even to give it a
not ungraceful air, by planting both feet on the ground
and covering them with drapery. 1 I do not recollect
seeing any statue of this deity.
Ares, or Mars, the god of war, had more the type of
a mere athletic combatant than of the skilful commander
who thoughtfully controls the issues of the heady fight.
That, probably, was a type which commended itself from
the nature of ancient warfare, when so much depended
on the prowess of individual combatants. Ares was
not so much worshipped by the Greeks as by the Romans,
and consequently few statues of him are known. Alca-
menes made one for his temple at Athens. 2 Two of
colossal size were made during the second Attic school ;
one a seated statue by Scopas, in Pliny's time at Rome;
the other, either by Leochares or Timotheus, was in the
citadel of Halicarnassus. 3 Of this truculent deity there
is probably no authentic Greek statue, or copy, extant.
The best reputed statue of him is that in the Villa
Ludovisi at Rome ; but many connoisseurs call him
Achilles, and he might well pass for that hero in his
moody fit after the loss of Briseis. Seated on a rock, he
clutches and draws up his knee with a somewhat sullen
expression; on his right is his shield, whilst a little
cupid sporting under his legs is, perhaps, the best token
of his divinity. It is a fine work, and by some attri-
buted to Lysippus ; but no such statue by that artist is
mentioned by ancient writers. An image of Mars
appears to have been affixed to the helmet of the Roman
legionary, to strike the foe with terror. 4
1 Cicero, " De Nat. Deor.," i. 30. Pendentisque dei perituro ostenderet
2 Pausan., i., 8, 4. hosti." Juv., " Sat.," xi. 106.
"N. H.,"xxxvi.,4, 7; Vitruv.," The word pendentis is a crux. In a
desperate case, what if we were to read
" Ac nudam effigiem clipeo fulgen- frendentis, gnashing his teetli ?" A
tis et hasta, change only of one letter.
1 60 DEMETER PERSEPHONE ISIS FLORA.
Like her consort Zeus, Hera had also a resembling
type in that of Demeter, or Ceres. It would be difficult to
distinguish that in the Rotonda of the Vatican from Hera,
but for the ears of corn in her left hand ; and such attri-
butes are often restorations. There is a good and some-
what colossal statue of her in the Louvre (No. 55), re-
markable for the beauty of the drapery. She is often
seen in bas-relief, accompanied by her daughter Cora,
or Persephone. A good bas-relief, in the Louvre (No.
64) represents the rape of Persephone by Hades, or Dis.
The Egyptian deity Isis, early admitted into the
Greek mythology, also partakes of the matronly form
of Hera. She may be recognized by the sistrum, a sort
of bronze rattle with bars. Flora has also something of
the Hera type. She is best represented in the celebrated
colossal statue in the Neapolitan Museum, formerly in
the Farnese collection (Sala V.).
It would be tedious and unedifying to go through the
whole cycle of the gods and demigods, and I shall
therefore confine myself to those which have been chiefly
the subjects of the Greek chisel, and whose representa-
tions consequently are pretty numerous. Such are
Apollo and his sister Artemis, or Diana, with their cho-
ruses of Muses, or Nymphs; Hermes, or Mercury, the
god who had most to do with the business of daily life,
and whose images were thus so frequent that the term
'Ep/jLoy\vvs, or Hermes-carver, became a synonym for
a statuary ; Aphrodite, or Venus, who, being the ideal
of female beauty, naturally became a favourite subject
of art, often accompanied by her son, Eros, or Cupid, and
by the Charites, or Graces, sometimes also by Peitho,
the goddess of persuasion ; lastly, Dionysus, or Bacchus,
who, together with his crew of Satyrs and Bacchantes,
afforded admirable figures for the sculptor, and especially
for groups in bas-relief.
APOLLO. 161
Apollo appears in three principal forms ; in repose, as
the angry god, and as the leader of the Muses engaged
in music and song. The bow and arrows and the lute
symbolize the two opposite sides of his character. 1 But
he also sometimes appeared as the sun-god. The older
type of Apollo was more manly and robust than the
later one, the face rounder and more earnest. The taller
form, the oval head, and cheerful countenance were in-
troduced by the younger Attic school. Of the older
type there is a bronze figure in the British Museum, and
a marble bust. Another very similar bronze bust, but
without the flowing locks, found at Herculaneum, is now
in the Neapolitan Museum. I will here mention by way
of contrast the bust called the Giustiniani Apollo, also
in the British Museum. These heads may serve to illus-
trate Greek art at the periods of its approach to perfec-
tion and of its incipient decline. The divergence of
opinion respecting the Giustiniani bust affords a remark-
able, and perhaps instructive, example of the uncer-
tainty of art- criticism. Hirt, Meyer, Panofka, and
Dubois ascribe it to the age of Pheidias; an opinion
which must appear preposterous to anybody who has
cast a mere passing glance at the works of that great
sculptor. Kinkel thinks that the sentimental expres-
sion, the feminine hair dress it is one usual with
Apollo, as in the Belvedere statue, though the crobylus
may be a trifle larger and the sorrow expressed in the
mouth and eyes, would lead to the idea that it was
later than Lysippus; but the sorrow, he continues, is
not more marked than in the Niobe, while the noble
profile, the strong, sharp eyelids, the carefully arranged
hair, belong rather to the fourth than to the third cen-
tury B.C., and therefore to the second Attic school, or at
all events to that of Lysippus. Zoega considers the ex-
1 Horat., Carm.," ii., 10, 13 ; " Carm. Sec.," 34 ; Pausan., ii., 27, 3.
M
162 THE GIUSTINIANI APOLLO.
pression full of mildness, with a dash of Bacchic enthu-
siasm, which is hardly in Apollo's character; Wagner
finds it gloomy and severe, whilst Benndorf discovers
earnest softness, a gentle, quiet feeling, pity slightly
mixed with sorrow. This critic, therefore, is of opinion,
that from its remarkable tendency to sentimentality, it
cannot be placed earlier than the time of Alexander.
Wieseler, the editor of Muller's u Denkmaler," who has
collected these opinions, thinks that it may be later
than that period ; that the arrangement of the hair is
such as generally occurs after the time of the Diadochi,
though there are earlier instances on coins. 1 A stranger
notion than any here enumerated is that of Stark, who
confidently assumes that it is a copy from the second
fleeing daughter of Niobe ! 2 Is it then possible that so
many critics should have mistaken a female for a male,
a mortal for a god ?
This contrariety of opinion among so many eminent
connoisseurs is rather discouraging to the student or
amateur of art; it may, however, teach him a useful
lesson to think for himself. Let him make himself
acquainted with the characteristics of the great artists
of antiquity and their productions, as described in an-
cient writers ; let him study the truth of such descrip-
tions in genuine remains or approved copies of their
works; and then let him draw his own conclusions. If
he is incompetent to do that, he had better leave the
matter alone.
I would not, however, be understood to mean that we
should reject the aid of sober critics. With respect to
the age of the bust in question, I am inclined to agree
with Helbig and Mr. Newton. The former is of opinion
that from its general type, and more especially the deep
1 "Denkmaler," Th. ii., Heft, i., S. 170 ff. (ed. 1877).
3 " Niobe und die Niobiden," S. 270.
THE YOUTHFUL APOLLO. <. 163
cavities between the nose and eyes, it is in the style of
the second Attic school, but that the forehead is with-
out analogy in pre-Alexandrian art, and shows the
change of the Attic type in the Diadochan period. 1 He
remarks in the head earnest pathos combined with femi-
nine character, and thinks that its prototype was the
Apollo Musagetes of Scopas, copied in the age of Ly-
sippus. He is further of opinion that it has no tfaits of
the Gra3co-Roman school, and would thus, apparently,
ascribe it to the time of the Diadochi. In this view Mr.
Newton agrees. 2 Wieseler also thinks that it is the
head of an Apollo Citharoedus. I must confess myself
unable to discover that it has any analogy with the
Apollo of Scopas, as we know it in the Vatican copy.
The melancholy, one might say sickly, sentimentality of
the countenance resembles not the more manly and
cheerful one of the god inspired by poetry and song.
In the Citharoedus the head is somewhat elevated, the
look directed upwards, as befits a player on the lyre;
whilst the bust is looking rather downwards, and shows
not the lively animation suitable to the manner in which
the god is supposed to be engaged. It may be further
observed that the Apollo of Scopas wears an olive crown,
which appears not in the bust. But it may be easier to
give a negative than a positive opinion, and I will not
venture to guess what it really represents.
Of the second and more pleasing form of the god
several examples are extant, some of which may pro-
bably be referred to a Praxitelian model. He some-
times appears as quite a youth, hardly an ephebus. Per-
haps the best statue in this style is the Apollo Sauroc-
tonos 3 (ffaupo/crovoc, lizard-killer), and the best copy of it
1 "Campanische Wandmalerei," S. 3 Plin., "N. H.," xxxiv., 19, 10. Cf.
Martial, xiv., 172.
British Museum Guide/' p. 61.
164 THE APOLLINO.
that in the Vatican Galleria delle Statue. The original
was in bronze, in which material Praxiteles made many
fine statues, though he excelled in marble ones. Lean-
ing carelessly and gracefully on the trunk of a tree, the
youthful god is watching the ascent of a lizard, in
order to kill it with the arrow which he holds in his
right hand. It is a charming figure, but has in it
little of the divine ; and I can hardly agree with
Burckhardt that his occupation befits the far niente of
a deity. We might readily take him for a mortal
youth of almost feminine beauty, to which appearance
the arrangement of the hair contributes. It has not
the usual crobylus. There is another copy in the Louvre
(No. 70).
Another statue of similar character is the beautiful
little figure called the Apollino, in the Tribune of the
Uffizi. It has the graceful curve of the body so often
seen in the works of Praxiteles. The right arm, up-
lifted and resting lightly on the head, restores the
balance of the figure, and suggests repose after labour.
It may possibly be a copy of the figure described by
Lucian 1 as being in his time in the Lyceum at Athens.
The attitude is exactly the same. Lucian does not
name the sculptor, but the style is essentially Praxite-
lian. The figure has more of divinity than the Sauroc-
tonos. The youthful face is full of majesty, and the
characteristic crobylus denotes the god. So also the
quiver full of arrows ; but this attribute, as well as both
the hands, appear to be restorations. In the magnifi-
cently executed group of Pan teaching the youthful
Apollo who, however, is sometimes called Olympus
to play on the syrinx, in the Neapolitan Museum (Sala
III.), 2 the god is represented with charming naivete.
1 " Anacharsis," c. 7. secret cabinet ; and perhaps it ought to
2 Burckhardt erroneously says in the be there.
APOLLO MUSAGETES. 165
He seems trying to conceal a smile of ridicule at his un-
skilful teacher.
When engaged in the discharge of his higher and pe-
culiar functions, Apollo is necessarily represented of
rnaturer age. In his character of Citharoedus, or Musa-
getes, we have the fine statue before alluded to in the
Vatican (Sala delle Muse). The drapery, a tunic reach-
ing to his feet, and a long and flowing mantle, gives him
here also a somewhat feminine look ; but in spite of the
beauty of the laurel-crowned head, it would be impos-
sible to mistake its air and expression for a female's.
Bearing the cithara on his left arm, and wakening its
chords with the right hand, his head thrown somewhat
back with an air of inspiration, he seems to be advan-
cing with lengthened strides at the head of his chorus.
The original, as before said, is thought to have been a
work of Scopas, and to have adorned the temple of the
god on the Palatine, where it stood between his mother,
Leto, and his sister, Artemis. 1 In the same room of the
Vatican are statues of all the Muses, on which I shall
not dwell. They are also collected together in the Sala
(Idle Muse at Naples. Single statues of them fre-
quently occur. That of Melpomene, in the Louvre, is of
singular excellence.
The best known and most celebrated statue of Apollo
is that called the Belvedere, from the place it occupies
in the Vatican. It has enjoyed a reputation superior
to that of most works of art, and was at one time con-
sidered to be the finest statue in the world. The pro-
gress of research, and the discovery of works of the
earlier Attic schools, have in great part destroyed that
opinion ; the tide now runs the other way, and men
seem disposed to break the idol which they once adored.
The sober critic will steer a middle course, and whilst
1 Propert., ii., 31.
166 BELVEDERE APOLLO.
he will acknowledge that the statue cannot claim a first
place in art, he will still maintain that it possesses ex-
cellences far above the ordinary level. The author of
it is unknown, and even its age is uncertain. It can
hardly be older than the time of the Diadochi, and some
critics have, riot improbably, placed it as late as the
Roman imperial period. That it is made of Carrara
marble, which was only recently discovered in the time
of Pliny, as Mengs was the first to point out, 1 proves
nothing as to the date of the original from which it was
probably copied.
Much has been written about this Apollo, and the
nature of the action in which he is engaged. Winckel-
mann thought that Apollo Kallinicos (/caAXiWoc, the illus-
trious conqueror) is represented, who, after killing either
the Python or Tityos, with his arrows, is turning away
from his vanquished foe , with a mixed expression of
pride and anger. 2 Visconti considered it to be an imita-
tion of the Apollo Alexicacos (dXtSt/cafcoc, tutelary, averter
of evil) of the Athenian Calamis, which is surely re-
futed by its style. Hirt and Wagner thought that it
belonged to the Niobe group; Feuerbach, that he was
dispersing the Erinnyes; Missirini, that he was an
Apollo Augustus. Miiller, by whom these opinions are
collected, 3 thinks that the god is turning away after a
victory, and that the anger of the combat is melting into
cheerfulness. Winckelmann's view was long the pre-
vailing one, and has been recently repeated by Burck-
hardt, who says: "his arrows having hit the mark, he
turns to depart with an expression of haughty pride,
and some remains of displeasure." 4
In considering this statue, attention must be paid to
1 "Opere/'t. ii., p. 21. That author 2 Lib. xi.,c. 3.
ascribes it to the time of Hadrian. Ibid., 3 " Handbuch," 361, note 1.
p. 22, note. 4 "Cicerone," p. 441.
HIS ACTION AND POSE. 167
the state in which it was found and the restoration it
has undergone. It was discovered towards the end of the
fifteenth century, at Porto d'Anzo, the ancient Antium,
where the Roman emperors had a villa. It was in a
tolerable state of preservation, but the left hand and
the attributes which it held were wanting. By com-
mand of Pope Clement VII., the sculptor Montorsoli,
a friend and pupil of Michelangelo's, was brought to
Rome, and apartments assigned to him in the Belvedere
whilst executing the restorations required for this statue,
as well as for the Laocoon group. 1 In the absence of
any guide, it was natural enough that Montorsoli should
have placed in the hand of Apollo the fragmentary
handle of a bow, his characteristic weapon and attribute,
and the object of his principal epithets ; and hence seem
to have been derived the views already mentioned of
various critics. But Montorsoli and his followers seem
to me not to have taken into account the pose of the
figure. A person shooting from a bow necessarily rests
on the left foot, and the body inclines to the left side;
but here the pose is on the right foot, and the inclination
of the body towards that side, though the head is turned
towards the left. He could not, therefore, be using his
bow, nor preparing to use it. Again : suppose him to
be satisfied with the effect of his shot, and turning away
to depart and he is evidently in quick motion, 2 then
the bow arm, which is in the original position, would
naturally have fallen, instead of being still horizontally
extended.
That the object held in the left hand was not a bow
derives strong confirmation from a small antique copy
of the figure in bronze, mentioned by Burckhardt's
1 Vasari, t. iv., p. 500. consentient opinion of all writers, and
3 This is denied by Overbeck (" Plas- the testimony of the eyesight,
tik," B. ii. S. 260) against the almost
168 PRELLER'S VIEW.
editor, which was found towards the end of last century
at Janina, and came into the possession of Count
Stroganoff, at St. Petersburg. In this statue he appears
to hold something flexible, which hung down, such as a
faun-skin; and Stephani, who first called attention to it,
thought it to be the aegis, with the head of Medusa.
This view derives some confirmation from another little
ancient bronze statuette of Apollo in the possession of
Count Pulsky at Pesth, which, though differing some-
what in other respects from the larger statue, holds a
similar object in the left hand. The aegis was not, in-
deed, usually borne by Apollo ; but it was occasionally
lent to him by Zeus, of which a special instance occurs
in the Fifteenth Book of the Iliad, when the father of
the gods exhorts him to lead on Hector and the Trojans
to attack the Greeks. 1 Hector is there described as
taking long strides ; yet he is preceded by the swifter
god bearing the aegis, and having his shoulders veiled in
a cloud, typified in the statue by a cloak. The idea of
swift motion is admirably conveyed; but the chief
beauty of the statue is the god-like and haughty majesty
expressed in the countenance. I had no adequate idea
of this, till, on going over the Vatican by night, the
attendant placed the torch behind the head of the statue.
It was a perfect revelation.
Preller was the first to start the idea that the statue
was a commemoration of the repulse of the Gauls in their
attempt to plunder the temple of Apollo at Delphi ; and
this view has met with a good deal of favour. But it is
only an unsupported guess, and it is more probable that
the sculptor took the subject directly from Homer. In
the legend relating to the attack of the Gauls, Apollo
conquers by sending a terrible storm of thunder and
lightning, which renders useless the aegis which he
1 vv. 220 seq.
OVERBECK'S SUGGESTED GROUP. 169
carries. He is also said to have been aided by Athena
and by his sister Artemis, statues of whom also existed
at Delphi. Hence Overbeck has been induced to make
the Apollo Belvedere the centre of a group in which he
has placed on one side of him the Artemis of the Louvre,
commonly known as the Diana of Versailles, and, on the
other side, a statue of Athena, now in the Capitoline
Museum. But the Versailles Artemis has been univer-
sally recognized as representing her as the goddess of
the chase, and engaged in that pursuit, not in any war-
like action. The Capitoline Athena, again, wears the
aegis, but makes no use of it, as one would think she
should do, instead of Apollo. Preller's view would, of
course, place the work after B.C. 279 ; but there is no
evidence as to the age of the original statue, though,
from the style, it could hardly have been earlier than
that date, and may have been a good deal later, most
probably of the imperial time. 1
Fault has sometimes been found with the dispropor-
tionate length of Apollo's legs and arms as compared
with the body. But there are no parts of the human
frame which show so much variety as these. Many a
man who appears tall when seated or on horseback,
seems dwarfed when standing, and vice versa. The beau
ideal, it is true, should remedy these defects, but the
end of art is not merely the presentment of perfect
beauty. It may be allowed to make a small sacrifice in
this respect, in order to convey a more lively idea of the
motive of a work, which, in this case, if the preceding
view of it be correct, should be that of swiftness. After
all, the length of limb is not much exaggerated, and to
have made them too short would have been a much
graver fault.
1 ( >n this subject see Overbeck, " Plas- Miiller's " Denkmaler," Th. ii., Heft, i.,
tik," Bach v., cap. 4; Wicseler, ap. S. 173 (ed. 1877).
170 AETEMIS.
Artemis, or Diana, Apollo's sister, reflects, as befits
her sex, his qualities and characteristics in a milder
form, as the moon does those of the sun. Under the
hands of the second Attic school, she received that
slender, agile form which also became typical of her
brother. Her face was the female counterpart of Apollo's,
and her hair was sometimes gathered into a crobylus,
like his. Maidenhood being her characteristic, she is
always clothed, but mostly in the Doric, or ancient
Hellenic chiton ; which, being shorter than the ample
Ionic robe, left her legs at liberty for her favourite pas-
time, the chase. As goddess of light, or personification
of the moon, she sometimes carries a torch. Her attri-
bute, like her brother's, .is a bow and arrows. As
huntress, she is sometimes accompanied with a dog,
sometimes by a deer, as protectress of wild animals.
There is a good small statue of Artemis in the more
ancient or hieratic style in the Neapolitan Museum
(No. 552). She wears the somewhat insipid smile
characteristic of that stage of art. Traces of gilding
may still be seen on the drapery. Praxiteles appears
to have made several statues of Artemis, in which the
beauty of the mouth was particularly remarkable. 1 This
feature is well rendered in the charming statue in the
Louvre, called the Diane de Gabies (No 97), from its
having been found among the ruins of the ancient town
of Gabii. It is among the finest works that have come
down to us from antiquity. Clothed in a chiton with
short sleeves, she is buckling her mantle on her right
shoulder, towards which her head also inclines, an action
which gives her the most graceful pose imaginable.
There are several copies of this work.
The Louvre also boasts the best known and most
frequently repeated statue of Artemis, the Diane cle
1 Petron., " Sat.," c. 126.
THE DIANA OF VERSAILLES. 171
Versailles just alluded to (No. 98). Her rapid motion,
still more clearly indicated by the bounding roe at her
side, shows her engaged in the chase. Her attention
seems to have been attracted by the noise of some
animal; and M. Frohner thinks that she suddenly stops
to draw an arrow from her quiver. But her posture
hardly suits that idea, which seems also to be contra-
dicted by the galloping legs of the roe ; nor does the
passage which he cites from Pausanias prove anything
of the sort. 1 She might draw the arrow without stop-
ping in her course. Some of the ancients appear to have
thought that the gods went with a gliding motion, and
A'irgil's line, u et vera incessu patuit dea," has been in-
terpreted in this way. Homer, however, made his gods
use their legs and feet, as we see from his description of
the strides of Ares ; 2 and in any case it would have been
impossible to represent motion in statuary without their
doing so. The right hand of Artemis, placed between
the horns of the roe at her side, probably held a bow.
It has been sometimes thought that this statue formed
a pendant to the Belvedere Apollo, and that both were
executed by the same artist. This seems very probable,
as they have the same ideal length of limb, vivacity of
motion, and considerable resemblance in the face. The
richly ornamented sandals, too, are much alike. That
the Artemis was a work of the Roman imperial period
seems even more clear than in the case of the Apollo.
The short chiton might belong to the best time of Greek
art ; but the little mantle on the upper part of the body
is found only in Roman works, and is never mentioned
by classical authors when describing her attire. 3
As Soteira (o-wrapa), the Saviour, and Phosphoros
1 See "Louvre Catalogue," p. 123; 3 Wieseler, up. Miiller, "Denkmaler,"
Pausan., vii., 26, 4. Th. ii., Heft, i., S. 217.
2 ' Iliad," v. 20.
172 ARTEMIS AS SELENE.
, the Light Bringer, Artemis is draped down
to the feet, in a long and sleeveless Ionic chiton ; but it
is often difficult to say which of these characters she
represents, as the arms, and the attributes they held,
are frequently either altogether wanting, or modern
restorations. The expression is mild and beneficent,
but dignified. There are some statues of this type in
the Vatican (Museo Chiaramonti and Gabinetto delle
Maschere), and a fine one in the Louvre (No. 93). She
is also completely draped in the charming statue in the
Vatican (Bruccio Nuovo, No. 50), supposed to repre-
sent her as Selene, or the Moon, discovering the sleep-
ing Endymion, where her surprise and pleasure are
expressed by her attitude.
Of all the gods Hermes, or Mercurius, was perhaps
the most popular, from his extensive and intimate con-
nection with the affairs of human life. As indicated by
his name, he was especially the u Interpreter " (^urjvtuc),
and hence presided over language and letters and edu-
cation, persuaded, ^ and sometimes deceived, by his
eloquence, was the patron of trade and commerce, and
the go-between of buyers and sellers. He was also the
giver of unexpected fortune, the discoverer of hidden
treasure, the god of gain, and it must be added the
patron of thieves. With respect to the gods, he was
the herald and messenger of Zeus, as well as the con-
necting link between the upper and nether worlds ; and
in this last capacity, and as a partly infernal deity,
the conductor of departed souls. Thus he was a perfect
anti-type of Apollo, who concerning himself but little
with the commonplace and daily affairs of life, was
animated with a divine inspiration, which manifested
itself in poetry and music, and the foretelling of the
future; whilst, as the god of light and day, he had a
horror of the nether world, and fled the approach and
HERMES. 173
sight of death. 1 The types of the two deities naturally
presented the contrast which marked their characters.
Both, indeed, are young; but Apollo often a mere
stripling, of slender and somewhat feminine form;
whilst Hermes is represented as perfectly adult, with
limbs developed into strength and activity by the
exercises of the palcestra. Thus Lucian observes that
Pheidias, Polycleitus and Praxiteles represented Apollo
as always a boy or lad (irai^a c'e 26. There are other unanswer-
counsel but himself ? able reasons in the same section, but the
2 " 1st es aber sonach ausser allem above suffices.
Zweifel, dass Craterus und Pythodorus,
OVERBECK'S ARGUMENTS FROM STYLE. 223
sent instance, I will here briefly state his arguments.
It is contended, 1, that, from its originality, the Lao-
coon cannot possibly belong to the Roman imperial
period, when that quality was entirely lost ; 2, that there
is no probability that the three greatest artists of the
Rhodian school should have lived at Rome, and at a
time when art had perished in their own country, instead
of at home, and during its highest development ; when
Aristonidas produced his Athamas, and Apollonius arid
Tauriscus the Dirke group ; 3, that the Laocoon is the
natural third step in the development of pathetic sculp-
ture, the first step having been taken in the age of
Pheidias, the second in that of Praxiteles ; which ren-
ders it improbable that the third step should not have
been taken till after an interval of three centuries ; 4,
that the same consequence follows from the progress of
grouping, which may be traced from Pheidias through
the Niobe group and the symplegma of Kephisodotus to
its last development in. the Toro Farnese and the Lao-
coon ; 5, that a like conclusion may be drawn from form
and style, no further change being possible after the
refinements of Lysippus, who made his figures superna-
turally fine and small, except by sacrificing the harmony
of a composition, as a whole, to the elaborate detail ob-
servable in the Laocoon, which completes, indeed, the
effect aimed at by Lysippus, but for which there is no
motive in the time of Titus, nor for the other charac-
teristic peculiarities of the group. On the other hand,
it was a natural process in the Rhodian school during
the time of the Diadochi, and analogous to the florid
rhetoric of the period.
In considering the argument from originality, we
must first determine in what artistic originality consists.
In all cases it is much less than poetic originality, from
the mere fact that painting and sculpture are in the
224 ORIGINALITY IN POETRY AND ART.
strictest sense imitative arts. Neither the painter nor
the statuary is required to invent a fable ; but rather,
as already insisted on, to take a well-known one. No
doubt a certain originality may be displayed by them,
especially in large subjects, in the selection of the cir-
cumstances and of the moment, in the grouping, &c.
When Pheidias made his designs for the pediments of
the Parthenon the birth of Athena and her contest
with Poseidon for the Attic supremacy there was room
for the display of all the originality of which art is
capable. He must, indeed, have founded those works
on pre-existing myths ; but he could have had little or
no guide for a composition of them in marble. The
moment to be chosen, the way in which he should show
it, with all its numerous figures and accompaniments,
in short, what is called invention in painting, lay en-
tirely with himself. But the Laocoori group, not a very
complicated one, was already marked out for the sculp-
tors by previous descriptions. It has been a subject of
hot dispute whether they followed Virgil or some other
poet. It is a matter of little consequence for the present
argument, since both sides assume that they followed
somebody. Only I will observe that if the group were
made in the age of Titus, and for that Roman emperor,
they could hardly have avoided casting a glance on
Virgil's lines; though the necessities of their art com-
pelled them to differ from him in some particulars,
especially in involving father and sons in the same
serpent coils ; without which a group would not have
been possible. For the execution of such a work, great
technical skill, a thorough knowledge of anatomy and of
expression, were required. But these are things that
come not of original genius, but are learnt by careful
and accurate study, for which Rome at that period
afforded the best opportunities in the world, from its
SCULPTURE AT ROME. 225
being filled with the chefs-d'oeuvre of Grecian art. There
was just as much, or more, scope for originality in the
group of Apollo and Diana with the quadriga, which
Lysias incontestably made for Augustus. 1
With respect to the second argument, where is the
improbability that Agesander and his companions, or
sons, should have lived at Rome? On the contrary, it
is the most probable thing in the world that they should
have been attracted thither, Rome being then the centre
and metropolis of art, and the chief focus of patronage.
Thus, as the passage above cited from Pliny shows,
Aphrodisius, the Trallian, and Diogenes, the Athenian,
were then working there ; and doubtless a great many
other foreigners besides the sculptors of the Laocoon.
We hear a great deal of the excellence of Rhodian art
a century or two before this period; but in fact, as
before observed, little is known about it. The school
of Rhodes seems to have been distinguished by its colossi
more than anything else. Besides the enormous one
seventy cubits high, one of the wonders of the world,
there were a hundred others, smaller, indeed, but any
of which would have made the reputation of another
place. 2 This gives us a very high notion of the riches
and resources of the Rhodians, but no very favourable
idea of their taste. All that we know about the Athainas
of Aristonidas is from Pliny. 3 He was sitting in peni-
tence after killing his son Learchus ; and the artist had
mixed iron with the bronze of which the statue was
made, and so produced a redness in the cheeks like a
blush, to manifest the shame he felt for his deed, a trick
unworthy of high art. Nor is it easy to see how this
single figure has any analogy with the Laocoon group,
except in its pathos.
The argument that the Laocoon is the natural third
1 Plin., ibid, K). 3 Ibid., 18. 3 " N. H.," xxxiv., 40.
Q
226 THE PATHETIC IN SCULPTURE.
step in the development of pathetic sculpture is founded
on the habit before alluded to as prevalent in Germany
of fixing the character of schools by hard and fast lines
which it is thought impossible to overstep. There are
no doubt some general characteristics which distinguish
the different schools ; otherwise the name of school
would be meaningless. The first Attic school, or rather
Pheidias, its head, was remarkable for dignity and
grandeur, the second for beauty and grace, whilst the
following one of Lysippus carried those qualities to an
extreme. But such characteristics concern only the
mode of treatment, and have nothing to do with the
subjects chosen ; in which lies the pathos. Will it be
asserted that the age which witnessed the Agamemnon
of JEschylus and the (Edipus Tyrannus of Sophocles
had no sentiment of the pathetic? These tragedies had
possession of the stage when Pheidias wrought, and it
would be strange, indeed, if we found no reflex of their
pathos in works of art of the same period. But we
know of several. Pheidias himself, as already men-
tioned, sculptured a wounded Amazon, and his contem-
porary, Cresilas, another, as well as the dying Diitrephes.
Of the second Attic school we have the Mo be', which
Overbeck considers to be more pathetic than the
Laocoon ; in which case that quality must have retro-
graded, instead of advancing. It would be difficult to
point to any pathetic work by Lysippus and his school.
Here, then, is a break in the assumed development of
the pathetic ; and a proof that it did not advance in the
supposed continuous manner. The school of Pergamus,
in which we next find it, did not, therefore, derive it by
tradition, but from natural genius and an oiiginal turn;
which shows that a peculiar style may originate in any
school, and, indeed, in any individual. So the artists
of the Laocoon may have executed a pathetic subject in
THE PROGRESS OF GROUPING. 227
the reign of Titus, without being necessarily influenced
by some immediate predecessor.
The argument from grouping I am quite unable to
follow. What analogy is there between pedimental
groups such as those of Pheidias, or that of the Niobe,
Avhich is, as will be shown, essentially pedimental, and
round groups like the Toro Farnese and the Laocoon?
( )f the symplegma of Kephisodotus absolutely nothing is
known with certainty but the name, which shows that
it contained only two figures. How could this have
been a development of the pedimental groups of Phei-
dias and Scopas? And what necessary connection has
it with the Laocoon group? But it is needless to dwell
on such reasoning.
Lastly, that Greek art underwent change in process
of time was natural, and is admitted ; but how general
effect is sacrificed to detail in the Laocoon, I must con-
fess myself unable to perceive, nor how it has any
analogy with the florid rhetoric of the Diadochan periool.
If such a comparison might hold, there were florid
writers enough in the time of the Caesars, though, per-
haps for that very reason, few of them have come down
to us. The Laocoon, on the contrary, seems to rne to
be a very unaffected composition ; and it is, perhaps, by
virtue of this very quality that it so powerfully affects
us. For there is no stronger antidote to the pathetic
than affectation.
These arguments of Overbeck's resemble a spinning
of cobwebs ; but I have adverted to them because such
a style of reasoning is not unusual with German critics
on art. They remind me of a character which Lessing
givc.s of his countrymen. "We Germans," he says,
u have no want of systematic books. We understand
as well as any nation in the world how to deduce
whatever we like, and in the most beautiful order, from
228 LAOCOON'S CONDITION AND POSTURE.'
the assumed explanation of a couple of words." It
is to be regretted that a want of sober judgment in
using the materials which they collect with such won-
derful industry sometimes goes far to destroy their
utility.
I will now turn to Overbeck's view of Laocoon's con-
dition and the motive of the group. Laocoon, he says,
is in the strongest action possible in a posture where the
extremities were curbed and confined. This action
springs solely from physical causes, and is uninfluenced
by any mental agony. But it is an error to suppose
that the purpose of it is to free himself from the ser-
pent's coils. It cannot be too precisely asserted that
Laocoon's movements are not made with any purpose
whatever; they are caused exclusively by the over-
powering and convulsing pain arising from the deadly
bite of the serpent.
Overbeck then proceeds to examine at great length
Laocoon's posture, limb by limb ; of which examination
I will here give the most material points. The left
leg is stretched out with extreme tension of the muscles,
but not to lift the body from its seat; for the foot is not
planted straightly and firmly on the ground, but touches
it only lightly with the ball, and in an oblique direction.
Again, were he endeavouring to rise, the right leg,
which is now bent, would have been used, with the sole
of the foot placed firmly on the ground, which it does
not quite touch, as the heel presses against the altar,
whilst the toes are cramped and crooked. This shows
mere involuntary movement caused by pain, and can-
not be ascribed to any conscious determination. The
same is the case with the left arm, which is genuine.
From the pain of the bite, Laocoon has seized the ser-
pent with left hand, but only as it were accidentally and
1 " Laokoon, Vorrede," S. vii.
THE MOTIVE OF HIS ACTION. 229
convulsively, and evidently too far from its head to re-
move it effectually. It is only the right arm that ap-
pears to contradict my view, which is plainly endeavour-
ing to remove the serpent. But this arm was restored
by Giovanni Montorsoli, and is therefore no criterion ;
and that it was falsely restored is now universally re-
cognized. The correct position of the right arm is
shown in the accompanying drawing, with the tail of
the serpent coiled round Laocoon's shoulder. It is not
struggling against the reptile, but touches Laocoon's
head in a slanting direction ; and a mark on the hair,
flattened by some modern chisel, proves that the hand
originally rested there. Thus it shows, like the other
extremities, only* an involuntary movement, caused by
pain. The same thing is shown by the writhings of the
trunk, which in this point of view are masterly. They
are merely the effect of extreme agony. The left side
is drawn inwards, the right breast thrust forwards, the
head thrown back towards the left shoulder. All the
muscles are contracted, as if with the greatest exertion ;
which, however, is without result and without purpose.
It is the struggling of a man hopelessly lost.
That the chief, though not perhaps quite the only
motive of Laocoon's symptoms is physical pain may be
conceded ; but not that his action is devoid of purpose.
It may also be admitted that he is not endeavouring to
rise. In fact, he had no need to do so. He is seated
on the altar, by which, as a fulcrum, his exertions are
sustained. Were he to rise, he must let go the serpent
which he is warding off with his left hand. Nay, even
if he had the wish to do so, he would hardly have had
the power ; for what Overbeck neglects to observe
one of the serpents has wound itself tightly round both
his legs, and indeed round the right one in a double
coil, above and below the knee, which would preclude
230 RESTORATION OF LAOCOON's RIGHT ARM.
the straightening of the limb. May not Pliny's admira-
tion of the serpent-coils, for which he has been ridiculed
by some modern critics, have been raised, not as is sup-
posed by their voluminous rings, but by the way in
which they are so artfully disposed as to show the progress
of the action, and the approach of the inevitable cata-
strophe ? With the same skill the sculptors have avoided
implicating the arms and hands in the coils. Nothing,
as Lessing remarks, gives more life and expression to a
composition than the movement of the hands. The
hands and arms both of father and sons are in full acti-
vity, and hence the group derives the most picturesque
animation ; whilst had they been tightly bound, as Over-
beck would make one of them, the subject would have
been enveloped in frost and death.
But the burning question on which the judgment of
the motive chiefly depends, is the right arm. Were it
thrown back, as in Overbeck's cut, such a posture would
undoubtedly add great force to the view that Laocoon
is incapable of further resistance. Unfortunately the
history of the restoration is obscure, and even contra-
dictory; * but this much seems to be certain. As Over-
beck says, the arm was restored by Giovannagnolo
Montorsoli in 1532 ; but he neglects to add that there
had been a previous restoration by Baccio Bandinelli in
1525, in wax. 2 On this account, no doubt, it was that
Montorsoli was employed to replace it in marble. But
he departed from Bandinelli's model, which had the
right arm thrown back to the head, in the way advo-
cated by Overbeck. That this was so, appears from a
caricature made by Titian to ridicule Bandinelli; in
which the father, who with the sons are represented as
1 See the note in Tea's translation of 2 Vasari, Vite," t. iv., p. 126, and
Winckelmann, vol. ii., p. 244 (Roma, p. 500 (Fircnze, 1822).
1783).
TITIAN'S CARICATURE. 231
apes, has his arm in that position. 1 The caricature must
have been taken during the seven years that the waxen
arm remained; and its position no doubt gave occasion
to the ridicule. The best artists of the period joined in
it, and Benvenuto Cellini wrote a lampoon on Bandi-
nelli. In Titian's picture, the group is in a landscape,
and in the middle distance is some animal, apparently a
bear, chased by two dogs, meant probably for the painter
himself and Cellini pursuing poor Baccio. Montorsoli
was a favourite pupil of Michelangelo's, and doubtless
had the approbation of that great sculptor in changing
the posture of the arm. Bandinelli's restoration may
have caused the mark said to be visible on Laocoon's
hair. It must be a very slight one, for a minute ex-
amination seems necessary to discover it; and whilst
Canova called it a projection, Overbeck, who appears
to speak of it only from hearsay, 2 styles it a flattening
(eine Fldcke). So slight a mark may have been caused
in removing the wax, which, after a period of seven
years, must have adhered pretty firmly to the marble ;
or it may have been made by the same accident which
carried away the arm.
