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THE FINE ARTS.
HISTORY
OF
SCULPTURE, PAINTING,
AND
ARCHITECTURE.
BY J. S. MEMES, LL. D.
BOSTON:
CLAPP AND BROADERS,
SCHOOL STREET
1834.
TO
THE VERY REVEREND
WILLIAM JACK, D.D.
PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY AND KING'S COLLEGE, ABERDEEN;
IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF
EARLY KINDNESS AND CONTINUED FRIENDSHIP.
AND
AS A SINCERE THOUGH INADEQUATE TRIBUTE
OF MOST PROFOUND RESPECT
FOR HIS
VIRTUES, LEARNING, TALENTS, AND INTEGRITY,
THIS VOLUME,
WITH SENTIMENTS OF THE HIGHEST ESTEEM,
IS INSCRIBED
BY
THE AUTHOR.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
Taste--Principles of Imitative Art 1
SCULPTURE.
CHAPTER I.
Egyptian and Oriental Sculpture--Indian Monuments 15
CHAPTER II.
Early Schools of Greece--Perfection of Material Art 34
CHAPTER III.
Ideal Art--Phidias--Elgin Marbles--Methods of Composition
Among the Greek Sculptors 49
CHAPTER IV.
School of Beauty--Lysippus and Praxiteles--Historical
Remarks 60
CHAPTER V.
Sculpture in Ancient Italy--Etruscan Art--Roman Busts--Decline 69
CHAPTER VI.
Revival of Sculpture in Italy--Italian Republics--Influence
of Liberty--Early Schools of Modern Art 79
CHAPTER VII.
Michael Angelo and his Contemporaries 84
CHAPTER VIII.
School of Bernini--Decline of Sculpture--Causes of Decay 94
CHAPTER IX.
Revival--Canova--Thorwaldsen--Flaxman--Conclusion 101
PAINTING.
CHAPTER X.
Ancient Painting--Schools of Greece--Zeuxis, Appelles
--Historical Remarks 117
CHAPTER XI.
Modern Schools in Italy--Roman, Raphael--Florentine,
Michael Angelo--Comparison between the two--Lombard
School, Coreggio--Venetian School, Titian--Eclectic
School, Caracci 130
CHAPTER XII.
German School, Holbein, Daur--Flemish School, Rubens,
Vandyke--Dutch School, Teniers--French School,
David--Anecdote of Napoleon 154
CHAPTER XIII.
English School--Historical Remarks--Causes of Inferiority
in the Art--Influence of the Reformation not Hostile to
the Fine Arts in Britain, &c. 174
CHAPTER XIV.
English School continued--History--Portrait--Landscape
--Reynolds--West--Wilson--Laurence--Defects of
English Style--Conclusion 190
ARCHITECTURE.
CHAPTER XV.
Early History and Principles of Architectural Design--Egyptian
--Syrian--Indian Architecture 227
CHAPTER XVI.
Greek Architecture--Three Orders: Doric Remains, Ionic
Remains, Corinthian Remains--Roman Architecture--Decline 248
CHAPTER XVII.
Architecture of the Middle Ages--Divisions of the Gothic--Revival
of Classic Architecture--Italian, French, and
English Masters--Conclusion 278
PREFACE.
THE present volume is offered to the public, under the impression that
the general cultivation of practical taste, and an acquaintance with
the principles of the Fine Arts, are not only desirable in the light of
acquirement, but must eventually prove highly beneficial to the useful
arts of the country. The subject, therefore, seemed peculiarly adapted
to the very excellent Publication of which this forms a portion.[A]
* * * * *
It is only bespeaking that share of confidence due, in the first
instance, to opportunities of research, to state, that in the following
pages not a single work of art is made the subject of criticism, the
original of which the author has not seen and examined. Indeed, the
substance of his remarks is generally transcribed from notes taken with
the statue, or picture, or building, before him. The best authorities,
also, have been consulted, and such as from their price or rarity are
within reach of few readers. The historical details of Classic Art
are chiefly the result of inquiries connected with a work on Grecian
Literature, the composition of which has long engaged his hours of
leisure. J. S. M.
INTRODUCTION.
TASTE is the perception of intellectual pleasure. Beauty, the object
of taste and the source of this pleasure, is appreciated by the
understanding, exercised, either upon the productions of art, or
upon the works of nature. The term beauty, indeed, has appeared to
admit a specific difference of import, according to the diversity of
objects in which it may seem to reside, and the supposed variety of
means through which it is perceived by the mind. This cause, more than
any other, has tended to throw difficulty and inconclusive inference
over every department of the subject. Yet, perhaps in all cases, most
certainly in every instance of practical importance to our present
purpose--elucidation of the Fine Arts, beauty will be found resolvable
into some relation discerned and approved by the understanding. Hence
the objects in which this relation exists impart pleasure to the mind,
on the well known principles of its constitution.
But in all languages, the word beauty is applied to the results of
those operations of the intellectual powers, which are not commonly
recognised as appertaining to any province of taste. Thus we speak
of the beauty of a theorem, of an invention, of a philosophical
system or discovery, as frequently, and with the same propriety, as
of a picture or a group of statuary, of a landscape or a building.
Correspondent to these objective modes of speech, we find, in every
polished idiom, such causative forms as these--a taste for the
mathematics, for mechanics, for philology, or science. Now, in these,
and similar instances, in which a like manner of expression by the
common sentiment of mankind, opposed to the opinion of certain writers,
is rightly applied, relations furnishing the specific beauty of the
subjects are perceived, and pleasurable emotions are excited. What
then constitutes the essential difference between the beautiful in
general language, and the beautiful in the fine arts? or, which is
identical, the difference between the powers of judgment and of taste?
