than the features, it is there we must principally look for expression
or character; _patuit in corpore vultus_; and, in this respect, the
Sculptor's art is not unlike that of Dancing, where the attention of
the spectator is principally engaged by the attitude and action of the
performer, and it is there he must look for whatever expression that
art is capable of exhibiting. The Dancers themselves acknowledge this,
by often wearing masks, with little diminution in the expression. The
face bears so very inconsiderable a proportion to the effect of the
whole figure, that the ancient Sculptors neglected to animate the
features, even with the general expression of the passions. Of this
the group of the Boxers is a remarkable instance; they are engaged in
the most animated action with the greatest serenity of countenance.
This is not recommended for imitation (for there can be no reason why
the countenance should not correspond with the attitude and expression
of the figure), but is mentioned in order to infer from hence, that
this frequent deficiency in ancient Sculpture could proceed from
nothing but a habit of inattention to what was considered as
comparatively immaterial.
Those who think Sculpture can express more than we have allowed, may
ask, by what means we discover, at the first glance, the character
that is represented in a Bust, Cameo, or Intaglio? I suspect it will
be found, on close examination, by him who is resolved not to see more
than he really does see, that the figures are distinguished by their
_insignia_ more than by any variety of form or beauty. Take from
Apollo his Lyre, from Bacchus his Thyrsus and Vine-leaves, and
Meleager the Boar's Head, and there will remain little or no
difference in their characters. In a Juno, Minerva, or Flora, the idea
of the artist seems to have gone no further than representing perfect
beauty, and afterwards adding the proper attributes, with a total
indifference to which they gave them. Thus John de Bologna, after he
had finished a group of a young man holding up a young woman in his
arms, with an old man at his feet, called his friends together, to
tell him what name he should give it, and it was agreed to call it The
Rape of the Sabines; and this is the celebrated group which now stands
before the old Palace at Florence.[12] The figures have the same
general expression which is to be found in most of the antique
Sculpture; and yet it would be no wonder if future critics should find
out delicacy of expression which was never intended; and go so far as
to see, in the old man's countenance, the exact relation which he bore
to the woman who appears to be taken from him.
Though Painting and Sculpture are, like many other arts, governed by
the same general principles, yet in the detail, or what may be called
the by-laws of each art, there seems to be no longer any connection
between them. The different materials upon which those two arts exert
their powers must infallibly create a proportional difference in their
practice. There are many petty excellencies which the Painter attains
with ease, but which are impracticable in Sculpture; and which, even
if it could accomplish them, would add nothing to the true value and
dignity of the work.
Of the ineffectual attempts which the modern Sculptors have made by
way of improvement, these seem to be the principal; The practice of
detaching drapery from the figure, in order to give the appearance of
flying in the air;--
Of making different plans in the same bas-relievos;--
Of attempting to represent the effects of perspective;--
To these we may add the ill effect of figures clothed in a modern
dress.
The folly of attempting to make stone sport and flutter in the air is
so apparent, that it carries with it its own reprehension; and yet to
accomplish this seemed to be the great ambition of many modern
Sculptors, particularly Bernini: his art was so much set on overcoming
this difficulty, that he was forever attempting it, though by that
attempt he risked everything that was valuable in the art.
Bernini stands in the first class of modern Sculptors, and therefore
it is the business of criticism to prevent the ill effects of so
powerful an example.
From his very early work of Apollo and Daphne, the world justly expected
he would rival the best productions of ancient Greece; but he soon
strayed from the right path. And though there is in his works something
which always distinguishes him from the common herd, yet he appears in
his latter performances to have lost his way. Instead of pursuing the
study of that ideal beauty with which he had so successfully begun, he
turned his mind to an injudicious quest of novelty, attempted what was
not within the province of the art, and endeavoured to overcome the
hardness and obstinacy of his materials; which even supposing he had
accomplished, so far as to make this species of drapery appear natural,
the ill effect and confusion occasioned by its being detached from the
figure to which it belongs ought to have been alone a sufficient reason
to have deterred him from that practice.
We have not, I think, in our Academy, any of Bernini's works, except a
cast of the head of his Neptune; this will be sufficient to serve us for
an example of the mischief produced by this attempt of representing the
effects of the wind. The locks of the hair are flying abroad in all
directions, insomuch that it is not a superficial view that can discover
what the object is which is represented, or distinguish those flying
locks from the features, as they are all of the same colour, of equal
solidity, and consequently project with equal force.
The same entangled confusion which is here occasioned by the hair is
produced by drapery flying off; which the eye must, for the same reason,
inevitably mingle and confound with the principal parts of the figure.