Montorsoli, then, and the other great artists of that
period, were of opinion that the Laocoon was meant to
show a violent struggle with the serpents ; and such also
was the view of the eminent surgical authority whom I
have before quoted respecting the Dying Gaul. In answer
to the remarks of Payne Knight, who, in his " Essay on
Taste," had taken much the same view as Winckelmann,
Sir Chas. Bell says : u The writer has had the impression,
which all who look on the statue must have, that Lao-
coon suffers in silence, that there is no outcry. But the
1 Engraved in Rosini, " Storia della 2 Wicseler, note in Mailer's " Denk-
I'ittuni Italiami," t. v., p. 67, where also nialer," vol. i , p. 40.
is some account of the affair.
232 SIR c. BELL'S VIEW.
aim of the artist is mistaken. He did not mean to ex-
press ' energy and fortitude of mind,' or, l by expanding
the breast and compressing the throat to show that he
suffers in silence.' His design was to express corporeal
exertion, the attitude and struggles of the body and of
the arms. The throat is inflated, the chest straining to
give power to the muscles of the arms, while the slightly
parted lips show that no breath escapes, or at most a
low hollow groan. He could not roar like a bull, he
had not power to push his breath out in the very mo-
ment of the great exertion of his arms to untwist the
serpent which is coiled around him. It is a mistake to
suppose that the suppressed voice and the consent of the
features with the exertion of the frame, proceed from
an effort of the mind to sustain his pain in dignified
silence ; for this condition of the arms, chest and face
are necessary parts of one action.
u The instant that the chest is depressed to vociferate
or bellow, the muscles arising from the ribs and inserted
into the arm bones must be relaxed, and the exertion of
the arms becomes feeble. Again, in speaking or exclaim-
ing, a consent runs through all the respiratory muscles ;
those of the mouth and throat combine with those which
move the chest. Had the sculptors represented Laocoon
as if the sound flowed from his open mouth, there would
have been a strange inconsistency with the elevated con-
dition of his breast. Neither is it correct to suppose it
possible (as Payne Knight had done) that a man struck
down with a mortal wound, and rolling in the dust, like
Homer's ill-fated heroes, can roar out like a bull. A
mortal wound has an immediate influence on these vital
parts and respiratory organs, and the attempt to cry
aloud would end in a feeble wail or groan. There is no
danger that the tragedian who follows nature should
offend the taste of an audience by actual outcry. But
these critics think it necessary to refine and go beyond
CONTRAST BETWEEN FATHER AND SON. 233
nature, whereas the rule is to learn her ways, and to be
cautious of adding the slightest trait of expression, or
what we conceive to be such, to the simple, and because
simple, the grand character of natural action; instead
of making the appeal more strongly to the senses, it is
sure to weaken it." 1
Bell, then, is at one with Overbeck, that Laocoon's
expression arises entirely, or mostly, from physical pain ;
they also agree that all the muscles of the body are in
the most violent action ; but whilst Bell attributes this
to Laocoon's efforts to extricate himself from the ser-
pent-coils, Overbeck thinks, on the contrary, that it is
nothing but the involuntary result of exquisite torture,
the mere nervous crispations of a man who has lost all
power of action. Now we have in the group itself the
means of forming a judgment on this point by compari-
son. It is admitted on all hands that the younger son,
on Laocoon's right, is in a state of collapse. The deadly
poison has done its work, and he is about to give up the
ghost. But what a contrast between his figure and that
of the father ! The limbs are flaccid, and have lost all
power of muscular action ; he has no longer any strength
to struggle against his fate. To suppose the father to
be in the same condition is not only contradicted by all
appearances, but would also be an unpardonable fault in
art. Luckily Overbeck has favoured us with a cut of
these two figures as he would have them. Can anything
be more tame and insipid? Both are hors de combat, and
in precisely the same attitudes. The elder son is not
given in the drawing, but is of course supposed to be in
the condition represented in the group. He offers a coin-
" The Anatomy and Philosophy of den Einziehens des Athems gemeint
Expression," p. 193 seq. Henke, a Ger- ist), which agrees with Bell's view. For
man physiologist, quoted by Overbeck in so doing he could utter no cry, while
r- Plastik,"B.ii.,S. 269, Anna., No. 57), it would aid him in putting forth the
thinks that Laocoon is drawing in his strength of his arms by inflating "the
breath (der Augcnblick des sdiluch/en- chest, as we see it in the statue.
234 EXPRESSION OF THE MOUTH.
plete contrast to his father and brother. He has not yet
been bitten, but the serpent has begun to twist his coils
around him. His face and action betray not physical
pain, but mental agony and alarm. He looks up at his
agonized father with a mixture of terror and compas-
sion, and while with his left hand he tries to unloose
the serpent from his ankle, the uplifted right and ex-
panded fingers show the extremity of his horror and
despair. We thus see in the three figures the beginning,
the middle, and the end of the catastrophe. With re-
gard to mere technical art, it has sometimes been con-
tended that the arm of the father when bent back, gives
finer lines than when erected. This is very much a
matter of taste ; but for myself I must confess that the
fine diagonal line formed by the uplifted right arm and
extended left leg forms an agreeable, I had almost said
an indispensable contrast to the many curves in the
group. And Winckelmann was of opinion that the arm
covered with serpent coils and placed near the head,
would have been prejudicial to the work, by diverting
the spectator's attention from the head. 1
I have not yet adverted to the mouth, an essential
factor in the expression. Down to recent times, it has
been considered not sufficiently opened to give vent to
any loud exclamation. Such was the opinion of Winckel-
mann and Lessing, who founded different theories on this
very circumstance, with whom Bell coincides in the pas-
sage just quoted, and I believe most other writers on
the subject. It is a point, hoAvever, on which every spec-
tator of the statue may form a judgment for himself.
F. G. Welcker and Brunn assert that the mouth is suf-
ficiently open to utter a cry of woe ; but their words do
not necessarily imply any very loud one, 2 and Bell ad-
1 " Storia," &c., lib. x., c. 1, II. Welcker. "deutliche, vprnehmliche
2 "Angstruf und Klaggeschrei." Schmerzenslaute." Brunn. Which
WHETHER LAOCOON BELLOWS ? 235
mits that he may give vent to a low, hollow groan. But
Overbeck very much outdoes these writers, and affirms
that the marble Laocoon agrees in this point with Vir-
gil's u Clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit," ex-
cept only that the woe-cry, though as loud, is not wild
and inarticulate like the bellowing of a wounded bull.
And he seeks to establish this view in a note which com-
pletely demolishes it. u Incomparably more plain," he
says, u and in fact quite unmistakable is the bellowing
in the Ahremberg head and the Bernini one in the Spada
Palace. And as the sculptors of these heads worked
niter the Laocoon as a model, it at least appears plain
what they recognized in the Vatican statue." The roar-
ing, then, is not very easily to be found in the original,
but in two exaggerated copies of it ! Overbeck himself
acknowledges this to be the case in the head in the pos-
session of the Duke of Ahremberg, in which the mouth
is opened so widely as to show the lower teeth ; a thing
hardly to be seen in any genuine ancient work. This
head, if really antique, is at least as late as the time of
Hadrian; the Bernini one is of course modern. 1 We
need not, therefore, trouble ourselves about either. And
I will only further observe, that if Laocoon is really
uttering such loud and intelligible vociferations, I do
not quite see how that is compatible with the state of utter
prostration in which he is said to be.
Besides the mouth, Overbeck. and other German writers
enter upon an elaborate examination of the other fea-
tures, criticizing every wrinkle of the forehead, every
furrow of the cheeks, in order further to determine the
expression. It having been universally agreed that its
predominant character is that of physical pain, I shall
not here pursue a search which can add little or nothing
re not more than Bell's low groan. See ' Overberk, ii., 200; and notes 40,
Plastik," ii., S. 220. 41, and 56 to Book V.
23 G ARGUMENT FROM A GEM.
to that view, and will only observe that what other emo-
tion can be detected in the face seems to me to be anxiety
for his own fate and that of his sons. Such a feeling is
quite compatible with extreme bodily agony, so long as
it has not entirely overpowered the consciousness of the
sufferer.
It is sometimes attempted to determine the motive
and composition of ancient statues and groups by com-
paring them with engraved gems. I will not deny that
such a method may sometimes be of use in suggesting
the restoration of mutilated works ; as, for instance, the
Toro Farnese, to which I have applied it. But it can-
not always be implicitly followed. It is well known that
ancient engravers, and copyists in general, often took
some celebrated work for their model, and while retain-
ing its essential motive, took the liberty of altering it in
some particulars, either from fancy and caprice, or from
the necessity of the case. This last must have frequently
occurred in gem-engraving, where the size and form of
the stone would often necessitate some change. In such
a process, the uplifted arm of Laocoon would have been
especially liable to alteration, in order to suit the form
of the gem. A seal appended to an English legal docu-
ment, bearing the date of 1529, discovered not long ago,
has an impression of the Laocoon group from an intaglio
gem, showing Laocoon's right arm thrown back to his
head. Mr. King, who is a great authority in such matters,
takes the gem to be an ancient Greek work. I have the
greatest respect for that gentleman's opinion, but must
confess that I agree with Mr. Smirke in thinking that a
conclusion drawn, not from the gem itself, but from a
wax impression three or four centuries old, must be very
far from certain. It is, however, urged that even ad-
mitting the gem to be of Italian workmanship, the date
of 1529, at which it was used, only twenty-three years
THE MORAL OF THE GROUP. 237
after the discovery of the group in 1506, shows it to have
been executed before the restoration was in any way pre-
judged. 1 But as the group on its discovery was imper-
fect, the position given to the right arm can have been
only a matter of fancy. And it has been seen that Ban-
dinelli had restored the group in 1525, in all probability
as in the gem ; which restoration lasted till Montorsoli's
in 1532 ; so that the engraver may very well have copied
it before 1529. This is the more probable from the gem
being in England just at that period, as the discovery
of so fine a group would naturally cause a great demand
for copies of it.
I will now briefly advert to some criticisms that have
been passed on the motive of the group, and its fitness
for sculpture. These depend on the source from which
the work is taken, which are principally two : Virgil,
and the account given by Hyginus, probably taken from
Sophocles' play of "Laocoon," of which only a few frag-
ments remain. For we may put Quintus Calaber, ad-
duced by Lessing, out of the question, not from his age,
for he may have copied some older poet, but because he
represents only the sons as killed by the serpents.
Visconti, assuming that the group was taken from
Virgil, censured it as immoral, because Laocoon is slain
by Minerva for performing an act of patriotism. But
this is judging the work from the modern, not from the
ancient point of view. The pagan gods took as warm
a part in the affairs of men as they themselves did ; and
often, like them, from mere caprice, or the most trifling,
and sometimes most immoral, motives. This tale of
Troy itself is an example. The gods took different
sides, one of which must surely have been wrong. But
Avoe to those who opposed their will ! which was not to
1 See the Introduction to a transla- Prose Works of Lessing," Bell and Sons,
tion of Lessing's "Laokoon" ( u Select 1879).
238 WHETHER FROM SOPHOCLES OR VIRGIL.
be questioned. " Sic volo, sic jubeo, stet pro ratione vo-
luntas" The Trojans, however, being the offenders,
the gods who took part against them were on the moral
side, and thus there is no immorality in removing an
obstacle to their fall. But to make an artist responsible
for the morality of a work taken from a great poet seems
to me to be a wrong view of art, and a confounding of
the functions of the painter or sculptor with those of the
poet. The latter should no doubt be very careful in the
choice of his plot, which would offend were it altogether
immoral and repulsive. But even here there are de-
grees. A plot may be very touching, although not
strictly moral ; for after all we are but men, and willing
to make some allowance for the frailty of human nature.
Virgil's description had already obtained the approba-
tion of the public, and it is a strange sort of prudery
that would forbid its reproduction in art.
The version of Hyginus (or Sophocles) gives the tale
quite a different complexion. According to this, Lao-
coon, brother of Anchises arid priest of Apollo, had
married contrary to the commands of that deity, and
having been chosen by lot to make a sacrifice to Neptune
on the sea shore, Apollo seized the occasion to send two
serpents to kill his sons, and when he went to their
aid they killed him also. The Trojans, who could not
tell what deity had sent them, thought it was to punish
him for having opposed the entrance of the wooden
horse.
Here there can be no question of morality, for Lao-
coon is punished for disobeying the commands of the god
whom he served. But Overbeck, who assumes the group
to have been taken from this version of the story, brings
many objections against it, and decides that though the
subject may have been a tragic one in the play of Sopho-
cles, it is not such in the sculpture, but only pathetic,
and indeed of an ignoble pathos. This view, therefore,
WHETHER TRAGIC OR PATHETIC ? 239
rests on an arbitrary assumption of the source of the
group, which, however, is consonant with Overbeck's
opinion concerning its date; but if it was of the age of
Titus, as I have endeavoured to show, it may probably
have been taken from Virgil, or the myth which he
followed, which gives the matter quite a different moral.
The following are the principal objections urged by
Overbeck under the former assumption : Suffering is
tragic only when it is in just proportion to the crime to
b j expiated, otherwise it only excites disgust, instead
of pity. The same is the case when the punishment fol-
lows the sin at too long an interval, as here, or when
the sin is not clearly indicated. This indication could be
given in the play, but not in the group ; which therefore
is not tragic, but only pathetic. Its pathos also is
ignoble, because it consists almost entirely in bodily
pain. All this is different in the Niobe, which is one of
the most tragic of ancient works in sculpture.
In this distinction between the tragic and the pathetic,
Aristotle's theory is, of course, held in view. Now that
critic lays it down that a catastrophe in which the
sufferer is punished for an involuntary and unwitting
offence, is the most tragic of all that is, an a/zaprm, like
that of Thyestes or (Edipus, and not a ^to^0Tjp/a, or
voluntary crime. According to the Sophoclean version,
Laocoon committed a deliberate offence against Apollo,
and is, therefore, justly punished. But if we turn to
Virgil's version, which we have a perfect, and perhaps a
superior right to do, the sin, if such it can be called,
WHS an unwitting one. Laocoon broke no divine com-
mandment; he could scarcely even be aware that he
was offending a god by his act of patriotism ; or if he
was aware that the gods took different sides, he would
have felt that, if he was offending one, he was propitia-
ting another ; which amounts to a justification of putting
the gods altogether out of the question. He has, how-
240 COMPARISON OF LAOCOON AND NIOBE.
ever, incurred retribution for his act, because he has
offended one, though without any ill intention, and per-
haps even without his knowledge. This surely is both
fearful and pitiable (tyofapov KCU eAsavov), which, accord-
ing to Aristotle, constitute the very essence of tragedy.
But will the spectator really find that the group makes
any very different impression upon him, according as he
adopts one version or the other? Will the man who
has sympathized with the group when he thought it
founded on Virgil's description, lose all that sympathy
should he afterwards become persuaded that it is taken
from the play of Sophocles ? Or, vice versa, in. that case
acquire a sympathy he had not felt before? The chances
rather are that, in meditating on such recondite views,
he will find his sympathy with either story evaporate
altogether.
The Niobe group may be somewhat more tragic than
the Laocoon, supposing the latter to be taken from
Sophocles; for though the children in both are equally
innocent, the mental grief of Niobe at beholding their
fate may be more touching than the bodily agony of
Laocoon, though I do not think that his expression is
wholly devoid of anxiety for his children. On the other
hand, if the Laocoon group be taken from Virgil, or a
more ancient poet whom he copied, it is the more tragic,
because he perishes not through a deliberate act, like
Niobe, but an error.
As for the objections that for a story to be tragic its
connection must be seen, that the sin must be clearly
indicated for which the punishment is incurred, and
must follow soon after it, which is not done in the
Laocoon of the Sophoclean myth, I will observe that
such criticism loses sight of a fundamental principle in
art, namely, that as it is essentially imitative, it can
only recall a story, which therefore, as before observed,
LAOCOON'S AND NIOBE'S PUNISHMENT. 241
must be a well-known one : a principle that cannot be
too strongly insisted on. And Overbeck, in comparing
the group with the Sophoclean play, and deciding that
the latter is tragic, as it shows the cause, and the former
not, for want of it, has fallen into the fault denounced
by Lessing, of confounding the methods of poetry and
art. It is no doubt an advantage when the progress of
a story can be shown in art without violating one of its
essential principles, the unity of the subject; but this
could not have been done in the present instance, and
very rarely in any other. Further, if the group be
taken from the Virgilian version, the punishment follows
almost immediately on the crime, and is not liable on
that score to Overbeck's criticism.
With regard to the remark that suffering is tragic
only when it is in just proportion to the crime, I would
ask who shall decide that point, especially where the
gods are concerned? The sin of Niobe, for which not
only she but also her numerous innocent children, suf-
fered so dreadful a retribution, broke no divine com-
mandment. Is that in just proportion to the sin ? Rather,
is it not a great deal more disproportioned than Laocoon's
punishment, looking at his story from the same point of
view as Overbeck, that he, a priest of Apollo, and, there
fore, doubly bound to observe the god's behests, had
wilfully broken them?
Lastly, as to the objection that the pathos of the Lao-
coon is ignoble (unedel, p. 228) because it consists
almost exclusively in bodily suffering, it may be asked,
why is such suffering ignoble? That only is ignoble
which arises from some base and mean act ; but bodily
agony may be the lot of all. A tragic catastrophe must
necessarily turn on suffering and death ; and if we would
forbid the exhibition of it in sculpture, we should de-
prive it of its chief means of appealing to our sympathy,
R
242 THE HOERIBLE IN ART.
and banish from our museums the many fine statues al-
ready alluded to which consist of such suffering. I will
freely admit that where the inevitable result can be
clearly indicated, while its actual exhibition is avoided,
it may be even more touching and pathetic ; and this it
is that makes the picture of Medea the most tragic in
the world. But how few are the subjects that admit
of such a treatment ! It may be doubted whether the
Medea could be represented with equal effect in sculp-
ture, and it is certain that it has never been attempted,
though the subject is of the highest tragic interest.
Painting here asserts the pre-eminence I have claimed
for it over sculpture in its capability of telling a story.
It is said that many people, and Dannecker among
them, dislike the Laocoon group, thinking it repulsive.
It is conceivable that some persons of very fine feelings
and delicate nerves may have that aversion ; for my part
I must confess that I am much more repelled by the bru-
tality of the Toro Farnese group, which seems to be
now preferred before it. How many persons look with
complacency on pictures of the crucifixion, or of horrible
martyrdoms, when executed by a master hand, though
they are much more repulsive than the Laocoori ! It is
surely a strange thought of Overbeck's that this aversion
may be mitigated by compassion for the children ; for
the fate of those innocents should, it seems to me, only
heighten our disgust. This, however, is looking on the
work from the modern point of view, and not that of
the ancients, who were accustomed to the idea of whole
houses destroyed by the sins of their heads, and the
wrath of offended deities. This is also seen in the Niobe
group, with a greater number of victims. I am glad, how-
ever, to see that this aversion is diminished by Montor-
soli's restoration of Laocoon's right arm ; * which is no
1 " Ein in uns aufsteigender geheimes Grauen .... das sicherlich mehr und
ROMAN PLUNDER. 243
mean proof of its correctness. We are not told the
reason of this diminution ; but we may suppose it is be-
cause Laocoon is thus taken out of his utterly prostrate
condition, and some hope still left for him.
On the whole I must confess that, in spite of these re-
cent attempts to depreciate the group, my opinion of its
excellence remains unshaken; and that I should be in-
clined so far to endorse Pliny's opinion, which was no
doubt also that of the leading connoisseurs of his time,
that if not absolutely the best work, whether in sculp-
ture or painting, it must at least be put in the very first
rank.
Such a work could not have been produced except
where sculpture was in a flourishing state; and it is
well known that during the last century of the Repub-
lic an excellent school of sculpture was established at
Rome, which lasted down to the time of the Antonines.
The Romans, after their conquest of Greece, imbibed a
strong taste for art, which made them liberal patrons of
it, and hence Greek artists flocked from all parts to
Rome. That city, as before observed, abounded with
fine statues, mostly acquired by plunder, and thus be-
came a sort of metropolis for art, and an excellent school
for the study of it. To this we owe the many copies of
ancient Greek statues which still adorn the galleries of
Europe. Rome was at length much despoiled of its
artistic treasures to adorn Constantinople, and many fine
statues were destroyed in the anti-pagan crusade of
Theodosius. 1 It may be observed that, in the earlier
days of conquest, the Romans do not appear to have de-
secrated the temples of Greece by carrying off the sculp-
mehr hervortritt, je langer und je tiefer ab/usehen und uus den Laokoon sovor-
wir uns in die Darstellung hinein den- zustellen, wie die alten Kiinstler ihn
ken ; namentlich wenn wir nns gewoh- gcmacht hatten." " Plastik," ii., S.
nen von der die ganze Situation ver- 225.
umkTiiden Restauratiou Montorsoli's ' Mengs, " Opere," t. ii., p. 20.
244 SCULPTURE UNDER THE EMPIRE.
tures which adorned them. The pediments and friezes
of the Parthenon, of the temple at .ZEgina, and others,
remained unplundered down to modern times. But at
a later date, and in places out of Greece they do not
seem to have been so scrupulous, and thus we find that
the Niobe group was brought to Rome, which doubtless
originally adorned some Asiatic temple. After the best
and most portable of the more public works had been
carried off, the Romans began to invade and plunder do-
mestic hearths. The process is described by Juvenal :
" Plena domus tune omnis, et ingens stabat acervus
Nummorum, Spartana chlamys, conchylia Coa,
Et cum Parrhasii tabulis signisque Myronis
Phidiacum vivebat ebur, nee non Polycliti.
Multus ubique labor ; rarse sine Mentore mensae.
Inde Dolabella, atque hinc Antonius, inde
Sacrilegus Verres referebant navibus altis
Occulta spolia et plures de pace triumpbos.
*****
Ipsi deinde Lares, si quod spectabile signum,
Si quis in aedicula deus unicus (eripiatur)."
" Sat.," rui. 100 geg.
Thus, Greece and other provinces having been pretty
well stripped of their finest works, the Caesars, and
others patrons of art, were compelled to supply their
wants by employing the most excellent of the artists
who had taken up their abode at Rome.
Of these later sculptures I shall mention only a few,
some of which were executed in the provinces. There
is in the Louvre a statue sometimes called Germanicus,
by Cleomenes the younger, supposed to be the son of
the sculptor of the Venus de' Medici. But this is im-
probable, for other reasons besides the date. Winckel-
mann observes that it is not certain whether the head is
genuine ; 1 for it bears no resemblance to the head of
Germanicus in the Capitoline Museum. He hints that
the tortoise at his feet may be the symbol of Hermes ;
1 Vol. ii., p. 338 (Fea).
VAEIOUS LATER STATUES. 245
but it is certainly not that deity. Miiller thinks that
it is a statue of some Greek or Roman orator, to whom
that symbol has been added, 1 and that it has little life,
whilst Overbeck calls it very expressive. The head,
however, is decidedly Roman, and it has all the appear-
ance of a portrait, with little or no idealization.
The Knife- whetter, or Arrotino, called also Lo Spione,
in the Tribune of the Uffizi, is now thought to have
formed part of a group with Apollo and Marsyas. Winc-
kelmann adduces an engraved gem where a Scythian
slave, for such the figure in question seems to be, was
placed before Marsyas. The same appeared in a bas-
relief in S. Paolo fuori le mura. He was probably look-
ing up to Apollo for directions. 2
The Borghese Combatant in the Louvre was the work
of Agasias of Ephesus, a sculptor known only by this
inscription. This admirable statue was found at Capo
d'Anzo at the same time as the Belvedere Apollo. It
shows a perfect knowledge of anatomy, and cannot there-
fore be placed at a very early date. Attempts have
been made to identify it with some hero, but it has no-
thing of the ideal. It is simply a combatant well exer-
cised in his art, defending himself apparently from the
attacks of a horseman.
A group in the Villa Ludovisi, by Menelaus, a pupil
of Stephanus, and therefore of the imperial times, has
bmi variously interpreted as Theseus and ^Ethra,
Electra and Orestes, Penelope and Telemachus ; but
Jahn's view seems to be now pretty generally accepted,
that it is Merope recognizing her son ^Epytus, whom
she was about to kill; 3 and this, at all events, is equal
to the others. The female figure is dignified, and the
drapery fine ; the son far inferior.
" Archscologio," p. 167. Galleria di Firenze," and the "Cata-
1 See the Abate Zannoni, " Reale logo," p. 56. 3 Archseol.," p. 167.
246 IMPERIAL PORTRAITS.
Many portrait statues arid busts of the Roman impe-
rial times have come down to us, and are valuable not
only as likenesses of remarkable persons, but also some-
times for their merit as works of art. Portraits of the
first and greatest of the Caesars are rare. The best,
perhaps, is the bronze bust in the Villa Ludovisi, a
thoughtful, careworn head, typical of the penalties that
accompany ambition and grandeur. There is a statue of
him as Pontifex Maximus in the Museo Chiaramonti.
Of his great rival Pompey there is a celebrated colossal
statue in the Palazzo Spada at Rome, thought to be the
identical one at the feet of which Caesar fell. There is
a fine statue of Augustus, armed with a richly orna-
mented breastplate, in the Braccio Nuovo of the Vatican.
The charming youthful bust of him, also in the Vatican,
reminds one of the first Napoleon. Is it wholly impro-
bable that an irregular scion of the Caesars may have
found his way to Corsica, and that the French emperors
may owe their descent to the Roman? There is another
fine bronze head of the adult Augustus in the Vatican
library. Statues and busts of other emperors, and espe-
cially of Titus, Trajan, Hadrian, and Antonius Pius, are
of frequent occurrence. These statues are commonly
clothed ; but Hadrian, who by predilection was half an
Athenian, and delighted in statues, particularly his own,
is often represented entirely naked. I shall only further
mention the bust of Caesar's murderer, Marcus Brutus,
at Naples, a truly assassin-like physiognomy; that of
Agrippa in the first corridor of the Uffizi, and the
somewhat colossal head of Cicero in the same collection
(Sala delle Iscrizioni). The seated statue of Agrippina
in the Neapolitan Museum presents a rare combination
of dignity and easy grace. A light drapery covers, but
displays, her form. There is a similar statue in the
Museo Capitolino. Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi,
EQUESTRIAN STATUES. 247
\v;is similarly represented in a statue extant in Pliny's
time. 1
Equestrian statues were more common among the
Romans than the Greeks, and we have but few remains
of them. The finest specimen extant is that of Marcus
Aurelius on the Roman Capitol. The horse is of some-
what Flemish breed, but executed with such fire and
truth to nature as to excite the admiration of Michel-
angelo. The head and gesture of the rider are extremely
noble.
1 " N. H.," xxxiv. 14.
SECTION IV.
ON ARCHITECTURAL SCULPTURE, PEDIMENTS, FRIEZES,
BAS-RELIEF.
T T has been before observed (supra, 136) that sculpture
-*- makes most approach to painting in bas-relief and in
pedimeiital groups, which are analogous to bas-relief,
as to the power of presenting an historical subject, and
at the same time some disadvantages attending the
method have been pointed out. From the nature of the
case, there are but few extant remains of subjects in
architectural sculpture. They, and the buildings which
they adorned, have yielded to the effects of time and
tempest and war; to the destructive rage of barbarians,
the superstitious fury of iconoclasts, the greed of the
degenerate progeny whose ancestors erected them, and
the spoliation -of the more civilized amateurs of art who
have in our own days carried them off to decorate their
museums. Pedimental sculptures, whose composition
we know with any approach to accuracy, and of which
there are any remains, may be counted on the fingers.
Those which are interesting only from an archaeological
point of view fall not within the scope of this work; and
I shall, therefore, confine my remarks to a few of the
best-known and preserved.
The sculptures of the Parthenon first claim our atten-
tion. Of the figures of the eastern and principal pedi-
ment, representing the Birth of Athena, little remains
but what may be seen in the British Museum, and Mr.
Newton has fully described them. Many attempts have
been made to reconstruct the missing parts of the com-
WESTERN PEDIMENT OF PARTHENON. 249
position ; but into these, which are only more or less
plausible guesses, I shall not enter. But in 1674 the
sculptures of the western pediment were tolerably per-
fect. The French artist, Carrey, who visited Athens at
that date, made drawings of them, which are still pre-
served. 1 A few years afterwards they were seen by the
travellers, Spon and Wheler; and Wheler has given a
curious and interesting description of them in his
u Journey." He made, however, a strange mistake. He
took this western pediment to be the principal one, and
accordingly thought that the sculptures represented the
Birth of Athena, instead of her contest with Poseidon
for the Attic supremacy. It is still more strange that
this mistake should have remained undetected for up-
wards of a century. Leake adopted Wheler's view in
the first edition of his " Topography of Athens," and it
was only at last corrected by Quatremere de Quincy.
As Wheler's book is now rather scarce, I will here
insert his description, as follows : " There is a figure
that stands in the middle, having its right arm broken,
which probably held the thunder. Its legs straddle at
some distance from each other, where, without doubt,
was placed the Eagle. For its beard, and the majesty
which the sculptor hath expressed in his countenance,
although those other characters be wanting here, do
sufficiently show it to have been made for Jupiter. He
stands naked, for so he was usually represented, espe-
cially by the Greeks. At his right hand is another
figure, with its hands and arms broken off, covered half
way down the leg, in a posture as coming towards
Jupiter, which perhaps was a Victory, leading the horses
of the triumphal chariot of Minerva, which follows it.
The horses are made with such great art that the
sculptor seems to have outdone himself by giving them
1 There is a copy of them in the Print Room of the British Museum.
250 WHELER'S DESCRIPTION.
a more than seeming life ; such a vigour is expressed in
each posture of their prancing and stamping, natural to
generous horses. Minerva is next represented in the
chariot, rather as the goddess of learning than war, with-
out helmet, buckler, or a Medusa's head on her breast,
as Pausanias describes her image within the temple.
Next behind her is another figure of a woman, sitting,
with her head broken off. Who it was is not certain.
But my companion made me observe the next two
figures sitting in the corner to be the Emperor Hadrian
and his Empress Sabina; whom I easily knew to be so
by the many models and statues I have seen of them."
" At the left hand of Jupiter are five or six other
figures, my companion taketh to be an assembly of the
gods, where Jupiter introduceth Minerva, and owneth
her for his daughter. The postick, or hind part, was
adorned with figures expressing Minerva's combat with
Neptune about the naming of the city of Athens ; but
now all of them are fallen down, only part of a sea-horse
excepted." 1
From the likeness between the brothers, and the
absence of any attributes, it was pardonable enough to
mistake Poseidon for Zeus; but it is extraordinary that
Athena, who, both from size and position in the centre
of the pediment, could be nothing but a principal
figure, should have been thought to be her chariot-
driver. Nike; or that Poseidon, whose attitude, as seen
in Carrey's drawing, shows evident rage, should have
been compatible with the idea of that figure com-
placently introducing the new-born goddess to the rest
of the gods. The curious anachronism of recognizing
Hadrian and Sabina among the gods in the train of
Athena may be no mistake of Wheler's. He had learn-
ing enough to know that they could not have been con-
1 Wheler's " Journey," p. 360.
THE MOMENT. 251
temporary with Pheidias; and explains the matter by
assuming that Ictinus built only the cella of the temple,
that Attalus added the porticoes, and Hadrian the sculp-
tures in both pediments ! Perhaps the following may
be a more probable explanation : The Romans had a
barbarous custom of decapitating fine Grecian statues,
and putting their own heads, or those of their friends,
upon them. It is not at all improbable that Hadrian,
whose vanity and self-love were unbounded, may have
desired to immortalize himself and his consort by placing
their portraits on a work of Pheidias. At Athens,
Hadrian usurped the title of Zeus; and the statues which
he caused to be erected to himself in that city of his
predilection are innumerable.
The subject of the Western Pediment, as shown in
Carrey's drawing, has been variously interpreted. Mr.
Newton has given a full description of it, and of the
fragments which remain, together with a table showing
the various identifications of the statues, in his " Guide
to the Sculptures of the Parthenon." The main ques-
tion, as regards art, is, what moment of the action did
Pheidias select for representation ? Preller was of opinion
that it was the moment immediately following the de-
cision in favour of Athena. In this view Welcker con-
curred. 1 Some writers, however, have held that the
verdict has not yet been pronounced, and that the two
deities are still in the heat of the strife, and from their
postures almost ready, apparently, to come to blows."
I must confess my preference for the former opinion.
Pheidias would scarcely have left so important a con-
test, represented, too, on the great temple of Athena,
undecided, but would surely have shown her victory, as
the patron and eponymous goddess of Athens. As to
1 " Giebel-gruppen," S. 129. Watkiss Lloyd in the Classical Mu-
a See especially a paper by Mr. W. seum," No. J8.
252 IDENTIFICATION OF THE FIGURES.
their postures, they are evidently both turning away to
enter their chariots, as they naturally would do when
the contest was ended. From the mutilated state of
Athena's figure, and especially from the loss of the head,
it is impossible to interpret the motive of the statue with
any certainty ; but, from the fragment of the neck, she
seems to have been casting a look on Poseidon, probably
one of triumph. Poseidon's attitude and expression are
more plain. He evidently feels the rage and disappoint-
ment of defeat.
Of the other figures some are pretty certain. It is
assuredly Nike that drives the chariot of Athena. That
the figures beyond her are Persephone, lacchus, and
Demeter, according to Welcker's view, is at least highly
probable. From the intimate connection of the Eleusian
deities with Athens, they would naturally be chosen to
represent the land of Attica, but other names have been
given to them. The rest of the figures on this side are
more doubtful. The figure behind the horses has been
variously called Ares, Erectheus, &c. I take it to be
more probably Kecrops, 1 which name is given to it by
Visconti. As judge of the contest he would surely be
present, and from his attitude he seems to be intimat-
ing to IS ike the victory of Athena. The seated figure,
often called Kekrops, is too remote and too indifferent
for that character. The figures next to Demeter are
identified by Welcker as Heracles and Hebe, whilst
others have called them Kekrops and Agraulos. I take
them to be Ericthonios and Pandrosos, who shared the
Erectheum with him. The reclining figure in the left
angle has been taken for Cranaos or the Ilissus. It is
doubtless a river god, and being on the side of Athena,
I should incline to take it for the Kephisus, 2 which
flows past so many olive groves, Athena's tree.
1 See Dyer's " Athens," p. 402. a Ibid.
OTIOSE FIGUKES UNFIT FOR PEDIMENTS. 253
On the side of Poseidon are the water gods : Amphi-
trite, in her car, drawn by sea-monsters, can hardly be
mistaken. The figures next to her are probably Ino
and Melikertes. Aphrodite, naked, attended by Eros, and
sitting in the lap of her mother, Dione, may be pretty
certainly recognized, though other names have been
given to them. The female figure in the angle is probably
Callirrhoe ; the other, before Amphitrite, is of course a
marine goddess, and has been variously styled Thetis,
Thalassa, and Leucothea. The names of the female and
male figures beyond Dione can only be conjectured.
The male may perhaps be JEgeus, who was sometimes
reputed to be identical with Poseidon, as being father
of Theseus. 1 In the space on the left of Poseidon may
probably have been his chariot and horses.
My business here, however, is with the way in which
the story of the contest between Athena and Poseidon
is represented. It was a peculiarly interesting subject
for an Athenian. The animated gestures of the two
principal figures show their heat and animosity; yet
the attendant gods, from the necessity of their position,
display little or no interest in the event. The joy of
victory is not exhibited by those in the train of Athena,
nor is there any visible disappointment in those of the
vanquished deity. Some, indeed, are looking quite out
of the scene, and appear to be utterly regardless of what
is going on. The subject would have afforded an excel-
lent opportunity for a painter to have disposed in well-
arranged groups the partisans of either god, and to have
depicted in their faces and gestures their exultation or
their sorrow. But the boundaries and constraint of a
pediment rendered this impossible even for a Pheidias.
We may, then, perhaps draw the conclusion that any
complicated historical subject is unfit for pedimental
1 See Dyer's " Athens," p. 57.
254 THE NIOBE GROUP.
sculpture. By complicated, I mean where, besides the
figures actually engaged in the action, others are intro-
duced as interested spectators, like the chorus in a Greek
play. Hence compositions where only the actors are
shown are best for pediments. Such are representations
of battles, which tell no particular story, and where the
different postures of the combatants, and the figures of
the falling and the slain, allow of their being disposed
with a natural effect on the angular ground. Such is
the case with the pediments of the ^Eginetan Temple.
Another subject which, though not a battle, is particu-
larly well fitted for such a place, is that of Niobe and
her children, who are falling by the darts of Apollo;
for here no other personages are introduced but the
actual sufferers. But whether the extant, though im-
perfect, group now in the Uffi zi, at Florence, was arranged
in a pediment is a subject of dispute, and the opinion
of modern critics, or at all events of many German ones,
inclines to the negative. Before entering on that ques-
tion, I will say a few words about the origin of the
group.
The only ancient authority we have on the subject is
a meagre notice in Pliny, who merely says that it was
a doubtful point whether the dying children of Niobe,
in the temple of Apollo Sosianus at Rome, were the
work of Scopas or Praxiteles. 1 From these words it
cannot be strictly proved that Niobe herself was repre-
sented, or indeed that there was any group at all. They
only necessarily imply that there must have been two or
1 "Par haesitatio est in templo Apol- dren j and because there was no doubt,
linis Sosiani Niobae liberos morientes as I shall show, about the authorship of
Scopas an Praxiteles fecerit." " N. H.," Niobe herself. And this reading is ac-
xxxvi., 4, 8. This emended reading cepted by Overbeck, and I believe by
is doubtless the true one, instead of all German critics. See Overbeck's
"Niofow cum libem mor\entem;" be- " Schriftquellen," No. 1180.
cause Niobe did not die with her chil-
PLINY'S ACCOUNT. 255
more of her children. But from the discovery in 1583,
in a vineyard on the road leading from S.John Lateran
to the Porta Maggiore at Rome, of the statues now ex-
tant in the Uffizi at Florence, it cannot be doubted that
such a group existed, though Pliny, in his usual com-
pendious manner, has not clearly indicated it.