Shall we say with some, that to decide on the relations of truth and
falsehood, is the sole province of the judgment or understanding? But
in the fine arts, to whose labours, taste, by these philosophers, is
confined, truth is beauty, falsehood deformity; hence, to discriminate
between even their minutest shades, requires the constant exercise
of the most refined taste. Or, shall we maintain with others, that
beauty consists in certain arrangements and proportions of the parts
to a whole; or in the fitness of means to an end? This, as far as an
intelligible description of beauty, applies equally to the pursuits
of the philosopher and of the artist. Or, omitting almost innumerable
minor theories, shall we say with the philosophy presently accepted,
that beauty is something not intrinsic in the beautiful object, but
dependent on associations awakened in the mind of the spectator?
Without entering now into an examination of this important, because
received opinion, we remark, that this definition of beauty, from its
associated pleasures, is applicable alike to the deductions of science,
to the exercises of imagination, and to the disquisitions of taste.
Indeed, as the discoveries of the philosopher, and the truths which
he discloses, are both more abiding in their nature, and in their
influence more universally important and interesting, it would follow,
even on the system of association, that the beauty of scientific truth
must be, at least, equally fruitful in pleasurable emotions, as the
beauty of any one object in those pursuits to which this system has
hitherto been restricted. And that such is actually the case, may be
proved by an appeal to the writings and the annals of men of study. The
law of gravitation, to take a familiar instance, possesses an essential
principle of the beautiful--simplicity. Accordingly, to a mind of any
refinement, the abstract contemplation of this theory will ever impart
high delight. Yet, how imperfect is the pleasure, and even the beauty,
till the mind associates with this simple law, that thereby worlds are
governed in their course through boundless space; that by the same
discovery, the future generations of rational and immortal beings will
be directed in their most useful and loftiest speculations; and to
all this magnificence of association, what tender sublimity will be
added, by the thought, that the Supreme Father of all has graciously
endowed his creatures with powers, and with permission, to discern the
secondary laws by which infinite wisdom sees fit to rule in the visible
creation!
Even the holier and lovelier sensibilities awakened by moral beauty,
though certainly distinct in principle, are in their influence not
easily separable from the pleasures of taste. At least, by the wise
and gracious constitution of the human heart, the latter, when
unallied with the former, necessarily remain imperfect. Our most
exquisite enjoyments in literature and the fine arts will be found to
arise from such performances as most directly remind us of virtuous
associations; while, in the material world, those scenes prove most
delightful which call forth recollections of man's nobleness, or which
elevate our contemplations to the power, and wisdom, and goodness of
the Creator. In one important point, however, is at once discoverable
the independent and higher principle of moral pleasure and beauty.
The humble and pious mind may, often does, enjoy the most refined and
mental gratification in the exercises of charity and devotion, while
the intellectual resources or the adornments of taste are extremely
circumscribed. How wise, how salutary, are these appointments! The
possessor of the most cultivated perceptions and extensive knowledge,
thus feels, if he feel aright, that his acquirements render him only
the more dependent upon religion and virtue for his best and purest
enjoyments, as also for the dignified estimation of his pursuits.
The unlettered but sincere Christian, again, thus knows that his
heartful joys suffer not alloy from ignorance of this world's
external culture. Both are thus equal; yet each profits by his own
peculiar good. The latter is secure against a deprivation imposed by
temporal circumstances: the former is paid the toil and self-denial
of attainment, by the increased manifestations he is thus enabled to
discern of the charms of virtue, and the goodness of Omnipotence.
The presence and operation of taste can thus be traced in every act of
the mind, and are intimately associated with the feelings of our moral
nature. The exercises of taste have ever been regarded as productive
generally of pleasurable emotion. Hence we consider ourselves justified
in defining, at the beginning of this chapter, taste to be 'the
perception of intellectual pleasure.' The common use of language,
also--an authority always to be respected in tracing the extent or
import of ideas--and even the best theories of taste, when rightly
understood, coincide with this definition.
The various systems of taste, however apparently dissimilar, may
be referred in principle to one or other of the two following:
that this is an original and independent faculty; or, that it may
be resolved into a modification of the general powers of the mind.
Of these opinions, the first has been, within the present century,
satisfactorily proved utterly unphilosophical and inadequate to its
purpose; the second is preferable, but imperfect in the explications
hitherto given, chiefly from three causes. First, writers have formed
their conclusions from a consideration of the quality, in its full and
complete exercise, instead of tracing the steps by which it is acquired
or improved: secondly, this intellectual quality, even by the best
writers, has been treated too much as an external sense--or it has been
resolved into direct and inflex perceptions, and confounded with so
many accidental feelings, that the inferences have been most perplexing
and cumbrous: and, thirdly, the subject in general has been treated too
metaphysically. Hence, however learned, or even abstractly just, the
investigations may have been, they have exerted slight influence in
establishing practice upon obvious and enlightened theory.
But declining to enter upon the exposure of what may be conceived
former mistakes, we shall proceed briefly to explain our own views.
Following out, then, the tenor of the preceding remarks, we conceive
taste to be nothing more than a certain acuteness, which necessarily
is acquired by, and always accompanies, the frequent exercise of the
powers of understanding in any one given pursuit. It seems to differ
from mere knowledge, in being attended by a love or desire of the
particular exercise. This desire, whether it precedes or follows
acquirement, is easily accounted for, in the one case, as an agreeable
anticipation of advantage to be gained, and in the other as a mental
habitude; or it is frequently cherished from impressions received
at an age too early for notice. The gratification of this desire,
exclusive even of the enjoyment received from the successful exercise
of the mental powers, sufficiently explains the origin of the pleasures
of taste.