It is a general rule, equally true in both Arts, that the form and
attitude of the figure should be seen clearly, and without any
ambiguity at the first glance of the eye. This the Painter can easily
do by colour, by losing parts in the ground, or keeping them so
obscure as to prevent them from interfering with the more principal
objects. The sculptor has no other means of preventing this confusion
than by attaching the drapery for the greater part close to the
figure; the folds of which, following the order of the limbs, whenever
the drapery is seen, the eye is led to trace the form and attitude of
the figure at the same time.
The drapery of the Apollo, though it makes a large mass, and is
separated from the figure, does not affect the present question, from
the very circumstance of its being so completely separated; and from
the regularity and simplicity of its form, it does not in the least
interfere with a distinct view of the figure. In reality, it is no
more a part of it than a pedestal, a trunk of a tree, or an animal,
which we often see joined to statues.
The principal use of those appendages is to strengthen and preserve
the statue from accidents; and many are of opinion that the mantle
which falls from the Apollo's arm is for the same end; but surely it
answers a much greater purpose, by preventing that dryness of effect
which would inevitably attend a naked arm, extended almost at full
length, to which we may add the disagreeable effect which would
proceed from the body and arm making a right angle.
The Apostles, in the church of St. John Lateran, appear to me to fall
under the censure of an injudicious imitation of the manner of the
painters. The drapery of those figures, from being disposed in large
masses, gives undoubtedly that air of grandeur which magnitude or
quantity is sure to produce. But though it should be acknowledged that
it is managed with great skill and intelligence, and contrived to
appear as light as the materials will allow, yet the weight and
solidity of stone was not to be overcome.
Those figures are much in the style of Carlo Maratti, and such as we may
imagine he would have made if he had attempted Sculpture; and when we
know he had the superintendence of that work, and was an intimate friend
of one of the principal Sculptors, we may suspect that his taste had
some influence, if he did not even give the designs. No man can look at
those figures without recognising the manner of Carlo Maratti. They have
the same defect which his works so often have, of being overlaid with
drapery, and that too artificially disposed. I cannot but believe that
if Ruscono, Le Gros, Monot, and the rest of the Sculptors employed in
that work, had taken for their guide the simple dress, such as we see in
the antique statues of the philosophers, it would have given more real
grandeur to their figures, and would certainly have been more suitable
to the characters of the Apostles.
Though there is no remedy for the ill effect of those solid
projections which flying drapery in stone must always produce in
statues, yet in bas-relievos it is totally different; those detached
parts of drapery the Sculptor has here as much power over as the
Painter, by uniting and losing it in the ground, so that it shall not
in the least entangle and confuse the figure.
But here again the Sculptor, not content with this successful
imitation, if it may be so called, proceeds to represent figures, or
groups of figures, on different plans; that is, some on the
foreground, and some at a greater distance, in the manner of Painters
in historical compositions. To do this he has no other means than by
making the distant figures of less dimensions, and relieving them in a
less degree from the surface; but this is not adequate to the end;
they will still appear only as figures on a less scale, but equally
near the eye with those in the front of the piece.
Nor does the mischief of this attempt, which never accomplishes its
intention, rest here: by this division of the work into many minute
parts, the grandeur of its general effect is inevitably destroyed.
Perhaps the only circumstance in which the Modern have excelled the
Ancient Sculptors is the management of a single group in basso-relievo;
the art of gradually raising the group from the flat surface, till it
imperceptibly emerges into alto-relievo. Of this there is no ancient
example remaining that discovers any approach to the skill which Le Gros
has shown in an Altar in the Jesuits' Church at Rome. Different plans or
degrees of relief in the same group have, as we see in this instance, a
good effect, though the contrary happens when the groups are separated,
and are at some distance behind each other.
This improvement in the art of composing a group in basso-relievo was
probably first suggested by the practice of the modern Painters, who
relieve their figures, or groups of figures, from their ground, by the
same gentle gradation; and it is accomplished in every respect by the
same general principles; but as the marble has no colour, it is the
composition itself that must give its light and shadow. The ancient
Sculptors could not borrow this advantage from their Painters, for
this was an art with which they appear to have been entirely
unacquainted: and in the bas-relievos of Lorenzo Ghiberti, the casts
of which we have in the Academy, this art is no more attempted than it
was by the Painters of his age.
The next imaginary improvement of the moderns is the representing the
effects of Perspective in bas-relief. Of this little need be said; all
must recollect how ineffectual has been the attempt of modern
Sculptors to turn the buildings which they have introduced as seen
from their angle, with a view to make them appear to recede from the
eye in perspective. This, though it may show indeed their eager desire
to encounter difficulties, shows at the same time how inadequate their
materials are even to this their humble ambition.