Overbeck mistranslated Pliny's words as follows :
u There is a like doubt whether Niobe with her dying
children, in the temple of Apollo Sosianus, is the work
of Scopas or Praxiteles." Here the doubt is made to
turn on Niobe herself, as well as her children. But this
is certainly wrong. The late Professor Stark, in his
book on the Niobe group, accepts the emended readings
of Pliny, and rightly confines the doubt about the author-
ship to the children. 2
I will here propose a view which may perhaps help to
explain the matter. It is well known that Scopas and
Praxiteles often worked in company. Thus they were
employed, together with Bryaxis, Leochares, and per-
haps Timotheus, on the Mausoleum. 3 It has also been
seen (supra, p. 188), that they worked in conjunction in
the Temple of Aphrodite at Megara. It is highly pro-
bable, therefore, that the Niobe group was their joint
work ; but that, after the lapse of ages, it could not be
told to which of them the children, or, perhaps more
strictly, those that were actually dying, were to be attri-
buted. It can hardly be imagined that the authorship
1 " Gleicher Zweifel besteht dariiber, There seems to be little use in collect-
ob die Niobe mit ihren sterbenden Kin- ing ancient authorities if they are to be
dern, welche im Tempel des Apollo So- mistranslated in this manner,
sianus ist, ein Werk des Skopas oder 2 "Niobe und die Niobiden," p. 119,
des Praxiteles sei." " Plastik," B. ii., where the various readings are given.
S. 51 (2* Auflage, 1870). In this trans- 3 Vitruv., vii., "Prarf.," 12. Pliny,
lation Overbeck follows the old reading, " N. H.," xxxvi. , 4, 9, has Timotheus
although in his " Schriftquellen," a most instead of Praxiteles ; whilst Vitruvius
useful work, published two years pre- says that some persons also mentioned
viously, he had adopted the emended one. Timotheus 5 i.e., besides the other four.
256 THE NIOBE OF PEAXITELES.
of so famous a group, which had been brought to Rome
only some century before Pliny's time, should have been
unknown. That it was the joint work of Scopas and
Praxiteles had been handed down by tradition, but their
respective shares had not been specified. It was known,
however, that the statue of Niobe herself was from the
hand of Praxiteles. Pliny's words cast no doubt on it,
and it was well known that Praxiteles had made a famous
statue of her, which could have been no other than this.
Some writers, indeed, have disputed this view, which,
however, was held by Heyne and F. G. Welcker. 1 The
latter critic, somewhat inconsistently, doubts whether
the Epigram in the Planudian Anthology can be taken
as proof that Praxiteles was the author of the Niobe,
and suggests that the poet may have inserted his name
only for the sake of his pentameter ! thus destroying at
a blow his good faith and his poetical skill. But the
name appears in the first member of the pentameter,
where the metre would have occasioned little or no con-
straint; and the name is again repeated in the Latin
epigram of Ausonius. 2 On the other hand, we find no
mention of any such work by Scopas. These epigrams,
indeed, contain nothing to show that the statue they
allude to was in a group ; but they do not exclude such
a view, and it is difficult to imagine that there was more
than one statue of the unrivalled excellence which they
describe. On account of this excellence many ancient
copies were made of it, and also of other figures in the
group, as substantive and single statues, several of which
have come down to us ; and the epigrammatist may have
1 " Giebel-gruppen," S. 218.
a 'EK %(tiij /it 9eoi TtvZ,av \iBov, IK de \i6uio
t}nra\iv Eip
"Anth. Gr.,"iv. 118.
Praxitelis manibus vivo iterum Niobe."
" Auson.," epit. 28.
STATUES ORIGINALLY DISCOVERED. 257
taken his description from one of these separate statues
of Niobe. The beauty of that in the Uffizi, though only
a Roman copy, has been recognized by the best artists,
as well as critics. Guido Reni made it his constant
study, and the effect of his admiration may still be
traced in some of his heads ; as in that of the Virgin in
his Crucifixion in the Bologna Gallery, and of Cleopatra
with the asp in the Pitti Palace. 1 There is also a con-
siderable resemblance between one of the Hora3 in his
fresco of Aurora in the Rospigliosi Palace, and the
daughter of Niobe generally placed at her right hand.
The superlative beauty of the original Niobe may be in-
ferred by analogy from the far superior excellence of
the figure commonly called the second fleeing daughter
in the Vatican, of which I shall speak soon, over that of
the copy in the Uifizi.
Before considering the question whether the statues
in the Uffizi belonged to a pedimental group, it may be
as well to give an account of those originally found in
1583. They were twelve in number, vizt. the group of
mother and youngest daughter (No. 8, 9),' 2 the Pedagogue
(No. 12), the son with his left foot on a rock (No. 3),
another son holding his vest over his head (4), the
youngest son, commonly grouped with the Psedagogue
(13) ; a fourth climbing a rock, with his right arm up-
lifted (2); a fifth sunk on his left knee and looking
upwards (14) ; and a sixth lying dead (16). Also three
daughters: the two on the right hand of the mother,
and a third in a stooping posture, with both arms up-
raised. But by many critics this last statue, which is
inferior in execution to the rest, has been abjudicated
from the group, and is omitted by Welcker. At the
same time were found a much mutilated torso, a group
1 Kugler, " Gesch. der Malerei," ii., 366.
3 The numbers refer to the plate at p. 266.
S
258 MENGS' CRITICISM.
of two wrestlers, a discobolus, and a horse, all of which
are now properly discarded from any connection with
the Niobids.
The statues enumerated were bought on their disco-
very by Francesco I. de' Medici, second Grand Duke of
Tuscany, and were placed in the Villa Medici on the
Pincian, now the French Academy. They were re-
cognized as belonging to the story of Niobe, and were
arranged in a circle, the mother standing on a slight
eminence in the middle. But additions and alterations
were made; two more^ daughters were added, one of
them the pretty figure holding her robe over her head
with her left hand (No. 11). The horse was also intro-
duced. In this state an engraving was made of the group
by Perier, a copy of which may be seen in Montfaucon,
" L'Antiquite* Explique*e " (t. i., p. 108). ' The statues
were ultimately brought to Florence by the Grand Duke
Leopold in 1779; and in the same year Monsignor Fa-
broni, tutor of the Grand Duke's children, published a
Dissertation on them. 2 This treatise, which was in a
too laudatory tone, was severely and justly criticized by
Raphael Mengs, but in a modest, and even courtly
manner, in two letters which he addressed to Fabroni.
His opinion, in the main confirmed by subsequent critics,
was that the statues were copies from better originals,
executed by various hands, and of different merit, and
that they had undergone restorations in ancient, but
late times. 3 The circumstance that they are made of
different marbles would not perhaps be of much weight
if they were all Greek. The son sunk on his left knee,
1 Jo. Batista de Cavaleriis published the statues as they were originally
in 1585 an engraving of eleven of the found, before any restorations.
Niobe statues, with the addition of the 2 " Dissertazione sulle statue apper-
two wrestlers, in his book entitled "An- tenenti alia favola di Niobe." Firenze,
tiquarum statuarum Urbis Komse," 1779.
plates 9 seq. These engi*avings show 3 " Opere," t. ii. init. (Bassano, 1783).
THE VATICAN DAUGHTER. 259
and the daughter now generally relegated as Anchirhoe,
are of Parian marble ; Cockerell thought that all the rest
were of Pentelic marble, but from later researches they
seem more probably to be of Carrarese j 1 a circumstance
tending to strengthen the opinion that they are Roman
copies of the original Greek work.
This view is, I may say, almost certainly confirmed by
the statue in the Vatican before alluded to (Museo Chia-
ramonti, No. 176), generally called the second fleeing
daughter (No. 6 in plate), which is undoubtedly a Greek
work of first-rate excellence, and infinitely superior to
the corresponding Florentine statue. It wants the head,
the right arm, and left hand. Overbeck holds it to be
a Greek copy. The chief reason adduced is that there
is no indication of rock on the basis, as seen on the
Florentine copies, which, it is inferred, must have existed
in the originals. 2 But this reason is utterly futile. Who
can tell the history of the Vatican statue ? It is some-
times supposed to have been found in Hadrian's Villa ;
but all that is certainly known is that it was in the
collection of Cardinal Ippolito d'Este. When the
original group was broken up and dispersed, this may
have been set up as a separate and substantive statue,
and a new basis given to it. But what is a great deal
more probable, a rocky basis may have been added to
the Florentine statues ; especially if, according to Over-
beck's view, shared also by other German writers, they
were not destined for a pediment, but for some other
arrangement. Of the liberties taken in this way by
copyists we have a striking indication in this group itself
in the statues of the Pedagogue. That found at Rome
has the right foot planted on the level ground, while in
a copy found at Soissons it is placed on a piece of
1 Stark, " Niobe und die Niobiden," S. 224 and note.
2 "Plastik.," ii. 59.
260 A CONJECTURAL HYPOTHESIS.
rock; which was done apparently for the purpose of
combining him in a group with the youngest son. It
was probably these rocky bases that suggested their
circular arrangement when they were discovered at
Rome. Nay, some such disposition they may have had
in the later times of the Empire. It has been observed
that some of the statues are far inferior to others. Such
particularly is the case with the kneeling daughter,
sometimes called Psyche; but which was doubtless one
of the Niobids, as shown by the character of the head,
the drapery, and by the corroborative circumstance of
its having been found along with the others. The exe-
cution of this figure is so inferior that Meyer assigned
it to the age of the Antonines, 1 and perhaps it may be
brought down even lower, for its style bears some re-
semblance to that of Constantine's time. Hence it may
not be altogether improbable that a group, banished
from some temple converted into a church, and perhaps
partially destroyed, but which some amateur was un-
willing to see perish, may have been purchased by him
and its deficiencies supplied.
On the whole, it appears to me to be probable that
there was at Rome, in Pliny's time, a group of Niobe
and her children in the temple of Apollo Sosianus,
the work either of Scopas or Praxiteles, or more pro-
bably partly of both ; that this group was brought to
Rome from the pediment of an Apollo temple in Asia,
to occupy a like position in the temple which C. Sosius
had erected to the same god at Rome ; that of this
original group only one statue is now extant, that of
the fleeing daughter in the Vatican ; that the Floren-
tine statues are only copies, perhaps more or less
altered, of those seen by Pliny, respecting the arrange-
ment of which, therefore, no certain inference can be
1 Apud Stark, p. 300.
POSITION OF THE STATUES. 261
drawn, and that these copies were never in the temple
of Apollo Sosianus at all.
The first of these propositions is of course founded on
Pliny's testimony before examined. The second, that the
original group stood in the pediment of the temple of
Apollo Sosianus, has been questioned on the ground
that Pliny's words, in templo, imply no such thing, but
rather that it stood either within the cedes, or sacred
building, or in the temenos or peribolos which surrounded
it. But no such strict conclusion, as Welcker observes, 1
can be drawn from the words of so compendious, and
therefore often obscure, writer as Pliny. If they were
on the cedes they were also in the temple, taking that
word in its most extensive meaning, so that he commits
no fault; which he would have done by not specifying
that they were in the peribolus, if they really were there.
The pediment was the usual place for such groups, and
all his readers would have at once assumed that such
was their position. To suppose that so large a group
could have been placed within the cedes is simply absurd ;
and hardly less so the idea that it could have been in the
peribolus of a Roman temple, which was not so exten-
sive as some of the Grecian ones, for it must have been
placed at a considerable distance to become synoptical.
But, after all, there is no ground for the assumption that
by templum Pliny must have meant the whole circuit of
the sacred enclosure. Stark wastes three or four pages
in trying to prove that the word in Pliny's usage cannot
mean the cedes, or sacred building. 2 But in fact he used
those words indifferently, as various passages show.
Thus he often speaks of " fastigia templorum." 3 Could
the peribolus of a temple have a fastigium ? And in
describing the temple of Diana at Ephesus (templum
1 " Giebel-gruppen," S. 233. * " Niobc," S. 128-131.
3 " N H., r xxxv.. 43.
262 ORIGINALITY OF THE VATICAN DAUGHTER.
Ephesiae Dianae), he say sit was built on marshy ground,
to avoid the effect of earthquakes, and that charcoal
and wool were put under the foundations to make them
more secure. 1 Can these words refer to anything bat a
building ? Stark endeavours in vain to explain away
such passages. Some of those which he adduces show
that a building must be meant, as the picture of Timan-
thes in the temple of Peace. 2 So precious a work was
doubtless in a building, and could hardly have been
exposed to the weather in the peribolus.
That the second fleeing daughter in the Vatican is an
original work, and that all the other statues of the group
now in the Uffizi are only copies, can hardly, I think,
be disputed. The last assumption, indeed, is so gene-
rally recognized on all hands, that it is unnecessary to
discuss the point. Overbeck's doubt of the originality
of the Vatican statue is surprising in a man who pre-
tends so nicely to distinguish the styles of the different
schools of sculpture. Hirt, 3 and many other critics had
no doubt about it. Anybody who has seen genuine
works of the early Attic masters will at once recognize
this statue as belonging to them. I was at the first
view struck by this figure, and set it down for an ancient
Greek work, before I had any suspicion that it belonged
to the Niobe group. Hurried flight is admirably ex-
pressed by the posture and the fluttering drapery. It
is a pity that a cast of this statue has not been placed
near the copy of it at Florence; nothing could more
strongly show the different style of an original master
1 " N. H.," xxxvi., 21 . Other passages Burckhardt truly remarks that the free-
are cited by Stark himself; but he men- dom of style in this statue shows that
tions not the most decisive, that con- those at Florence are far inferior imita-
cerning the Temple of Ephesus. tions. " Cicerone," p. 503. Stark also
2 Ibid., xxxv., 36, 6. considers it an original, and says that it
3 "Gesch. der bild. Kunst," S. 206; is made of Greek marble. "Niobe u.
Welcker, " Giebel-grnppen," S. 2'29. die Niobiden," S. 265.
NUMBER OF THE NIOBIDS. 263
and a copyist. The imitation is on the whole very close,
but the drapery is wooden and stiff in comparison, and
we miss the piece that flutters over the right shoulder.
The peplos too, is tucked up in an unnatural manner at
the left ankle ; but this may be due to the modern re-
storer. To judge from the neck, the head of the origi-
nal was probably turned more to the right, and thus seen
in full face, which must have given a much nobler
appearance.
Before adverting to some proposed groupings of the
statues, it is necessary to consider what number of Nio-
bids Scopas, or Praxiteles, was likely to adopt. Homer
mentions only six sons and six daughters ; 1 and other
authorities of less importance make them sometimes more
and sometimes fewer than this number. The most probable
view is that the sculptors adopted the version of the myth
most generally received at Athens in their time ; which,
as may be inferred from the Attic dramatists, was that
which gave seven sons and seven daughters to Niobe'.
This number is thought to have been taken from Lasos
of Hermione; and it is supposed by some that fourteen
children were adopted in the u Niobes " of ^Eschylus
and Sophocles. 2 It is certain that Euripides assumed
seven sons and seven daughters. 3 Every attempt, there-
fore, to complete the group, should embrace sixteen
statues, including the mother and the paedagogue. That
this last figure formed part of the original group may
be safely inferred from the fact before adverted to that
a copy of him, in which he is combined with the
youngest son, was found at Soissons. These statues
are now in the Louvre.
1 '' Iliad," xxiv., 603. the " Scholia" there. " Homerus pueros
2 Stark, " Niobe," p. 31. puellasque Niobes bis senos dicit fuisse,
3 " Phoenissae," v. 159: and the frag Euripides bis septenos." Gellius,"Noct.
ment of the " Cresphontes," quoted in Alt.," xx., 7, 2.
264 PROPOSED ARRANGEMENTS.
The first attempt to arrange the Niobids in a pedi-
mental group was that made by our countryman the
architect Cockerell in 1816, at the suggestion of the
Chevalier Bartholdy. His drawing is shown in the Sala
della Niobe. 1 It met with a good deal of approbation
both in Germany and France, in which latter country
several eminent archaeologists declared in its favour;
and in Italy Nibby. But it proceeded on the erroneous
idea that the group could be completed with the statues
at Florence ; it was soon attacked by eminent German
critics and archaBologists, as Wagner, Thiersch, Miiller,
and others, and has now lost its reputation.
But, it may be asked, what other restoration of the
group can pretend to be perfect ? If it consisted, as
assumed, of sixteen figures, and as only twelve were
originally found, the rest must of course be supplied
from other sources. This has been attempted, and
perhaps in some instances successfully, though by no
means with unanimous accord. But there remains be-
hind the still more difficult problem how the group should
be arranged. This question opens up a fine field of dis-
cussion for German critics and philologers, with ample
room to display their learning and ingenuity, and some-
times also, it must be added, their love of singularity
and paradox. Pages of art-journals, nay, whole volumes,
have been filled with the subject. In this way the late
Professor Stark has outstripped his fellow-countrymen,
whose work entitled "Niobe und die Niobiden," occu-
pies between 400 and 500 pages of a large-sized octavo
volume. Only some quarter of it, however, is employed
about the extant statues. The rest is filled with an ex-
amination of the myth in its literary, mythological, and
1 Also in Zannoni, " Galleria di Fi- Also in Milling, " Annales encyclop.,"
renze, Statue," t. ii., PI. 74, 75 ; with 1817, vol. i., p. 144; and in Inghirami,
the addition of the so-called Narcissus, " Galleria Omerica," PL 240.
which Thorwaldsen held to be a Niobid.
MULLEINS, WELCKEIl's, AND OVERBECK's PLANS. 265
ethnographical signification. Not only is adduced all
that the ancients have said about it, but the accounts
and views of many modern writers are also given, from
Dante and Boccaccio, and through handbooks of mytho-
logy down to the time of Banier. This, I believe, is
called the exhaustive manner; it is certainly somewhat
exhausting for the reader. And, after all, it does not
appear that the author has added much to our know-
ledge of the group, as a work of art, though his book is
useful for details of the statues.
I do not propose to enter at any length into these dis-
cussions. The limits of this work would forbid it, even
if there were any hope of conducting the inquiry to a
satisfactory conclusion. For in a subject where almost
everything rests on conjecture and hypothesis, where
there are but few certain data from which to draw our
inferences, such inquiries are little better than fighting
the wind. I shall confine myself, therefore, to a brief
consideration of what a few of the most eminent critics
have said about the matter. The best and most promi-
nent plans for the grouping are those of Muller, Welcker,
and Overbeck, described in their respective works,
" Denkmaler der alten Kunst," lt Die Giebel-gruppen,"
and u Geschichte der griechischen Plastik," B. ii., each
accompanied with plates. To these plates the reader
must be referred. To describe the plans without their
help would not merely be long and tedious, but hardly
intelligible. I annex overleaf a copy of Welcker's, not
because it is the best, but because it gives the greatest
number of those figures which it has been proposed to
add to the group found at Rome.
The chief heads of inquiry are 1, as to the statues ab-
judicated from or added to those originally discovered;
2, as to the placing in the group of those added ; 3, as
to the manner in which the group was exhibited.
266
THE SO-CALLED PSYCHE.
Q
N
O
1
00
-
a
Only one figure, the kneel-
ing daughter, by some called
Psyche, has been questioned,
and by some rejected. The only
reason assigned for this rejec-
tion is that there are copies
of the figure in which she has
wings, thus showing her to be
Psyche. One of these is in the
Museo Capitolino. 1 But there
is another copy in the same
collection, which has no wings. 2
It is a well-known fact that later
Roman copyists often adopted
some ancient statue as a model
for another subject ; and in this
case such a proceeding is ren-
dered all the more probable by
the comparative lateness of the
story of Psyche, as there would
have been no ancient model for
her. About the beginning of
this century this statue was
pretty generally rejected, but
is now as generally admitted.
Welcker has left it out of his
plan, but doubtingly; on the
other hand, it is received by
Miiller, Stark, and Overbeck.
The fact of its having been
found with the other Niobids
weighs strongly for its having
belonged to the original group.
1 Welcker, " Giebel-gruppen," S. 282.
2 Stark, "Kiobe," &c., S. 300 f.
FIGURES HYPOTHETIC ALLY INSERTED. 267
Of the additions, that of the kneeling son, drawing an
arrow from his back, formerly called Narcissus, was first
recognized by Thorwaldsen as belonging to the Niobe
group. 1 As this view has found universal acceptance, it
is unnecessary to say anything more about it. (See
figure 15, in Welcker' s plan.)
The sinking daughter placed at the feet of the son,
holding his vest over his head (No. 5, W.), was intro-
duced by Canova from a group in the Vatican, called
Kephalos and Procris. The youth, though only a
fragment, could be sufficiently identified with the Flo-
rentine statue ; the fainting, falling daughter was sup-
porting herself on his knee. 2 This figure, also, which
forms a charming group with her protecting brother, has
been universally accepted.
The above, with those originally found, are all the
statues that have been generally admitted into the
group ; and Overbeck consequently confines his plan to
these.
The figure (No. 11, W.) of a daughter holding up her
vest with her left hand has also been adopted by Miiller
and Stark ; but the former groups her with the so-called
Narcissus, whilst Stark (PL xiv.) places beneath her the
dead son (No. 16, W.).
In inserting the figure No. 10 as a daughter, Welcker
stands alone among the plans mentioned. The original
statue is at Berlin ; and Welcker introduced it in order
to complete the number of seven daughters. 3 But
Fr. Tieck, Gerhard, and Guigniaut seem also to have
considered it a Niobid. 4
The dead daughter (No. 1, W.) is also inserted by
Welcker only for the sake of the full complement of
1 Stark, " Niobe," &c., S. 254. not possibly be with his sister at his feet.
8 Ibid., S. 242. Stark puts him 3 "Giebel-gruppen," p. 283.
among the fleeing sons, which he could 4 Ibid., p. 282.
268 SEPARATE GROUPINGS.
daughters. But it rests on no authority whatever.
There is no substantive copy of it, and Welcker took
it from a Vatican Sarcophagus. 1 In this relief, a trophos,
or nurse, is introduced among the daughters, answering
to the psedagogue with the sons. Stark is for intro-
ducing her into the group. There is a statue in the
Capitoline Museum of an old woman which has been
thought to represent her. 2
With respect to separate groups, that of 4 and 5
in Welcker's plan (Kephalos and Procris) is also adopted
by Miiller, Overbeck, and Stark. That of the pseda-
gogue and youngest son (Nos. 12, 13), which accords
with the Soissons group, is also found in Overbeck ; but
Miiller separates them by a short interval, as they seem
to have been in the original find. Stark (PI. xvi )
shows both these modes. It may be added that Miiller
stands alone in forming another group, before men-
tioned, by placing the daughter (No. 11) with the son
(No. 15). The only authority for this is an engraved
gem, 3 in which, however, the figures do not very closely
resemble the statues. The group was first suggested
by Gerhard. It forms an agreeable pendant to the son
screening his sister.
The grouping of the whole sixteen figures is a matter
of fancy, into which, as before said, I shall not enter.
There are only one or two points which may be con-
sidered pretty certain. The mother must, of course,
have stood in the centre, and the dead son in all pro-
bability in the angle of the pediment. The two
daughters, on the right hand of the mother, are also,
perhaps, correctly placed, and occupy that position in
all the plans of which I am aware. Of the arrangement
1 " Giebel-gruppen," p. 286. PI. xxxiv. D. See Welcker, " Giebel-
2 Burckhardt, "Cicerone," p. 503. gruppen," S. 270.
3 Engraved in Miiller's " Denkmaler,"
APOLLO THE ONLY SLAYER. 269
of the other figures nothing approaching certainty can
be said. It has sometimes occurred to me that some
guide might be found from the direction in which the
figures are looking ; and this again is connected with the
question whether Apollo alone slew the unhappy family,
or in conjunction with his sister Artemis. The former
view is, I think, undoubtedly the correct one. Euripides,
in the fragment of his Cresphontes before quoted (p. 263),
makes Apollo alone the slayer ; and Scopas and Praxi-
teles probably followed that dramatist, as before ob-
served, both in the number of the children and with
regard to the avenging deity. Overbeck, who adopts the
Attic tradition for the number of the children, inconsis-
tently reverts to Homer for the manner of their death,
and makes them fall by the darts of Apollo and
Artemis. 1 It is also most probable that in a temple
dedicated to Apollo he alone would have been thought
to be present, that is, in the heavens, for he could not,
of course, have been shown in a pediment. If this be
so, the darts would, have come from only one quarter,
and not from two, thus crossing one another, as Over-
beck thinks they did ; and accordingly the eyes of the
figures that are looking up would have been directed
towards that quarter. Even if Apollo were accom-
panied by his sister, it is most natural to imagine that
they were side by side. Of the original twelve figures,
the mother and the eldest daughter on the right are
looking pretty nearly straight upwards, and it may be
supposed towards the place whence the darts proceed.
This being so, I should be inclined to transfer the pseda-
gogue and youngest son (Nos. 12, 13) to the place now
occupied by Nos. 4 and 5. The kneeling son (No.
14) should also be transferred to the right of his mother,
and the two fleeing sons (Nos. 2 and 3) to the left.
1 Plastik," ii., 56.
270 THE ORIGINAL GROUP PEDIMENT AL.
But I merely throw this out as a suggestion to which I
do not attribute any great weight.
Into the questions of the place and manner in which the
Eoman group was exhibited I shall not enter, as there
are no grounds for any sure conclusion. It seems to me
most probable that the statues discovered in 1583 were
never in any temple at all. The originals of them seen
by Pliny, of which we possess only one example in the
daughter in the Vatican, were, I think, as before re-
marked, originally brought from the pediment of some
Asiatic temple of Apollo to occupy the same position in
that of Apollo Sosianus at Rome. The Vatican statue
is on an even basis suitable to a pediment. To most of
the Roman copies rocky and uneven bases have been
added for the purpose of arranging them in some dif-
ferent manner. This was probably done at an advanced
period of the empire, and it therefore seems to me need-
less to inquire whether they were placed under a por-
tico or in the open air, in separate niches, or in a con-
nected group, in a circular form, or in a line. This last
disposition seems to me to be the best and most pro-
bable, because they would still retain that pedhnental
form for which originally they were evidently intended.
The superior height of the mother fits her for the centre
of a pediment; whilst the gradually decreasing height
of the other figures is well adapted to the sides. And
this circumstance shows, I think, that they are tolerably
faithful copies from the pedimental group of Scopas or
Praxiteles.
There are no other Greek pedimental statues besides
those of ./Egina and the Parthenon, and those of the
Niobe group, of which there are sufficient remains to
enable us to consider them from the point of view of art.
Metopes, though often splendid specimens of sculpture
in high relief, tell no storv. Of friezes we have, fortu-
BAS-RELIEF. 271
nately, the most magnificent example that probably ever
existed in that of the Parthenon, which may be surveyed
in a wonderfully perfect state, either in originals or casts,
in the British Museum, and has been fully described and
illustrated by Mr. Newton. It is the finest example of
ancient bas-relief. But before entering upon that sub-
ject it may be as well to advert to certain laws which
were always observed by the Greeks in that species of
sculpture.
A fundamental law is that there should be little or
no perspective in a bas-relief. The reason is, that it
presents a material reality which may be viewed from
any point, and consequently, according to the point
chosen, the perspective would often be wrong. In a
picture, on the other hand, there is only one proper
point of view, with which the perspective is always in
accordance. This also holds of aerial perspective ; for
though diminished size may be shown in a bas-relief, yet
it cannot give the atmospheric effect of distance, and the
small figures appear to be on the same plane with the
larger ones. Relief, therefore, should not attempt land-
scape. Even in the highest and half-round, the figures
must be on the surface of the background ; and if this
presents anything real, as a landscape, the figures cannot
be placed upon it without a contradiction. These prin-
ciples were neglected only in late Greek art, but often
in modern times. The Apotheosis of Homer in the
British Museum, by Archelaus, is an example. The top
of the mountain is at a great distance, as if in a painting.
Only the figures of the lower row are in true relief; the
upper ones appear to be independent statuettes. 1
Another principle of relief, whether high, middling,
or low, is that all the figures should have the same depth.
The unity of effect is destroyed when the -figures differ
1 Overbeck, " Plastik," ii. 335 f.
272 FRIEZE OF LYSICRATES.
in height of projection. When, however, the relief is
very low, three or four figures may be shown together,
the further one being little more than a sketch upon the
marble. An example may be seen in the horses' heads
in Plate xiii. of Mr. Ruskin's " Aratra Pentelici;"
where the nearest horse is not higher than three-quar-
ters of an inch from the marble ground. The sculptor
must endeavour to separate his figures from the back-
ground, and give them the appearance of corporeal
roundness. The " Apotheosis " before referred to again
fails in not preserving uniform height of projection.
The lowest row of figures is- in bas-relief, whilst the
upper ones are in strong middle relief. Another fault,
the overcrowding of the figures, frequently occurs in
Roman and in modern reliefs. The u Apotheosis "
has also this fault on the extreme right of the lowest
row.
The frieze of the little choragic monument of Lysi-
crates in the Street of Tripods at Athens, which is still
in situ, and in a tolerable state of preservation, has a
charming bas-relief on a Dionysiac subject. This monu-
ment appears, from the inscription on it, to have been
erected in the archonship of Euaenetus (B.C. 335), and
consequently the style of the sculptures belongs to the
best period of Greek art. The height of the frieze is no
more than ten inches, and the figures, therefore, very
small. The subject is the delivery of Dionysus from the
Tyrrhenian pirates. The central group is composed of
the youthful god seated in tranquil majesty, holding in
one hand a bowl, and caressing his panther with the
other. A young satyr sits on each side of him in a care-
less, easy posture ; beyond these are two others stand-
ing by the side of a large vase. In advance, again, of
these, two older satyrs seem placed as sentinels. The
rest of the figures are engaged in vigorous combat with
VARIOUS BAS-EELIEFS. 273
the pirates, of whom some, metamorphosed into dol-
phins, are leaping into the sea. Nothing can excel the
varied and lively action of these figures, which form a
striking contrast to the tranquillity of the central group. 1
The style and execution of this frieze bear a strong re-
semblance to the sculptures of the Harpagus monument
now in the British Museum, which is probably of the
same period.
The Amphora of Sosibios in the Louvre has a Bac-
chanal relief; but it seems to have been made in Rome
during the early Empire, and the archaic figures it con-
tains are imitations.
Much superior to this is the Urn of Salpion in the
Neapolitan Museum (Salle VI.). It was found at Gaeta,
where it was used by the fishermen as a capstan, and
still shows the furrows made by the ropes. It after-
wards served as a font in the cathedral. A Greek in-
scription shows it to have been the work of Salpion, an
Athenian, whose age and history are unknown. The
principal figures represent Hermes giving the infant
Dionysus into the charge of Leucothoe. On each side
are Bacchanal figures. The execution is very elegant.
Pages might be filled with descriptions of reliefs on
Bacchanal subjects, and I shall therefore only notice
two more. In the Lateran is a charming one, which
appears to relate to the education of Dionysus by the
Nymphs of Mount Nysa. One of the legends on this
subject was, that Zeus, to save his infant progeny from
the wrath of Hera, changed him into a ram, and gave
him in charge to the Nysa?an nymphs. 2 The relief in
question exhibits a rocky scene with a cave. At the
1 The frieze is engraved little less what differently treated, formed a pic-
than the st/e of the original in Stuart's ture described by Philostratus, " Ico-
" Antiquities of Athens," vol. i., ch. iv., nes," 19.
PI. 3; and in Miiller's " Denkmaler," 2 Theon, ad " Arati Phaen.," 177.
B. i., PI. xxxvii. The subject, some-
274 THE EPIPHANY OF DIONYSUS.
bottom, in the centre, a ram is seen grazing, and imme-
diately above him is a naked child seated on a rock,
apparently the infant god restored to his natural form.
On the left is a Nymph giving him drink from a bowl.
In the cave on the right is a Paniscus, or little Pan,
holding a pedum in his right hand, and playing on the
syrinx. Burckhardt seems to confound these two
figures. 1 A leafy tree rises in the centre of the piece;
a serpent coiled round the trunk threatens a nest of
young birds on one of the boughs, whilst on each side
are the parent- birds, alarmed for the safety of their
brood. An eagle perched above the cave indicates the
watchful care of Zeus over his son. Such, it seems to
me, is the allegorical meaning of the relief, but I cannot
appeal to any critical authority in support of this inter-
pretation ; and the introduction of the infant Dionysus
in his own form as well as that of the ram would consti-
tute a double moment, a fault to which I have before
adverted. It is plain, however, that it was sometimes
committed by ancient, as well as modern, artists.
I will conclude this section with an account of a re-
markable bas-relief, which, from the numerous copies of
it, seems to have been a celebrated one in antiquity.
The subject of it seems to be the Epiphany of Dionysus,
or his first appearance in Attica. Some critics, indeed,
are of opinion that it represents merely a Theoxenia, or
repast to which some deity was invited, and thought to
be present in person ; whilst others hold that it shows
Dionysus visiting some dramatic poet ; a view founded
seemingly on the theatrical masks which are seen in
some of the copies. But it seems to me that, as Diony-
sus in his younger form was the patron of the Attic
drama, the artist would hardly have introduced the god
in his older and Asiatic character, as seen in the bas-re-
1 " Cicerone," p. 537.
VARIOUS VERSIONS OF THAT MYTH. 275
lief. This last circumstance, too, militates against the
idea of a Theoxenia, as the relief can hardly be older
than the time when Dionysus was worshipped in his
younger form. On the other hand, the older one exactly
suits his first appearance in Attica, for he lost not that
character till after a lengthened residence there.
The subject is usually called the Visit of Bacchus to
Icarius, whom he taught to make wine. 1 According to
another version of the myth he was first received by
Pegasus at Eleuthera? ; and it is certain that he had a
temple there, from which, as before said, the antique
image of him was transferred to his temple in the Limna?
at Athens. And among the terra-cotta images near the
Porta Peiraica which represented Amphictyon feasting
Dionysus, Pegasus, not Icarius, sat among the guests. 2
These two personages, however, were held to be con-
temporary, and are connected by a Delphic oracle,
which foretold the arrival of the god in Attica in the
time of Icarius. And that he was the host appears most
probable. The myth concerning Pegasus speaks not of
any female ; whilst in that which makes Icarius receive
the god, his daughter Erigone was present, as shown in
the relief. This circumstance, as well as the female
figure in the thiasos carrying a wine-skin, which Diony-
sus made a present to his hosts on this occasion, is in
accordance with the myth as related by Hyginus. 3
Of the various copies of this relief in the Vatican, the
Louvre, the British Museum, and the Museum of Naples, 4
this last, which was found at Herculaneum, appears to me
to be the most genuine and original. It is more finely exe-
cuted, and, on the whole, in a better state of preserva-
tion than the other copies, though the upper left-hand
1 Xewton, " Greek and Roman Sculptures," p. 89. * Dyer's " Athens," p. 42.
' Fabuhi," cxxx. In the Paris relief it is carried by a Satyr.
4 In the last room before the portico leading to the bronzes.
276 SCENE OF THE EPIPHANY.
corner has been irretrievably damaged. The other re-
pliche, also, have both additions and omissions which
tend to show that they are altered copies. I shall there-
fore take my description from the Neapolitan relief.
In the background are seen one side and the gable
front of a tiled house. Near the extremity of the side
is a square window divided by a pilaster into two com-
partments. A square pillar next the window, with a
slanting, tiled top, terminates this side of the house. The
gable front which follows has a similar window. In
front of this house is a smaller one, the side of which
and a garden Avail form the actual scene. Before them
hangs a curtain in two festoons, forming a sort of apart-
ment. Below the curtain are two couches, on the fur-
thest of which la male figure, naked to the waist, is sitting
up supported by a pillow. He turns to the god, who
has just entered, and his extended arm and hand seem
to denote either surprise or welcome. A youthful fe-
male, Erigone, daughter of Icarius, clothed in a sleeve-
less chiton, reclines on the legs of this figure. Support-
ing her chin with her hand, she gazes with curiosity at
the entering god. In front of the couch is a small table
resting on three deers' legs, and decked with a cantharus,
bread, fruit, &c. At the foot of the couch is a small
round column on a square base, forming a sort of altar;
behind it, and close to the house, another column sup-
ports a terminal figure with a modius on its head.
The second couch, to the right of that just described,
is vacant, and seems intended for Dionysus, who stands
in front of it. Truly a venerable and somewhat colossal
figure, much resembling the Sardanapalus of the Vati-
can ; but he is a little bit tipsy, and seems to support
himself with difficulty. His head declines in maudlin
somnolence; his voluminous beard falls over his chest
like a cascade ; his flowing locks are bound with an ivy
FIGURES OF THE THIASOS. 277
fillet; an ample peplos, or mantle, completely envelops
his form. A youthful Satyr is taking off his sandals ;
another supports his left arm, whose roguish expression
seems to say, " Master is rather the worse for drink."
This is admirably shown in the Neapolitan relief, but
hardly discernible in the London one.
Behind this group, and outside the entrance, is the
Bacchic rout, or thiasos, headed by a young, but full
grown, dancing Satyr. An enormous thyrsus rests on
his right shoulder, his left arm is raised with the hand
extended; he looks back and somewhat downwards.
Next comes Silenus half naked, with buskins, attempt-
ing some awkward steps to the sound of his double pipe.
He is followed by another young and gracefully dancing
Satyr. On his breast is a nebris, or fawn skin ; he holds
some object in his right hand, which is obliterated in
the London and Neapolitan copies, but from the Louvre
one appears to have been a torch ; which may indicate
that the scene is a nocturnal one. He is looking back
with gleeful face towards the next and last group, of
which the principal figure, seen in full face, may be
Maron, patron of sweet wine, the reputed son and fre-
quent companion of Dionysus. 1 He is supporting a
young arid apparently inebriated female, perhaps Methe,
who carries the leather bottle full of wine before men-
tioned.
On comparing the London relief with the Neapolitan
we are struck by several variations. In the London
one Erigone is omitted, though there are still traces of
such a figure. Methe with the wine-skin is also wanting,
if it was ever there. These omissions seem intended to
destroy the original motive of the piece ; whilst certain
additions seem to show that this was done in order to
1 See Philostratus, " Imagg.," xix., and Jacobs' note. Cf. Homer, " Odyss.,"
ix., 197 ; Eurip., "Cyclops," 141.
278 ALTERATIONS IN LONDON COPY.
convert it to another purpose. The most remarkable of
these is a row of four theatrical masks under the couch
on which Icarius reclines. These would be wholly in-
appropriate, and indeed an absurd hysteron proteron in
the representation of the Epiphany of Dionysus, at which
time the drama .did not exist. Their insertion betrays
either a blundering copyist, or more probably one who
wished to make the original design serve another pur-
pose. In this case, the changes may have been made in
honour of some dramatic poet, whom Dionysus, the patron
of the drama, is supposed to visit, or in order to convert
the subject into a Theoxenia. By the absence of Eri-
gone, the male figure becomes the principal object,
whose calling is indicated by the masks and by the ad-
dition of a Medusa's head on the gable front. Other
additions are, a palm tree, which, however, may have
existed in the Naples copy, which is broken away at this
corner; a young Satyr standing by this tree, whose
feet, however, would have been visible in that copy had
the figure ever existed in it; and the festoons depend-
ing from 'the eaves of the house, which show prepara-
tions for an invited visit instead of an unexpected one.