This view of taste, as applicable to, and indeed resulting from,
training of the understanding in all dignified pursuits, is agreeable,
as already shown, to common feeling and common language. But in
deference to the same authorities, it is necessary to limit the idea
to a restricted, that is, a proper sense of the word. Hence we have
said that the object of taste is beauty, as perceivable in the works
of nature and art: thus confining its province to literature and the
fine arts, which reflect nature either by direct imitation, or by more
remote association.
In the present volume, the subject is limited, of course, to the
arts of design; but the principles now expounded are conversant with
every varied application of taste: And we have pursued this extent
of illustration throughout the whole powers of the mind, in order to
ground, on the broadest basis, this practical precept, that taste, like
the powers of judgment and understanding, of which, in fact, it is
only a modification, can be improved, or, we venture to say, acquired
in any useful degree, only by patient cultivation, and well-directed
study of the particular subject. The opinion opposite to this has been
productive of the worst effects, both in the practice and patronage
of the arts. It not unfrequently has led artists into irregular, and
even unnatural compositions; but its greatest evils do daily arise
from those, whose previous habits and attainments by no means qualify
them for judges, confidently pronouncing upon works of art, from what
they are pleased to term a natural taste. This, if it means any thing,
must imply an untutored, and therefore, imperfect taste. We would be
understood here, not as advocating a conventional criticism, but as
maintaining, that the higher beauties, and nobler principles of art,
can be appreciated only by those whose taste has been cultivated by
profound study and knowledge of these principles. One class of effects
in an imitative art is, doubtless, to produce sensations which can be
immediately compared with the more obvious effects and appearances of
nature. Of these every one can judge, whether the effect be actually
produced or not. This, however, though a primary, is the lowest object
of the artist. The dignity, too, and comparative value, of these
effects, can be estimated only by a mind generally cultivated; while
the propriety of the means employed, and their agreement with the modes
of art, the higher beauties of execution, the intelligence of style,
the just character of the performance as a work of peculiar talents,
can be sanctioned by canons of judgment familiar only to those who
have made the subject a regular study. In this we require nothing more
for the sculptor and the painter than is demanded, and rightly too, in
favour of the poet and the orator.
From these observations, founded, as they are, on experience, follows
as a corollary the truth of the previous definition, that, in the
fine arts, beauty is always resolvable into some effect or relation
discerned and approved by the understanding. For since it has been
shown that taste is but another name for intellectual cultivation
and knowledge in a given pursuit, the perception of beauty, which
forms the peculiar object of taste, must ultimately be referred to
the understanding. Now, in an imitative art, there can be only one
relation, namely, truth, which thus becomes both the source and the
criterion of beauty. This truth, however, admits of two specific
distinctions; or at least respects two separate objects, as the
production is compared with nature, the archetype imitated; and with
the principles of the art, or peculiar mode of imitation. In the
one case, there is the relation of resemblance; in the other, that
of consistency. These, in their infinitely various combinations and
modified excellences, still recur to one and the same simple law of the
beautiful--veracity.
The general spirit and tendency of these remarks bear directly on
the question regarding a standard of taste. Both parties here, in
pertinaciously adhering to their opinion, are wrong. There is, and
there is not, a standard; meaning, by this term, a permanent rule of
taste beyond which human invention or genius shall never pass. At the
same time, if there be no stable and unerring principles of judgment,
there can be neither merit nor moral dignity, beauty nor truth, in
the works of the most gifted mind. How, then, are facts seemingly so
discordant to be reconciled? We have already adverted to the radical
error in all cases of disregarding, and in some instances of treating
with scorn, the idea of a gradual and laborious acquirement of taste.
This, however, will be found the only idea of the subject truly useful
in a practical view, as well as the sole ground of consistent and
rational theory. Taste is not only progressive, but inductive; it is,
in fact, the result of a series of experiments whose object is beauty.
As in every other species of experimental knowledge, then, the standard
of excellence must vary in different ages according to their lights and
their refinement. In the progress of individual genius this succession
is very remarkable, the objects and nature of its aims changing with,
and indeed indicating, attainment. It is thus clear that taste, whether
nationally or individually considered, must vary in its models, and in
their standards, according to the existing state of knowledge; for,
in departing from received precepts, men are guided by the hope of
reaching higher perfection, or of exhibiting novelty of invention.
If such tentative measures succeed, the general standard is so far
elevated; when they fail, though the advance of real improvement may
be impeded for a season, established modes more firmly recover their
authority. But again, as in every species of experimental science,
those researches, in their practice the most carefully conducted, and
in their inferences the most consistent, are regarded as the canons
of scientific truth; so in the liberal arts, those noble monuments
which, during the longest period, and to the greatest number of
competent judges, have yielded the most satisfaction, are justly
esteemed standards of taste--rules by which other works are to be
tried. Such standards, or final experiments, in the science of taste,
are fortunately possessed in the literary compositions, and in the
remains of the sculpture and architecture of antiquity; as also in the
labours of those moderns who have emulated the teachers of the olden
time. These accredited relics of genius obtain a deserved and venerable
mastery over future aspirings, first, from their own inborn excellence;
secondly, from the effects of that excellence in a continually
increasing influence over association and feeling. Imagination
thus combines with reason in hallowing both the original cause and
the attendant influence into precepts of an immutable authority,
consecrated by the suffrages of the wise and the refined of every later
age. Reason, however, first established, and subsequently demonstrates,
the principles upon which this standard has become unchanged and
unchangable; namely, perfect simplicity in the means, and perfect truth
in the results, through all their varied combinations.