The Ancients, with great judgment, represented only the elevation of
whatever architecture they introduced into their bas-reliefs, which is
composed of little more than horizontal or perpendicular lines;
whereas the interruption of crossed lines, or whatever causes a
multiplicity of subordinate parts, destroys that regularity and
firmness of effect on which grandeur of style so much depends.
We come now to the last consideration; in what manner Statues are to
be dressed, which are made in honour of men, either now living, or
lately departed.
This is a question which might employ a long discourse of itself; I
shall at present only observe, that he who wishes not to obstruct the
Artist, and prevent his exhibiting his abilities to their greatest
advantage, will certainly not desire a modern dress.
The desire of transmitting to posterity the shape of modern dress must
be acknowledged to be purchased at a prodigious price, even the price
of everything that is valuable in art.
Working in stone is a very serious business; and it seems to be scarce
worth while to employ such durable materials in conveying to posterity
a fashion of which the longest existence scarce exceeds a year.
However agreeable it may be to the Antiquary's principles of equity
and gratitude, that as he has received great pleasure from the
contemplation of the fashions of dress of former ages, he wishes to
give the same satisfaction to future Antiquaries; yet, methinks,
pictures of an inferior style, or prints, may be considered as quite
sufficient, without prostituting this great art to such mean purposes.
In this town may be seen an Equestrian Statue in a modern dress, which
may be sufficient to deter future artists from any such attempt: even
supposing no other objection, the familiarity of the modern dress by
no means agrees with the dignity and gravity of Sculpture.
Sculpture is formal, regular, and austere; disdains all familiar
objects, as incompatible with its dignity; and is an enemy to every
species of affectation, or appearance of academical art. All contrast,
therefore, of one figure to another, or of the limbs of a single
figure, or even in the folds of the drapery, must be sparingly
employed. In short, whatever partakes of fancy or caprice, or goes
under the denomination of Picturesque (however to be admired in its
proper place), is incompatible with that sobriety and gravity which is
peculiarly the characteristic of this art.
There is no circumstance which more distinguishes a well-regulated and
sound taste, than a settled uniformity of design, where all the parts
are compact, and fitted to each other, everything being of a piece.
This principle extends itself to all habits of life, as well as to all
works of art. Upon this general ground therefore we may safely venture
to pronounce, that the uniformity and simplicity of the materials on
which the Sculptor labours (which are only white marble), prescribes
bounds to his art, and teaches him to confine himself to a
proportionable simplicity of design.
FOOTNOTES:
12: In the Loggia dei Lauzi at Florence.--Note, Ed.
DISCOURSE XI.
_Delivered to the Students of the Royal Academy, on the Distribution of
the Prizes, December 10, 1782._
GENIUS.--CONSISTS PRINCIPALLY IN THE COMPREHENSION OF A WHOLE; IN
TAKING GENERAL IDEAS ONLY.
The highest ambition of every Artist is to be thought a man of Genius.
As long as this flattering quality is joined to his name, he can bear
with patience the imputation of carelessness, incorrectness, or
defects of whatever kind.
So far, indeed, is the presence of Genius from implying an absence of
faults, that they are considered by many as its inseparable
companions. Some go such lengths as to take indication from them, and
not only excuse faults on account of Genius, but presume Genius from
the existence of certain faults.
It is certainly true, that a work may justly claim the character of
Genius, though full of errors; and it is equally true, that it may be
faultless, and yet not exhibit the least spark of Genius. This
naturally suggests an inquiry, a desire, at least, of inquiring, what
qualities of a work and of a workman may justly entitle a Painter to
that character.
I have in a former discourse[13] endeavoured to impress you with a
fixed opinion, that a comprehensive and critical knowledge of the
works of nature is the only source of beauty and grandeur. But when we
speak to Painters, we must always consider this rule, and all rules,
with a reference to the mechanical practice of their own particular
Art. It is not properly in the learning, the taste, and the dignity of
the ideas, that Genius appears as belonging to a Painter. There is a
Genius particular appropriated to his own trade, (as I may call it)
distinguished from all others. For that power, which enables the
Artist to conceive his subject with dignity, may be said to belong to
general education; and is as much the Genius of a Poet, or the
professor of any other liberal Art, or even a good critic in any of
those arts, as of a Painter. Whatever sublime ideas may fill his mind,
he is a Painter, only as he can put in practice what he knows, and
communicate those ideas by visible representation.
If my expression can convey my idea, I wish to distinguish excellence
of this kind by calling it the Genius of mechanical performance. This
Genius consists, I conceive, in the power of expressing that which
employs your pencil, whatever it may be, _as a whole_; so that the
general effect and power of the whole may take possession of the mind,
and for a while suspend the consideration of the subordinate and
particular beauties or defects.