The slab on the top of the square pillar before mentioned
at the entrance of the house is a blank in the Neapolitan
relief, but in the London one is sculptured with a biga,
probably effaced in the other.
With regard to this last object, which, whether sculp-
tured or painted, seems to have been frequently em-
ployed in adorning houses, it may be worth while to
advert to a little oversight of Lessing's. Pliny men-
tions an encaustic painting by Nikias representing Nemea
seated on a lion, and at her side an old man, over whose
head was a picture of a biga, Lessing fancies that this
was altogether separate from the picture of Nikias, in-
stead of being part and parcel of it, and by a very vio-
PICTURES OF BIGyE. 279
lent emendation * converts it into a little board inscribed
with the name of the artist. The picture showed a room
on the wall of which hung the picture of the biga, under
which the old man stood.
1 By substituting TTTV^OV for tabula It ma} 7 be added that it is needless. See
bigcs ! He confesses that his emenda- Plin., " N. II.," xxxv., 10; "Laokoon,"
tion is rather bold (ein wenig klilin.) xxvii., Anm. 5.
SECTION V.
ON ANCIENT PAINTING.
T HAVE before cast a slight glance on the earliest
-* schools of Greek painting, and for the sake of show-
ing how through religious and political influences it
differed from the painting of the Renaissance, I have
illustrated the subject by contrasting two pictures of
Polygnotus with two in the Campo Santo having some-
what analogous subjects. 1 The school of Polygnotus
was not followed at Athens by another worthy to be
compared with it, as in statuary Pheidias was suc-
ceeded by Scopas and Praxiteles. The only other sub-
sequent Athenian painter of much renown was Apollo-
dorus; who, like the sculptors of the second Attic school,
seems to have prepared the way for that grace, and
perhaps over-refinement, which characterized the artists
of the Asiatic and some other later schools of painting. 2
The great merit of Apollodorus seems to have been
technical improvement in chiaroscuro and colouring,
qualities no doubt highly valuable in a picture, but
which unfortunately seem to have too much engrossed
the attention of subsequent artists, to the detriment of
grandeur of conception and forcible expression. The
proper aim of art to strike the imagination was sacri-
ficed by the Ionian school to the desire of attempting
perfect delusion by the accurate and life-like representa-
tion of objects. The well-worn stories of the grapes of
1 See Section I., p. 56 scq., and p. 94 Heracleotes intravit." Plin., " N. H.,"
spq. xxxv. 36, 1, 2.
2 " Ab hoc artis fores apertas Zeuxis
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 281
Zeuxis, at which the birds pecked, and of the curtain of
Parrhasius, which deceived Zeuxis himself, are doubt-
less puerile inventions, which nevertheless serve to show
what was deemed to be the principal aim of this school.
There could not be a greater mistake. If art could suc-
ceed in banishing the consciousness of imitation, it would
lose what constitutes its principal charm. We do not
look upon a painting or a statue in the expectation of
seeing a real object, but such a representation of one as
may refresh the memory and stimulate the fancy. The
attempt to produce illusion, even if it could succeed,
would divert the artist from his proper task, and also
distract the attention of the spectator from the subject
of the piece to the very subordinate matter of the artist's
technical skill. A cartoon of Eaphael's finished with
the minute accuracy of Denner would lose all its
grandeur.
Hence the artists of the Ionian and later schools, with
few exceptions, painted no pictures that it is necessary,
or even possible, to describe, since their works consisted
mostly either of single figures, or portraits, and conse-
quently told no story. If one should attempt a descrip-
tion of Zeuxis' famous picture of Helen, of which he
himself had so high and justly founded an opinion that
he ventured to append to it the lines of Homer showing
the effect which her charms produced on the Trojan
elders, one would incur the censure pronounced by
Lessing on all descriptions of personal beauty. Zeuxis
does not appear to have painted a single picture having
a story or plot. His picture of Zeus enthroned and
surrounded by the rest of the gods may have afforded
a fine field for the display of majesty, grace and beauty,
and also for artistic grouping ; but there its interest ends.
In that respect it must have resembled those modern
pictures before alluded to of the Madonna surrounded
282 THE IPHIGENIA OF TIMANTHES.
by a company of saints. The same may be said of his
family of Kentaurs, which in themselves, moreover,
were not very interesting. The rest of his pictures
seem to have been mostly single figures, and therefore
almost coming into the category of statues; to which,
also, their large size would have approximated them.
In only one picture do we hear that he attempted ex-
pression ; that of Menelaus at Ephesus dissolved in
tears while making libations to the shade of his brother
Agamemnon. 1
The art of Zeuxis' contemporary Parrhasius seems to
have been of much the same character. Timanthes
alone of the artists of this period appears to have excelled
in giving character and expression to his subjects. Of
his most celebrated picture, the Sacrifice of Iphigeneia,
several descriptions have come down to us. Cicero,' 2
Pliny, 3 and Valerius Maximus 4 agree in saying that the
artist covered Agamemnon's face because it would have
been impossible to depict the extremity of his sorrow.
Pliny's words, however, somewhat modify this view.
As Timanthes, he says, had exhausted every image of
grief in the faces of the bystanders, and especially in
that of the uncle Menelaus, he veiled the father's face
because he could not paint it luorthily (digne). Quinti-
lian also employs the same qualification, 5 and seems to
mean that the artist could not show Agamemnon's grief
consistently with his dignity, since he is speaking of
things that cannot be expressed without losing that
quality. 6
Lessing claims these passages in favour of his theory
that the Greeks subordinated expression to beauty ; and
as that quality, combined with dignity, was incompatible
1 Tzetzes, " Chil.," viii., 390. 5 " List," ii., 13, 12.
2 " Ovat.," xxii., 74. 6 " Qnre exprimi pro dignitate non
3 " N. H.," xxxv., 36. 6. possmit." Ibid.
4 viii. 11, Extr, 6.
THE VEILED AGAMEMNON. 283
with the natural contortions of Agamemnon's fuce in
such circumstances, Timanthes concealed it, and thus
evaded the difficulty. 1 Lessing further remarks that
the impossibility of depicting extreme woe, the reason
assigned for this proceeding in some of the passages quo-
ted, could not have been the true one ; since the stronger
the passion the more marked are the features, and con-
sequently the more easily delineated. This is just ; but
he might have further remarked that Timanthes had
depicted the extremity of grief in the countenance of
Menelaus. Here, then, the painter had already sinned
against his canon ; and, in a minor degree, in the other
faces also ; if it be true that a sorrowful expression ob-
literates beauty. I cannot think, therefore, that this
was the artist's real motive. Nor do I think that the
expression of the deepest woe must necessarily be ugly.
There are, no doubt, some passions, as rage, envy, despair,
which give the features the most frightful and repulsive
distortions, as in the sketch of a daemon by Michelangelo.
But grief is a passion comparatively calm; and when it
is the effect of parental affection, unaccompanied with
remorse or any other painful feeling, may well excite
sympathy rather than disgust. That the ancients
thought not grief incompatible with beauty is shown by
the fact that Praxiteles, whose statues were renowned
for that quality, made one of a matron weeping; and
another of a courtezan, thought to be Phryne, rejoicing;
doubtless as a foil to it, and with the view of showing
beauty in opposite circumstances. 2 And in his Niobe,
of which 1 have spoken above, maternal sorrow was
combined with the highest beauty.
But if the veiling of Agamemnon's head can hardly
be claimed in favour of Lessing's theory of beauty, it
might perhaps serve to support another of his canons
1 " Laokoon," ii. a Plin., N. II.,'' xxxiv., 19, 10.
284 THE AGAMEMNON OF EURIPIDES.
that in works of art something should be left to the
imagination of the spectator. He strongly insists on the
advantages of that method when treating of the
moment; 1 and it is, therefore, all the more surprising
that he should not have seized this occasion in illustra-
tion of his views, especially as some of the authors whom
I have cited on the subject expressly intimate it. 2 But
the same passage could not be made to serve two pur-
poses; and Lessing seems to have preferred his theory
of beauty, which, indeed, is the leading one of his
treatise, to his view of the moment. It may be further
remarked that to leave something to the imagination
was peculiarly characteristic of Timanthes; and Pliny
remarks that in the works of this artist alone more was
always suggested than painted, so that though his art
was supreme, he showed a genius and understanding of
its principles that surpassed it. 3
It has been sometimes suggested that Timanthes was
not actuated by any such motives, but that he took the
veiled head of Agamemnon from the description in the
"Iphigeneia in Aulis" of Euripides. With regard to
this it should be observed that the whole of the mes-
senger's speech, in which it occurs, has been rejected
as spurious by Porson and other critics. The play,
however, seems to want some such termination, which
may have originally existed ; but, having become lost or
defaced, was restored by an incompetent hand. And if
Timanthes did not borrow the idea from Euripides, he
might have found a precedent for what was a very
natural action on the part of Agamemnon in Horner's
description of Priam hiding himself in his mantle
after Hector's death. 4 It seems not improbable that
1 " Laokoon," 3. fectu sestimandura reliquit." Val.
2 " Velavit ejus caput et suo cuique Max. , ib.
animo dedit sestimandum." Quint., 3 " N. H.," xxxv., 10, 36, 3.
I. c. "Patris fie turn spectantis ad- 4 " Iliad," xxiv., 163.
THE FIGURE OF AJAX. 285
Tiraanthes may have adopted these hints, not in the spirit
of a servile copyist, but as seeing how conformable they
were to the principles on which he habitually worked.
It may be still more difficult to describe in words
three or four different shades of grief than to depict
them with the pencil; yet Valerius Maximus has at-
tempted it in his description of the picture in question.
He makes Chalcas, the sacrificing priest, sad (tristem),
Ulysses sorrowful (masstum), Ajax crying aloud (cla-
mantem), Menelaus lamenting (lamentantem) ; which
last epithet would seem to imply the utterance of sor-
rowful exclamations, accompanied perhaps with tears.
To utter loud exclamations, the mouth of Ajax must
have been widely opened; but as such a feature, accord-
ing to Lessing's theory, would have been inadmissible
in ancient art, he resorts to a method usual enough
among his countrymen on such occasions, though more
sparingly adopted by himself, and roundly asserts that
Ajax and his cries are a mere invention of Valerius,
supporting this view from the circumstance that neither
Cicero nor Quintilian mentions Ajax. But it is hard to
believe that Valerius should have taken such a liberty
with so well-known a picture. He would have been
liable to immediate refutation ; nor is it easy to see what
motive he could have had for so doing, since he had
no theory to support. With regard to the silence of
Cicero and Quintilian, and it may be added of Pliny, it
may be observed that a man making loud exclamations
is in no very prostrate state of grief, and therefore they
passed him over as not serving their purpose. In ac-
cordance with Ajax's blunt and soldier-like character,
he seems to have been protesting aloud against the
sacrifice, in which case his countenance would have ex-
pressed indignation rather than sorrow. And thus Ti-
manthes, with the feeling of a true artist, would have
286 THE APHRODITE OF APELLES.
varied the monotony of his subject, and introduced an
excellent foil to Ulysses, the sedater rival of Ajax.
Among the wall-paintings of Pompeii are two on this
subject, neither of which, however, has any resemblance
to that of Timanthes, except in the circumstance that in
both, which are evidently excerpts from different pic-
tures, Agamemnon's head is veiled. This seems to
show that -such an attitude was an inviolable tradition,
and strengthens the opinion that Euripides had also
described it. In the best of these paintings that in the
House of the Poet, the style is very antique, and
almost resembling bas-relief. 1 It may, therefore, have
been an earlier representation of the subject, which
Timanthes improved and made more pathetic by the
introduction of the mourners. In the painting, Ulysses
and Diomedes, if such they be, are assisting in the
sacrifice, instead of lamenting it.
Apelles carried grace and beauty, combined with
technical excellence, especially in colouring, to a pitch
never perhaps before attained ; but, with regard to his
subjects, he must be put in the same category with
Zeuxis. His famous picture of Aphrodite rising from
the sea seems, like its counterpart in sculpture, the
Cnidian Aphrodite, to have been the only one in paint-
ing which conveyed an adequate idea of the goddess of
beauty :
" Si Venerem Cous nunquam pinxisset Apelles,
Mersa sub sequoreis ilia laterct aquis." 2
It was ultimately placed by Augustus in the temple
which he dedicated to Caesar, where Ovid no doubt saw
it. But it will no more bear description than the Helen
of Zeuxis. By sight alone can such works be appre-
ciated. Some of Apelles' pictorial effects seem to have
been wonderful, especially in the representation of fire-
1 Helbig, " Wandgemalde," No. 1304. 2 Ovid, " Ars Am.," iii., 401.
FIRE-LIGHT EFFECTS. 287
light; as in his picture of Alexander wielding the
thunderbolt, which seemed to project from the paint-
ing ; whilst that conqueror's naturally white skin took
a tawny hue from the effect of the blaze. 1 His picture
of Thunder, Lightning, and the Thunder-bolt seems to
have been of the same kind. 2 It is probable, as Urlichs
suggests, that these phenomena may have been intro-
duced in a picture of Semele and the birth of Dionysus.
Philostratus describes such a picture as extant in his
time in a gallery at Naples. Thunder had a hard and
rigid form; Lightning darted flame from her eyes;
Thebes was enveloped in a dark thunder- cloud burst-
ing over the house of Semele, whose form was obscurely
seen ascending to heaven. The flame which enveloped
the house was paled by the still greater brightness of
the nascent deity, who shone out like some brilliant star. 3
In fact the ancients seem to have been as skilful in such
effects as Hondthorst (Gherardo dalle Notte) or Schalken.
Antiphilus, an artist about contemporary with Apelles,
painted a boy blowing a fire, the flame of which was
reflected on his face and throughout the apartment. 4
Philostratus describes two or three other pictures show-
ing effects of fire-light. In a nocturnal revel, Comus
held in his hand a torch, which brought out, as it were,
in relief the form of his limbs. 5 In another picture the
banquet in which Agamemnon and Cassandra were
slain by ClytemnaBstra was shown by lamp-light, which
must have added to the horror of the scene. Philo-
stratus mentions here a natural touch of the artist. The
drunken guests who had been killed were not pallid, for
colour does not immediately forsake persons dying in
that condition. 6 But to return to Apelles.
1 Plin., "N. H.," xxxv., 36, 17; 3 Philostr., " Imagg.," i., 14.
Plut., " Alex.," 4. * Plin., ibid., xxxv.
a Bronte, Astrape, Keraunobolia, a " Imagg.," i. 2.
Plin., ibid. 6 Ibid., ii. 10.
288 APELLES' PORTRAITS.
He excelled in portraits, and Alexander allowed no
other painter to take his likeness. He seems to have
had a talent for concealing the natural defects of his
sitters, and for making a beautiful picture whilst he pre-
served a faithful likeness. That he should have been
a good portrait-painter detracts not from his merit;
for Raphael, Titian, Rubens, and others among the
greatest painters of modern times, have excelled in por-
traiture ; but had they done nothing else, they would
hardly have attained a first rank in art. Apelles, how-
ever, besides portraits, painted chiefly single figures.
One of his advocates, quand meme, asserts that Greek
pictures should be looked upon as pieces of coloured
statuary, and that a complicated subject would destroy
the harmony which is their essential merit. 1 But though
it is probable that Greek painting had its origin from
sculpture, and always retained something of a sculptu-
resque character, yet the examples already cited suffice
to show that it did not eschew elaborate subjects. The
Capture of Troy and the Nekyia of Polygnotus appear,
on the contrary, to have failed in the opposite extreme
by the introduction of too many figures and a certain
want of unity in the composition. And though the re-
marks of M. Houssaye are more applicable to the pro-
ductions of Apelles, and of some of his Ionian prede-
cessors, yet even he could sometimes paint an elabo-
rate subject, as, for instance, his celebrated picture of
Calumny.
Lucian has given a description of this piece, which
appears to have been suggested to Apelles by an adven-
ture of his own, a false accusation brought against him
before Ptolemy. " On the right," says Lucian, "was
1 " Les tableaux de Part Grec doivent accord dans Fharmonie qui en est la pre-
etre considered corame des morceaux de miere condition." Houssaye, "Hist,
statuaire animes par les couleurs, ou d'Apelles," p. 438.
la complication du sujet jetterait le ds-
MODERN COPIES OF THE " CALUMNY." 289
seated a man with long ears resembling those of Midas,
who was stretching forth his hand to Calumny, advanc-
ing from afar. At his side were two females, who, I
think, were Ignorance and Suspicion. Calumny was
beautiful enough, but a little excited by passion and
anger. She held in her left hand a blazing torch, and
with the right was dragging along a youth whom she
had seized by the hair, whilst he stretched forth his
hands towards heaven, and called upon the gods to wit*
ness his innocence. A pale, ugly man, with a piercing
eye, and resembling one attenuated by sickness, pre-
ceded him; one might fancy him to be Envy. Calumny
was accompanied by two other women, who encouraged
and adorned her ; he who showed the picture told me
that they were Intrigue and Deceit. They were fol-
lowed by a female of wretched appearance, in a black
and tattered garment; her name, I think, was Repen-
tance. She was weeping, and looked back with fear and
shame towards Truth, who was advancing." l
In all these characters there was plenty of scope for
variety of expression, which, from Lucian's description,
must have been well rendered. Several modern painters
have employed their pencils in realizing it. Botticelli
has made it the subject of a picture now in the Uifizi;
which, however, is far surpassed by a drawing of
Raphael's in the same collection. Holbein and Pous-
sin also painted it. Such frequent repetitions serve to
show that it was a good subject for a picture. But
with Apelles it was a mere lusus penicilli suggested by
an accident, and it would be absurd to seek in it any
characteristics of his general style, or to contrast it, as
Houssaye does, with his Kypris Anadyomerie, or his
Charis at Smyrna.
Among the few painters of this age who excelled in
1 Lucian, " De calumnia non teraere credenda," 4.
U
290 THE PAINTER ARISTEIDES.
rendering character and expression were Aetion 1 and
the Theban Aristeides. Pliny especially signalizes Aris-
teides for his delineations of character and emotion. In
his picture of a suppliant you seemed to hear the voice.
Other of his paintings were a female in a state of in-
sensibility for love of her brother ; a wounded and dying
mother repulsing the infant which sought her breast; a
sick man, the truthful rendering of whose sufferings was
a constant theme of praise. King Attalus gave 100
talents for one of his pieces. His picture of a battle
with the Persians contained 100 figures, for each of
which Mnason, tyrant of Elatea, agreed to give 10
mince. After the capture of Corinth by Mummius the
booty was sold ; when Attalus gave so high a price for
Aristeides' picture of Dionysus, that Mummius began
to suspect his own want of taste, so he claimed it
back again, and placed it in the Temple of Geres at
Rome. 2
Action's picture of Tragedy and Comedy would have
afforded him an excellent opportunity for delineating
the opposite emotions proper to those kinds of poetry,
and might remind us of Reynolds' picture of Garrick
between the Tragic and Comic Muse. His most cele-
brated piece was the marriage of Alexander and Roxane.
It was exhibited at Olympia, where it created such a
sensation that Proxenidas, a president of the games,
gave Aetion his daughter in marriage. Roxane, of ex-
traordinary beauty, was sitting on a couch, her eyes
modestly cast down at the approach of Alexander. She
Avas surrounded by little smiling Erotes ; one behind her
1 Miiller, "Archseol. der Kunst," (" Brut,," 18, 70) ? But there is some
211, Anm. 1, places Aetion in the confusion of name. In some editions of
time of Hadrian and the Antonines by Pliny, who does not mention the Mar-
too closely pressing Lucian's words (TO. riage, he is called Echion, and placed in
Tt\f.vTcua TavTa, Herod., 4). For in the 107th Olympiad (xxxv. 36, 9).
that case how could he have been men- 2 Plin., '* N. H.," xxxv. 8.
tioried by Pliny, or still more by Cicero
MARRIAGE OF ALEXANDER AND ROXANE. 291
loosened her veil, and displayed her charms to the en-
raptured bridegroom ; another was taking off her sandals,
as if to put her to bed ; a third laid hold on Alexander's
mantle, and dragged him towards Roxane, to whom he
offered a garland. Hephaestion, his best man, with a
lighted torch in his hand, was leaning on a blooming
youth, whom Lucian took to be Hymen. On the other
side of the piece, little Loves were playing with Alex-
ander's arms. Two were carrying his lance, looking as
if they were grievously burthened with it ; another lay on
the shield in royal state, whilst two others had hold on
the thongs, and were dragging him along. One Love
had hid himself in the breast- plate on the floor, and
seemed to be lying in wait to frighten his companions.
All this T says Lucian, was no idle invention, but
meant to show that Alexander, with all his love for
Roxane, loved also war, and did not forget his arms.
And thus Aetion obtained a real marriage for his ficti-
tious one. 1 This description, faithfully translated into
colours by Raphael, may be seen in the Borghese Palace
at Rome; and a drawing for the same picture in the
collection of the Archduke Charles at Vienna.
Timomachus of Byzantium, who lived in the time of
Caesar's dictatorship, threw a last fitful light on the de-
clining days of painting, as the expiring taper outshines
for a moment the fading flame which had preceded it.
I have already alluded to his two masterpieces, the Ajax
and Medea, when speaking of the moment (supra, p. Ill
sq.). They were placed by Caesar in the temple which he
had erected to Venus Genitrix. A just taste for painting
seems to have prevailed at Rome during the time of the
first two or three Caesars. Augustus and his son-in-law
Agrippa, dedicated several fine pictures in public build-
ings ; even Tiberius, with all his brutality, was not en-
1 Lucian, " Herod.," 4.
292 ROMAN PAINTERS.
tirely devoid of a relish for art. 1 But a practice was
beginning to be introduced, against which Agrippa set
his face and denounced in a public oration, that of im-
muring works of art in private houses, and thus con-
verting into a peculiar and exclusive possession what
was intended for public edification and delight. A
heavy blow and great discouragement to art ! Nero, to
use the expression of Pliny, imprisoned the works of
Amulius in his Golden House, and they were destroyed
in the fire which consumed it. 2 Amulius prided him-
self on being a Roman, and would never work, even on a
scaffolding, except in his toga. Painting, indeed, seems
always to have been held in some honour at Rome, as
may be inferred from the case of Fabius Pictor, whilst
there are few or no instances of Roman sculptors. And
so Virgil, when speaking of arts unworthy of a Roman,
excludes sculpture, but not painting :
" Excudent alii spirantia mollius sera
Credo sequidem, vivos ducent de marmore vultus."
"./En.," vi., 847.
Two good painters of a rather later age, Cornelius
Pinus and Accius Priscus, who painted the temple of
Honos and Virtus restored by Vespasian, were also
Romans.
We must, probably, place about the time of Nero the
marked decline in painting observed by Pliny. That
emperor's taste appears to have been execrable. What
could be more absurd than a statue of himself 120 feet
high ? It was in his time that gladiators and gladiato-
rial shows began to be painted. Soul and animation were
no longer demanded in works of art ; richness of material
was more valued than excellence of execution. Petro-
nius, who lived about the same time, or perhaps a little
1 Plin.,"N. H.,"xxxv., 10.
2 "Career ejus artis domus aurea fuit." Plin., ibid., 37. Some editions read
Fabullus for Amulius.
THE ALDOBRANDINI MARRIAGE. 293
before Pliny, confirms his testimony about the decadence
of painting; but when he speaks of it as absolutely
dead, he doubtless exaggerates. 1
Few ancient paintings have come down to us, except
those preserved upon walls at Rome, and in the Cam-
panian houses overwhelmed by the eruption of Vesuvius
in the year 79. These last at Pompeii, which are the
most numerous, must for the most part have been
painted in the period between the eruption and the
earthquake which in 63 destroyed great part of that
city. The only remarkable painting not on a wall is
that now in the library of the Vatican, representing a
Roman wedding. It was discovered in a ruin near the
Arch of Gallienus in the pontificate of Clement VIII.
(Ippolito Aldobrandini, 1592-1605), and being placed
in his villa on the Quirinal, obtained the name of the
Aldobrandini marriage. Pius VII. bought it in 1818
for 10,000 scudi, and placed it in the Vatican. It is a
picture of considerable size, of alengthened oblong shape ;
the figures, about 18 inches high, are of statuesque ap-
pearance, and being arranged in a line without any
grouping, might almost pass for a copy from, or a
design for, a bas-relief. This was a frequent, perhaps
almost general, characteristic of the more ancient paint-
ing. It resembled statuary in having sharp outlines,
preserved by the figures being kept separate ; no strong
foreshortenings, one clear light, with shadows only to
throw out the figures, and care was taken that one figure
should not cast its shadow on another. 2 In the piece in
question, the bride sits in the middle on the nuptial
couch, enveloped from head to foot in an ample gar-
ment, and distinguished by her air of timid modesty.
The bridegroom, with a chaplet on his head, seated on
a low stool at the foot of the couch, is remarkable by
1 " Satyricon," c. 88. 2 Quintil., " Inst., Or.," viii., 5, 26.
294 ROMAN WALL-PAINTINGS.
his youthful, manly beauty and impatient attitude,
whilst a female next the bride is probably addressing to
her some encouraging words. Before the wedded pair
is a little round pillar serving as a table, at which a
female of elegant figure, unclothed to the hips, seems to
be preparing refreshments. To the' left, at another
similar pillar, a priest with two attendants is busy with
a sacrifice. On the extreme right, a draped and com-
manding figure, with a sort of diadem, seems to be about
to sing the epithalamium, accompanied by a female on the
lyre. Here also is a table, on which another female is
placing some object, apparently & patera. The colouring
of the picture, so far as can be determined after such a
lapse of time, seems to have been thin but harmonious. 1
The Roman wall paintings are few in number, but
afford the best examples of that style of art. One found
on a wall near the Esquiline is very remarkable, espe-
cially for the lights. The subject is Ulysses in the in-
fernal regions. A dark grey tone prevails ; the light
enters only through a cleft in the rock leading to the
upper world, casting a feeble ray on Ulysses and his
companions employed in sacrificing the ram. 2
In the Tablinum of the so-called house of Livia on
the Palatine are figures of lo and Galatea, which, when
compared with copies, evidently from the same originals,
on Campanian walls, show a much higher degree of ele-
gance and beauty. Helbig attributes this circumstance
to Rome being the centre of art and abounding with
original Greek works; also, perhaps, to the influence
which the high-bred and refined Roman ladies had upon
the painter. The best picture in the house in question
is a large one (1.70 by 1.35 metres) representing the
1 Winckelmann's idea (" Monument! 2 See Brunn, " Die Philostratischen
Antichi," P. i., cap. 9, p. 60), that it Gemalde," S. 229.
represented the marriage of Pelous and
Thetis, is evidently untenable.
10 AND ARGUS POLYPHEMUS AND GALATEA. 295
story of lo and Argus. Jo is seen in the middle of the
piece seated at the foot of a rock, on the top of which is
a column bearing a statue of Hera. The figure of lo,
who is partly undraped, is very graceful. On her left
is Argus, in a stooping posture, with one foot placed on
a rock. He is completely naked, but bears in one hand
the skin of some animal. Armed with sword and spear,
he looks attentively at lo. On the other side, Hermes,
with petasus and caduceus, partly hidden behind the
rock, is stealthily advancing to slay Argus. The name
of Hermes, written beneath the figure in Greek letters,
shows the picture to be a copy from a Greek master.
That the original must have been famous is evident from
there being at Pompeii several copies of it, but with
alterations. That in the Pantheon comes nearest to the
Roman painting, the figures of lo and Argus being al-
most identical, but Hermes is omitted.
In the same house at Rome is a fresco of Polyphemus
and Galatea, which appears to be seen through an open
window. The landscape, remarkable for its aerial per-
spective, is one of the best ancient ones extant. Galatea
is represented sailing on a dolphin. There are several
pictures of this subject at Pompeii, but none which
much resembles this. All of them show Polyphemus
seated on a rock, whilst in the Roman piece he is in the
water. A third painting of a street in Rome is chiefly
valuable as showing the architecture of the lofty Roman
houses. This view is also seen through a window.
There are two smaller pictures representing Hydro-
manteia, or divination by water. 1
Wall painting must have begun in the infancy of
the art, for it has been seen that Polygnotus and
other painters of the early schools used that method.
1 See descriptions of these frescoes by Perrot, and plates, in the "Journal
Arche'ologique," 1870, No. xxi.
296 CEILING PAINTING.
Pausias, who flourished in the middle of the fourth cen-
tury B.C., is said to have been the first who painted
ceilings; from which it may perhaps be inferred that
wall-paintings had been already introduced into private
houses. 1 It were perhaps to be wished that Pausias had
never hit upon such an invention except in the way of
ornamental painting. It strains one's back to look at
any subject on a ceiling, and the right point of view is
hard to get. This inconvenience is well obviated in the
Palazzo Rospigliosi at Rome, by the mirror placed under
Guide's Aurora. What a waste of power in Correggio's
painted cupolas at Parma! But if the spectator has
reason to complain, how much more so had the artist !
Vasari tells us that Michelangelo, after painting the
ceiling of the Cappella Sistina, which he was obliged to
do in a recumbent position, could not for months after-
wards read or see drawings except in the same posture ;
and that he himself suffered similar effects from paint-
ing ceilings in the palace of Cosmo de' Medici, though
he had invented a couch for the purpose. 2
Pausias, who painted chiefly in encaustic, was a good
artist in the higher styles, and excelled in foreshorten-
ing and chiaroscuro. His skill in these respects was dis-
played in a picture of a black ox, which showed its
whole length, though the head faced the spectator. The
parts struck by the light were also black, but lighter
than those in shade. 3 There is a good example of an
ox foreshortened in a house in the Vicolo della Fullonica
at Pompeii, but the animal is white, and stands with its
back to the spectator. 4 Pausias must have excelled in
colouring, for one of his pictures represented Methe, or
Inebriety, drinking from a glass through which her face
. ' Plin., " N. H.," xxxv. 40; Helbig, 3 Plin , ibid., 40, 24.J
" Wandgemalde," S. 129 f. * Helbig, " Untersuchungen," No.
3 "Vita di Michelagnolo, Opere," t. 1411.
v., p. 38.
EARLY ROMAN WALL-PAINTING. 297
was seen. 1 He seems also to have introduced small
cabinet pictures suitable for the adornment of private
houses. Helbig thinks that such easel pictures, which
could be purchased only by the rich, were imitated on
painted walls. 2 There are some few traces on walls at
Pompeii that easel pictures had been let in. Pausias
was followed in this style by several artists of the Dia-
dochan period, as Peiraicus, who painted genre pictures
of barbers' and shoemakers' shops, feastings, &c. ; and
Calates, who took for his subjects scenes from comedies.
Wall-painting must have been introduced into Italy
at an early period as a decoration of private houses,
since such pictures are mentioned by Plautus as of fre-
quent recurrence. 3 It is a probable conjecture of Hel-
big's, 4 but no more than a conjecture, that the Roman
poets sometimes took their descriptions and allusions
from such paintings; as, for instance, of Europa con-
veyed over the sea on the bull's back, of Venus wafted
in her shell, and the like. How common that species of
art had become is shown by the fact that it is found in
third-rate houses in a third-rate town like Pompeii. It
filled, indeed, the place of modern tapestry and stained
papers. From this circumstance it cannot be expected
that such paintings, which form the greater portion of
the remains we possess of ancient pictorial art, should
afford any very trustworthy specimens of the earlier
Greek painters, and therefore any adequate materials for
judging their works.
The method of executing these frescoes forbad any
very high degree even of technical excellence. Painting
gradually by small parts at a time was avoided, since
the artist was obliged to execute his work quickly while
1 Pausan., ii., 27, 3. a " Wandgemfclde," S. 134.
3 " Mensechmi," i., 2, 34 scq. ; " Mercator," ii. 2, 42.
4 " Wandmalerei," S. 119.
298 METHODS OF WALL-PAINTING.
the wall was wet. Hence the apparently hasty manner
in which most of the pictures seem to have been done.
The landscape in the background, if there be any, is
mostly in the lightest tones, sometimes indeed only in-
dicated. Dark shades are avoided, and the air is often
represented by a piece of white plaster. 1 On the other
hand, this method was favourable to boldness and faci-
lity of execution. The walls being usually of no great
extent, admitted not of large compositions. In the more
ancient Hellenistic style they were divided into com-
partments, in the middle of which were painted imita-
tions of easel pictures ; but this is rarely seen in Cam-
panian houses. The wall often appears to be pierced
by a door or window, especially when a landscape is
shown ; thus the picture seems to be painted on a wall
outside the room, and all combination with its architec-
ture is avoided. There are examples of this method at
Pompeii in the frescoes of Venus and Adonis in the
house of Adonis Ferito, of Diana and Actaeon in the
house of Sallust, and others ; 2 also in that of Galatea and
Polyphemus at Rome, before described.
The fact that the designs of the Campanian frescoes
are relatively much superior to their execution shows
them to have been copies ; and that they were for the
most part taken from Greek originals appears from the
circumstances that the subjects of many of them are
known to have been handled by Greek artists, and that
Greek inscriptions are often found upon them. That
their subjects are almost all taken from the Greek my-
thology tends to prove the same thing. The few on
Roman subjects are very inferior in design, and are
sometimes partly borrowed from Greek pictures. Thus
1 Donner, " Die antiken Wandmale- 2 Helbig, " Untersuchungen iiber die
reien in technischer Beziehung," S. cix. ff. Campanische Wandmalerei," S. 324.
(prefixed to Helbig's " Wandgemalde").
SOURCES OF POMPEIAN PICTURES. 299
in the fresco of .Eneas wounded, that figure is taken
from the Adonis in the Spada relief, and Yenus from
the well-known figure of Selene descending to Endy-
mion. 1 The beautiful hovering figures so frequently
occurring on Pompeian walls are seen on Corinthian
mirrors. But Helbig is of opinion that in general the
frescoes are not taken from the earlier great masters,
but from cabinet pictures of the Hellenic period, and
that even these were considerably altered. 2 In many
of them are found traces of the sentimentality which
characterized that time. Such are Ariadne abandoned
by Theseus in the Casa di Meleagro, Oinone and Paris
in the Casa del Labirinto, a head in the Casa del Orso
of sorrowful aspect and doubtful gender, &c. It may
be inquired where the wall painters found these originals?
In the case of the Roman frescoes it might not be diffi-
cult to answer this question; Rome, as before observed,
abounded with treasures of Greek art, and if the original
compositions of the most famous painters were not there,
it may be safely assumed that there were copies of
many of them. There were good copyists at Rome in
the time of the early empire. Dorotheos copied for Nero
the Venus Anadyomene of Apelles, which had then be-
come much obliterated. 3
With regard to the Campanian artists, it is no un-
reasonable supposition that they may have had access
to good pictures in their own neighbourhood. In the
time of Petronius, who lived most probably in the reign
of Xero, there was a fine gallery at Naples, which con-
tained paintings by Zeuxis, Protogenes, and Apelles. 4
Lessing, with a hardihood not uncommon among his
countrymen, but more rare in himself, asserts that this
1 Braun, " 12 Bas. Rel. am Palazzo 2 Helbig, ibid., S. 228, 342, &c.
Spada ; " Helbig, Untersuchungen," 3 Plin., " N. H.," xxxv., 36, 15.
S. 6. " Satyricon," c. 83 and 89.
300 TRIMALCHIO'S SUPPER.
gallery never existed except in the imagination of Pe-
tronius. 1 His motive for so doing is that Petronius
describes a picture in it of Laocoon, which runs counter
to an opinion of his about the origin of the marble
group; but the only argument he adduces in support of
his view is that the verses in which the picture is de-
scribed are a manifest plagiarism from Virgil. But
allowing this to be so and the notion rests only on a
few similar words and a desire to embellish, charac-
teristic, it is said, of plagiarists such a circumstance
would not prove the non-existence of the picture, and
still less of the gallery. Petronius having seen such a
painting, and wishing to put a versified description of it
into the mouth of Eurnolpus, may very naturally have
turned to Virgil's lines, though his own are Iambics.
And if such a plagiarism was his object, it is difficult to
see why he should have added the lie circumstantial
that the gallery contained pictures by Zeuxis and
others.
It may be remarked, by the way, that Trimalchio,
who gives at Naples the supper described by Petronius,
had a cook who had been bequeathed to him by Pansa; 2
and about the time of that author there was a rich man
of that name who was an sedile, and seems to have pos-
sessed one of the finest houses at Pompeii. It may also
be remarked that some of the pictures of Apelles in the
gallery were monochromes. There are now in the
Neapolitan Museum (Salle VI. comp. 72) six pictures
in that style, which were found at Herculaneum. They
are done on white marble, and the drawing is so far
superior to that of the wall-paintings, as to make it not
improbable that some of them may be copies from
Apelles. Mengs speaks of these drawings, and allows
them a certain degree of excellence ; but, from the
1 " Laokoon," 5. 2 " Satyricon," xlvii.
AGE OF PETRONIUS. 301
drapery and other circumstances, thinks they must have
been done in the infancy of art. 1 A strange opinion !
which he supports by the fact that they are painted in
cinnaber (minium), a colour, he says, with a singular
contradiction of his own argument, unknown till after
the time of Apelles; whereas Pliny tells us that it was
discovered A.u.c. 249,' 2 or B.C. 505, arid, therefore, long
before the time of that painter. The names of some of
the figures are inscribed in Greek characters; and one
of them has an inscription with the name of the artist,
Alexander the Athenian. No inference as to the age of
these designs can be drawn from the form of the Greek
letters, since in all probability they were copies.