Consideration even of the vicissitudes and revolutions in taste
seems farther to confirm these general views. Opinion, indeed, has
vacillated in the estimation of elegance; but, as in the constantly
returning eccentricities of a planetary body, some secret power
has maintained certain limits to these changes, and round certain
principles, though at times obscured, art has continued to revolve. Now
these checks to barbarous novelty and innovation, have been derived
from the not-altogether-forgotten remembrance of admitted standards,
or from the natural effects upon which these have been founded. The
temporary derelictions of good taste have ever occurred in the most
ignorant ages, and in extent as in duration have corresponded with the
intellectual darkness of the period; the returning light of knowledge
has in this respect also invariably dispelled error, afresh disclosing
the pristine beauty of the ancient models, and recalling the judgment
to the rectitude of those precepts on which they are composed. Even the
tyranny of fashion and the inveteracy of prejudice yield before the
majesty of antique excellence, or produce a passing absurdity adopted
for a day, to be forever forgotten. Surely, then, there must be in
these abiding modes in literature and art, as likewise in that science
of taste which appreciates and determines their canons, a beauty--an
excellence, the offspring and the object of truth and reason--and like
these, ever consistent, immutable, imperishable.
To the doctrines now advocated it furnishes no objection, that mankind
do not agree in the same estimate of beauty, nor even that objects
entirely different in their qualities, are assumed as beautiful. This
fact, indeed, has often and triumphantly been adduced as conclusive
in favour of the sceptical position regarding a standard of taste.
Those writers, again, who support the opposite opinion, seem too
readily to have admitted difficulty in repelling the objection. The
truth is, it can be obviated only on the principle which we have
endeavoured to establish; namely, that taste is the certain result
of intellectual cultivation in the proper province, that it is
consequently commensurate with the degree of intelligence, and always
an object of truth and reason. Now, the diversity so much insisted
upon, is capable not only of being thus easily accounted for, but is to
be expected as the necessary effect of varied extent of knowledge. The
very objection predetermines, that among the rudest people, ideas and
perceptions of something termed beauty are entertained. Does not this
establish the existence of taste coeval with the earliest traces of
information? True, the beauty admired by the African or the Esquimaux
differs from that which awakens the sensibility of the European,--but
so also are their means and capabilities of judging unequal. It is not,
therefore, diversity, but inconsistency of judgment, that in this case
can prove the absence of all fixed principles of decision. Now, we will
venture to affirm, without fear of contradiction, that there is no
inconsistency nor opposition; and that the most polished inhabitant of
Europe, proceeding upon the same premises as the wildest in-dweller of
the desert or savannah, will arrive at exactly the same conclusion. The
sable virgin, for instance, whose charms are acknowledged by the rude
warriors of her tribe, will also, by the refined European, be admitted
among the fairest examples of native beauty. Hence it is evident that
all men acknowledge a standard of taste, founded on similar reasonings
and accordant feelings of the human heart, though the final expression
of this standard, or the degree of refinement whence it is deduced,
will necessarily be modified by moral and physical circumstances, and
by the light enjoyed.
The questions we have now laboured to resolve, are by no means to
be regarded as mere problems in abstract speculation. The subject
is of the highest practical importance, and we have attempted to
reduce it to practical inferences. Nothing has tended more to retard
improvement, than placing genius and taste in opposition to reason
and application. Each of the two former has been invested with some
untangible, undefined excellence, disdaining rule, and superior to the
drudgery of study. In treating of both, authors appear to have aimed
at exalting their theme, by refusing certainty to the operations of
the one, and stability to the principles of the other; treating each
as the empiricism of talent, which it would be as vain to attempt
reducing to precept as to prescribe the eagle's path through heaven.
But how does this accord with fact and with usefulness? Men, the most
eminent for genius, and who have bequeathed to futurity the most
perfect productions, have also been the most remarkable for assiduity.
This industry has been directed as much to the study of principles and
rules as to the creation of new works. We have shown that there are
standards, or rules, of taste, which never can be disregarded save at
the peril of absurdity. If we deny regularity and certainty, or fixed
and rational precepts of criticism to the labours of genius, of what
advantage to succeeding knowledge can these prove? Beyond a passing
pleasure--a barren sentiment, they remain without fruit. Excellence in
the most refined exercises of mind is degraded to a mere knack,--to a
fortunate and inexplicable aptitude. Thus, not the improvement of the
human race only, but the very continuance of acquirement among men,
is rendered uncertain. Yet such are the consequences of every system
which considers taste as different from, and independent of knowledge;
or its precepts as mutable, and not more amenable to judgment than to
imagination. In whatever light, then, the views now briefly proposed be
regarded, whether as respects taste as an object of mental science, or
as the improver of art; whether in its influence upon the understanding
or the heart, they appear to promise the surest, the most practical,
and the most dignified results.
Beauty, as already observed, is the object of taste. The primitive
source, and, in a great measure, the ultimate and only criterion, of
this beauty, is nature. For, in the arts over which taste presides,
natural beauty receives new modifications, and is subjected to new
laws. Yet, in their general tendency and design, poetry, painting,
sculpture, architecture, and even music, all contemplate one end,--to
awaken associated emotion; while each employs the same means of direct
or less obvious imitation of nature.
