The history of Greek sculpture covers a period of some eight or nine
hundred years, and falls into five divisions.[1] The first is the period
of development, extending from 600 to 480 B. C. The second is the period
of greatest achievement, under Phidias and his followers, in the Age of
Pericles, 480-430 B. C. The third is the period of Praxiteles and
Scopas, in the fourth century. The fourth is the period of decline,
characterized as the Hellenistic Age, and included between the years 320
and 100 B. C. The fifth is the Gr[ae]co-Roman period, which includes the
work produced to meet the demand of the Roman market for Greek
sculpture, and which extends to 300 A. D.
[1] See Gardner's _Handbook of Greek Sculpture_, page 42.
Modern criticism differentiates sharply the characteristics of the
several periods and even of the individual artists, but such subtleties
are beyond the grasp of the unlearned. The majority of people continue
to regard Greek sculpture in its entirety, as if it were the homogeneous
product of a single age. To the popular imagination it is as if some
gigantic machine turned out the Apollo Belvedere, the Venus of Milo, the
Elgin Marbles, and all the rest, in a single day. Nor is it long ago
since even eminent writers had but vague ideas as to the distinctive
periods of these very works. Certain it is that all works of Greek
sculpture have a particular character which marks them as such.
Authorities have taught us to distinguish some few of their leading
characteristics.
The most striking characteristic of Greek art is perhaps its closeness
to nature. The sculptor showed an intimate knowledge of the human form,
acquired by constant observation of the splendid specimens of manhood
produced in the pal[ae]stra. It is because the artist "clung to nature as a
kind mother," says Waldstein, that the influence of his work persists
through the ages.
Again, Greek art is distinctly an art of generalization, dealing with
types rather than with individuals. This characteristic is of varying
degrees in different periods and with different sculptors. It is seen in
its perfection in the Elgin Marbles, in exaggeration in the Apollo
Belvedere, and at the minimum in the work of Praxiteles. Yet it is
everywhere sufficiently marked to be indissolubly connected with Greek
sculpture.
The quality of repose, so constantly associated with Greek sculpture, is
another characteristic which varies with the period and the individual
sculptor. Between the calm dignity of the portrait statue of Sophocles
and the intense muscular concentration of Myron's Discobolus, a long
range of degrees may be included. Yet on the whole, repose is an
essential characteristic of the best Greek sculpture, provided we do not
let our notion of repose exclude the spirited element. Fine as is the
effect of repose in the Parthenon frieze, the composition is likewise
full of spirit and life.
A distinguishing characteristic of the best Greek sculpture is its
simplicity. Compared with the Gothic sculptors, the Greeks appear to us,
in Ruskin's phrase, as the "masters of all that was grand, simple, wise
and tenderly human, opposed to the pettiness of the toys of the rest of
mankind." Their work is free from that "vain and mean decoration"--the
"weak and monstrous error"--which disfigures the art of other peoples.
As we turn from one Greek marble to another in the great sculpture
galleries of the world, the best features of the art impress themselves
deeply even upon the untutored eye. The Greek instinct for pose is
unfailing and unsurpassable. Standing or seated, the attitude is always
graceful, the lines are always fine. The best statues are equally well
composed, viewed from any standpoint. The camera may describe a
circumference about a marble as a centre, and a photograph made at any
point in the circle will show lines of rhythm and beauty.
The faultless regularity of the Greek profile has passed into history as
the accepted standard of human beauty. The straight continuous line of
brow and nose, the well moulded chin, the full lip, the small ear,
satisfy perfectly our [ae]sthetic ideals.
The art of sculpture was an essential outgrowth of the Greek spirit, and
perfectly suited the requirements of Greek thought. In the words of a
recent writer, "it was the consummate expression in art of the genius of
a nation which worshiped physical perfection as the gift of the
immortals, which honored the gods by athletic games and choral dances,
and whose deities wore the flesh and shared the nature of men."[2] It
was moreover a national art, entering into every phase of public life,
and embodying the Greek sense of national greatness.
[2] From _Italian Cities_, by E. H. and E. W. Blashfield.
Greek sculpture can be sympathetically understood only by catching
something of the spirit which produced it. One must shake off the
centuries and regard life with the childlike simplicity of the young
world: one must give imagination free rein. The same attitude of mind
which can enjoy Greek mythology and Greek literature is the proper
attitude for the enjoyment of Greek sculpture. The best interpreter of a
nation's art is the nation's poetry.