To make it probable that the gallery mentioned by
Petronius could have afforded materials for the artists
of Cajnpania, it must be shown that it existed before
the eruption of Vesuvius in A.D. 79. I have said that
Petronius probably flourished in the reign of Nero ; but
his age has been variously placed between that of Tibe-
rius and of Constantine. Some writers, misled perhaps
by the name of the celebrated church at Bologna, have
even made him a bishop of that city, who died and was
canonized in the fifth century ! 3 Although it cannot be
strictly proved that Petronius was the " arbiter elegan-
tiarum " mentioned by Tacitus in the time of Nero, 4
yet that opinion is infinitely more probable than any
1 " Opere," t. ii., p. 105. calls him Caius, Pliny, Titus (" N. H.,"
2 < N. H.," xxxiii., 37. xxxvii., 7) ; and so also Plutarch (" De
3 De Guerle, "Notice sur Petrone," Adulat. et Amicit. Discrim."). Yet the
p. xv. An amusing instance of the way same man must be meant; for there could
in which saints were sometimes invented hardly have been two Petronii, both con-
is that of the Spanish saint, S. Viar. sulares (mox consul, Tac. ; consularis,
A stone was discovered bearing the let- Plin.), who committed suicide for fear of
ters S. VIAR. They were the rem- Nero. No Titus Petronius appears, how-
nants of a Roman inscription, " Prae- ever, in the " Fasti," and the Caius Pe-
fectus Viarum! " tronius Turpilianus, consul in A.D. 61,
4 " Ann.," xvi., 18. There is a dim- was a different man.
culty about his prsenomen. Tacitus
302 PICTUKE GALLERY AT NAPLES.
other. A strong fact in favour of it is that Terentianus
Maurus, who appears to have lived at the end of the first
or beginning of the second century, quotes him once
under the name of Petronius, and once under that of
Arbiter. 1 It is true that arbiter in Tacitus is no proper
name; yet it may have adhered to Petronius, just as
Pictor did to Fabius and Dives to Crassus. I will here
mention a circumstance, unnoticed, I believe, by any
critic, which tends to confirm the opinion that Petronius
flourished under Nero. Plocrimus, one of Trimalchio's
guests, who calls himself an old man, says that when he
was young, he was unrivalled in acting, except by
Apelles, 2 or Apelletes, who, as we know from Suetonius, 3
was a famous actor in the time of Caligula; and the
interval between that emperor and Nero was sufficient
to turn a young man into an old one.
The Petronius put to death by Nero appears to have
resided at Curnse, and consequently the picture gallery
at Naples may have been well known to him. The
existence of it derives some confirmation from a passage
in Pliny, who says that laia had a picture of an old
woman at Naples. 4 ' Had there not been a well-known
collection in that town, Pliny would hardly have used
so vague a phrase, but would surely have specified, as
he usually does, the place or building in which it might
be found.
Tacitus describes Petronius as an elegant and learned
voluptuary; and the manner of his death, in hearing
light poems instead of philosophical precepts, admirably
agrees with the character we should be inclined to assign
to the author of the Satyricon. The sealed document
which in his last moments he despatched to Nero could
1 vss. 2489 and 2852. 3 " Vit. Calig.," c. 33 ; " Dion. Cass.,"
2 The Apelletem of Petronius is no lix. 5 ; " Satyricon," c. 64.
doubt the Apellam of Suetonius. See 4 "' N. H.," xxxv. 40, 43.
the note of Tilebom .
OBJECT OF THE u SATYRICON." 303
not have been that work, but that affords no argument
against his having written it. It may also be allowed
that the book was not intended as a satire upon that
Emperor under the name of Trimalchio. Such an
opinion, indeed, is absurd, if it be considered that if it
was the work of the consular Petronius it must have
been written when he was in favour with Nero; for his
accusation by Tigellinus, and consequent suicide, were
sudden and unexpected, and could not possibly have
allowed time enough for such a composition. It is much
more probable that it was written for Nero's amusement
than as a defamatory libel upon him ; though envy and
malice may have contrived to give it that character.
Arguments for the age of Petronius have sometimes
been drawn from the style of the Satyricon. At best,
style is a very unsafe criterion in such a matter; and in
a work where a number of low, uneducated persons are
introduced, may be even misleading. The late learned
Mr. Ramsay, who touches upon this argument in his
" Life of Petronius," l observes that when the writer
speaks in his own person, his style " is redolent of spirit,
elasticity, and vigorous freshness," and he would refer
it to the age of Hadrian. But it must be a very subtle
discrimination indeed that can distinguish a difference
in style produced in half a century ; and it is well known
that while some writers are fond of introducing innova-
tions, others, on the contrary, prefer to follow existing
models. No such arguments can, I think, prevail against
the circumstantial evidence which I have attempted to
array.
A gallery of paintings at Naples is also mentioned by
Philostratus, whose u Imagines " is a description of some
of those contained in it. Could this have been the same
gallery of which Petronius speaks ? Each is situated a
1 In Dr. Smith's " Diet, of Ancient Biography."
304 AGE OF PHILOSTRATUS.
little way out of the town and near the sea. 1 There
were several Philostrati whose ages are uncertain; but
a picture' gallery may exist for some centuries. One
Philostratus the elder, is mentioned by Suidas as living
in the time of Nero; he was therefore contemporary
with Petronius, and in all probability the author of the
u Imagines." Such was the opinion of Meursius and of
Ignarra, whose arguments were approved by Ruhnken. 2
In the age of the first Caesars there was a celebrated
gymnical Agon at Naples, which probably ceased in the
time of the Antonines ; and Ignarra 3 is of opinion it was
to this festival that Philostratus went. Philostratus is
careful to tell us that the Neapolitans knew Greek and
cultivated that tongue, as being a polished people of
Hellenic descent, in order, apparently, to explain his
reason for going thither, which was to make the pictures
in the gallery the subjects of rhetorical descriptions
('E7nSaae). In Trimalchio's supper a band of Home-
ristae are introduced who delivered Greek verses, but
Trimalchio, with hisusual vulgarity, drowned their voices
by reading aloud a Latin book. 4 It passes all belief
that Philostratus, a rhetor by profession, should have
invented these pictures, many of which must have re-
quired the skilled practice of an artist, out of his own
head. They are so well adapted for the pencil that
. some of them have been painted by Giulio Romano and
others.
The existence of these pictures, like those described
by Petronius, has been questioned by a few writers-
Delia Yallc, H. Valois, Count Caylus, and Klotz; of
whom the last two have been lashed by Lessing in his
" Laokoon," for their absurdities, and the others are of
1 " Satyr icon," c., xc. init. 5 " Ima- 3 " De Palaestra Neapolitana," P. ii.,
gines," Proem. 5, p. 222 seq. ; Ruhnken, " Bibl. Grit.,"
2 See Jacobs, "Prsef. in Philostrati ii. L(Ap. Jacobs," Philostrat.," p. lix.).
Imagines," not. 2. 4 " Satyricon," c. lix.
POMPEIAN PICTURES NO CRITERIA. 305
no great renown. Gothe held them to be real. 1 In de-
scribing the picture of Hyacinthus, Philostratus says
that as he was not come as a Sophist to discourse about
the fables represented, but as a spectator of what was
done, he would scrutinize the picture. 2 These surely
are not the words of a man inventing a painting. If he
merely wanted a vehicle for his rhetoric, the fables which
formed the subjects of the pictures would have afforded
better materials for the display of his eloquence. I have
adverted above (p. 287) to some of his descriptions, which
show that he considered the pictures with regard to their
art and execution, as he naturally would do if they were
real and not imaginary. In the latter case he would
have been wasting his ingenuity in a department not his
own, even allowing that he had enough artistic skill to
invent such pictures. But to return from this digression.
A circumstance which militates against the Pompeian
pictures, as criteria of the higher Greek art, is, that being
intended for the most part to decorate private houses,
subjects of a cheerful nature were in general preferred
to more serious and pathetic ones, arid we thus have few
specimens of such as were remarkable for expression.
Another and more serious objection is, that the wall
painters took the liberty of altering their models, accord-
ing to their own taste and caprice, or those of their em-
ployers. No two copies of the same subject are precisely
alike; which shows that the painters worked without
having any copy before them, and therefore from me-
mory. They seem also to have made their figures more
realistic than the Greek originals; the legs especially
are shorter, a trait which Rumohr ascribes to the
national characteristics of the Italian race as compared
with the Greek. 3 The alterations consisted chiefly of
1 " Kunst und Alterthum," ii., 1, S. 30. a " Imagines," i., 24.
" Italienische Forschungen/' i., 78.
X
306 OMISSIONS IN POMPEIAN PICTURES.
omissions, but sometimes of additions. The first kind
of alteration naturally sprang from the limited space at
the disposal of the artist; perhaps also from considera-
tions of economy, since a picture with few figures de-
mands less labour, and consequently less remuneration,
than one with a great number. Examples of omission
may be seen in the following pictures. In four at Pom-
peii representing the story of Perseus and Andromeda,
one has the two principal personages only, whilst the
other three have also a female figure sitting on the cliff.
Helbig, who holds these figures to be ActaB ('A/crat ), that
is, coasts or cliffs personified, takes these pictures to be
nearer the original than that which omits them. 1 He is
further of opinion that as these personifications of natural
objects began with the Alexandrine epoch, the proto-
type of such pictures may be ascribed to Nikias. Pliny
mentions that Nikias painted a picture of Andromeda,
and also, apparently as a pendant, one of lo and Argus.
A wall-painting at Rome on this last subject has been
already described. There are four on the same at Pom-
peii, in which the two principal figures are repeated with
some slight differences, but Hermes and the image of
Hera are omitted. It will be seen from the description
before given of the picture representing the Sacrifice of
Iphigeneia (supra, p. 282), that many figures are omitted
in the Pompeian copy. Pictures supposed to represent
Admetus and Alkestis afford further instances. There
are five such at Pompeii, a large quantity considering
that the subject was not a very celebrated mythological
one like Bacchus and Ariadne, Perseus and Andro-
meda, &c. ; a circumstance which seems to show that
the original must have been a famous painting. The
best of the five, a picture of moderate size, shows Ad-
metus seated with Alkestis beside him, who looks at him
1 " Untersuchungen," S. 142. 2 " N. H.," xxxv., 40, 28.
ADMETUS AND ALKESTIS. 307
sorrowfully whilst she places one arm round his neck,
and grasps his arm with the hand of the other. A youth
sits before them reading from a paper the oracle touch-
ing Admetus' death. On the foreground on the right is
an old woman, apparently Admetus' mother, bent with
age, and with her finger on her chin listening attentively
to the oracle. Behind her is a bearded old man, seem-
ingly Admetus' father, leaning with both hands on a
stick, and absorbed in sorrowful thought. In the middle
of the piece is Apollo, taller than the rest, with his quiver
on his shoulder, and lifting up the right hand. A nim-
bus round his head, is faintly indicated ; his tranquil face
contrasts well with the strongly marked expression of
the other figures. Somewhat lower, between Alkestis
and the old man stands a female whose face and uplifted
right hand testify alarm and sorrow. Behind Admetus
and Alkestis are two men who cannot be identified.
This painting excels in grouping, attitude, and expres-
sion. There is in the Neapolitan Museum an almost
precisely similar picture from Herculaneum (No. 1159),
but the colouring is different, and the two figures behind
Admetus and Alkestis are omitted. The other copies
have also slight variations, but all are evidently from
the same original. Many more instances of omission
might be instanced, but the above will suffice. There
are also evidently additions to what may be supposed
to have been the prototypes ; but it may be doubtful
whether these may not, in many cases, be owing to some
intervening copy by a Greek artist which the Pompeian
one took as a model.
Wall-pictures from Roman history or mythology are
very rare, and chiefly from \'irgil. Besides the picture
of the wounded vEneas before alluded to, he is found
represented with Dido, and receiving the armour from
his mother Venus. Another painting shows Dido lament-
308 DEATH OF SOPHONISBA.
ing his departure. A small caricature represents jEneas
carrying his father Anchises on his shoulders, both being
turned into apes. Besides a small picture of Romulus
and Remus with the wolf, the only other picture from
Roman history is that in theCasa di Giuseppe II., com-
monly called the Death of Sophonisba, who holds in her
hand the bowl of poison. 1 Scipio is present at the
scene, whose features are well known from busts. The
scar which they bore on the forehead is also seen in the
picture.
Landscape, which occupies so great a place in modern
art, was comparatively but little cultivated by the
ancients. This, however, must not be attributed to a
want of capacity and skill. It would be absurd to sup-
pose that artists who could paint such fine pieces as
some of those before described should not have been
equal to the easier task of delineating inanimate nature.
Helbig, indeed, thinks that the ancient artists were
capable of painting works of that kind which might rival
any productions of the modern pencil; and he supports
that opinion by appealing to the scenes from the " Odys-
sey " before mentioned, painted on a wall near the Es-
quiline. 2 But that opinion must perhaps be taken with
some qualification. At all events the taste of the ancients
lay not that way ; and where a certain kind of art is not
in much request, it is not likely to be carried to such
perfection as when it forms a sort of staple, as landscape
does at present. In general the ancients preferred the
representation of some action, and considered the scene
in which it took place only as subsidiary and subordi-
nate. They took no pleasure, as we do, in atmospheric
1 There is a plate of it in " Pompei ," perfect state. A good deal of the lower
p. 292. (Bell & Sons). The description part is now obliterated. It was discovered
of the painting by Helbig (" Wandge- in 1769.
malde," No. li>85) must have been taken 2 " Unlersuchungen," p. 350. See
from some account of it when in a more above, p. 294.
LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 309
effects merely for their own sake. The same feeling
pervades their poetry as well as their art. I have be-
fore alluded to the brevity, the few decisive touches,
with which Euripides indicates a landscape (supra^ 106),
and many more examples might be given. Such a
poem as Thomson's " Seasons " would have been an
impossibility in ancient times. A sentimental feeling
for nature was perhaps rather more developed in the
Diadochan epoch of art, but it never reached the pitch
it has attained among us. Helbig seems rightly to at-
tribute the modern taste for dreamy, even sad, atmo-
spheric effects to the northern climate. Even now the
gloomy north seems to be the proper home of such
paintings. It may be doubted whether even at the
present day Turner's exquisite representations of such
scenes would be duly appreciated in southern Europe.
Claude painted more like the ancients; but with an
idealization unknown to them, and for the sake of the
landscape itself. An eminent modern critic has con-
demned all such attempts in a lump as utter trash. Mr.
Ruskin, speaking of a vase with roses in a picture by
Paul Veronese says : u I would myself give all the
bushes not to say all the trees and all the seas of
Claude and Poussin in one bunch and one deluge for
this little rose bush and its bottle." l On reading this
judgment of a high and recognized authority one is
inclined to think that discussions about taste, and all
attempts to find any standard of it, are but so much
labour lost, and that it would be better to revert at
once to the simple and easy theory, that all that pleases
us is beautiful, and all that displeases ugly.
I have before briefly adverted to the skill of Apelles
and other ancient painters in rendering effects of light
(supra, p. 287). How sensible the more modern Greeks
1 " Guide to Venetian Academy," p. 16.
310 REFLECTED LIGHT.
were to such effects is shown by many passages cited
by Helbig from the u Argon autica " of Apollonius of
Ehodes. 1 That poet alludes to the dancing sunbeams
reflected from a glass of water ; describes how the fore-
head of Jason assumed a red colour from the reflection
of the golden fleece which he was carrying off; how the
same fleece on the bridal bed of Jason and Medea cast
a ruddy glow on the Nymphs who were present ; how
when the Argonauts were sailing in a dark and starless
night, Apollo, at the prayer of Jason, discovered to him
the Isle of Anaphe by the light reflected from his golden
bow. It can hardly be doubted that these and other
descriptions of the like kind were often suggested by
pictures; and, indeed, among the Campanian paintings
there are many of the sort. Thus in a picture in a house
in the Strada Stabiana the form of Thetis is reflected on
the polished shield of Achilles which Hephaestus holds
before her. Another, in the house of Adonide ferito,
shows the head of an Hermaphrodite in a mirror which
a slave holds before him. In the house of the Pescatrice
Narcissus admires his face reflected in a stream. It would
be tedious to multiply instances, and I will only men-
tion one more for its singularity. In a recently dis-
covered Pompeian picture of "Pero and Kimon, the
painter has endeavoured to show those restless par-
ticles of dust which may be observed in a ray of light
that penetrates into a dark room through a chink. 2
Modern art has also many such effects of light, which
surprise, indeed, and please, but after all are little more
than trick. Perhaps the chief qualities in which modern
painting differs from, and, in all probability, excels the
ancient, lie in the representation of daylight and aerial
perspective. It may be more difficult to render these
faithfully than to paint reflections from shining surfaces,
1 Untersuchungen," S. 213 if. 8 Helbig, " Untersuchungen," S. 215.
FORM AND COLOUR. 311
or effects of flame and candle-light. In ancient land-
scape, the plastic element, or form, was more considered
than tones or tints. In such as we have, there is a want
of natural colour. But here, of course, great allowance
must be made for the nature of these wall-paintings,
and for the effects of so long a lapse of time. A more
decisive proof of the indifference to colour may be found
in the fact that the landscapes are often monochromes.
A landscape with water found at Herculaneumis painted
in green; others in yellow monochrome exist in the
house of Livia on the Palatine, and in that of Sirico at
Pompeii. 1
From this preference for form over colour, the ancients
generally took their landscapes from a high point of
view, so as to show a great extent of earth and but
little sky. They could thus develop the scene to the
extreme distance, and show the features of the country
without much exhibition of atmospheric tones. This must
have been the case in several of the pictures described
by Philostratus ; in that of the Marshes, of the Bosphorus,
and of the Islands. 2 In this respect such pictures must
have resembled Polygriotus' Capture of Troy before de-
scribed, and some modern pictures of a corresponding
stage of art in the Campo Santo. But landscapes are
occasionally found taken from a lower point of view.
The union of perfect form and perfect colour, that is, of
drawing and painting, forms of course the perfection of
art; but such a union is rare in landscape painters.
Turner, one of the greatest artists in that way of mo-
dern, perhaps of any times, excelled not in drawing.
Besides landscapes which are only backgrounds to
mythological or historical subjects, we frequently find
among the wall-paintings landscapes with staffage of a
bucolic or marine character, telling no particular story.
r . ibid., p. 359. 8 '' Imagines." i., 9 ; i., 12; ii. 17
312 LANDSCAPES WITH STAFFAGE.
This style of painting appears to have been introduced
by Ludius (or Tadius) in the time of Augustus. 1 It
was evidently the product of the greater interest which
the wealthy Romans took in their rural and marine
villas. These villas dotted the coast from Antium to
Sorrentum, and were particularly frequent in the charm-
ing neighbourhood of Naples, especially at Baias, where
may still be seen remains of those vast substructions
which encroached upon the domain of the sea.
" ^Edificator erat Cretonius et modo curvo
Litore Caietse, summa nunc Tiburis arce,
Nunc Prsenestinis in montibus alta parabat
Culmina villarum, Grsecis longeque petitis
Marmoribus." Juv., " Sat.," xiv. 86 seq.
Such was the Roman rage for building ! For Cretonius
had not the means of the greater Roman magnates, and
he as well as his son were completely ruined by their
expenses in this way. The younger Pliny was hardly
a Roman of the first rank and wealth, yet he had four
villas, one at Laurentum, one in Etruria, and two on the
Lake of Como. In describing the view from his Lau-
rentine residence, he mentions the far- stretching coast
abounding with pleasant villas, which were sometimes
so numerous and crowded together as to have the ap-
pearance of towns. He also alludes to the fishermen,
who so often form the staff age of wall-paintings ; 2 which
consisted also of persons walking or sailing, riding on
asses or in carriages, hawking, hunting, or busy with
the vintage. According to Vitruvius, 3 however, this
kind of art was becoming degenerate, and represented
monstrosities rather than natural and well defined ob-
jects. Specimens of the staff age above described may
be seen in several Pompeian paintings. One of a bu-
1 Plin., " N. H.," xxxv., 10, 37. Ludius must have been a Roman.
2 " Epp.," ii., 17 ; viii., 7. 3 Lib., vii., 5.
POMPEIAN EXAMPLES. 313
colic, or idyllic, character, presents a rocky scene with
temple-like buildings. On the right a shepherd descends
a hill with his flock ; in the foreground, a peasant girt
with a sheep-skin is leading a goat towards the temples. 1
Another painting shows a valley bordered with high
cliffs and watered by a brook. In the middle is a
sacellum, or little shrine, before which some country-
people are preparing a sacrifice, one of whom washes
his hands in a waterfall. 2 The Casa della piccolo, fon-
tana at Pompeii has many such paintings. In two of
them may be seen the promenaders described by the
younger Pliny ; three are marine views with sailors and
fishermen ; another shows a road with a man wearing a
straw hat and yellow tunic riding on a mule. In the
Casa del Dioscuri is a large landscape with an angler
and a basket full of fish. 3 There are also some land-
scapes, especially from Herculaneum, without staffage,
and apparently intended to convey a poetical impression
solely from the region depicted ; as a painting of a de-
serted, melancholy shore, with rugged cliffs and decay-
ing trees. Some of the views seem to have been sug-
gested by the scenery in the neighbourhood of Pompeii.
In two is seen a distant island whose outline resembles
that of Capri ; in two others a mountain having the ap-
pearance of Vesuvius.
The Pompeian mosaics must also for the most part
be regarded as copies from pictures. This is not the
case with the Ravenna mosaics; which, being taken
from scriptural subjects, or containing representations
of Justinian and his court, were doubtless designed by
Byzantine artists. The traveller in search of classical
art will find little at Ravenna to repay his trouble; on
the other hand, it will interest archa3ologists, and espe-
1 Helbig,"Wandgemalde,"No. 1564. 3 Ibid., No. 1558.
3 Ibid., Nos. 1556, 1563, 1572, and b. c. d.
314 RAVENNA MOSAICS.
cially those who would study the progress of mosaic.
Here and there is a Greek urn or bas-relief. Of the
last kind is a marble slab at the entrance to the choir of
S. Vitale said to have been found in a temple of Nep-
tune. It represents that god enthroned, with a hippo-
campus at his feet; at the sides, one Eros, or Genius,
bears his trident, another his concha. Opposite to it is
another similar relief. The execution of them is very
beautiful, but they are surely strange ornaments for a
Christian church. The fifty-six columns of variously
coloured marble which formed the naves of the metro-
politan church of the Resurrection, built towards the
end of the fourth century, are said to have been brought
to Ravenna from the temple of the Capitoline Jove. 1 If
so, the destruction of Roman temples must have begun
at a very early period. But this account hardly agrees
with that of Procopius, who states that Gesiieric, in the
middle of the fifth century, found the Capitoline temple
in a perfect state, and carried off the gilt tiles from
the roof. 2 Without the columns, the roof would have
fallen.
THe mosaics in the choir of S. Vitale representing the
Emperor and his consort Theodora, with their attendants,
are made with large pieces of coloured stone, and are
much ruder than those at Pompeii, but the colours and
gilding have a rich effect. The best mosaic at Ravenna,
as a work of art, is that of Christ the Good Shepherd,
in the mausoleum of Galla Placidia. But the visitor of
Ravenna must content himself with these early speci-
mens of Christian art; with reminiscences of the ap-
proaching fall of the Empire suggested by the remains
of the palace of Theodoric, and contemplations of the
Renaissance inspired by Dante's sepulchre. A mingled
picture of decay and revival ! One of the earliest and
1 Ribuffi," Guida di Ravenna," p. 27. 2 Dyer's " City of Rome," p. 322.
POMrEIAN MOSAICS. 315
greatest of modern poets finding a refuge and a tomb
among the last ruins of ancient civilization. 1
The largest ancient mosaic in existence, putting aside
those at Ravenna, is that found in the House of the
Faun at Pompeii, and now in the Hall of Flora in the
Neapolitan Museum. It is twenty- two feet in length
and half as high; the figures represented are nearly
three-fourths the size of life. Recent researches have
proved it to be made of glass, 2 the material now used
for Roman mosaics, which gives a much more picture-
like effect than pieces of stone. The picture from which
it was taken must have been painted at least a century
before the fall of the Roman Republic, since some ex-
tracts from it are found on Etruscan urns, the making
of which ceased about that time. The subject of it is a
battle between Greeks and Persians, and the claim to
the authorship is divided between Philoxenos and
Helena, daughter of Timon of Egypt, both of whom
were contemporary with the battle of Issus, fought near
the end of B.C. 333. According to Pliny, Philoxenos of
Eretria painted for King Cassander a very excellent
picture 3 of a battle between Alexander and Darius,
which has been thought to be that of Issus. Before the
end of B.C. 331, Alexander was in Babylon, where he
had a mortal quarrel with Cassander ; after which event
it is hardly probable that Cassander should have ordered
a picture redounding to his honour. In the two years,
1 In 1865, on the occasion of the sixth a Welcker, ap. Miiller, " Handb.," S.
centenary of Dante's birth, some repairs 172.
were made at his tomb, when a rude 3 Nullis postferenda, " N. H.," xxxv.,
wooden box was found, out of which 36, 22. Cassander did not obtain the
fell some human bones. On breaking title of King till B.C. 307 j but Pliny may
up the box the following inscriptions have given him that designation though
were found : " Dantis ossa de nuper the picture was painted many years be-
revisa die 3 Junii, 1677 ;" and, " Dantis fore he obtained it, and when he was
ossa a me Fra Antonio Santi hie posita still only a powerful and successful
anno 1677 die 18 Octobris." Ribum, general.
p. 110.
316 BATTLE OF ISSU8.
however, between 333 and 331, there was time enough
for the painting of such a picture, especially as Philo-
xenos was remarkable for his celerity. And if there
should be any objection on this head, we might call it
the battle of the Granicus, fought in the spring of 334,
to which, indeed, some critics have assigned it; and,
for anything that may be inferred from the picture, one
is just as probable as the other. But in this case the
claim of Philoxenos to the authorship would lose the
authority of Pliny, and that of Helena would perhaps
become preferable; which, though it rests on the less
authoritative testimony of Suidas, is supported by the
border round the mosaic, representing crocodiles and
other Egyptian animals, in reference apparently to the
place of Helena's birth. It was also the battle of Issus
that she painted ; and her claim is further strengthened
by the fact that Yespasian placed her picture in his
Temple of Peace, so that it might easily have been copied
by the Pompeian mosaist. Probably it had previously
belonged to Nero ; for Vespasian filled his newly dedi-
cated temple with chefs-d'oeuvre which had been in that
emperor's possession. Nothing is more probable than
that a rich and tasteful proprietor like the owner of the
House of the Faun, should have ordered a copy of so
excellent a picture.
With respect to the interpretation of the subject there
is much variety of opinion. If it be the battle of Issus,
which, from what has been said, appears most probable,
there is nothing in the mosaic to contradict such an
assumption. Dareius was present at that battle in a
superb chariot, such as the quadriga in the middle of
the piece. He is also identified by his dress, and es-
pecially by the long bow which he holds, always seen
in the hands of the kings in the monuments of Perse-
polis. Alexander also may be identified by his profile,
FIGURE OF DAREIUS. 317
and the arrangement of the hair, though the whiskers
seem to be an addition. It was a happy thought of the
artist to show his helmet struck off in the fray, both as
displaying his valour and affording an opportunity to
show his likeness. Burckhardt, who held the strange
opinion that the piece might represent a battle of Greeks
or Romans against Celts, denies that the man in the
chariot can be Dareius, since the attention of the other
figures, and, it may be added, of the king himself, is
directed towards the personage in royal costume who
has been transpierced by the lance of the supposed
Alexander. 1 But it is surely a singular opinion to take
the wounded man, who is fighting on horseback, to be
the king, rather than him in the quadriga, whose cos-
tume is richer, as shown by the armlets, &c., and es-
pecially, as just remarked, who is distinguished by the
bow, whilst the other has a sword. The reason why
the general attention of the Persians, including Dareius
himself, is engrossed by the fate of the falling horse-
man, is that it marks the decisive moment, the turning-
point of the fray. The wounded man is evidently the
Persian satrap in actual and active command, and the
result of the battle could not be more clearly indicated
than by his fall. That he fell by Alexander's hand is
not to be accepted literally, though the Macedonian king
was often personally engaged; it is here to be taken
symbolically, as showing his victory. It was also, per-
haps, an adroit piece of flattery. The attention of
Dareius is fixed on his dying general. He regards him
with well expressed dismay, and has given his charioteer
the order for retreat, though his soldiers, as shown by
the direction of their lances, are still pressing forwards.
They consist of infantry, and such was the case at Issus.
1 " Cicerone," S. 720.
318 MERIT OF THE PICTURE.
The Persian standard seems to have borne the emblem of
a cock.
The original picture must have had a high degree of
merit. The Persians, their arms and accoutrements,
are depicted with great natural and historical truth;
the composition is well arranged, and if the drawing is
sometimes not quite correct, the fault may perhaps be
ascribed to the copyist rather than to the original painter.
Much technical skill is shown in the foreshortening of
the horse in the centre, and in the reflection of the face
of a fallen Persian in his steel, or silver, shield. Above
all, the intense, but varied, expression of alarm arid de-
spair in the faces and gestures of the king, his atten-
dants and followers, is admirably rendered. Unfortu-
nately the left side of the mosaic, which contained the
Grecian host, is almost obliterated; but here also re-
mains of scattered limbs and arms show that the victors
had suffered much, and that their struggles must have
afforded striking scenes for the pencil.
I shall mention only a few more mosaics which were
no doubt copies of celebrated pictures. One in the
Neapolitan Museum shows an elderly Choragus direct-
ing the preparations for the representation of a drama.
Seated in the middle of the picture, he is assigning masks
to two actors who stand before him. They have only a
piece of sheep or goat-skin round their loins, and are
evidently intended to represent Satyrs, as is also shown
by the mask that one of them wears. Of the masks not
distributed one is clearly intended for a Silenus, another
beardless one probably for Dionysus; which further
show that the piece to be acted is asatyric one. Behind
the Choragus stands another actor whose equipment is
more advanced, as an attendant is helping him to put on
a loose, shaggy robe ; his mask on the table beside him
shows an elderly personage not belonging to the Bac-
SUNDRY POMPEIAN MOSAICS. 319
chanal rout. Between the Choragus and the two actors
is an ivy-crowned female playing on the double flute,
and behind her a male attendant.
Another mosaic in the same collection inscribed with
the name of Dioscorides the Samian, in Greek charac-
ters, as the maker of it, has two dancing figures, one
striking a tambourine, the other rattling castagnettes.
Behind is a female playing the double flute, and a child
holding a kind of horn. It seems probable that these
are copies from Calades, who flourished in the Diadochan
period, and, as before said, was celebrated for his thea-
trical pieces. 1 There are also many beautiful mosaics
of still-life, animals, birds, &c., some of them still in situ
at Pompeii ; but these fall not within my scope.
1 Plin., " N. H.," xxxv. 37.
SECTION VI.
MODERN PAINTING.
A BRIEF sketch has been given in the first Section
-^~*- of the conditions which preceded the revival of
Art in Italy in the thirteenth century. The glory of ini-
tiating the Renaissance has been claimed by Florence
and Siena. But as the rival pretensions of Cimabue
and Guido only consisted in a deviation from the tra-
ditional Byzantine model, in giving the stiffness of its
figures more ease and grace, in converting their repul-
sive morosity into a more amiable expression, in short in
a nearer approach to nature, or what is much the same
thing, to the models of antiquity, the praise of a real
revival should perhaps be ascribed not to a painter but to
a sculptor, Niccolo Pisano. Of the history of Niccolo and
the date of his works little is certainly known. One of
the most famous of them, however, that of the pulpit in
the Baptistery of Pisa, has an inscription dated in 1260;
and he could hardly have been entrusted with such a
work had he not previously distinguished himself as a
sculptor. But Yasari's account that he executed the
Area in the church of S. Domenico at Bologna between
the years 1225 and 1231 1 is evidently erroneous. The
Marchese Davia has shown from a document dated in
June, 1267, that the body of S. Domenico was then trans-
ported from the plain tomb in which it reposed to the
sculptured one prepared for it in the church which bears
1 "Opere,"t- i., p. 31.
CIMABUE AND GUIDO. 321
his name. 1 The probable inference is that the Area
had been finished only a little while before. Indeed in
1231 S. Domenico had not yet been canonized, and it is
improbable that so splendid a tomb should have been
prepared for him before that event.
Niccolo seems to have derived his style chiefly from
remains of the later Roman sculpture, which, however
inferior to the works of an earlier period, were much
better than any contemporary art. In his various
travels in Italy he probably found better models than
the sarcophagi in the Pisan Campo Santo. The Virgin
and Child in the pulpit of the Baptistery at Pisa is
taken from the sarcophagus having the story of Phaedra
and Hippolytus, whilst one of the old men is thought to
be a copy from the bearded Bacchus before alluded to, 2
now in the Vatican. Niccolo's works were spread
through a great part of Italy, and no doubt awakened a
new sense of the beautiful in all men of any artistic
feeling, painters as well as sculptors.
The contention between Siena and Florence for the
glory of having initiated the Renaissance turns, as before
hinted, on the priority of a picture of the Madonna
painted by Guido of Siena and the celebrated one of the
Florentine Cimabue. This painter appears to have been
born in 1240, but the history of his life and works is
somewhat obscure. According to Vasari, his father, a
man of noble family, sent him for education to the Con-
vent of S. Maria Novella, where, instead of attending to
his books, he amused himself with drawing and painting,
studying the method of certain Greek artists who had
been employed to decorate the Gondi Chapel. Messrs.
Crowe and Cavalcaselle deny this story, and even charge
1 " Memorie intorno all' Area di San 9 and 10 ; Reumont, ' : Tavole Cronolo-
Domenico," ap. Rosini, " Storia della giche," Ann. 1261, 1266.
Pittura Italiana," t. i.,p. 116, and notes a Above, p. 191.
Y
322 CIMABUE'S MADONNA.
Yasari with having invented it, with the silly view of
enhancing Cimabue's reputation by his superiority over
his masters; and they remark that he needed no Greek
instructors, as he might have taken his style from the
works which he saw around him. 1 But these would not
have taught him the technical processes of painting;
and it is to these and not to his style, that Yasari
alludes when he says that he would stand all day long
watching the Greeks at work. How Cimabue's reputa-
tion should have been increased by such an act it is
difficult to see. It is said that the Gondi Chapel could
not have been then in the church, a,s the first stone of
S. Maria Novella was not laid till 1278. Yasari could
not have been ignorant of the history of the church,
since he tells us that it took seventy years in building. 2
The chapel, therefore, as he must have known, could not
have been in the church in Cimabue's boyhood, but it
may have been a substantive building afterwards incor-
porated in it. The church seems to have undergone
many alterations. It is spoken of as rebuilding in 12 9 7, 3
and the chapel may then have been included in the struc-
ture ; a view supported by its dilapidated condition when
Yasari wrote, only a century and a half afterwards.
However this may be, Cimabue seems to have painted
his celebrated Madonna, now in the Ruccellai Chapel in
Sta. Maria Novella, about the year 1273, since it is said
to have been inspected by Charles I. of Anjou on his
passage through Florence in that year. This is the
painting which contends for pre-eminence with the Ma-
donna of Guido of Siena. Cimabue, besides other works,
had previously painted a Madonna for the monks of
Yallombrosa, which was placed in the Church of .S.
1 "History," vol. i., ch. 6. I may the concurrence of the authors, may be
remind the reader that I have used Max regarded as a revised edition.
Jordan's German translation of this 2 Apud Reumont, " Tavole Cronolo-
work, which, having been made with giche," Ann. 1278. 3 Ibid., sub ann.
GUIDO'S MADONNA. 323
Trinita at Florence, and is now in the Academy of that
city (No. 2). It is inferior to the Ruccellai Madonna,
though showing an improvement on the Greek manner ;
not, however, in such a degree in either picture as to en-
title it to mark an epoch in art. It is on his frescoes from
scriptural and legendary subjects in the Church of S.
Francesco at Assisi that Cimabue's fame chiefly depends.
Guido's rival Madonna in the Church of S. Doinenico
at Siena is said to have had the date of 1221, when
Cimabue was not yet born. But this date is in all pro-
bability a falsification, and the picture has been so much
painted over as to afford no accurate criterion of its
style. There is another Madonna by Guido in the
Gallery at Siena (No. 6), supposed to have been painted
in 1260. Even this had precedence in point of time
over Cimabue's ; but though both Guido's pictures
show some improvement on the Byzantine manner, they
have little or no claim to superiority over Cimabue's in
point of grace and beauty.
It may be further observed that all these early pic-
tures of the Madonna, including the celebrated one by
Giotto, are no true tests of the Renaissance. They are
all mere copies after the traditional Greek manner, only
somewhat altered and improved. The drawing is a little
better, the features not quite so morose, the complexion
less adust, the drapery rather less rigid. But such
improvements are little more than technical, and can
hardly be said to form an epoch. Still less is that cha-
racter applicable if we regard the subject of these pic-
tures. They are nothing more than idols and display
no invention. The best claim to be the author of the
revival of painting must rest with him whose genius
and invention made him the founder of a new sdhool of
art, and in this view the honour must be assigned to
Giotto.
324 GIOTTO'S WORKS AT FLORENCE.
Giotto di Bondone was born of poor parents at Ves-
pignano, near Florence, about the year 1276. Struck
by the artistic talent which the boy displayed, Cimabue
patronized him, and gave him instructions in painting.
It would be impossible in this sketch to follow his his-
tory and labours. His works are so numerous that the
bare enumeration of them would demand more space
than can be here afforded. They are widely spread
over Italy. Padua and Assisi are their chief seats, and
there are also some remains of them at Rome, Naples,
and other places. But there are sufficient at Florence
to illustrate his style; and as that place falls most
usually in the track of travellers in Italy, I shall con-
fine my remarks to what may be found there.
It is pretty universally agreed that some of his finest
works are in the Peruzzi and Bardi Chapels in the Church
of Santa Croce ; but all have more or less suffered from
decay and restoration, and from the coating of whitewash
with which, not many years ago, they were covered.
The frescoes in the Peruzzi Chapel present scenes from
the history of the Baptist and S. John the Evangelist.
The most remarkable things in this series are the resus-
citation of Drusiana, the dancing of Salome, the healing
of the cripple, and the ascension of S. John. The
frescoes in the Bardi Chapel are taken from the history
of S. Francis. Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle select for
especial praise the death of the saint, which they con-
sider equal to any thing of Raphael's. I must confess
that I incline to Mr. Ruskin's opinion that the fresco of
S. Francis before the Soldan has much greater merit.
Raphael, I think, would never have selected for his
pencil a monkish legend that offered no scope for the
display of his genius. Of the other fresco Mr. Ruskin
observes : u It is so great that had its principles been
understood there was in reality nothing more to be
S. FRANCIS BEFORE THE SOLDAN. 325
taught of art in Italy ; nothing to be invented except
Dutch effects of light." 1 This last remark applies to
the fire, which, as Mr. Ruskin says, is merely a red
mass, casting no fire-light. I cannot, however, agree
with his opinion, that Giotto meant to indicate the heat
by making the Magi hide their faces with their robes.