In each of these arts, however, a distinction exists, both in the
manner and in the extent of instruction. They differ also in the
closeness with which the respective imitations reflect their natural
archetypes. But in this they correspond, that in none is mere imitation
the final, or most exalted, object of the artist. In the fidelity
of representation, and in the facility with which the originals in
nature may be traced, Sculpture and Painting are superior to all the
other imitative arts. Between the vivid creations of these, and the
more varied, more imaginative, but less defined, efforts of poetry,
the middle rank is occupied by Architecture, whose mighty masses and
harmonious proportions fill the mind with awe or delight, as they
recall the majesty or grace of the material world.
Architecture thus stands alone, in its own principles, and, it may be,
in its own pre-eminence. These principles are at once more profound,
or at least more abstract, and yet more determinate, than those of
either of the sister arts. Indeed, so remarkable is this fact, and
so nearly do the limits and the constituents of beauty verge here on
demonstrative science, that we may hereafter point out their connexion
with some of the preceding doctrines of taste. In the meantime, it
may be sufficient merely to mention, that though architecture, as
a necessary knowledge, must have been practised from the earliest
formation of society; and though it furnishes their principal field
to the other arts; yet it was later in arriving at perfection than
Sculpture, which, besides, affords a more continuous series of
monuments, and supplies the best materials for the philosophy of the
subject; and in other respects, the arrangement now selected seems to
promise the most clear elucidation of the history of art.
THE FINE ARTS.
SCULPTURE.
CHAPTER I.
THE representation of external forms by their tangible properties, in
actual or proportional magnitude, seems the most obvious, as it is the
simplest, mode of imitation. Sculpture, therefore, of all the imitative
arts, probably first exercised the ingenuity of mankind. Even now, we
remark that the rude carvings on the spear-shaft or canoe of the savage
warrior surpass other exhibitions of his skill, and might more readily
be exalted into tasteful decorations. Hence, in tracing the history of
an art which thus appears almost coeval with the earliest formation of
society, the chronology of those ancient empires in which it chiefly
flourished, will supply an arrangement best adapted to the explanation
of the subject.
Regarding the origin of sculptural design, indeed, much has been
written, and many theories proposed, each asserting, for some favorite
people, the praise of invention. All the kindred arts, however, with
which taste and feeling are conversant, have their birth and subsequent
improvement, in the same universal principles of the human mind.
Principles which mysteriously, yet powerfully, and doubtless for the
accomplishment of the wisest ends, connect man with that nature amidst
whose haunts he is destined to dwell--which awaken his untutored
enthusiasm to her beauties, and unite his individual sympathies, as his
social remembrances, with her hallowed associations. It is thus that
human action and human suffering find their earliest records in the
scenes where the events were transacted. The conflict long continues to
revive on its heath; the memory of the chief appropriates the lone vale
where he sleeps; woods, mountains, streams, become the representatives
of supernatural beings--beneficent or vindictive--as sensations of
beauty or of awe are called forth in the mortal breast. The succeeding
step is easy to the erection of less durable but more particular
memorials. Piety--true in sentiment, false in means--patriotism,
friendship, gratitude, admiration, leave the successive impress of
their influence, according to the accessions of intelligence, on
the 'grey stone'--the rude column--the dressed altar--the visible
shape--the perfect statue. How beautiful, then, yet how true, the
allegory of Grecian poetry, which feigns that love, or the natural
affections, taught man the arts of genius!
The gradations, also, from uninformed art to some degree of refined
invention, will present, even among distant nations, little of
diversified character. In the infancy of society, men in all countries
closely resemble each other, in their feelings, in their wants, in
their means of gratification, and improvement. Hence, in the fine arts,
which at first among every people minister, with similar resources,
to the same natural desires, or mental affections, resemblance of
style ought not to be assumed as evidence of continuous imitation
from a common origin. Early Egyptian and Grecian statues exhibit
almost identical lineaments, and even corresponding attitude; simply,
because each had to surmount the same difficulties with nearly equal
information.
The tendency of these remarks, especially applicable to sculpture,
sufficiently proves that no reliance is to be placed on any theories
of its exclusive discovery. Such opinions, however profound they may
appear, are in reality the substitution of a partial view of facts,
when a general law of our nature is within reach. In treating of the
ancient history of sculpture, then, the legitimate objects of inquiry
are, its progress, character, and degree of perfection among the
different nations of antiquity. But though no claims of any single
nation to have imparted the skill to others can be conceded, a very
wide disparity of merit is observable, both in the final excellence
attained by one people, as respects the relative acquirements of
another; and likewise points of equal advance being assumed, the
times past in realising this similar improvement are found to be very
unequal. These facts, here most easily distinguishable, are pregnant
with importance, and invest the history of this art with much of
dignity and solemn interest, exhibiting the striking connexion between
the intellectual and the political and moral condition of man. The
diversity, in truth, is the visible impress which legislation has
stamped upon human genius.
Egypt has been styled the cradle of the arts; and, waiving the
examination of all disputes as to priority, we prefer commencing with
the history of Egyptian sculpture, since its authentic monuments carry
us up to a very early date,--are numerous,--and especially, because
they tend to unite the scattered lights which doubtful tradition flings
over the less perfect remains of Asiatic ingenuity. In pursuing this
investigation, we shall observe the following arrangement of the
subject.
Era of original, or native Sculpture.
Era of mixed, or Greco-Egyptian Sculpture.
Era of imitative Sculpture, improperly denominated
Egyptian.