The advantage of this method of considering objects is what I wish now
more particularly to enforce. At the same time I do not forget, that a
Painter must have the power of contracting as well as dilating his
sight; because, he that does not at all express particulars, expresses
nothing; yet it is certain, that a nice discrimination of minute
circumstances, and a punctilious delineation of them, whatever
excellence it may have (and I do not mean to detract from it) never
did confer on the Artist the character of Genius.
Beside those minute differences in things which are frequently not
observed at all, and when they are, made little impression, there are
in all considerable objects great characteristic distinctions, which
press strongly on the senses, and therefore fix the imagination. These
are by no means, as some persons think, an aggregate of all the small
discriminating particulars: nor will such an accumulation of
particulars ever express them. These answer to what I have heard great
lawyers call the leading points in a case, or the leading cases
relative to those points.
The detail of particulars, which does not assist the expression of the
main characteristic, is worse than useless, it is mischievous, as it
dissipates the attention, and draws it from the principal point. It
may be remarked, that the impression which is left on our mind even of
things which are familiar to us, is seldom more than their general
effect; beyond which we do not look in recognising such objects. To
express this in Painting, is to express what is congenial and natural
to the mind of man, and what gives him by reflection his own mode of
conceiving. The other presupposes _nicety_ and _research_, which are
only the business of the curious and attentive, and therefore does not
speak to the general sense of the whole species; in which common, and,
as I may so call it, mother tongue, everything grand and comprehensive
must be uttered.
I do not mean to prescribe what degree of attention ought to be paid
to the minute parts; this it is hard to settle. We are sure that it is
expressing the general effect of the whole, which alone can give to
objects their true and touching character; and wherever this is
observed, whatever else may be neglected, we acknowledge the hand of a
Master. We may even go further, and observe, that when the general
effect only is presented to us by a skilful hand, it appears to
express the object represented in a more lively manner than the
minutest resemblance would do.
These observations may lead to very deep questions, which I do not
mean here to discuss; among others, it may lead to an inquiry, Why we
are not always pleased with the most absolute possible resemblance of
an imitation to its original object? Cases may exist in which such a
resemblance may be even disagreeable. I shall only observe that the
effect of figures in waxwork, though certainly a more exact
representation than can be given by Painting or Sculpture, is a
sufficient proof that the pleasure we receive from imitation is not
increased merely in proportion as it approaches to minute and detailed
reality; we are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends accomplished
by seemingly inadequate means.
To express protuberance by actual relief--to express the softness of
flesh by the softness of wax, seems rude and inartificial, and creates
no grateful surprise. But to express distances on a plain surface,
softness by hard bodies, and particular colouring by materials which
are not singly of that colour, produces that magic which is the prize
and triumph of art.
Carry this principle a step further. Suppose the effect of imitation
to be fully compassed by means still more inadequate; let the power of
a few well-chosen strokes, which supersede labour by judgment and
direction, produce a complete impression of all that the mind demands
in an object; we are charmed with such an unexpected happiness of
execution, and begin to be tired with the superfluous diligence, which
in vain solicits an appetite already satiated.
The properties of all objects, as far as a Painter is concerned with
them, are, the outline or drawing, the colour, and the light and
shade. The drawing gives the form, the colour its visible quality, and
the light and shade its solidity.
Excellence in any one of these parts of art will never be acquired by
an artist, unless he has the habit of looking upon objects at large,
and observing the effect which they have on the eye when it is
dilated, and employed upon the whole, without seeing any one of the
parts distinctly. It is by this that we obtain the ruling
characteristic, and that we learn to imitate it by short and dexterous
methods. I do not mean by dexterity a trick or mechanical habit,
formed by guess, and established by custom; but that science, which,
by a profound knowledge of ends and means, discovers the shortest and
surest way to its own purpose.
If we examine with a critical view the manner of those painters whom
we consider as patterns, we shall find that their great fame does not
proceed from their works being more highly finished than those of
other artists, or from a more minute attention to details, but from
that enlarged comprehension which sees the whole object at once, and
that energy of art which gives its characteristic effect by adequate
expression.
Raffaelle and Titian are two names which stand the highest in our art;
one for Drawing, the other for Painting. The most considerable and the
most esteemed works of Raffaelle are the Cartoons, and his Fresco
works in the Vatican; those, as we all know, are far from being
minutely finished: his principal care and attention seems to have been
fixed upon the adjustment of the whole, whether it was the general
composition, or the composition of each individual figure; for every
figure may be said to be a lesser whole, though, in regard to the
general work to which it belongs, it is but a part; the same may be
said of the head, of the hands, and feet. Though he possessed this art
of seeing and comprehending the whole, as far as form is concerned, he
did not exert the same faculty in regard to the general effect, which
is presented to the eye by colour, and light and shade. Of this the
deficiency of his oil pictures, where this excellence is more expected
than in Fresco, is a sufficient proof.