The Soldan, a noble figure, who is much nearer to the
fire, does not screen himself from it. He is looking at his
challenged Magi to see how they will behave, who by
covering their faces betray their dismay and confusion.
Thus their action aids in telling the story, whilst in Mr.
Ruskin's view it only serves to help out a technical
want of skill. There is a repetition of these stories by
Domenico Ghirlandaio in Sta. Trinita, which may serve,
by comparison with Giotto's, to illustrate the progress
of technical art. The fire here looks more real, but
Giotto has conceived the scene with much more spirit.
In the Death of S. Francis, however, Ghirlandaio has
perhaps excelled him in motive as well as technical
execution.
The Last Supper in the quondam Refectory of Sta.
Croce. if not by Giotto, is at least by one of his school.
Further specimens of Giotto will also be found at
Florence in the Academy, where is one of his Madonnas,
and a series of small pictures from the lives of Christ
and of S. Francis. Mr. Ruskin takes us into the clois-
ters of S. Maria Novella to see some of his frescoes;
but I do not find any attributed to him there by
his biographers. Agincourt gives a plate 2 of that
showing the Birth of the Virgin, and calls it a Greek
fresco.
Giotto improved technical art by giving more freedom
to his figures, by reducing the staring eyes of the By-
zantines, in which, however, he perhaps went too far in
1 " Mornings in Florence," p. 76. * No. cix.
326 THE GIOTTESCHI.
the other extreme, and by changing the adust com-
plexion of the Madonna to a pale carnation. 1 But he
had no idea of foreshortening ; his draperies do not dis-
play the figure, and his perspective is bad. Hence we
must look at his pictures for the thought, for the inven-
tion and composition, and make allowances for the rest.
He was fond of introducing many figures ; none of them,
however, are supernumerary and idle, but help to tell the
story. In this last respect he may be considered to
have equalled Raphael. Thus in the Peruzzi chapel the
miracle of S. John's resurrection is shown by the ges-
tures of the bystanders; in the opposite fresco, two
spectators hug each other for fear at the sight of the
Baptist's head ; and perhaps I may add as a similar ex-
ample the Magi before alluded to in the Bardi Chapel.
But his greatest service to art was the taste which he
gave for cyclic painting, thus opening the way for the
following great artists, including Raphael, in that style.
He appears to have died in 1336.
Among the numerous disciples of Giotto, called the
Giotteschi, I can in this brief sketch select only the more
remarkable. Taddeo Gaddi, son of Gaddo Gaddi, and
godson of Giotto, was for many years his pupil and as-
sistant. Taddeo's earliest independent works seem to
have been scenes from Scripture in the Baroncelli Chapel
in Sta. Croce. His manner resembled Giotto's, but he
did not equal his master either in drawing or invention,
though according to Yasari he coloured better. In one
important point, however, the expression of the passions,
he excelled. This was particularly shown in his fresco
of the Crucifixion at Arezzo ; in which in the faces of
the three soldiers casting dice for Christ's vestments
were admirably depicted the eager restlessness of the
one awaiting his turn, the suspicion of another that the
1 See Eastlake's note to Kugler's " Handbook," i., 123.
STEFANO. 327
dice were false, shown by his staring eyes and open
mouth, and the tremulous emotion, accompanied with
the hope of victory, expressed in the countenance of
him who was casting the dice. 1 Taddeo's principal
works were at Florence. He appears to have died in
1366.
Among all the Giotteschi, Stefano was he, if we are to
believe the account of Vasari, who most improved upon
his master. Yasari's judgment was founded on Ste-
fano's then extant works, which have now unfortunately
almost entirely perished. He particularly specifies a
fresco of the Transfiguration in the cloisters of S. Spirito
at Florence, in which the astonishment of the three
apostles at the supernatural splendour was admirably
displayed in their attitudes. Stefano appears to have ad-
vanced technical art by showing the forms of the limbs
under the drapery, a thing not before attempted. He
also improved on foreshortening, on the delineation of
architecture, and on perspective. A still better fresco
in the same place, somewhat obliterated in Yasari's
time, yet not so much as entirely to conceal its merits,
was that of S. Peter delivered by Christ from his peril
at sea. From the excellence of these and other works,
Stefano was called by contemporary artists the Ape of
Nature.
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle dispute this account,
and charge Yasari with being prejudiced in favour of
Stefano as a fellow-countryman, and extolling him at the
expense of the Sienese Ugolino, whose life he combines
with that of Stefano. 2 Those gentlemen, not content
with discovering Yasari's errors, which, if successfully
done, is a benefit to art and literature, will often know
their causes and even impute to that writer motives for
their wilful commission which it is impossible that they,
1 Vasari, t. i., p. 185. 2 Vol. i., ch, 16.
328 STEFANO'S MERITS.
or anybody else should know. If Ugolino was a Sienese
by birth, he was a Florentine by education, having been
the pupil of Cimabue, whose manner he constantly fol-
lowed. All his chief works were executed at Florence ;
there is not, I believe, a single specimen of them at
Siena. One of his pictures mentioned by Vasari, the
Coronation of the Virgin, is now in the Florentine
Academy ; 1 but its authenticity is of course doubted by
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle. Vasari's reason for
combining his life with that of Stefano was their inti-
mate friendship. Crowe and Cavalcaselle question this
also, but without giving any grounds for their doubt.
It would, indeed, be impossible to prove a negative ; and
even if it was not a fact, it suffices that Vasari believed
it to be one. The usual resort of those who start novel
theories is, not only to overthrow, if possible, all the
evidence that makes against them, but also to destroy
the credit of the writers in whose works it is found;
and so in this case it is sought to make Vasari appear a
very silly man, who invented stories from the most paltry
and improbable motives.
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle remark that it is dan-
gerous to say anything about Stefano' s artistic merits,
as nobody can now boast of any authentic knowledge of
his works; a circumstance, one would think, which
should have suggested a little more caution in disputing
Vasari's estimate of them; in whose time there were
not only considerable remains, but doubtless also au-
thentic traditions. Rosini made diligent search for
some specimens of Stefano, and succeeded, as he thought,
in finding two. One of these, representing the Adora-
tion of the Magi, is in the Brera Gallery at Milan (No.
350), and Rosini gives an engraving of the most impor-
tant part of it. But it bears the name of Stefano da
1 Galerie des anciens Tableaux, No. 1.
VASARl'S OPINION. 329
Zevio, a Veronese, arid the date 1435, and is conse-
quently a century later than the Stefano mentioned by
Vasari, who alludes to no such picture. He describes,
however, another little piece which Stefano painted for
a tabernacle ordered by the Gianfigliazzi on the Lung'
Arno. The subject was the Madonna with the Bambino,
who offers her a bird. Rosini succeeded in discovering
a replica of this piece, and gives an engraving of it. 1 It
entirely agrees with Vasari's description, and to judge
from the plate, must be allowed, I think, to bear out his
judgment, that Stefano's style approached towards the
modern. But Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle totally
misrepresent what Yasari says on this point. They
charge him with placing Stefano in an equal rank with
the moderns, and thus committing u an incarnate ana-
chronism." * He says nothing of the sort, but only that
Stefano u had begun to perceive some ray of the good
and perfect modern manner." And he speaks of him
throughout as only beginning to show this better method,
which consisted in a nearer approach to reality. Hence
it was that he was called the Ape of Nature ; an epithet
which Crowe and Cavalcaselle charge Vasari with having
forged out of Albertini's account, who merely calls him
Ape (simia). But the full appellation is given to him
by Landino, who wrote a century before Vasari's time, 4
and is quoted by C. and C. in the very same note! It
seems to me that attacks like these derogate from the
value of their learned and useful work. Vasari's admira-
tion of Stefano is borne out by Ghiberti, who speaks
1 "Storia," &c., t. ii., p. 72. The certo lume della buona e perfetta ma-
replica is now in the Lindenau Museum niera del modern!." t. i., p. 112.
at Altenburg. Max Jordan, ch. xvi., * His words are: "Stefano e nomi-
note 12. nato scimia della natura, tanto espresse
2 " Einen fleisch-gewordenen Ana- qualunque cosa voile." " Commento
chronismus." Ibid., i. 331. della divina Commedia," Proem.
3 " Pare che cominciasse a vedere un
330 THE ORCAGNAS.
of his works as very admirable, and showing great
learning. 1
Andrea di Cione, commonly called Orcagna, was one
of the best of Giotto's immediate successors. Like many
artists of that time, he was at once painter, sculptor, and
architect, and seems to have excelled in the last two arts
more than in the first. He was also a poet, but in that way
hardly attained to mediocrity. Of his education little
is known. He is supposed to have received instruction
in painting from his elder brother Bernardo, whom, how-
ever, he soon surpassed. They worked together in Santa
Maria Novella, but the frescoes attributed to them in
the Campo Santo at Pisa were done independently, that
of Hell being assigned to Bernardo, and those of the
Triumph of Death and the Last Judgment to Andrea.
In describing the former of these two pieces (supra, p.
07), I have adverted to Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle's
opinion that none of these Pisan frescoes is the work of
Orcagna. For this opinion they adduce not a scrap of
historical or documentary evidence ; it rests entirely on
considerations of style. Their judgment of style must
be taken at their own estimate ; but perhaps the question
may be ventured whether it is to be preferred to
Vasari's, himself an eminent artist, living three cen-
turies nearer to Orcagna's time, when the frescoes in
question were in much better condition, and the tradi-
tions concerning them more capable of proof. Further,
from the way in which Crowe and Cavalcaselle treat
Vasari, it is impossible to avoid the suspicion that their
opinion in the matter may not be altogether without
bias.
Conclusions drawn from style in painting necessarily
rest on an uncertain foundation. Who that was acquainted
only with Wilkie's earlier pictures would recognize his
1 " Molto mirabili e fatte con grandissima dottrina." Ap. Rosini, t. ii., p. 70.
THE TEIUMPII OF DEATH. 331
hand in his later ones? Artists, and even some who
have had but a very short life, have had two or three
different styles; of which, perhaps, the most remarkable
instance is Raphael. Arid Yasari bears testimony to
a change in that of Orcagna when he tells us that he
repainted in the church of S. Croce, with some alterations,
and in a much better manner, the Triumph of Death
which he had previously done at Pisa. 1 This fresco
was extant in Vasari's time, who describes it from ocular
inspection. Its existence, therefore, cannot be reason-
ably doubted, nor that it was painted by the same hand
that did the fresco in the Carnpo Santo ; for that another
man should have painted it would have been a plagiarism
so impudent, and so easily detected, as to exceed all
belief. This fresco, and the comparison of it with the
original one, must have made Yasari a good judge of
Orcagna's style. Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, how-
ever, deny even its existence. As it may be asserted,
they say, that we possess nothing of Orcagna's at Pisa,
the story that he painted a replica of the Triumph of
Death in S. Croce falls of itself. This reminds one of a
way of arguing common enough with a certain school of
German writers : first to assume as proved a view which
rests merely on conjectural inference, and then to use it
as an argument for demolishing some other position. In
this case it seems to me more reasonable to reverse the
method, and to argue from the copy the existence of an
original by Orcagna. In any other case, Yasari must
either have wilfully forged this story, or he must have
been deceived in his opinion. Nobody, I suppose, would
charge him with a forgery for which he could have had
no possible motive ; and that, writing as he did in the
full blaze and meridian day of Florentine art, he should
have been deceived in such a matter, surpasses all belief.
1 " Opere," t. i., p. 196.
332 THE LORENZETTI.
He was no doubt only repeating the received opinion of
his time; and if, as a professed critic and historian of
art, he should have committed so gross a blunder, he
would have covered himself with eternal ridicule.
It might at least have been supposed that in abjudi-
cating the Pisan frescoes from Orcagna, Crowe and
Cavalcaselle would have had good grounds for attri-
buting them to somebody else. But they acknowledge
their inability to do so ; adding, however, that this much
is certain, that the Lorenzetti, two brother-artists of
Siena, were well capable of them ; x and that it may be
still more confidently said that the whole cycle of these
three frescoes proceeds from one hand, and that of a
Sienese painter. With regard to the first of these asser-
tions, it may be remarked that by such a method we
might prove anything whatever : it might be shown that
Pope, and not Dryden, translated the u ^Eneid," and
that Raphael, not Leonardo da Yinci, painted the famous
Last Supper. It may be admitted that the three frescoes,
if not absolutely by one hand, are by cognate hands,
namely, those of Orcagna and his brother Bernardo;
but however confident Crowe and Cavalcaselle may be
in their opinion that they are from the hand of a Sienese,
it may be permitted to ask for some proof. What they
tell us about the style of Orcagna and that of the Loren-
zetti is only calculated to make us doubt their conclu-
sion. They say that in Orcagna's finer traits may be
recognized the Sienese influence of Simon and the
Lorenzetti; and again that the style of Ambruogio
Lorenzetti betrays emulation of that of the Florentines. 2
Thus, while Orcagna verged towards the Sienese style,
and Lorenzetti towards the Florentine, the result must
surely have been a mixture the component parts of which
it would have been very difficult to discriminate.
1 B. ii., S. 27. a Ibid., SS. 4 and 290.
ARGUMENTS FROM STYLE. 333
Again, Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle find a school-
likeness between these frescoes and those of Buffalmacco
and Antonio Vite, also in the Campo Santo. But these
artists were Florentines. Finally, in explaining the
cause of Vasari's assumed mistake for they will not only
detect his errors, but also know the origin of them
we are told that he was misled by the name of Andrea,
belonging to an artist commonly called Andrea da
Firenze, who after the death of Orcagna seems to have
done something in the Campo Santo. 1 The supposed
Sienese style, therefore, again becomes Florentine. And
from all this confusion we can only conclude that Crowe
and Cavalcaselle are not clear in the matter.
Indeed on their own showing they had but very slender
and inadequate means for forming an opinion. These
frescoes, which in Vasari's time were in comparatively
good condition and he had probably seen that of the
Inferno before it was restored by Sollazzino in 1530
are now from the effects of time and repainting in so
damaged a condition that any judgment of the style can
only be formed from small portions of the Inferno and
the Triumph. These, it is said, are nothing like
Orcagna's work in the Strozzi Chapel in Santa Maria
Novella. But those frescoes also are in the most ruinate
condition. 2 And even if they were in a good state, they
would afford no just criterion, inasmuch as they were
the joint work of the brothers ; whilst in the Campo
Santo, as before observed, they worked independently.
A further argument in favour of Orcagna's author-
ship of the Triumph of Death may be drawn from the
fact that the verses put into the mouths of some of the
personages are found in Orcagna's published poems. 3
This fact is not mentioned by Crowe and Cavalcaselle,
1 Bk. ii., S. 27 f. a Ibid., p. 26, and notes 55-59.
3 Vasari, " Opere," t. L, p. 194.
334 TOMMASO m STEFANO.
though they give the verses. The circumstance that
Ghiberti does not mention the Pisan frescoes among
Orcagna's works is of no weight against positive testi-
mony as to their authorship. Vasari used Ghiberti 's
book, 1 and must therefore have been aware of that circum-
stance, which would naturally have made him cautious
as to what he said. And he criticises the work as one
from which little could be gained, as it was much too
brief, for the purpose of giving Ghiberti space to talk
about himself. 2
Another remarkable follower of Giotto was Tommaso
di Stefano, called, from his close connection with that
master, Giottino. His history, and even his personalty
and name, are obscure. He followed Giotto's style,
though with some improvements, more nearly than any
other of that school. His works were chiefly executed
at Florence and Assisi. The best of them have perished ;
but there is a Deposition of his with portraits of the
donators, in the Uffizi, originally painted in tempera for
the Church of S. Remigio at Florence, where it was in
Vasari' s time, and whence it was brought into this gal-
lery in 1842 (No. 7). Vasari's praises of it are not
overcharged. It shows a considerable advance in art.
The heads especially, and the expression of grief in
them, are admirably depicted, yet without destroying
their beauty, as is too often the case. It may be ob-
served, however, that there is a want of keeping in the
size of the figures; the drawing is hard, and the hands
and feet defective. There are two small pictures attri-
buted to Giottino in the Florentine Academy (Salledes
petits Tableaux).
Agnolo Gaddi may be mentioned more for his having
1 He used a MS. which had belonged to Cosimo Bartoli, and is now in the
Magliabechi Library. Reumont, "Tav. Cronol.," 1455.
a " Vita di Lorenzo Ghiberti," t. ii., p. 89 seq.
ANTONIO VENEZIANO STARNINA. 335
been the master of Antonio Veneziano, whom he brought
to Florence, than for any merits of his own. Antonio's
chief work was the continuation of the story of S. Rainier
in the Pisan Campo Santo, which had been begun by
Sinione Memmi. Vasari is loud in his praises of these
works, and they are not disputed by Messrs. Crowe and
Cavalcaselle ; though Rosini, who had seen them in his
youth, when they were in a much better condition than
they are at present, thinks that Vasari goes too far in
calling them the best things in the Campo. 1 Antonio's
chief merit was the naturalness and liveliness of his
figures, which thus marked a great step towards the
modern style.
Among Antonio's pupils was Stamina, reputed one of
the masters of Masolino da Panicale and of Fra Angelico.
According to the consentient opinion of all the writers
upon art, both before and after the time of Vasari, as
enumerated by Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, 2 namely,
Albertini, Borghini, Thomas Patch, Lastri, Lanzi, Agin-
court, Rumohr, Gaye, Tanzini, Rosini, and many more,
the earliest frescoes in the Brancacci chapel in the church
of the Carmine at Florence, were the work of Masolino.
But all these, it is said, wrote without any certain know-
ledge, and followed one another in a vicious circle. The
proof of this is found in certain frescoes at Castiglione
d'Olona, near Milan, discovered not long ago under the
whitewash which must have covered them, seemingly,
in the time of Vasari, since he mentions them not.
Those on the roof, done in 1428, bear the name of
Masolinus de Florentia. But it is those in the Bap-
tistery which are used to prove that the frescoes in the
Brancacci Chapel cannot have been done by Masolino,
and certainly, to judge by the plate, the difference of
style is considerable. These bear the date of 1435 ;
1 Storia," t. ii., p. 107. 2 B. ii., S. 86.
336 THE CASTIGLIONE D'OLONA FRESCOES.
but, as it is hardly probable that Masolino should have
been employed so many years in the church, Messrs.
Crowe and Cavalcaselle assert, in order to support their
theory and without any probable grounds, that this
date is a forgery. On the other hand, Burckhardt's
Editor more probably holds the frescoes in the Bap-
tistery to be by a different artist, and in a style resem-
bling that of the frescoes in S. Clemente at Rome,
generally attributed to Masaccio. 1 Into this long ques-
tion, however, I cannot enter, especially as I have not
seen the frescoes at Castiglione d'Olona. But it is won-
derful how elastic this argument from style may become
in skilful hands. It is argued that it cannot be proved
from style that certain portions of the frescoes in the
Brancacci Chapel are by Masolino, and certain others
by Masaccio. One might, it is said, with equal justice
assert that the Dispute and the Deliverance of S. Peter
in the Vatican must have been done by two different
artists, as Raphael has executed the latter with much
greater breadth and grandeur of style. In like manner
Masaccio, a genial youth of twenty-five, evidently be-
came more perfect at every new attempt in the delinea-
tion of the human form. A curious argument in the
mouth of writers whose conclusions are so often drawn
from style !
The fresco perhaps improperly called the u Disputa"
has been considered by Passavant and other good judges
as one of the best of Raphael's as regards grandeur of
style, though some few technical defects have been
noticed. But this by the way. It may be asked if
Masaccio could paint so differently that some of his
works might be ascribed to another hand, why may not
the same -be true of Masolino ? And then what becomes
of the argument from the frescoes at Castiglione d'Olona?
1 " Cicerone," S. 801 and note.
MASACCIO. 337
On the whole, it seems to me to be safest to follow
the generally received opinion that the earlier Brancacci
frescoes relating to S. Peter were painted by Masolino. 1
They show a much broader and grander style than any-
thing previously done, and an approach to that of
Masaccio ; but not a nearer one than might be naturally
found between master and pupil. 3
Masaccio appears to have been born about the year
1402, and it is thought that he continued the frescoes in the
Brancacci Chapel in 1428. His first works on an impor-
tant scale were the frescoes alluded to a little before in the
Chapel of the Passion in the Church of S. Clement at Rome.
They have been much damaged by re-painting, so that
the original artist, whether he be Masaccio or Masolino
daPanicale, as some with less probability think, is answer-
able only for the designs and the outlines. Though the
figures are in general stiff, yet they show a considerable
advance on the Giotteschi. Some of them display life
and energy; especially the man about to turn the wheel
in the fresco of S. Catherine, and the horsemen in the
Crucifixion. The same piece has much expression in
the swooning Virgin and other figures at the foot of the
cross, though somewhat exaggerated and theatrical.
Masaccio, doubtless, improved himself at Rome by the
study of antique sculptures, more plentiful there than
at Florence ; perhaps also by contact with other painters.
On his return to Florence his reputation must have
been well established, as he seems to have been imme-
1 Albertini, who wrote only some Lippi. See Albertini's "Memoriale"
sixty or seventy years after Masaccio's (published in 1510), printed at the end
death, and was contemporary with Fi- of the second volume of Max Jordan's
lippino Lippi, who, from his works in Translation of Crowe and Cavalcaselle's
the Brancacci chapel, must have been work, p. 442.
well acquainted with its history, says a There is an engraving of a portion
that half of it was painted by Masolino of them in Rosini, t. ii., p. 166, and of
and half by Masaccio, except the Cruci- all in Agincourt.
fixion of S. Peter, which was done by
338 BRANCACCI FRESCOES.
diately employed in the Church of the Carmine. By
way of proof, however, he was first required to paint a
figure of S. Paul, as Masolino had also done one of S.
Peter. This figure was extant in Vasari's time, who is
loud in his praises of it, not only on account of its gran-
deur, but also of its skilful foreshortening to show it in
just proportions when viewed from below. In this art,
Vasari says, he excelled Uccello. His other advances
on previous painters were in the drawing of the nude ;
in perspective, both linear, which he had learned from
Brunelleschi, and aerial, so as to show distance by the just
gradation of tints. He also made his figures stand
firmly on the ground, whilst those of previous artists
seemed to be on tiptoe.
Before working in the Brancacci Chapel, Masaccio
painted in the church a view of the procession at its
Sagra, or consecration, with many portraits of those who
formed part of it. This has unfortunately perished ; but
a bold and apparently hasty sketch for it, now in the
Ufiizi, bears out Vasari's description of the admirable way
in which the sizes, ages, and characters of the different
persons were portrayed.
The frescoes in the chapel that can be incontestably
assigned to Masaccio, are: The Expulsion of Adam
and Eve; S. Peter preaching ; S. Peter baptising; Peter
and John giving alms; S. Peter accompanied by S.
Paul healing by his shadow ; The Tribute Money ; S.
Peter in cathedra, and the resuscitation of a youth.
This last, however, was in great part finished by Filip-
pino Lippi; from whose hand, also, is S. Paul visiting
S. Peter in prison, and the deliverance of the latter
Apostle by the Angel.
The figures of Adam and Eve in the Temptation and
the Expulsion seem connected with the other frescoes
only as a sort of introduction, typifying the original cause
RAPHAEL'S COPIES FROM MASACCIO. 339
of Christ's mission and of the works of his Apostles. I
have attributed the former to Masolino, as may not only
be inferred from the accounts of historians but also from
its style. The figures are more statuesque and have
less nature than those in the Expulsion; above all, they
are cold and uninteresting, having not that life and
action which Masaccio would certainly have imparted
to them. The Expulsion, on the other hand, is pour-
trayed in the most lively and striking manner. Adam,
with conscious shame and bitter repentance, bows down
his head and covers his face with both hands. Eve's
uplifted countenance shows unutterable woe. Of the
merit of this performance there cannot be a surer proof
than that Raphael copied it, almost trait for trait, in his
design for the same subject in the Loggie of the Vatican.
And he hardly improved upon it. By showing Eve
raising her right hand to her bosom instead of the left
he may perhaps have made finer lines; but her face has
not the expression of Masaccio's Eve, which, despite her
agony, retains some traces of the beautiful. The figure
of Adam is almost identical, except that Raphael has
omitted the appropriate fig-leaves. The Angel, how-
ever, is, I think, an improvement. In Masaccio's fresco
he hovers in the air, and points out the way that the exiles
should take; but the act of hovering is not very well
rendered. Raphael's Angel is the best figure in the piece.
He has descended on earth, and expels Adam by placing
one hand on his shoulder, while the other holds a sword.
But, for the Loggie, Raphael made only small sketches
in sepia, which were painted by his pupils. There is a
drawing for the subject in the Uffizi collection. In
representing the Temptation, Raphael took good care
not to imitate Masolino's. Nothing can well differ
from it more than the picture of that subject in the
Loggie, and the incomparably finer one in the corner
340 THE TRIBUTE MOXEY.
of the ceiling in the Stanza della Segnatura. Both
are full of lively and natural action ; in the latter, Eve
is perhaps one of the finest female figures that Raphael
ever drew.
Peter preaching, baptizing, giving alms, and healing
by his shadow, are all given by Masaccio with great
nature as well as dignity. In the baptism, the naked
youth shivering with cold is admirably rendered, but
now somewhat damaged. The fresco of the Tribute
Money has sometimes been considered the finest of the
series. But, as before observed, 1 it appears to me un-
fortunate in its composition. It would be impossible to
conjecture, from the principal group alone, what it is
that Christ is commanding to be done, and consequently,
in order to show forth the story, Peter is thrice intro-
duced in the act of doing three different things. And
that all these three acts are exhibited in one and the
same painting is unmistakably shown by the circum-
stance before adverted to, that one of the Apostles is
calling Christ's attention to the payment, while He is
still giving directions to Peter to go and fetch the money !
This is one of the very worst examples of a double, or
treble, moment that I remember to have seen.
The figures in this piece are well arranged and
natural, but hardly above common nature. The action
of Christ is good, but his head has not much elevation.
S. Peter, in the central group, is the noblest figure in
the piece. Yasari adverts to a trait of nature more
perceptible, perhaps, in his time than at present the
reddened face of Peter, caused by his stooping down to
the fish. The background forms a good specimen of
Masaccio's landscape painting.
The fine fresco of S. Peter and S. Paul accused before
Nero by Simon Magus was formerly attributed to
1 Supra, p. 118.
ACCUSATION OF S. PETER AND S. PAUL. 341
Masaccio, but is now commonly assigned to Filippino
Lippi. Gaye was the first who made this alteration. 1
The authorship is a question on which a good deal may
be said on both sides. Albertini, whose " Memoriale "
was published in 1510, only five years after Filippino's
death, 2 attributes to him the Crucifixion of S. Peter in
the same fresco, but says nothing about the Accusation.
It may be possible, however, that he indicated the whole
fresco by the result and principal action. Vasari had
attributed the piece to Filippino in his first edition, but
does not mention it in his second, 3 and this omission is
used by Rosini as an argument that he had changed his
opinion. But in that case he would surely have men-
tioned Masaccio's name ; if, indeed, the omission did
not arise, as is most probable, from carelessness or doubt.
Gaye, in proof of his view, adduces the portraits of
Masaccio and Filippino in Yasari's second edition, the
former of which is taken from the last Apostle on the
left of Christ in the central group, and the second from
the youth in the corner behind Nero. It is the head of
a very young man, as Filippino is said to have been
when he painted in this chapel. And, though these
portraits are done in a very rough way, still the identity
of them may be clearly recognized. Another argument
in favour of Filippino may perhaps be drawn from the
situation of the fresco. The painting of the chapel
seems to have been begun at the top, as was usual on
account of the scaffoldings ; and this fresco, being in the
lower row, may naturally not have been begun by
Masaccio, when he quitted his labours there, and appa-
rently also his life. Masaccio's unfinished fresco of the
king's son resuscitated is also in the lower row.
1 Rosini, " Storia," &c., ii., 184 scq., "Memoriale" itself, published at the
and note 25, where the question is dis- end of B. ii., S. 442.
cussed. * Ros'ni, " Storia," ii., p. 192.
2 Jordan, B. iii., S. 184. See the
342 FILIPPINO LIPPL
However this may be, the great merit of this piece is
unquestionable. Gaye called it the finest fresco in
Florence; and at all events it may be confidently as-
serted that it is not surpassed by any other in this series.
The story is told with great dramatic effect. The ac-
cuser with one hand lays hold on S. Peter's garment,
and points with the other to the broken idol on the
ground, symbolizing his attacks on the religion of Rome.
S. Paul, who stands behind Peter, seems to be remon-
strating with the accuser. The Emperor, with out-
stretched arm, is angrily addressing Peter. The remain-
ing personages, some of whom may be witnesses, are
listening attentively. The grouping, the types of the
heads, though somewhat realistic and portrait-like, and
the expression of the faces, are admirable. The cruci-
fixion of S. Peter, which fills the remaining half of the
fresco, is very far inferior, besides being repulsive by its
subject. But the figure on the right, with his back to
the spectator, has been copied by Andrea del Sarto in
his fresco of the Death of S. Philip at the Annunziata.
It may be thought surprising that Filippino Lippi, at
so youthful an age, should have been capable of such a
work, especially as his later ones show a falling off in-
stead of an improvement. But there are proofs in this
chapel that he was not unequal to such a task. In the
picture of S. Paul visiting S. Peter in prison, the latter's
head is worthy of all admiration ; while the noble atti-
tude of Paul suggested to Raphael the figure of that
saint preaching at Athens. In the Deliverance of S.
Peter from prison the figure of the guard oppressed by
heavy sleep, has never been surpassed. But the Angel
is wanting in elevation and his countenance common-,
place. In executing these frescoes, Filippino seems to
have been inspired by the genius of the place, and the
memory of his great predecessor.
FRA ANGELICO. 343
1 have entered somewhat at length into a description
of this chapel because it shows Florentine art already
adult, and because it became a sort of academy where
subsequent painters formed their style, only introducing
by degrees such further improvements as might still be
wanting. The list given by Vasari includes the greatest
names among the painters of Italy : Fra Angelico, Fra
Filippo, Filippino Lippi, Verocchio, the two Ghlrlandaji,
Botticello, Lionardo da Vinci, Pietro Perugino, Fra
Bartolommeo, Albertinelli, Lorenzo di Credi, Pontorrno,
with many others, and lastly the greatest of them all,
Raphael and Michelangelo.
Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, a Dominican monk in that
town, who from his extraordinary piety, and the cha-
racter of his art, eventually obtained the name of Fra
Angelico, though also a pupil of Masolino's and a
student in the Brancacci Chapel, caught but little of the
new Florentine style. In consequence probably of his
monkish education and habits, he adhered more to that
of Giotto, as seen in the poses of his figures, and the
long, straight folds of his draperies. His faces are often
of extreme beauty, but without much expression; he
preferred tranquillity to the display of passion, and
always painted sacred subjects. In short, as in his life
so in his art, he was exclusively monastic. His drawing
shows little anatomy or realism ; his colouring is of ex-
treme brilliancy, especially in his tempera pictures, but
wants chiaroscuro and relief. A good example of these
qualities is his picture of the Crucifixion, in the Floren-
tine Academy. One might fancy it an enlarged minia-
ture ; and Angelico began life as a miniatore ; but pro-
bably most of those now attributed to him are the work
of an elder brother. Throughout life he painted small
pictures, and they are probably his best. His first
efforts in fresco were in the church of S. Mark at
344 WORKS OF FRA ANGELICO.
Florence, for which he painted an altar-piece and a
Crucifixion in the cloisters. He repeated this subject
in the chapter-room on a larger scale, with many figures
and the two thieves, but hardly with so good effect.
It is poor in composition, the figures tame and stiff.
The colouring is brilliant, except the sky, which is a
dingy red. It is said to have been re-painted ; but may
it not have been originally intended as a portent accom-
panying the Crucifixion? The three little pictures in
the cells upstairs, the Coronation of the Virgin, the
Maries at the Sepulchre, and the Adoration of the Magi
are gems of colour. But the large Annunciation at the
top of the stairs, with the simpering, unmeaning faces of
the Virgin and Angel, almost make one wish that the
Fra had always confined himself to miniature.
Having been called to Rome, he executed for the
private chapel of Pope Nicholas V., called the Lorenzo
Chapel, some frescoes from the history of S. Stephen.
They are executed in a freer and bolder style than any
other of his that I have seen. Among them, that of
S. Stephen preaching struck me as by far the finest;
but the light is bad, and some of the frescoes cannot be
very well made out. Whilst at Rome he was summoned
for a time to Orvieto ; but of his works in that city, there
will be occasion to speak further on. His sojourn at
Rome no doubt effected a great alteration in his style.
His pictures are very numerous, and it would be impos-
sible to enumerate them. One of the most remarkable
is a picture of the Coronation of the Virgin, with the
miracles of S. Dominic in the grading painted for the
church of that saint at Fiesole. It was carried off by
the French in 1812 and formed part of the Muse'e Napo-
leon, but is now in the Louvre (No. 214). It has his
usual gilding and bright colouring, but somewhat faded.
The names of some of the personages are inscribed.
SCHOOL OF SIENA. 345
The seven little pictures of the gradini are exquisitely
done. Some fine specimens will be found in the Floren-
tine Academy, Salle des petits Tableaux, among which
may be specially mentioned a miniature of the Cruci-
fixion, with the two Maries. Jt is under glass, and a
perfect gem.
Among Angelico's pupils are said to have been Gentile
da Fabriano and Benozzo Gozzoli, to whom there will
be occasion to revert further on; but though these
artists partake somewhat of Angelico's style, they can
hardly be said to be of his school. For his manner was
too peculiar, too exclusively his own, to be capable of
general imitation ; and hence he cannot be regarded
as having materially contributed to the progress of
Art.
Having thus sketched the history of Florentine paint-
ing till it reached comparative perfection in the hands
of Masaccio and his school, I will now briefly trace its
progress at Siena.
Duccio di Buoninsegna has been considered as the
proper founder of the Sienese school of painting. He
flourished at the end of the thirteenth and beginning of
the fourteenth centuries, but the exact dates of his birth
and death are unknown. He retained a good deal of the
old traditional manner, but imparted to it much sweet-
ness and grace. His drawing was careful and minute,
but wanted the boldness of the Florentines. From this
quality, and the brilliancy of his colouring, Duccio ex-
celled in tempera and easel painting more than in fresco ;
and these features characterized the school which he
founded. It had truth to nature rather than idealism,
grace rather than majesty and force.
Duccio painted at Florence, Pisa, Lucca, and Pistoia,
but the chief remaining specimens of his works are at
Siena. The principal one is a Maiesta, or Virgin
346 SIMONE MEMMI.
enthroned, painted for the cathedral of that city in 1308,
and installed there with great pomp, in the same manner
as Cimabue's Madonna had been at Florence. Such pro-
ceedings show what a lively feeling for Art had been
awakened in Italy. At the back of this large picture
are twenty-six small ones, showing" events in the life of
Christ. The best of them is Christ before Pilate. Rosini
thinks that it resembles a bas-relief; 1 and it is possible
that Duccio, when at Pisa, may have learnt something
from the works of Mccolo Pisano. There are two or
three pictures by Duccio in the gallery at Siena.
Ugolino and Segna, the immediate followers of Duccio,
are not of much importance, and I shall go on at once to
Simone Memmi, or as it is now the fashion to call him,
Simone Martini. In the time of Michelangelo and V asari,
all Florence appears to have styled him Memmi, which
was the name of his father-in-law, and Martini his own
patronymic ; but in those days it was a common practice
to assume the name of the wife's family, just as in some
parts of France at the present time the wife's name is
added to that of the husband, and one needs go no
further than Boulogne to see such double names over
most of the shop doors. 2 Yasari knew that there had
been an exchange of names, 3 but thought that Lippo had
assumed that of his brother-in-law, instead of the reverse.
He probably did not think of inquiring into the matter,
as the name of Memmi appears to have finally adhered
to Simone, as he is called " Memmius " in his Latin
epitaph, unless indeed that be a forgery of Vasari's. In
those days, the Christian name seems to have been more
important than the surname in families not noble, and
1 Storia, &c., t. i., p. 186. Sandro Filipepi adopted the surname of
2 This variation of surname is exem- his master Botticello.
plified in the Lorenzettis, Pietro retain- 3 " Lippo, lasciando il proprio nome."
ing that patronymic, whilst Ambrogio Vasari, *'Opere," t. i., p. 178.
called himself Laurati. In like manner,
THE CAPPELLONE DEGLI SPAGNUOLI. 347
Simon was commonly known to his contemporaries only
as Simone da Siena.
Simone seems to have been born about the year 1283,
and as he was sixty years old at his death, he must have
died about 1343. Hence he must have been two or
three years older than Giotto ; and on this ground Messrs.
Crowe and Cavalcaselle convict Vasari of error in calling
him Giotto's pupil. But is such a slight difference of
age conclusive proof that he may not have taken lessons
from Giotto? That painter was a very precocious one.
It is probable that Simone may have availed himself of
his instructions, for but little certain is known of his
life.
I shall here confine myself to the frescoes attributed
to him in the Cappellone degli Spagnuoli in the Church
of S. Maria Novella, as they must attract all visitors to
Florence by their subject, their execution, and the por-
traits said to be contained in them. In Michelangelo's
time, as Mr. Ruskin observes, all Florence attributed
them to Taddeo Gaddi and Simon Memmi, for such is
Vasari's account of them. Speaking of the joint efforts
and cordiality of the two artists, Mr. Ruskin says :
" This pretty and, according to all evidence by me
attainable, entirely true tradition has been all but lost
among the ruins of fair old Florence, by the industry of
modern mason-critics, who, without exception, labour-
ing under the primal (and necessarily unconscious) dis-
advantage of not knowing good work from bad, and
never therefore knowing a man by his hand or his
thoughts, would be in any case sorrowfully at the mercy
of mistakes in a document ; but are ten-fold more de-
ceived by their own vanity, and delight in overthrowing
a received idea, if .they can."
u Farther, as every fresco of this early date has been
retouched again and again, and often painted half over ;
348 MR. RUSKIN ON STYLE.
and as, if there has been the least care and respect for
the old work in the restorer, he will now and then follow
the old lines, and match the old colours carefully in
some places, while he puts in clearly recognizable work
of his own in others two critics, of whom one knows
the first man's work, and the other the last's, will con-
tradict each other almost to any extent on the securest
grounds. And there is then no safe refuge for an un-
initiated person but in the old tradition, which, if not
literally true, is founded assuredly on some root of fact,
which you are likely to get at, if ever, through it
only." 1
Such is Mr. Ruskin's view of arguments from style.