The first or true age of Sculpture in Egypt, ascends from the invasion
of Cambyses to unknown antiquity. During this period only were
primitive institutions in full vigour and integrity, and public works,
reflecting national taste, conducted by national talent. The two
remaining eras, extending downwards through the successive dominion
of the Greeks and Romans, have been added, in order to embrace the
consideration of topics, which, though remotely connected therewith,
have hitherto been regarded as integral parts of the subject. In
examining the principles and character of this aboriginal school, there
are still left two sources of judging, with sufficient accuracy, the
merits of its production,--vestiges of ancient grandeur yet existing
on their native site--and the numerous specimens in European cabinets.
These remains may be classed under the three following divisions.
Colossal statues.
Groups or single figures about the natural size.
Hieroglyphical and historical relievos.
In the formation of these various labours, four kinds of materials
are employed: one soft, a species of sandstone; and three very hard,
a calcareous rock, out of which the tombs, with their sculptures, are
hewn; basalt or trap, of various shades, from black to dark grey, the
constituent generally of the smaller statues; granite, more commonly
of the description named by mineralogists _granites rubescens_,
of a warm reddish hue, with large crystals of feld-spar; or it is
sometimes, though rarely, of a dark red ground, with black specks,
as in the magnificent head, mis-named of Memnon, now in the British
Museum. Colossal figures are uniformly of granite, in which also is
a large portion of the relievos. Besides these, from the account of
Herodotus, as also from the statues of wood actually discovered by
modern travellers, we learn that even in great works, the Egyptian
sculptors were accustomed to exercise their skill on that less stubborn
material. Metal appears to have been sparingly used; at least, only
very small figures have yet been found of a composition similar to the
bronze of later times. Yet the book of Job especially, and other parts
of Scripture, would induce the conclusion, that even colossal figures
were, from an early period, cast of metal. In the tombs, as those near
Thebes, small images of porcelain and terra cotta are likewise frequent.
I. The number of colossal statues in ancient Egypt, as described by
the writers of Greece, would appear incredible, especially when we
consider the magnitude of some, and the materials of all, if these
early descriptions were not, at the present day, authenticated by
countless remains. Yet, than a statue of granite sixty or seventy feet
high, there is not, perhaps, one instance more striking, of disregard
of time, and patience of toil. Of these mighty labours, some are hewn
from the living rock, and left adhering to the natural bed; as the
celebrated Sphynx, near the pyramids of Ghizeh, and various sculptures
on the rocks of the Thebaid, which look the shadows of giants cast
by a declining sun. Others again, as in some of the figures in the
Memnonium, appear to have been built; most probably reared first of
square blocks, and afterwards fashioned into shape. The greater part,
however, are composed of one block, raised in the granite quarries of
Upper Egypt, and transported to their destined situation by the waters
of the Nile. Of these works, Herodotus, to whose veracity almost every
new discovery in these countries adds fresh credibility, saw and has
described many, some of which can be identified at the present day,
and others, a labour of not many hours promises to bring to light.
The dimensions of those actually enumerated, extend from twelve to
seventy cubits in height. Some are figures of men; others of animals,
chiefly of the Sphynx. These latter appear to have been in considerable
numbers, usually ranged in corresponding lines on the opposite side of
the approach to the great temples. Of the human colossi, again, some
were isolated, and were probably objects of worship; others were merely
ornaments, chiefly employed as columns, as in the famous Propylæon of
the Temple of Vulcan, ascribed to Psammetichus, and erected at Memphis.
Of the unattached figures, the attitude appears to have exhibited but
little action; the posture apparently various, though seldom erect.
One is described as recumbent, seventy cubits long, accompanied by two
smaller, standing one at each extremity. The largest statues now known,
namely, two in the Memnonium at Thebes, are both in a sitting posture.
All these works, even the columnar statues, seem to have been connected
with religious rites or symbols. This, together with imperfect
science, accounts for the striking similarity discoverable in a class,
the individuals of which are thus varied, at least in purpose and
magnitude. Another peculiarity is, that in Egyptian sculpture, whenever
the dimensions are much beyond nature, the head is always larger than
even colossal proportions would require. It would be unreasonable to
ascribe to ignorance a practice thus universal; it is to be attributed
rather to mistaken principle, in order to render the features more
conspicuous, when removed to a distance from the eye. Where similar
character and design thus pervade the whole class, minuteness of
individual description is unnecessary; we may, however, merely refer,
as examples best known, to the two Theban colossi already noticed,
one of which, from inscriptions still legible, would appear to be the
famous sounding statue of Memnon. In each of these figures, exclusive
of the lower plinth of the throne, the altitude is fifty feet, the
material red granite, and the positions alike--namely, seated, the
head looking straight in front, arms close pressed to the sides, palms
and forearm extended and resting upon the thighs, lower extremities
perpendicular and apart. This posture, which may be described as
characteristic of the entire class, is little calculated to convey any
sentiment of ease or grace. Yet in these vast, although comparatively
uninformed labours, we discover more of the sublime than arises from
mere vastness, or even from the recollections of distant time with
which their memory is associated. They are invested with a majestic
repose--with a grand and solemn tranquillity, which awes without
astonishing; and while they exhibit the greatest perfection to which
Egyptian art has attained, in colossal statues generally, we discover
occasional approaches to truth and nature, with no inconsiderable
feeling of the sweet, the unaffected, and the flowing in expression and
contour.
II. To the second class belong both the earliest and the latest works
of the Egyptian chisel; yet between the worst and the best, is not to
be perceived a diversity of merit corresponding to the lapse of time--a
certain proof, that the principles of the art were fixed at an early
period of its progress, and on grounds independent of its precepts.