It is common enough to suspect in others our own pro-
pensities ; and so in this case Messrs. Crowe and Caval-
caselle accuse Vasari of following their favourite method,
and of attributing the frescoes in the Spanish Chapel to
Simone merely on account of their style. But an
argument which, in their mouths, is conclusive, has no
force when used by another ; and though Vasari was in
all probability a good judge of style, it here proves
nothing at all, though it is allowed that the frescoes are
in harmony with Memmi's style, and that the painter of
them may have used some of his compositions. 2 The
fact, however, is that the charge rests only on suspicion,
for Vasari adduces no such argument. He probably
followed either documentary evidence, or tradition.
According to Eosini, the MSS. of the Convent of
S. Maria Novella assign the painting of the Spanish
Chapel to Memmi. 3 Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle
appeal to the silence of Ghiberti, of the worth of whose
negative testimony I have before spoken. As they have
attempted to overthrow the received tradition, it might
1 " Mornings in Florence," p. 105 seq. a B. i., S. 309, and B. ii., S. 256.
3 "Storia,"t. ii.,p. 51.
TADDEO GADDI. 3i9
be expected that they are able to give some tolerable
account, at least, of the author of such remarkable
paintings. But all they can tell us is that he was a
Florentine by descent, a Sienese in style, whence it is
concluded that he must have been Andrea de Florentia !
It is acknowledged, indeed, that this has only great pro-
bability. But it seems to me that to trace a man's
descent through his pictures has no probability at all,
especially if the style of those pictures differs from that
of his birthplace. But to turn from this digression to
the frescoes themselves.
These paintings are valuable in surveying the pro-
gress of Art, not so much for their execution as their
subject, which shows an emancipation from the usual
monotonous routine of Scripture history; and if, as is
said, the subject was proposed by the monks of the
convent themselves, and was meant to redound to the
credit of their order, the fact is still more significant, as
showing enlarged views even among ecclesiastics. It
is a grand allegory, relating to S. Dominic and his order,
and the final triumph, through them, of the Church
Militant over the heretics who attacked it. According
to the received account, Taddeo Gaddi painted the four
compartments of the ceiling, and one of the four sides.
In the ceiling were represented S. Peter saved from
perishing at sea, the Resurrection of the Saviour, the
Ascension, and the Descent of the Holy Ghost. In the
painting of the Resurrection was shown a supernatural
light proceeding from Christ's body ; a trait afterwards
borrowed by Correggio, Raphael, and others. Taddeo
showed on one of the sides the authority of S. Thomas
Aquinas, who sat in cathedra with the defeated heretics
Sabellius, Arius, and Averroes, 1 at his feet. On one
side of him were S. Matthew, S. Luke, Moses, Isaiah,
1 According to Rosini, " Storia," ii. 54.
350 THE CHURCH MILITANT AND TRIUMPHANT.
and Solomon ; on the other, S. John, S. Mark, S. Paul,
David, and Job. Over them hovered the four cardinal
Virtues; beneath the conquered heretics were the seven
sacred and the seven profane Sciences.
Memmi painted on one side Christ at Calvary, His
death, and His descent to Limbo ; on another, the prin-
cipal events in the life of S. Dominic ; on one half of the
third, the Church Militant ; on the other half, the Church
Triumphant, with the rout of the heretics by the
Dominicans, figured in the form of black and white dogs
defending the fold. The portraits of celebrated person-
ages introduced into these frescoes are of great interest
to the modern spectator. Among them are those of
Cimabue, Giotto, Arnolfo, Petrarch, and Laura; but
their authenticity is disputed. The controversy partly
turns on the question whether Memmi went twice to
Avignon ; but it is too long to enter into here.
Among the Sienese school, the two brothers Loren-
zetti, Pietro and Ambrogio, occupy a foremost place.
The exact dates of their birth and death are unknown,
but their works were executed in the first half of the
fourteenth century. Pietro emulated the manner of
Giotto, then diffused throughout Tuscany, and improved
upon it, in so far as beauty is concerned. He gave
brightness to the gloomy colouring of the Sienese, and
introduced in other respects a better style. He painted
in several Italian cities; but perhaps his best known
work is that of the Hermits of the Thebais, in the Pisan
Campo Santo. There is a sort of replica of this in a
small picture in the corridor of the Uffizi (No. 12),
though the composition is somewhat different. The
figures are much better than those of the fresco, but the
same cannot be said of the landscape. It is probably
from this difference of style that the picture is abjudi-
cated from Pietro by Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle,
THE SIENESE SCHOOL. 351
who will make no allowance for any difference in the
same artist, except when it suits their purpose, though
on this occasion the comparison is between a large fresco
and a small tempera picture.
Ambrogio, apparently the younger brother, was su-
perior to Pietro not only as an artist but also as a philo-
sopher and man of learning. He excelled in colouring,
as shown in a remarkable painting of a storm in the
frescoes relating to S. Francis in the church dedicated
to that saint at Siena. His picture of a Deposition, to
judge from an engraving in Rosini, 1 shows considerable
expression combined with dignity. His chief works are
at Siena, but there are specimens of them at Florence,
in the Uffizi and in the Academy; No. 17, the Presenta-
tion of Christ in the Temple, dated in 1342, more re-
markable for its colouring than drawing, and two pieces
in the Salle des petits Tableaux, divided into compart-
ments representing events in the lives of S. Nicholas of
Bari and S. Procul.
The early school of Sienese painting left not its mark
on Italian art in general as did that of Florence, and I
shall only further mention Taddeo Bartoldi, who flou-
rished in the last half of the fourteenth century and be-
ginning of the fifteenth. He died in 1422, and was
thus contemporary with Masaccio ; but a comparison of
the two men will show how far the Florentines had out-
stripped their Sienese rivals. Bartoldi did not much
improve even upon the style of his preceding fellow-
countrymen. It may be remarked that in painting the
chapel of the Town-house of Siena he departed from the
usual practice by introducing the figures of famous
Romans instead of the scriptural characters commonly
adopted.
In the first corridor of the Uffizi at Florence, may be
1 Tom. ii. p. 78.
352 SPECIMENS OF THE RENAISSANCE.
gained a general idea of the origin and progress of the
Renaissance both in that city and in Siena. The first
picture is a Greek one, by Andreas Rico of Candia, who
died at the beginning of the twelfth century. 1 Lanzi
observes of this picture that it is a rude composition,
but the colouring so brilliant as to excel all modern
work. It has on a gold ground the Virgin with the
infant Jesus, and two Angels with the symbols of the
Passion. The Virgin is very plain, but there is some
spirit in the child's head. The picture will serve to
show the state of Art at the Risorgimento.
No. 2, by Cimabue, has the figure of S. Cecilia, en-
throned, with a flower in one hand and a book in the
other. She is surrounded with representations of eight
events in her life, in small figures. The features of S.
Cecilia are hard, but an improvement on the preceding
Virgin. The small figures are not bad'ly drawn, but
hold their heads in strange positions. Messrs. Crowe
and Cavalcaselle abjudicate the picture from Cimabue,
and think it Giottesque.
No. 6, by Giotto, has our Lord praying in the garden,
with two little scenes in the gradino, of Christ betrayed
by Judas with a kiss, and stripped for crucifixion. The
three Apostles are asleep; a figure close to them in
prayer, has not half their size. The small figures in the
gradino are easier than Cimabue's.
No. 7, Giottino, a Deposition, with the Maries, saints,
and portraits of the donators, shows a considerable
advance in art. I have already described this picture
(p. 334).
The next five pictures, Nos. 8 12, are specimens of
the Sienese school. Nos. 8 and 1 are by Simone Mar-
tini, or Memmi, and his brother-in-law, Lippo Memmi,
and formed originally one picture, which stood in the
1 Lanzi, t. i., p. 32 seq.
PIETRO LORENZETTI LORENZO MONACO. 353
Cathedral of Siena. The most important piece is the
Annunciation in the middle, which bears the date of
1333. The Angel, who, according to Messrs. Crowe
and Cavalcaselle, is rendered with an extraordinary ex-
aggeration of tenderness, has a very sly and cat-like
expression ; the Virgin screws up her mouth, and seems
disgusted with the Angel and his message. Altogether
not a favourable specimen of the Sienese school.
Better ones are the two following, Nos. 11 and 12,
by Pietro Laurati or rather Lorenzetti. The first is the
Virgin and Child. The figures are somewhat stiff, the
colouring florid, with a good deal of ultra-marine. Of
No. 12, the Theba'is, a better picture, I have already
spoken.
Passing over some unimportant pictures, we come to
a large tabernacle, with figures beyond life-size, by Fra
Angelico. It may be regarded rather as a specimen of
the Frate's larger style, than for any peculiar merits.
No. 20, by Lorenzo Monaco, one of Angelico's pupils,
is a charming composition, representing the Adoration
of the Magi. The figures, about half the size of life, are
well drawn, the colouring rich, but it is overloaded with
gilding, as was then the vogue. The Virgin sits in the
left-hand corner, with the infant Christ in her lap ; be-
hind her is the manger. Joseph sits near her, whilst
one of the Kings, having laid aside his crown, kneels at
her feet, offering homage and gifts to the new-born
Saviour. Behind are two other Kings, who, with their
suite and cavalcade, fill the remainder of the foreground
and middle distance. The background consists of a
mountainous landscape ; in the sky is seen the star of
Bethlehem.
The above pictures show art not yet arrived at matu-
rity. Some of a rather later date are not only more
perfect, but also remarkable as the earliest examples
A A
354 PIERO DI COSIMO BOTTICELLI.
of mythological subjects. Such are Nos. 21 and 28, the
Marriage of Perseus, and a Sacrifice to Jupiter for the
Liberation of Andromeda, by Piero di Cosimo; and No.
39, the Birth of Venus, by Botticelli (b. 1447). This last
painter was of so eccentric a character as to suggest a
slight touch of insanity. He delighted in practical
jokes, yet enrolled himself among the Piagnoni, or fol-
lowers of Savonarola ; he abandoned painting, in which
he might have made a fortune, to publish an edition of
Dante with cuts, by which he ruined himself and was
reduced to subsist on charity. But he had a good deal
of poetical genius, as this picture of Venus wafted by
the Winds, who scatter flowers over her, will show. It
recalls the lines of Lucretius :
" It Ver et Venus et Veneris prsenuntius ante
Zephyrus.
Somewhat resembling it, but more extravagant, is his
picture of Spring, in the Florentine Academy (Galerie
des anciens Tableaux, No. 24). ' In the same collection
(Galerie des grands Tableaux) are two or three good
pieces by him on sacred subjects. I have already ad-
verted to his picture of the Calumny of Apelles, in
which the figure of Truth bears much resemblance to
the Venus just described. He was one of the first to
paint such nudities, and executed several for private in-
dividuals.
I can here do little more than mention the names of
the painters, and a few of their works as specimens,
who principally contributed during the fifteenth century
to carry Tuscan art to that degree of perfection in which
it was found by Lionardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and
Raphael.
Paolo Uccello (b. 1396), though not an artist of the
first rank, and more a sculptor than a painter, improved
landscape, foreshortening, and especially perspective, to
UCCELLO LIPPO LIPPI GOZZOLI. 355
the study of which he was passionately devoted. He
was also a good animal painter, particularly of birds,
whence he got his name of Uccello. In the Chiostro
Verde of S. Maria Novella are frescoes of his of the
Flood and the Drunkenness of Noah, now much dete-
riorated. To these there will be occasion to return
below (p. 366).
In the Uffizt is an easel picture by Uccello having
a spirited though not quite correct representation of a
cavalry fight (Ire Corr. No. 29). There is a similar but
better picture in our National Gallery of the Battle of
Sant' Egidio.
Filippo Lippi (b. 1412?) was a correct and realistic
painter, but cannot claim any very high rank in art. He
is considered to have excelled in the arrangement of
drapery. His greatest work, representing events in the
life of the Baptist, is in the Cathedral at Prato. There
is in the Florentine Academy (No. 41) a Coronation of
the Virgin, with his own portrait, indicated by the
scroll beneath it ( u Is perfecit opus- 11 ). It is a brilliant
picture, but overcrowded. A still worse defect is, that
nearly all the figures are looking at the spectator, in-
stead of attending to what is going on, as Raphael
shows them in his picture in the Vatican. Moreover,
the scene being represented in a building, has more
the air of an earthly than a heavenly ceremony. There
is in the Uffizi (No. 1307) a far superior picture of his of
the Virgin adoring the infant Christ. Another in the
Pitti Palace.
Benozzo Gozzoli (b. 1424) was a pupil of Fra An-
gelico's, and a student of Masaccio's works. Their joint
influence may perhaps be traced in that combination of
grace and naturalness found in his works. He had a
lively sense of beauty, as shown in his landscapes and
architecture, in which he opened a new path, as well as
356 POLLAIUOLO VEROCCHIO SIGNORELLI.
in his figures, but his men are deficient in force. He
helped Angelico in the Cathedral at Or vie to. The rich-
ness of his imagination is shown by his frescoes from the
Old Testament on the north wall of the Pisan Campo
Santo ; to which I shall return. His best work, according
to Vasari, is S. Thomas Aquinas and the Doctors, now
in the Louvre. His easel pictures are unimportant.
Antonio Pollaiuolo (b. 1433) was bred as a sculptor,
and his paintings are remarkable for the display of
anatomy, and for force and hardness rather than beauty.
There is a good example of his peculiar style in our own
National Gallery, the Martyrdom of S. Sebastian, one
of his best works. Two or three small pictures in the
Uffizi.
The style of Verrocchio (b. 1432) has considerable
resemblance to Pollaiuolo's. He also was a sculptor
rather than a painter, and followed painting more as a
pastime than a profession. His pictures are consequently
rare. The Baptism of Christ, in the Florentine Academy
(No. 43), is a good example of his style. He is more
remarkable as having been the master of Lionardo da
Vinci than for his own works. The story runs that the
angel on the left in the above picture was done by
Lionardo, and that Verrocchio, finding himself surpassed
by his pupil, abandoned painting. There are good
specimens of his bas-relief in that for the tomb of
Madame Tornabuoni, in the Uffizi, and some in the Bar-
gello. In round sculpture he did not succeed so well.
Luca Signorelli should be mentioned here, who,
though not a Florentine, was a Tuscan, having been
born at Cortona, probably in the year 1441. His great
work (to which I shall return), representing the Last
Day, in the Madonna Chapel of the Cathedral of Orvieto,
marks an epoch in art in the drawing of the nude, in
foreshortening and grouping. As an easel painter, he
ERA BARTOLOMMEO. 357
was not very remarkable. There are specimens of him
in this way in the Uffizi ; No. 36, the Virgin and Child,
with naked shepherds in the background. The heads
are commonplace; the nude figures well done, except
the little S. John. A better specimen is No. 1291, a
round picture of a Holy Family, life-size. He was not
remarkable for colouring.
Baccio della Porta (b. 1469), more commonly known
as Fra Bartolommeo, the name which he bore after en-
rolling himself among the Dominican monks of S. Marco,
is another instance of the height to which painting was
carried among the Florentine religious orders. He was
a friend of Savonarola's, whose portrait he drew. Like
Fra Angelico, he devoted his pencil entirely to sacred
subjects. It may be observed that he avoided the more
painful subjects of Christ's sufferings; for he excelled
not in expression, and therefore preferred scenes of
beauty and grandeur, and especially representations of
the Madonna. One of the few exceptions to this remark
is the Descent from the Cross in the Pitti Palace. His
fresco of the Last Judgment in Sta. Maria Nuova, now
terribly obliterated, was the first work which stamped
him as a great artist. But he preferred easel painting to
fresco, in which kind his works are comparatively few.
Numerous pictures in the Florentine galleries will
suffice to give a good idea of his style. The Descent,
or Pieta, just alluded to (Pitti Gallery, No. 64), is
among the finest of his pictures. The Virgin Mother
sustains with one hand the head, with the other the arm,
of the dead Christ, whose body is admirably depicted.
The face of the Virgin shows profound grief, but there
is not much expression in the other figures. S. John,
who supports the body in a sitting posture, is rather
commonplace, and appears totally unmoved; the face
of the Magdalen, who embraces the Saviour's knees, is
358 SPECIMENS OF ERA BARTOLOMMEO.
half concealed by the foreshortening, which, however, as
well as that of the body, is well executed. The colour-
ing of the picture is richer than usual with this master,
and bears some approach to the Venetian school. Com-
pare it, in this respect, with the Vision of S. Bernard in
the Academy (No. 66), the first which he painted after
entering the cloister a finely drawn picture, but want-
ing in harmony of colour. The vision is too solid.
Bartolommeo seems to have learnt something by his
visit to Venice. The Resurrection of Christ among the
four Evangelists (Pitti Gallery, No. 159) is a grand pic-
ture, but somewhat cold and statuesque. The apostles
show little or no emotion. The Virgin enthroned and
the Marriage of S. Catherine (No. 208) is finely grouped,
but the colouring somewhat sombre. S. Mark (No.
125), a colossal figure of much grandeur, and finely
draped. But a painted colossus is, I think, worse than
a sculptured one. This seems to be one of those pic-
tures that have suffered by removal. It stood originally
over the entrance to the choir in the Church of S. Marco,
where, from its elevation, it may have had a better
effect. The figures of Isaiah and Job in the Tribune of
the Uffizi originally stood on each side of the Resurrec-
tion in the Pitti Palace. The Isaiah has sometimes
been considered equal in grandeur to anything of
Raphael's. The unfinished picture of the Madonna en-
throned, with S. Anne behind adoring the Trinity
(Uifizi, No. 1265), is perhaps, for grouping, the finest
of all Bartolommeo's pictures. On the steps of the
throne are two little cherubs ; on each side various
guardian saints of Florence. The second figure on the
right of the Madonna is said to be a portrait of the
artist himself. The face and attitude of S. Anrie are
very fine.
Fra Bartolommeo's style may perhaps be better
DA VINCI MICHELANGELO RAPHAEL. 359
judged of by his drawings than by his paintings. There
are many of the former in the Uffizi collection, finished
with a great deal of care. His boldness and grandeur
may be still better appreciated by inspecting his large
designs in the Academy (Salle des Cartons).
Lionardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, who were coeval
with Fra Bartolommeo, had no doubt some influence on
his style ; whilst Raphael, a somewhat later contempo-
rary, appears to have gained in force by studying the
works of all three. These artists may be said to repre-
sent painting when it had arrived at perfection, but,
with regard to Fra Bartolommeo, the remark must be
limited to technical excellence. For genius, and the
higher qualities of painting, he can hardly be placed on
a level with the other three artists. This defect may
perhaps be attributed to his monkish habits. In his
subjects he quitted not the old, traditional routine,
which made no great demand upon invention. He re-
peated the well-worn themes, only with some alteration
in poses and grouping, and some improvement in draw-
ing and expression. In the light in which I have
viewed painting, as a sister art of poetry, which must
stir the imagination and awaken our emotions by the
representation of some grand or tragical story, he was
inferior to Lionardo, and even to Michelangelo, to whom,
however, in point of dignity and grandeur, he bore the
nearest resemblance. But all three were in this respect
inferior to Raphael, who, in invention and composition,
the highest qualities of art, is the greatest painter that
ever lived. He might, indeed, have been equalled or
surpassed by Lionardo in historical subjects, had that
great painter devoted much attention to them ; but he
has left us only one grand work by which to estimate
his genius.
I have thus briefly sketched the progress of Tuscan
360 VARIOUS ITALIAN SCHOOLS.
art from its dawn to its meridian splendour. Several
other schools of art had arisen in Italy and run a some-
what similar course ; but it would be impossible to treat
of them, even in the most cursory manner, in the com-
pass of this work, which is meant only for a general
survey of the nature of imitative art, and of the circum-
stances which influenced its progress. All these schools
had their peculiar and distinctive characters. Among
the most famous of them, the Venetian excelled in
colour ; the Parmesan, of which the chief was Correggio,
in colouring and chiaroscuro and a certain naive sim-
plicity; the Umbrian, of which Pietro Perugino was
the head and founder, in grace and beauty ; in which
qualities, perhaps, it was equalled by the Bolognese,
with the addition of more strength and variety. But this
was a late and imitative school, which had its origin
when painting had already reached perfection in other
places. None of these schools can for a moment be
compared with the Florentine for its influence on Italian
art. The Roman school, which showed the supremacy
of painting, was not indigenous but eclectic, and the
masters who established it were principally Florentines.
Even Raphael, its greatest ornament, though born at
Urbino and educated at Perugia, owed his emancipation
from the tameness of Perugino's manner, and the foun-
dation of his unrivalled grandeur, to the lessons which
he learned at Florence by studying the works of Ma-
saccio, Lionardo, and Fra Bartolommeo.
It would be an endless task to consider the achieve-
ments of Italian art in its perfected state, and I must
confine myself to an examination of a few works of the
foremost masters in that particular class of subjects from
Holy Writ, to which, at its origin, Italian painting had
been pretty nearly restricted, and, even at its maturity,
continued to supply the chief materials for its efforts.
MICHELANGELO'S CREATION. 361
These are, from the Old Testament, the Creation and
Fall of Man, the Deluge and its consequences ; and from
the New, the Birth of the Virgin, the Birth of Christ
and Adoration of the Magi, the Last Supper, the Re-
surrection, and the Last Day and Judgment. On the
Crucifixion, the most prolific, perhaps, of all such sub-
jects, I shall not touch, for reasons before intimated.
Of the subjects here mentioned, the first and the last,
the Creation of man and his final Judgment, have been
painted by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel, and surely
no artist was more fit to open and close the scenes of
that supernatural and portentous cycle. The Creation
afforded full scope for the display of his wonderful
grandeur, without the temptation to indulge in the ex-
aggeration, one might almost say the caricature, -to which
he too often yielded in representations of the horrible.
It might be pleaded in excuse that Dante sometimes did
the same thing. But the effects of a poetical descrip-
tion and of a painting are very different ; and, as Lessing
has so well shown, many things which, revolt not the
ear, are quite unfit to be exhibited to the eye.
Two enormous difficulties presented themselves in
delineating the Creation of Adam and Eve ; in the former
subject, an adequate representation of the Almighty ; in
the latter the task of avoiding the ridiculous. The
figure of Adam reclining on the rock, and starting into
life at the touch of the Creator, is a miracle of art, and
one of the finest nude figures that Michelangelo ever
drew. The first man is fully developed ; the muscles
and articulations are beautifully shown, but without
that anatomical display which, in the sculptures of this
great artist, sometimes repulses by recalling the dissect-
ing theatre. Of the figure of the Almighty it may be
said that it satisfies the imagination so far as art is ca-
pable of doing so. He is necessarily anthropomorphous,
362 MICHELANGELO'S FALL OF MAN.
and our ideas of grandeur in human shape are soon ex-
hausted. He is shown as a venerable old man with a
flowing beard; but his person is hardly grander than
that of some of the prophets in the same ceiling. The
sublimity of the scene arises from the circumstance that,
attended by his cherubim, he seems to sweep by as in a
whirlwind, and to call forth life by an instantaneous
touch, whilst Adam casts on him a glance of gratitude
and adoration, The face of one of the angels, who
gazes with surprise at the new creation, is wonderfully
expressive.
The Creation of Eve is hardly so satisfactory. It is
a repetition of the same subject under less favourable
circumstances. The Almighty, instead of riding in the
clouds, accompanied by the heavenly host, has descended
upon earth, and stands alone, enveloped in a large
mantle. There is nothing to show his divine nature ;
and, if it were not known from the subject, he might be
taken for a mortal advanced in years. The attitude of
the sleeping Adam, especially the posture of the left
arm, is somewhat forced and unnatural. Behind him,
Eve, who has emerged full-grown from his side, sinks
on her knees, and lifts her hands in adoration to the
Creator. Michelangelo has hardly been very happy in
this picture, but he has perhaps evaded the enormous
difficulties of the subject as skilfully as it was possible.
In painting the Fall, Michelangelo has combined the
sin and its punishment in the same piece; the Tree of
Knowledge entwined by the Serpent, forms the centre
of the picture ; on one side of it Adam and Eve are
gathering its fruit, on the other they are expelled by
the Angel. The double moment may be here defended,
nay, perhaps admired, as showing in the most vivid
manner, the sin and its consequence, and the swiftness
of God's avenging wrath. The subject is treated in a
HIS EXPULSION. 363
way quite different from that of Raphael, to which I
have before alluded. It is Eve who reclines, and Adam,
erect, plucks the apple for himself, instead of receiving
it from her hand. This is a deviation from the Scrip-
tural narrative, but affords an opportunity for the dis-
play of Eve's beauty. She is one of the finest female
figures that Michelangelo ever drew, and shows that
though his genius inclined to the grand and terrible,
he was capable of depicting grace and loveliness.
In the Expulsion, Michelangelo is more original than
Raphael, and improves upon Masaccio. Adam conceals
not his face as he quits the earthly Paradise; but his
head is slightly bowed, and the despair expressed in his
countenance is enforced by the uplifted arms and hands.
Eve cowers and conceals herself behind him, clutching
and tearing her dishevelled locks. Both figures are true
images of guilt and remorse. The avenging Angel is
much superior both to Masaccio's and Raphael's. The
act of hovering is admirably shown in the foreshorten-
ing; the sword, which, however, he holds in his left
hand, points out the path by which there is no return.
The first pair are both completely naked, as in Raphael's
picture.
It will be necessary to return to the Sistine Chapel at
the close of the vast cycle which 1 am surveying, but
before quitting it now I will make a few remarks on
this greatest monument, and as it were mausoleum, of
Michelangelo's genius. It has been sometimes objected
that he has desecrated the sanctity of the place by in-
troducing profane figures, as the Sibyls in the ceiling
and Charon and Minos in the Last Judgment. This
can hardly be defended on the ground that Dante had
done the like; since the " Divina Commedia" was not
dedicated to any religious purpose, nor offered to a wor-
shipper. A better defence may be found in the nature
364 SCRIPTURE AND HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY.
of the Roman Catholic religion, especially as it existed
in the pontificates of Julius II. and LeoX. Alexander
VI. had by his vices degraded the chair of S. Peter
below the throne of a temporal prince; Julius II. had
raised it from the dirt, but by methods which savoured
little of religion, and fit rather for an ambitious earthly
sovereign than for the successor of S.. Peter. Leo X.
forwarded this earthly tendency by giving free scope
to his classical tastes, and almost reduced Christianity
to the paganism from w^hich it had emerged, and had
originally borrowed many of its rites and ceremonies.
By the progress of classical learning, this had also be-
come the prevailing inclination among the educated
classes in Italy; and, apart from considering the matter
on its abstract merits, may afford sufficient excuse for
an artist who complied with it. For the Sibyls, indeed,
a better defence may be offered. One of them, alluded
to in Virgil's fourth Eclogue, was thought to have pre-
dicted the coming of the Messiah, and thus to have in-
timated that spreading of the Gospel among the Gentiles
which was accomplished by S. Paul. Nor could there
have been found in the Old Testament female figures
worthy to replace them, and to be enthroned side by
side with the great Prophets of the Jews. The lover
of art, at all events, will have no reason to regret that
Michelangelo followed the example of the great poet
whom he so much admired, and to whose genius he was
so near akin.
Of the five Sibyls that adorn the Sistine Chapel the
Delphica is the finest. It accomplishes the difficult feat
of combining female beauty with the highest degree of
majesty. Vasari relates that Raphael, from the con-
templation of this roof, to the sight of which he was
admitted by Bramante in Michelangelo's absence, caught
a new inspiration, the first fruits of which were the four
VARIOUS SIBYLS. 365
Sibyls he depicted in the Church of S. Maria della Pace
at Rome. They are figures of exquisite grace and
beauty. What Michelangelo thought of them appears
from Cinelli's account, 1 that Raphael only got through
Michelangelo's intervention the proper value of them
from Agostino Chigi, who had ordered them; a story
which may serve to show not only that the great Flo-
rentine did not entertain that mean and petty envy of
his young rival that has been sometimes ascribed to
him, but also perhaps that he found nothing in the per-
formance to arouse his jealousy. In fact, no figures can
well be more dissimilar than the Sibyls of these two
great artists; Raphael's are extremely beautiful, but
they do not approach the divine majesty and inspiration
which characterize those of Michelangelo, and properly
belong to such supernatural beings. The same must be
said of other Sibyls by eminent artists, as Domenichino's
Cumaean at Rome, Guercino's Samian in the Uffizi, and
Guido's Persica in the same collection. They are all of
rare beauty, but without the grandeur of Michelangelo's.
That quality, however, has been ascribed by some critics
to Peruzzi's Tiburtine Sibyl, in the Church of Fonte-
giusta at Siena. Standing before Augustus Caesar, she
points to a vision in the skies of the Madonna 'and
Angels, as foretelling the advent of a new faith.' 2 But
I must confess that her figure strikes me as stagey, and
wanting the unsophisticated majesty of Michelangelo's
Delphica. His Prophets on the same ceiling can only
be compared, in point of grandeur, with the sculptures
of Pheidias.
That artist had also painted in the Sistine Chapel the
Deluge and its consequences, but the figures are small,
1 Quoted by Passavant, " Raphael d'Urbin," t. i., p. 157 (French edition, Paris,
1860).
2 See engraving in Rosini's " Storm," v., 39.
366 THE DELUGE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
and the subject is better displayed, if not in the paintings
of Uccello, at all events in the magnificent frescoes of
Benozzo Gozzoli in the Pisan Campo Santo. The
frescoes of Uccello in S. Maria Novella are now nearly
obliterated. To judge from engravings of them, 1 they
show a wild and extravagant imagination, not, however,
unbefitting such a scene. The hurricane accompanying
the flood is well shown by the branches torn from the
trees and the dishevelled, waving hair of some of the
figures. In several of the bodies, Uccello has displayed
his skill in foreshortening. The subject presents enor-
mous difficulties to the pencil, and Benozzo has perhaps
done right in his frescoes in the Campo Santo in confin-
ing himself to the more agreeable scenes which followed
on the abatement of the Deluge. They were well suited
to his powers, as requiring not much emotion and ex-
pression. There was no absorbing story to be told,
the material progress of the world, rising once more, as
it were, out of chaos, presented scenes of beauty and
cheerfulness, in which his genius delighted. These fres-
coes, which fill nearly all the north wall of the Campo
Santo, represent in connection with the Flood of Noah,
the Vintage and Drunkenness of that Patriarch, the
Curse of Ham, and the building of the Tower of Babel.
The series is here divided by the Cappella Ammanati
from Benozzo's other frescoes relating to the history of
Abraham.
The fresco of the Vintage is perhaps the most attrac-
tive of the series. On the left are men plucking grapes,
and filling with them baskets carried on the heads of
maidens, to a large vat in which a man is treading them
out. Some of these figures are remarkably graceful. In
front stands Noah, accompanied by two children, in the
delineation of whom Benozzo has not very well suc-
1 See Rosini, ii., 164 ; Crowe and Cavalcaselle (Jordan), iii., 23.
GOZZOLl'S FRESCOES. 367
ceeded. In the middle of the piece the Patriarch again
appears, tasting the wine; and on the extreme right,
beneath a building of rich architecture, where he lies
inebriated, the undutiful Ham strips off his garments,
and exposes him to the ridicule of Shem and Japheth.
The female figure in the corner, who half conceals her
face with her hands, has passed into a proverb as the
u Vergognosa del Campo Santo."
The next fresco, the Curse of Ham, contains some
good figures, but the subject of the piece is not well
brought out. Were not the purport of it known, it
would be difficult to say what was going on. Com-
position does not seem to have been Benozzo's forte.
The beautiful landscape in the background reminds one
of the Apennines, and shows the artist's taste for
nature.
The building of the Tower of Babel, though not
directly connected with the story of the Deluge, is
interesting, from the numerous figures introduced, many
of which are portraits, and from the magnificent, though
extravagant and incorrect, architecture. Benozzo, as
before observed, is at home in such scenes; the masons
at work, and the groups of spectators surveying the
rising building, form the whole subject. Among the
portraits are those of Cosmo de' Medici, Lorenzo, Loren-
zino, and Politian.
The rest of Benozzo's frescoes here have no relation
to the Deluge. To that of the Adoration of the Magi
there will be occasion to return further on.
The Creation, the Fall, and the Deluge are the three
great marking epochs of the Old Testament history that
are intimately connected with the general destiny of
mankind. The first Revelation having, as S Paul re-
marks, become effete, it became necessary to supple-
ment it with a new one, the Christian dispensation ; and
368 THE NATIVITY OF THE VIRGIN.
the Roman Catholic Church, as its ostensible head and
representative, naturally preferred that religious pic-
tures should be taken from the New Testament, and
the legends connected with it, rather than from the Old.
Hence the art of the Renaissance chiefly consists of sub-
jects relating to the history of Christ. From the multi-
tude of these my limits will only allow me to select,
for observation and comparison, a few which mark an
epoch or turning-point, represented in an historical man-
ner, which are those already indicated (supra, p. 361).
The Nativity of the Virgin Mary is, with regard to
its subject, one of the earliest of these, and, with the
previous legendary history of her parents, Joachim and
Anna, afforded subjects for many paintings. This
nativity has now, perhaps, acquired additional impor-
tance by the establishment of the doctrine of the im-
maculate conception. It was represented at the earliest
epoch of the Renaissance, and perhaps before in minia-
tures. One of the first among the noticeable ones is
that in S. Maria Novella, attributed by Mr. Ruskin to
Giotto. 1 D'Agincourt, who gives a plate of it, refers it
to the Grseco-Italian school ; 2 but it is evidently
Giottesque, and there is a fresco in much the same
style in the Baroncelli Chapel in S. Croce by Taddeo
Gaddi. However this may be, the former piece, for its
nature and simplicity, certainly deserves the eulogy
passed upon it by Mr. Ruskin. The figure of S. Anna
especially is admirably rendered.
Domenico Ghirlandaio's fresco of the same subject in
the choir of S.. Maria Novella is much more elaborate.
Mr. Ruskin is very severe upon it, and not altogether, I
think, without reason. But the finery of the chamber
may perhaps be defended on the ground alleged by Mrs.
1 " Mornings in Florence," p. 28 seq.
2 See Mrs. Jameson's " Madonna," where also there is a plate, p. 147.
ANDREA DEL SAKTO'S PONTORMO. 369
Jameson, that Joachim and Anna were " exceedingly
rich." Nor do I think that Anna is looking after her
child, as Mr. Ruskin says. Her view, as was natural, is
evidently directed towards her visitors the lady, said
to be a portrait of Ginevra Benci, and her four atten-
dants. These figures, it must be allowed, are formal
and uninteresting; they seem to be posing. On the
whole, it is hardly a good specimen of Ghirlandaio's
style. 1
Perhaps the best representation of the subject is that
of Andrea del Sarto, in the porch of the Annunziata at
Florence. S. Anna sits up in her bed to receive two
ladies who are come to visit her; on each side atten-
dants are handing her refreshments. Joachim sits at
the foot of the bed. On the extreme left, near the fire-
place, the nurse and other women are attending to the
new-born child. The figures are more dignified than is
usual with Del Sarto, but, at the same time, easy and
natural. The lady in -the middle foreground, who is
looking at S. Anna, is said to be a portrait of Del Sarto's
wife ; and, according to an anecdote related by Baldi-
nucci, 2 she herself, when advanced in years, pointed this
out to Jacopo da Empoli, who was copying the fresco.
Whilst viewing Andrea del Sarto's fine frescoes in
this porch, attention will naturally be drawn to that of
his pupil Pontormo, representing the Visitation, or visit
of the Virgin to her cousin, Elizabeth, mother of S. John
Baptist. It will be allowed, I think, that the scholar
has here surpassed his master; at all events the
figures are finer models of dignity and beauty. Eliza-
beth, though the elder person, has fallen on her knees
before the Virgin, as betokening her higher mission;
1 Plate in Mrs. Jameson's ' Madonna," p. 148, and in Crowe and Cavalcaselle
vol. iii., ch. 12.
a Apud Jordan, B. iv. S. 561.
B B
370 GENTILE'S NATIVITY.
but they are often represented embracing like equal
friends, as in Albertinelli's beautiful picture in the
Uffizi (No. 1259), where they are quite unaccompanied.
Among the notable early pictures of the Nativity of
Christ and the Adoration of the Magi and Shepherds,
that of Lorenzo Monaco has been already described
(supra, p. 353). It is surpassed by the somewhat later
one of Gentile da Fabriano, in the Florentine Academy
(Grands Tableaux, No. 32 9), 1 the poetical invention of
which is equalled by the beauty of the execution. In
the left-hand corner, the Virgin, a beautiful figure, pre-
sents, with unaffected grace, the Infant Christ to the
adoring king. At her side, Joseph, a venerable person-
age, looks on with intense interest. Behind the Virgin
are two graceful female figures, examining the gift of
the first king; to the right, the ox and ass show where
the scene takes place. The humble holiness of this part
of the piece contrasts well with the pomp and splendour
of the remaining portion. A youthful king, magnifi-
cently apparelled, stands in the middle foreground, and
salutes the heaven-born Child ; beside him, another king
bends in adoration ; behind, a splendid cavalcade is
advancing, which may be traced winding over the hills
till lost in the distance. A magnificent castle crowns
the furthest mountain. The gilt glories which Lorenzo
places round the kings' heads are well dispensed with ;
the splendid robes and headdresses of the Magi are
sufficient to content any lover of ornament. The splen-
dour is here legitimate : it is the homage of worldly
pomp to humble piety, and both are appropriately
shown.
Thus Gentile, whilst investing the subject with the
1 The artist's name, with the date Gentile. Michelangelo said of him, " che
1423, are on the picture. The figure nel dipignere aveva avuto la mano simile
with a red turban, standing near the al nome." Vasari, " Opere," t. ii.,
young king, is said to be a portrait of p. 314.
GHIRLANDAIO'S LIPPl's GOZZOLl's. 371
magnificence which became it, escaped the influence of
the Church, and the spirit of the age, which t'oo often
invested the humble condition of the Holy Family with
a splendour quite alien to it. The Nativity, instead of
taking place in a stable, was often absurdly represented
among magnificent ruins. In Domenico Ghirlandaio's
round picture in the Uffizi (No. 1295), the stable is a
building with magnificently sculptured columns, and the
Virgin sits on a pedestal ornamented with bas-reliefs.