The first essays in sculpture in Egypt, seem to have been made upon
the living rock, in the process of excavating artificial or enlarging
natural caverns for the purposes of habitation or devotion, and at
every period in Eastern history of sepulture. Statues thus formed,
would, from the mode of their formation, not much exceed the natural
size; and being afterwards detached when finished, were transferred
to other situations. In imitation of these, statues were subsequently
hewn, in what became the ordinary manner, from detached blocks. It is
not here implied, that these two methods can be distinctly traced in
their separate applications, nor that the one was superseded by the
other; but simply, that the state of knowledge, and the habits of the
people, render very probable the priority of the former. Hence appears
an explanation of a singular fact in the history of the art, which
has been the subject of much discussion. In every specimen, without
exception, which can be ranked as Egyptian, a pilaster runs up the back
of the figure, in whatever attitude it may be represented. The origin
of a practice not natural, in an art professing to imitate nature, must
be sought in some external circumstance of its early history. Now,
such circumstance seems plainly discernible in works still remaining,
in the excavations of Philoe, Elephantis, Silsilis, and at El Malook,
in the tombs of the Theban kings. In these monuments, which are often
suites of magnificent chambers hewn from the hard and white calcareous
rock, numerous and beautiful remains of sculpture are preserved. These
ornaments vary from simple relievos to complete statues. In the latter,
the figure is never entirely detached, when placed on the surface of
the wall, a posterior portion being always left adhering; while, if
formed by cutting round to a recess, a pilaster behind runs up the
whole height, evidently with the original view of increasing strength
or of saving labour, or from certain religious notions. Subsequently,
in detached statues wrought out of blocks from the same, or in part
the same motives, and also in order to obtain a surface for the
inscription of hieroglyphics, the aboriginal pillar was retained.
Generally speaking, the workmanship here is inferior to the details
of the colossal figures, although some of the finest specimens belong
to this second division. The varieties, however, cannot be referred
to any regular gradations of improvement, nor determinate epochas of
style, as sometimes attempted. They are the result solely of individual
skill in the artists, and of the views, opulence, or purposes of their
employers. This difference, also, extends only to the minor details of
execution; in the more intellectual principles of art, all are nearly
on an equality. Even the design and attitudes are wonderfully limited,
the sameness being more uniform than could have been produced, except
by the operation of prescriptive rules and fixed models of imitation.
In many of the ancient Egyptian buildings, the whole of the exterior
is frequently covered with relievos. This profusion, for the purpose,
too, of mere decoration, together with the indefinite nature of
hieroglyphical delineation, operated strongly against improvement in
this particular province. Indeed, the prejudicial effects arising
from an embellishment, in which extent more than intrinsic beauty
was regarded, and where arbitrary forms, or mere indications of
known objects, precluded all natural imitation, and all delicacy of
expression, infected the whole of the art. The general inferiority
in works of this third class, is, however, to be understood with
due limitation. In relievos, consisting of few figures, sepulchral
ones for instance, which in the same piece rarely contain more than
three, are often displayed no mean beauties both of execution and of
character. In historical relievos, again, which occupy entire walls
of the temples, crowded as they are with figures in various actions,
processions, battles, sieges, and represented by artists who apparently
possessed no principles of design, save a knowledge of simple form
in its most restricted movements, all is feebleness, puerility, and
confusion. Or if beauty occasionally break forth, it is in some
single reposing figure, or in the patient details of execution. In
the drawing and anatomy, singular ignorance is manifested; the limbs
are without joints, and the movements exhibit neither balance nor
spring; proportion and perspective seem to have been utterly unknown.
Military engines, buildings, horses, soldiers, all appear of the
same dimensions, and all equally near the eye. The hero in all these
monuments bears a strong individual resemblance; he is represented ever
victorious, in the bloom of youth, and in his figure are sometimes
displayed both grandeur and beauty of conception, when considered
apart. But these separate excellences are completely obscured by the
absurdity of representing him at least double the stature of his
followers or opponents. The circumstance of thus confounding moral
greatness with physical magnitude, were alone sufficient to mark the
infancy of invention, and the barbarism of taste. It is nevertheless
only justice to mention, that occasionally, in the historical relievos,
we observe rudiments of higher art, with less of convention, and more
of freedom of imagination, than in any other Egyptian sculptures.
The praises bestowed upon the hieroglyphics of Egypt by Winkleman and
others, must be restricted to the mere workmanship; and even then, are
exaggerated or misplaced. Considered as works of art, if indeed they
can be elevated to that rank, they will be found entirely destitute of
accurate discrimination of form, and are more properly conventional
representations, dependent upon modes and principles at once limited
and arbitrary. These labours, the probable records of primitive
history, and of earliest superstition, are of different kinds. The
first in use, though not afterwards superseded, were anaglyphics, in
which objects are represented by a simple outline, often traced to the
depth of several inches. An obvious improvement upon this was to round
the angles, and to relieve the figures upon themselves; a mode which
very generally obtains. To this manner much ingenuity and forethought
has inconsiderately been ascribed, as if adopted against the attacks
of time, and to cast a deeper shadow on the symbols. It is, on the
contrary, to be judged merely as the resource of an imperfect art.
A third, but comparatively rare method, was to elevate the contour,
by reducing the surface both within and without. The last and most
laborious plan, was to remove the ground entirely, leaving the figures
in proper relief. This, the true relievo, was unknown to or unpractised
in the ancient arts of Egypt. Even the historical and monumental
sculptures just described, partake more of the anaglyphical than of
the elevated relievo. Indeed every specimen of this latter is to be
assigned to a later period than the first and genuine age. By attending
to this, and to the costume of the figures in the most ancient works,
data of importance might be discovered, throwing valuable light on the
eras of Egypt's mysterious monuments.