That artist, as Mr. Ruskin observes in criticizing his
frescoes in S. Maria Novella, could never forget his ori-
ginal vocation of a goldsmith, and thus introduced orna-
ments that are often quite out of place. Nor is his
picture in other respects to be compared with Gentile's,
though it is more than half a century later. The Virgin,
with round, unmeaning face, is awkwardly seated in the
middle of the picture ; the adoring king is in an uncouth
posture, and the principal figure in the foreground, in-
stead of attending to what is going on, is staring in
another direction. The figures, too, are realistic and
undignified.
Filippino Lippi's picture of the Magi, also in the
Uffizi (No. 1257), is much superior to Ghirlandaio's.
The Virgin sits in a modest, graceful posture, before a
rustic shed in a. wooded landscape; Joseph leans over
her shoulder, and regards with uplifted hands the Child-
God in her lap. The Magi bring their offerings ; the
shepherds also are spectators of the scene.
The fresco of Benozzo Gozzoli in the Pisan Campo
Santo, seems to be a plagiarism from Gentile. The
young king and the one who kneels beside him are al-
most fac-similes of that artist's, only the position is re-
versed. There is also the cavalcade, but without the
same variety of character, and wanting the picturesque
effect of the more distant, procession. It may be,
372 CORREGGIO'S NOTTE.
however, that Gentile was also indebted to predecessors j 1
and perhaps there are few wholly original works, whether
in poetry or painting. More especially is this the case
with the religious pictures of the Renaissance, which are
for the most part confined to a limited round of subjects,
treated in a traditional manner.
Among the pictures of the Epiphany is the celebrated
" Notte " of Correggio ; one of the pictures sold by the
Duke of Modena to Augustus III. of Poland, and now
in the Dresden gallery. It appears to have been painted
for a private individual, Alberto Pratonieri; 2 and thus
Correggio seems to have felt himself at liberty to dis-
pense with the pomp that was required by the Church.
He adopted the story as told by S. Luke. It is not kings
that are come to worship the Saviour of all mankind,
but simple shepherds, who, instead of diadems and cups
of gold, bring as their offerings a brace of pigeons in a
rustic basket. In the pictures before described and in
most others, the new-born infant already assumes his
superhuman functions; he is conscious of the homage
paid to him, and in some even bestows his blessing, in
papal fashion. Here it is an ordinary child ; and accord-
ing to Mengs, is placed in an oblique position in order
not to show the face, which in newly-born infants is not
attractive by its beauty. But his divinity is shown in
a remarkable manner. He sleeps in his mother's lap;
but from his body proceeds a radiance which not only
lights up the figures in the foreground, but also by re-
flection in the sky forms the second light, and reveals a
group of Angels, who, to use the words of Vasari, seem
rained down from Heaven. 3 This effect is said to have
been suggested to Correggio by Raphael's fresco of S.
Peter in prison ; but it has been seen that it had been
1 See Rosini, t. iii., p. 37. 2 Mengs, " Opere," t. ii., p. 167.
3 " Opere," t. iii., p. 47.
THE LAST SUPPER. 373
employed by artists before Raphael's time. It could
not be more appropriately used than in the present in-
stance. The vividness of the light is admirably indicated
by the female peasant, who, whilst she gazes with in-
tense interest on the child, puts up her hand to protect
her eyes from the dazzling splendour. This light effect
has been repeated by Honthorst (Gherardo della Notte)
in a good picture of the same subject in the Uffizi
(Saladel Baroccio). Here the light appears to come
from the manger.
The period from the birth of Christ down to his be-
trayal and death has afforded a great variety of subjects
to the most eminent painters ; but I pass on to the Last
Supper, which ushered in the great catastrophe of Chris-
tian history. Jt is the most dramatic of all the scenes
which Scripture presents. A company, all of whom are
supposed to be faithful followers of their Lord and
Master, and mostly were so, are seated at the genial
board. The repast is scarcely begun when Christ, in
sorrowful, and even compassionate, accents, suddenly
exclaims that one of them is about to betray him. A.
thunder-clap in a serene sky could hardly have created
more astonishment and alarm. But widely different
must have been the effect. Grief must have predomi-
nated among those who loved their Master best ; some,
less firm in their allegiance, may have had emotions of
distrust ; but what must have been the feeling of the
conscious criminal? It is on Judas and his Master that
our attention chiefly rests ; they are the protagonists of
the scene, the others form only the chorus.
I am, of course, here regarding the event in its historical
light, and not as a devotional representation of the institu-
tion of the Eucharist. And first a few words concerning
the manner in which it is generally shown. The subject
was commonly chosen to adorn the refectories of convents ;
374 REPRESENTATION OF THE SUITER.
and the way in which Christ and the Apostles are seated
at table resembles that still in use in such places, namely,
long benches running round the walls, with narrow
tables before them. It is sometimes objected, especially
by those who take more interest in the way in which,
to use the current phrase, the scene is put upon the
stage, than in the subject itself, that all the pictures we
have of it are in fault in adopting this modern custom
of sitting at table instead of the ancient one of reclining.
On which it may be remarked, first : that if the painters
themselves were learned enough to be aware of such a
custom, as no doubt some of them were, the adoption
of it would have been a matter of surprise, if not of
ridicule, to the majority of those for whose eyes it was
intended. But, secondly, what is more material. It
has been already observed that Art, for its higher pur-
poses, breaks through the petty restraints of conven-
tionalism, as it does in this case. Let us fancy the per-
sonages in Lionardo's Last Supper disposed round the
table in the Roman fashion, and then try to imagine
how he could have shown those animated gestures and
well-arranged groups which give to the piece its won-
derful effect. Some of them have sprung on their feet,
the seated ones have full liberty to employ their arms,
neither of which could have been done, at all events so
effectively, had they been reclining on Roman couches.
To be convinced of this, one needs only cast a glance at
Poussin's sketch for the subject, 1 where the Apostles are
represented sprawling on couches in the Roman fashion,
their action impeded, or rendered awkward and ridicu-
lous, by their position.
In the Florentine Academy is a small picture of this
subject by Giotto, in which the company are seated
round the table instead of along it. Christ is at the
1 In the Louvre.
GIOTTO'S AND ROSSELLl's FRESCOES. 375
top, S. John leans on his bosom. On the near side,
Judas, whose head is without a glory, starts up in alarm
and leaves the table, whilst an Apostle near him seems
to be charging him with his treason. The rest of the
company do not show much emotion ; indeed they are
too huddled together to have much room for gesture.
Raphael has adopted a somewhat similar arrangement
in one of the arcades of the Loggie, by compulsion evi-
dently of the space which he had to fill. Although
thus trammelled, he has contrived to throw much ani-
mation into the scene ; but not so much as in another
arrangement to which I shall recur.
An early fresco, attributed to Giotto and at all events
Giottesque, may be seen in the ancient Refectory of S.
Croce. Christ and eleven of the Apostles sit in a line
on the further side of the table. Christ, who is in the
middle of the table, with S. John leaning on his bosom,
appears to be denouncing, with uplifted hand, the traitor
Judas, who sits opposite to him, and alone, on the nearer
side, taking apparently the sop from the dish. The looks
of most of the Apostles are directed towards him, but
with the exception of S. Peter, on Christ's right, they
discover not much emotion.
This arrangement of the table was adopted by most
subsequent painters. Cosimo Rosselli, in a fresco which
he painted in the Sistine Chapel, somewhat broke the
monotony by making the table of a hexagonal form ; but
the want of animation in the figures is even more re-
markable than in the picture just described. A little
devil is perched behind the neck of Judas, who here
also sits alone. Two young men in Florentine cos-
tume are introduced at each side of the picture, but
it is difficult to discover their business there. They
are too genteel for serving-men, and mere idle spec-
tators would scarcely have been present at that solemn
376 GHIRLANDAIO'S LAST SUPPER.
festival. They seem to have been introduced for the
sake of ornament, like the vases on the floor, and the
animals, which may be either cats or dogs.
Domenico Ghirlandaio's Last Supper, in the Fores-
tiera, or smaller Refectory of S. Mark's at Florence, very
much resembles that at S. Croce, but has more anima-
tion in the heads. The arrangement of the table is the
same, only an angular piece, capable of accommodating
two persons, is added at each end. The Judas is hardly
so good as in the former piece. The tallness of the
figure is out of proportion to the rest; the head and
hair are rather those of a woman than a man ; he
shows no signs of guilt, but raises his head on high,
as if affecting a hypocritical air of surprise. There is
said to be a better, but resembling, fresco by the
same artist in Ognissanti, to which I could not gain
admission.
In the year 1845, a Cenacolo was discovered, by re-
moving the whitewash which covered it, in a room in the
present Egyptian Museum in the Via Faenza, Florence,
formerly the convent of the nuns of S. Onofrio. The
figures in this piece, which are life-size, are almost an
exact copy of the fresco just described, as to the general
conception and arrangement ; but the details, and
especially the heads, the most important part, are so
infinitely superior as to show the hand of a far greater
master than Ghirlandaio. Who he may have been has
been the subject of much dispute, and will perhaps
never be satisfactorily settled. It has been variously
attributed to Pietro Perugino, to Pinturicchio, to
Raphael, to Neri di Bicci, to Lo Spagna, and, lately,
by Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, to Gerino da Pistoia.
This last guess seems to me to be the most improbable
one of all. That a work which many good judges have
thought to be worthy of Raphael, if not actually his,
THE CENACOLO ATTRIBUTED TO RAPHAEL. 377
should have been produced by such an artist as Gerino
surpasses all belief. He worked constantly as Perugino's
assistant, and, therefore, caught something of his
manner ; but that very circumstance shows that he had
no original genius. Vasari, who mentions him only
incidentally in his u Life of Pinturicchio," says that he
was a miserable artist, and that he worked with a diffi-
culty and labour that was quite painful. 1 To think
that the fresco in question could have been the
production of such a painter, must have arisen, one
would think, from a want of appreciation of its merits;
of which, indeed, Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, to
judge from their description of it, 2 seem to entertain
no great opinion.
It appears that a Last Supper, composed in the manner
of the frescoes before described, was very ancient, and
had been handed down traditionally, especially in the
Florentine school, of which the fresco in S. Croce before
mentioned is the earliest extant example. But there are
bas-reliefs of it of the twelfth century. 3 Yet though the
composition, as a whole, appears to be Florentine, the
details and execution of the S. Onofrio fresco seem to be
Peruginesque. This is shown by the figures, but more
particularly by the architecture, and the scene shown
through the window of Christ at Gethsemane, and the
angel descending with the cup. Perugino had painted
such a picture for a convent near Florence. 4
The Cenacolo in the Egyptian Museum, by whomso-
ever it may have been done, is as to the arrangement,
almost an identical copy from Ghirlandaio's fresco in
1 " Fu costui persona zneschina nelle 3 Passavanl, " Vie de Raphael," t. ii.,
cose dell' arte, durava grandissima fatica p. 320. There is an engraving of it at
nel lavorare, e penava tanto a condurre Gotha of the date of 1500, in which the
un opera, che era uno stento." figures are the same, but the scene
" Opere," t. ii., p. 502. is different.
3 Vol. iv., ch. 7. Vasari, ibid., p. 520.
378 THE S. ONOFRIO FRESCO DESCRIBED.
S. Mark's, before described. The figures are seated in
exactly the same order, with some variations of attitude
and expression, which are, in general, great improve-
ments. The only exception to this remark is the
younger S. James, the last figure on the left. In Ghir-
landaio's picture his hands are clasped together and up-
lifted, thus manifesting .his sorrow and surprise at what
he hears. In the fresco under consideration his hands
are laid on the table, which gives him an inattentive
and nonchalant air. He seems almost posing for a por-
trait; and, indeed, the head is younger and much
handsomer than Ghirlandaio's, and Raphaelesque in
style. The next three figures, Philip, James the elder,
and Andrew, are similar in character to Ghirlandaio's,
but their action and expression are more varied and
animated. Andrew is directing the attention of James
to Judas; in Ghirlandaio's fresco it is James who does
the same to Philip; the consequence of which is that
Andrew, whose head is turned towards Judas, is almost
an identical figure with Peter.
Beginning with the last Apostle, and proceeding to
the right, the figures in both frescoes are very similar
in position and attitude ; the chief variation, and it
is a notable one, is, that in the S. Onofrio fresco,
S. Thomas, who sits at the head of the cross-table,
at this moment of general surprise and anxiety is pour-
ing out a glass of wine, as if to mark his poco cur ante
and half incredulous character. A hardly perceptible
smile on the countenance tends to the same effect;
otherwise the head is one of the most beautiful of all
the Apostles, arid worthy of Raphael. It was on the
tunic of this figure that some letters are said to have
been discovered, indicating Raphael's name; but they
vanished in the cleaning. It is, however, the five cen-
tral figures from S. Peter to S. Matthew, inclusive
DA VINCI'S CENACOLO. 379
which form the charm of the piece. It has been well
observed by an anonymous Italian critic, 1 that they are
quite a poem. The face of Christ, who sits in the middle,
with S. John leaning on his bosom, with its expression of
sorrow and compassion, as he looks at Judas opposite, is
worthy to be compared with Da Vinci's. Judas sits
alone in the traditional manner; but the figure is far
superior to Ghirlandaio's. His villainy is manifest, and
he averts his head from the gaze of the rest. Peter,
clutching his knife, looks at him in a threatening manner.
But the most extraordinary figure is that of S. Bartho-
lomew, who sits on Christ's left. He has suddenly
arrested his hands, with the knife and fork with which
he was in the act of helping himself from his plate, and
casts a withering look on Judas that must penetrate his
soul. The expression of suspicion is inimitable, whilst
in Ghirlandaio's fresco he is tame and unconcerned.
Perugino would hardly, I think, have been capable of
such a figure. It is quite possible that Raphael, during
his early sojourn in Florence, might have been induced
to paint the piece, taking Ghirlandaio's for his model,
which would have been in accordance with his studies
from the Florentine masters ; but there is neither proof
nor remote inference by which the authorship can be
even probably established.
Lionardo da Vinci, in the Cenacolo, .which he painted
for the Refectory of the Dominicans at S. Maria delle
Grazie, near Milan, towards the end of the fifteenth cen-
tury, was the first to emancipate the subject from the
tameness and formality of the traditional method. Ac-
cording to the narrative of S. John (c. xiii.), the scene
might present two motives: first, from v. 21, u Verily,
verily, I say unto you that one of you shall betray
me;" second, after Jesus, in answer to John's question
1 In the " Gioruale del Commercio," No. 46.
380 DA VINCI'S MOMENT.
who it might be, says, u He it is to whom I shall give a
sop," and he gave it to Judas Iscariot (v. 26).
By this last action the traitor stands revealed, and
this is the moment chosen in the paintings hitherto de-
scribed. The result is that Judas becomes the pro-
tagonist; and to show him more conspicuously he is
placed alone an unnatural position, since being yet un-
convicted of any crime, and still the purse-bearer of the
holy company, there is no reason why he should be
separated from the rest. The first motive occasions a
very different scene. It gives rise to a variety of
emotions surprise, curiosity, suspicion, grief, fear, in-
dignation ; whilst, in the second motive, only some of
these feelings are awakened. Hence a larger and more
animated scene is opened to the artist, whilst, at the
same time, a heavy demand is made upon his skill to
show the culprit unmistakably, while not yet indicated
either by his position, or by the gaze of Christ and the
Apostles being fixed upon him. It also requires a
difference in the bearing of the Saviour. He is not yet
indicating the criminal by look or gesture, but only
obscurely intimating what is about to happen.
Admirably, indeed, has Lionardo fulfilled the con-
ditions here required. The face of Christ, supremely
beautiful, is turned towards none, least of all towards
Judas, from whom it is even averted. With downcast
eyes and outspread hands, bespeaking unutterable
sorrow, he breaks the sad tidings to his followers.
John at his right, but not in his bosom, as generally
represented, sinks back as if swooning at the news;
whilst Peter, with eagerness and impetuosity, is urging
him to ask the name of the culprit. This arrangement
improves the grouping, and gives more animation to
the scene. Next is Andrew, who lifts up his hands in
astonishment. James the younger and Bartholomew,
HEADS OF CHRIST AND JUDAS. 381
gazing with intense interest upon Christ, terminate this
side of the picture.
The first Apostle on Christ's left, said to be S. Thomas,
seems to be the only one who recognizes the traitor.
He fixes his eyes upon Judas, and raises his forefinger
in a threatening attitude. His suspicion seems to have
been awakened by the action of Judas, who, starting
with conscious guilt at the words of Christ, has overset
the salt-cellar with his arm, in the hand of which he
clutches the purse. His face is thrown into shade by
the head of Peter, who leans over him, and the shadow
augments the villainous look of it. He wants no other
indication. The wide-spread arms and alarmed ex-
pression of the next Apostle after S. Thomas, James
the brother of John, testify his surprise and horror.
The next figure, whom Bossi calls S. Matthew, 1 but
who seems to be too young for that character, is a per-
fect contrast to the preceding. He seems to be entirely
absorbed by grief, and placing his hands on his breast,
gazes sorrowfully at his Master. The rest of the picture
on this side is occupied by a group of the three remain-
ing Apostles, who are engaged in earnest conversation
about the denunciation they have heard.
We may well believe Vasari's account that Lionardo
found his greatest difficulty in the heads of the two
most opposite characters ; in one the extreme of divine
beauty and love, in the other the basest human ugliness
and villainy. The lofty ideal which he always strove
to reach, naturally made him a slow worker ; he was ill
content if he could not at least approach in delineation
the conceptions he had formed in his mind. The expres-
sion of vice and ugliness is, however, more easily caught
than are the more tranquil features of supreme and
1 I have taken the names from Bossi, ap. Rosini, t. iv.,p. 19 ; but I doubt whether
they are all correct.
382 DEL SARTO'S LAST SUPPER.
perfect virtue. After much study, Lionardo at last
depicted a Judas to his mind ; but he is said to have
been never satisfied with the head of Christ, and to have
left it unfinished. At the present moment no judg-
ment can be formed on this point, but it may at least
be said that he has surpassed all other painters of the
Saviour. And this will perhaps be more readily seen
from the drawing which he made for it, now in the
Brera, than from the picture.
This fine piece, which was painted in oil, began to
show signs of decay not very long after it was done ;
and time, ill-usage, and re-painting have now almost
completed its ruin. Yet much may still be made out,
and its progress towards entire decay does not appear
to be so rapid as is sometimes asserted. The writer
first saw it in 1858; and on revisiting it fifteen years
afterwards, in 1873, no great alteration was percepti-
ble. There is an early copy of it in the Bibliotheca
Ambrosiana; and the excellent engraving of Raphael
Morghen suffices to convey a satisfactory conception
of it.
It would have been impossible, after Lionardo's pic-
ture, to return to the old Giottesque composition. In
the fresco of Andrea del Sarto, executed some thirty
years afterwards, in the convent of S. Salvi, near Flo-
rence, the figures are arranged much in the same way
as Leonardo's, but the moment seems to be rather more
advanced. Christ is in the act of answering John's ques-
tion, and has already taken up a piece of bread to make
the sop which he will hand to Judas, who sits next him.
Christ's head is commonplace; it shows neither dignity
nor emotion. That of Judas has nothing of the villain.
He is unabashed, and raises his hand to his breast, as if
affecting an air of innocence. S. Peter, generally a
principal figure, is here almost hidden behind Judas,
RAPHAEL'S DRAWING FOR A CENACOLO. 383
and indeed might be mistaken for him. The rest of the
figures, three of whom have started to their legs, have
nothing remarkable. Nevertheless, the picture pleases
from its air of reality ; if there is nothing very striking,
it has, at all events, no exaggeration, nothing overstep-
ping the modesty of nature. It is well painted, and the
draperies are handsome and well arranged.
It is perhaps to be regretted that Raphael in his
maturer years never painted a Cenacolo on a large scale.
A drawing for one, engraved by Mark Antonio, shows
that he would have added some original touches. The
moment chosen is the same as Da Vinci's. The most
remarkable trait is the figure of Judas. Never before
or since has conscious villainy, fearful of detection, been
so forcibly portrayed. Hiding himself from Christ,
behind another Apostle, he leans on the table, listening
anxiously with averted eyes, to Christ's words. The
spectator at once detects the criminal, though there is
nothing to denote him but his skulking posture and
guilty face. It is a more perfect delineation of villainy
than even Lionardo's Judas. The other groups are full
of animation. The figures are not remarkable for beauty,
but it is impossible to say what they might have be-
come when carried out in painting by such a master.
We should probably have had the second picture among
the famous ones of the world.
There is a Last Supper by Bonifazio in the Uffizi
(No. 628), beautifully coloured, but that is all that can
be said of it. The figures are tame and conventional,
and one of them with outstretched arms seems to be a
plagiarism from Lionardo. The picture gains in effect
if looked at through the door of the preceding room.
The betrayal, death, and resurrection of Christ close
his earthly mission, and are the forerunners of the great
catastrophe, the Day of Judgment, which terminates the
384 THE MADONNA CHAPEL, ORVIETO.
cycle of human destiny. I have already adverted to
Orcagna's representation of the subject. That of Fra
Angelico and Luca Signorelli in the chapel of the Ma-
donna di S. Brizio, in the cathedral of Orvieto, is more
comprehensive, as showing the catastrophe from begin-
ning to end ; the coming of Antichrist, the destruction of
the world, the resurrection of the dead, the Judgment, the
torments of the wicked, and the happiness of the blessed.
Fra Angelico began the painting of this chapel towards
the end of the first half of the fifteenth century, but
completed only one half of the ceiling, containing the
Saviour in the act of judging, a group of prophets and
saints, the Virgin amongst the Apostles, with Doctors of
the Church, and four founders of monastic orders. But
he had left designs for the remainder of the ceiling,
which were carried out by Signorelli half a century
later,
It was, perhaps, fortunate for Art that the completion
of the chapel was left for Signorelli. Fiesole's genius
inclined him more to the beautiful and tranquil than to
the delineation of strong and terrible emotion, such
as must necessarily accompany the catastrophe to be
depicted. His group of the prophets has never been
exceeded in beauty combined with dignity; but it may
be doubted whether he would have rendered with ade-
quate force the scenes of earthly horror. Signorelli
was here in his element. In depicting the terrible he
was the forerunner of Michelangelo; who, as Yasari
tells us in his Life of Signorelli, not only deeply ad-
mired him, but even borrowed some things from him in
his picture of the Last Judgment.
This panorama of the completion of man's destiny is
almost the only attraction in the dirty but picturesque
town of Orvieto ; which seems to be in much the same
state as when Gardiner went thither as ambassador to
THE ANTICHRIST. 385
Pope Clement VII., three or four centuries ago. 1 But
the sight of these frescoes will well repay any little dis-
comfort. They are, on the whole, in a good state of pre-
servation, and the light is excellent. The visitor should
begin with that on the left, showing the preaching of
the Antichrist. Elevated on a pedestal, he is deliver-
ing the Devil's dictates, who stands behind and prompts
him. He is surrounded by a motley crowd, many of
whom are portraits. The temptations of the world, in
the shape of coins, precious vases, &c., lie scattered on
the ground before him, from which some of his audience
are taking. Behind the Antichrist, in the middle dis-
tance, is a group of monks engaged in conversation and
heedless of his preaching. A magnificent temple rises
in the distance, before which are various scenes of per-
secution and martyrdom. On the left side of the fresco
Satan is seen precipitated from heaven by an Angel,
and falling among a crowd of people engaged in massacre.
In the extreme corner, Signorelli has introduced por-
traits of himself and Fra Angelico, who stand calmly
contemplating these horrible scenes. Such a proceeding
is in accordance with Florentine Art ; but I cannot help
thinking that it sometimes introduces strange incon-
gruities into a piece.
The next fresco, proceeding to the left, shows the
destruction of the world, in which the postures and fore-
shortenings of the figures hurled to the ground are truly
wonderful. On the right, a Sibyl or Prophetess is
reading and explaining the predictions concerning the
final catastrophe; in the middle, an aged prophet is
pointing to the consummation already begun. Higher
up are horrible scenes of cruelty and blood, the tribu-
1 " The place may well be called Urbs more garments than one." Letter of
Fetus ; no one would give it any other 1528, ap. Brewer, " Papers about Henry
name . . . Few men at Orvieto have VIII.," vol. iv., introd. cccxi.
C C
386 THE RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT.
lations predicted before the second coming of Christ.
The sun is seen darkened, partly also the moon, enve-
loped in a bloody veil. Fiery rain falls from the burn-
ing sky, amidst which are flying demons with bat-like
wings.
Next follows the Resurrection. The dead are roused
by Angels sounding trumpets of enormous length.
Some are already on their legs; others are just emerg-
ing from their graves, either like skeletons, or already
covered with some flesh. Some are in an attitude of
devotion, others are overwhelmed with astonishment and
awe, a few look up in tranquil contemplation.
In the fresco which follows, the artist has judiciously
avoided painting the horrible and disgusting scenes of
Hell. The condemned are seen assembled upon earth;
some are seized and bound by demons, while others are
carried off by flying devils, some of which are gro-
tesquely horrible. Archangels with drawn swords
repulse all attempts to force the gates of Heaven, and
precipitate some who have tried to do so.
The horror of this picture is relieved by the next,
showing the calling of the elect to Heaven. A chorus
of Angels on clouds resplendent like gold, are making
heavenly music; two others lower down are scattering
flowers on the blessed, whilst some, descended upon
earth, point out to them the gates of Heaven. The faces
and attitudes of the elect express supreme joy mingled
with wonder. These figures have all the more merit,
inasmuch as it is far more difficult to depict the
quieter emotions than the strongly-marked traits of
terror and despair. An historian of Art has not hesi-
tated to say that the Angels of Signorelli are more
beautiful than those of Michelangelo. 1
This verdict will at least hold good if the comparison
1 Rosini, t. iii., p. 72.
MICHELANGELO'S LAST JUDGMENT. 387
be restricted to Michelangelo's fresco of the Last Judg-
ment. Horror is the key-note of that composition, and
anything that might detract from it is almost entirely
excluded. The motive is Christ in his wrath, one might
almost say in his vengeance for sufferings on earth, the
instruments of which are displayed above him the
cross, the nails, the crown of thorns, the column, the
sponge, and the ladder. His figure has. neither divine
majesty, nor the bearing of a calm and equitable judge;
it is rather a stalwart mortal who is condemning with
signs of fury those who have offended him. His words
and gestures are so terrible that the Virgin mother, who
sits beside him, turns aside with alarm and pity. The
female figures are few, and they are purposely without
the beauty which he was so capable of depicting, as
shown by his Eve in the Fall. The same may be said
of the male figures. Adam, who as the representative
of the human race, stands on one side of the judgment-
seat, and S. Peter, as the founder of Christianity on the
other, have not the dignity of the prophets in the ceiling
of the chapel. The lower part of the picture, showing
the approaching punishment of the damned, is perhaps
the best. In mid-air are seen the Seven Angels of the
Revelation, sounding their trumpets. Michelangelo has
here introduced a characteristic trait. The Angel on
the side of the wicked has an enormous volume full of
their sins, whilst another on the side of the blessed holds
but a small book of their good deeds. Below this group
is the boat of Charon, who, striking with the oar his
unhappy passengers, compels them to land on that deso-
late shore. Here they are received by Minos, a strange
figure with ass's ears, and an enormous serpent coiled
round his middle. According to Vasari, it is a por-
trait of Messer Biagio da Cesena, the Pope's Master of
the Ceremonies, who had complained to him of the many
388 CHARACTER OF MICHELANGELO'S WORK.
nudities which Michelangelo had introduced. The Pope
asked where the figure had been placed, and when told
that it was in Hell, remarked that he had then no power
in the matter, though he could have released him from
Purgatory.
Before this grand picture criticism stands as it were
disarmed. The subject itself, as well as the genius of
the artist who conceived it, are beyond the rules of ordi-
nary art. It is said that there is but one step between
the sublime and the ridiculous ; but Michelangelo seems
to have been sometimes capable of placing himself in
the middle of that step, so that we tremble with appre-
hension as to the side on which he will fall. In the
judgment of this matter much will depend on the spec-
tator's turn of mind. Burke has observed that in all
the pictures he had seen of Hell he had been at a loss to
determine whether the painter did not intend something
ludicrous. 1 The same, perhaps, will be the feeling of
the more cultivated and enlightened portion of mankind,
but it would hardly find a place among the class for
whom the picture was intended ; and on this, perhaps,
Michelangelo's defence, if any be needed, may be best
founded. Superstition rests on terror; its chief anti-
dote is ridicule, by means of which Lucian went far to
destroy the gods of paganism ; but ridicule is powerless
where terror is overwhelming and absorbing.
By his Last Judgment Michelangelo completed the
grand cycle of human destiny which he had opened in
the same chapel with his frescoes of the Creation. I
have confined myself to this cycle, and selected a few
of the principal incidents in it, both for the sake of
giving a sort of unity to so boundless a theme as mo-
dern painting, and because these subjects best exhibit
the character of the Renaissance as having its origin in
1 " On the Sublime and Beautiful," part ii., 4, p. 93.
CONCLUSION. 389
religion. But though the pieces selected are the most
striking, all are not, perhaps, the most pleasing that
might have been taken from Scripture. Both the Old and
the New Testament abound with scenes of domestic life
that have been admirably treated by the best artists.
Herein lies the most striking difference between ancient
and modern religious Art. The former is mostly heroic
and has but few subjects of a domestic nature. The
difficulty in such subjects of attracting sympathy with-
out the sacrifice of dignity, has for the most part been
admirably overcome by the earlier modern schools of
painting. The employment of Art in the service of
religion conferred on it from its origin a nobleness of
aim which it never entirely lost. At a later period,
when the genius of the artist was less restricted, it
revelled in the scenes of ancient mythology ; and in this
way many productions of the modern pencil might, no
doubt, be confidently compared with the best of an-
tiquity. The like was not the case with sculpture;
another consequence of the origin of Art in religion.
But into modern sculpture it is not my intention to
enter. In view of the examples we possess, that art is
more peculiarly distinctive of the ancients, as painting
is of the moderns.
THE END.
INDEX OF WORKS MENTIONED.
ATHENS.
Monument of Lysicratcs,272 ; Theseum,
Aristion, 47.
BOLOGNA.
Galltry, Domenichino, 70 ; Guido
Reni, 78 ; Market, Neptune, 158.
BRESCIA.
Hercules Temple, Victoria, 186.
DRESDEN.
Gallery, Raphael, 80 ; Correggio,
120, 372.
FLORENCE.
Academy, Angelico, Fra, 343, 345 ;
Bartolommeo, Fra, 358, 359 ; Cima-
bue, 79, 323 ; Gentile da Fabriano,
370 ; Giottino, 334 ; Giotto, 374 ;
Lippo Lippi, 86, 355; Perugino,
82 ; Ugolino, 328 ; Verocchio, 356.
Annunziata, Pontormo, 369 ; Sarto,
del, 119, 127, 342.
Carmine, Masaccio, 116, 118, 338,
340 ; Filippino Lippi, 341 sq.
S. Croce, Giotto, 324, 325, 326, 375 ;
Gaddi, Taddeo, 326.
Egyptian Museum, Cenacolo, 376.
S. Maria Novella, Cimabue, 79, 322 ;
Gaddi, Taddeo, 347, 349; Ghir-
landaio, 126; Giotto, 80, 368;
Memmi, 346 ; Uccello, 355, 366.
8. Maria Nuova, Fra Bartolommeo,
357.
S. Marco, Angelico, Fra, 343 ; Ghir-
landaio, 376.
8. Miniato, Spinello, 71.
Pitti Palace, Bartolommeo, Fra, 357,
358; Guido Reni, 257; Filippino
Lippi, 355, 357; Polycleitus, 52;
Raphael, 80, 83, 133.
8. Salvi, Sarto, del, 382.
Uffizi, Alexander, 140, 206; An-
gelico, Fra, 353; Apollino, 164;
Bartolommeo, Fra, 83, 358 ; Botti-
celli, 289, 354 ; Cosimo di Piero,.
164; Cimabue, 352; Ganymede,
190 ; Giottino, 352 ; Giotto, 352 ;
Guercino, 365 ; Lippi, Filippino,
355 ; Lorenzetti, Am. , 35 1 ; Lorjen-
zetti, P. , 350 ; Lorenzo Monaco,
353 ; Memmi, 352 ; Niobe, 146,
254, 366; Pollaiuolo, 356; Poly-
cleitus, 52 ; Raphael, 339 ; Rico,
352 ; Signorelli, 357 ; Spione, lo,
245; Stefano, Tomm., 334 ; Van-
dyck, 78 ; Venere, 184.
LONDON.
British Museum, Apollo, 47, 161 ;
Giustiniani, 161; Apotheosis of
Homer, 271 ; Bacchic Relief, 275 ;
Diadumenos, 53 ; Harpagus Monu-
ment, 273; Harpy Mont., 47;
Mausolus, 210.
National Gallery, Pollaiuolo, 356.
MILAN.
Brcra Gallery, Guercino, 146 ; Ste-
fano, 328 ; Vinci, da, 382.
8. Maria delle Grazie, Da Vinci, 379.
MUNICH.
GlyptotheJc, .^Eginetan Statues, 44 ;
Alexander, 204.
NAPLES.
Museum, Acratus, 200; JEschines,
210; Agrippina, 246; Aphrodite
Kallipygos, 184 ; Artemis, 47, 170 ;
Asklepios, 158 ; Bacchic Relief,
275 ; Bacchus, 193 ; Dancing Faun,
197 ; Dionysus, 192 ; Doryphoros,
52 ; Farnese Hercules, 204 ; Gigan-
tomachia, 129 ; Helen, Persuasion
of, 189 ; Hera, 157 ; Hermes, 177 ;
Isis, 160 ; Issus, battle, 316; Me-
dea, 115 ; Pan and Olympus, 164 ;
Psyche, 190 ; Salpion, Urn of, 273 ;
Silenus, 195 ; Toro Farnese, 215.
OLTMPIA.
Hermes, 174.
ORVIETO.
Cathedral, Fra Angelico and Luca
Signorelli, 88455-.
392
INDEX OF WORKS MENTIONED.
PARIS.
Louvre, Alexander, 205 ; Altar of
Twelve Gods, 46 ; Amphora of
Sosibios, 273 ; Angelico, Era, 344 ;
Artemis, 170; Bacchic Relief, 193,
275; Bacchus (Richelieu), 193;
Borghese Combatant, 245 ; Diony-
sus, 192 ; Ephebus, 176 ; Eros, 188;
Germanicus, 244 ; Gigantomachia,
129 ; Gozzoli, 356 ; Kentaur, 199 ;
Maenad, 198 ; Melpomene, 165 ; Per-
sephone, Rape of, 160; Satyr, fe-
male, 197 ; Selene, 172 ; Silenus,
195 ; Thanatos, 41 ; Tiber, 158 ;
Venus of Aries, 186 ; of Milo, 185 j
Zeus, 156.
PISA.
Campo Santo, Gozzoli, 366 sq. ; Hell,
101 ; Lorenzetti, 530 ; Orcagna,
331; Triumph of Death, 97.
Baptistery, Niccolo Pisano, 321.
POMPEII, 118, 296, 298, 306,314,315$^.
PRATO.
Cathedral, Filippo Lippi, 355.
RAVENNA.
8. Vitale, Bas-relief, 314; Mosaics, ib.
Mausoleum of G-alla Placidia, Christ
the Good Shepherd, 314.
ROME.
Borghese Palace, Domenichino, 68 ;
Raphael, Entombment, 78.
Borghese Villa, Dionysus and Am-
pelos, 193.
Capitol, Marcus Aurelius, 247.
Capitoline Museum, Agrippina, 246 ;
Alexander, 205 ; Amazon, 53 ;
Dionysus, 193 ; Fauns, 196 sq. ;
Guercino, 122 ; Kentaurs, 200 ;
Venus, 181 ; Zeus, 155.
S. Clemente, Masaccio, 337.
S. Francesco a Ripa, Annibal Caracci,
77.
S. Gregorio, Domenichino and Guido,
69.
Lateran, Dionysus, Bas-relief, 273 ;
Sophocles, 210.
Lorenzo Chapel, Fra Angelico, 344.
Livia, House of, 294.
ROME (continued}.
S. Maria delta Pace, Peruzzi, 122 ;
Raphael, 365.
Pamfili Palace, Ann. Caracci, 77.
Quirinal, Dioscuri, 204.
Eospigliosi Palace, Guido, 257, 296.
Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo, 361,
387 ; Rosselli, 375.
Spada Palace, Aristotle, 210 ; Pom-
pey,246.
S. Trinita de 1 Monti, Daniele di Vol-
terra, 76 sq.
Vatican, Aldobrandini Marriage, 293;
Amazon, 53 ; Aphrodite, 183 sq. ;
Apollo Belvedere, 165 ; Sauroc-
tonos, 163 ; Kitharoedos, 165 ;
Apoxyomenos, 201 ; Ariadne, 198 ;
Artemis Phosph., 172; Augustus,
246; Asklepios, 158; Caravaggio,
69; Demeter, 160; Demosthenes,
210; Doryphoros, 52 ; Discobolos,
51; Dionysus, 191; Eros, 188;
Euripides, 210 ; Fortuna, 207 ;
Genius, 188 ; Gigantomachia, 129 ;
Guido, 69; Hades, 158; Hera,
157 ; Hermes, 173 : Lysippus, 206 ;
Menander,210 ; Nile, 158 ; Niobid,
259, 262; Paris, 136; Poseidon,
157 ; Pudicitia, 207 ; Raphael, 83,
86, 88, 120, 121, 125, 339; Selene,
172; Torso, 193, 203; Wise Men,
206 ; Zeus, 154.
Villas Albani, Silenus, 1 95 ; Ludo-
visi, Ares, 159 ; Barbarian and
Wife, 211, 214 ; Cfesar, 246 ; Hera,
157 ; Penelope and Telemachus,
245; Massimi, Discobolos, 51.
SIENA.
Duccio, 345 ; Guido, 323 ; Peruzzi,
365 ; Sodoma, 78.
TURIN.
Paolo Veronese, 126.
VENICE.
Academy, Bassano, 116; Tintoretto,
71 ; Titian, 83.
Ducal Palace, Gigantomachia, 129.
S. Giovanni e Paolo, Titian, 70.
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