The expression, mixed art, selected to discriminate the second epoch,
has been adopted, to mark the successive changes in the ancient modes
induced by the Persians and the Greeks. The influence exerted upon
art by the dominion of the former, amounted merely to a negative,--to
the prohibition of its exercise; which, with the destruction of many
of its best monuments, produced a deterioration in the few and feeble
attempts during the latter years of that dynasty. Mythraism, in which
elemental fire was the symbol of the Deity, proscribed the imitative
arts in that service, whence, in all other countries, they have
sprung. The Persians, says the father of history, have neither temples
nor statues. Or, if architecture was encouraged by these conquerors,
evidence still remains that their erections were but modifications of
materials torn from the mighty structures of past ages. In little more
than a century and a half, the Persian was subverted by the Macedonian
empire. Yet even in Alexander, the ancient and native arts of Egypt
obtained not a patron. The majestic range of temples, palaces, and
cities, which bordered the sacred stream of the Nile, furnished so
many quarries, of tempting access, whence Alexandria was reared; and
the mightiest, as well as most rational trophy of Grecian superiority,
received its grandest and most enduring monuments from the stupendous
labours of the first age. His successors followed the example; and
although, under them, the polished literature of Greece, united with
her own subtile philosophy, constituted Alexandria the Athens of the
East, yet in sculpture, in architecture, and in religion, to which both
were subordinate, the character remained essentially Egyptian, but with
certain deviations and additions.
The Roman dominion finally introduced new modifications, or rather
mutations, of the ancient art. This epoch may be considered as
commencing with the introduction of the Isiac mysteries at Rome;
although the principal features by which, as a division in the history
of art, it is distinguished, are not decidedly marked prior to the
reign of Hadrian. The works of the third, or imitative era, have, in
strict propriety, no real connexion with Egyptian sculpture, farther
than as it multiplied copies of the ancient forms, with occasional
accessions of elegance. During a residence of two years in the East,
and by the deification there of his favorite Antinous, Hadrian imbibed
a fondness for the arts, and particularly for the statuary of Egypt.
But the works which he commanded were in all respects Roman, or rather
Grecian, under Egyptian modes. They were indeed most scrupulously
modelled after the most ancient and authentic specimens; even the
materials were brought from the native quarries, but the sculptors were
Greeks or Italians; and the Grecian character of design is visible in
every remaining specimen, the merits of which require notice. Nothing,
therefore, can be more futile, than from the works of this age to infer
the merits or principles of native and ancient art. So far, indeed,
does our scepticism here extend, that we doubt if a single statue of
genuine and ancient Egyptian workmanship is to be found among the
numbers that have been discovered in Italy, and with which Hadrian
filled that portion of the empire.
The general conclusion, then, from these remarks, is, that there is
but one period of real Egyptian sculpture, and that the genius and
character of this indigenous and aboriginal art is to be discovered
only in the most ancient monuments, having suffered various changes
under the Greeks and under the Romans. In establishing this inference,
we have not been guided by the often fanciful, always deceitful,
analogies discoverable in the fluctuating style and varying productions
of imitation, but have viewed these as directed by the steady operation
of the laws and institutions of society, which govern the spirit
and tendency of the arts themselves. During an interval of nearly
twenty centuries previous to the era of Alexander, though diligently
cultivated, sculpture had hardly attained any of the nobler qualities
of invention. The system of taste and of government was in fact
hostile to improvement in this art beyond a certain limit, or upon
any principles, save those fixed on the very threshold of knowledge.
The national polity, which will ever be found to guide the national
taste, induced a preference of the immense and the durable; hence the
grandeur of Egyptian architecture: but in statuary, such a character of
design necessarily produced figures rigid and motionless. The essential
elements of the grand and the beautiful--breadth and simplicity,
are indeed present, but the effect is rarely elicited. The simple
is seldom inspired by any feeling of the true, the natural, or the
graceful; breadth, unrelieved by symmetry of parts, or expression of
details, degenerates into inert magnitude. The colossal forms are the
records only of power, of patience, and of labour; not the creations
of intelligence and of genius. Sculpture also suffered from peculiar
obstacles to its progress. Exclusively attached to the service of
religion, its representations were confined to divinities, priests,
and kings; personages whose modes and lineaments were unalterably
fixed--fixed, too, from types, frequently of the most hideous
description, at least ill managed, and little adapted to the objects
or spirit of the art. This religion likewise admitted no images of
human virtue or sympathy to mingle with its cold obstructions; thus
denying to the Egyptian arts a source, which, to those of Greece,
proved one of the richest and sweetest veins of ideal composition. The
artist, therefore, even had he been allowed to depart from established
but imperfect models, possessed no ennobling source whence to create
new models of beauty or of grandeur. Imagination wanted materials,
which neither the prescribed subject nor living nature, under these
restrictions, could supply. Again, sculpture not only laboured under
the general disadvantage of hereditary and unchanging professions;
a national regulation which repressed every fortunate predilection
of genius, but as a security against the possibility of innovation,
slaves, educated under the immediate care of the priests, were
entrusted with the execution of the most sacred, and, consequently,
most important monuments.
In Egyptian sculpture, thus properly understood, little will be
discovered of that excellence which has been attributed to its remains.
Still there are to be found some first principles of true science; and
these are occasionally developed with considerable beauty of detail;
always with patient, but inefficient technicality. It is by no means
apparent, however, that by the masters of these early ages any theory
was observed; certainly the occasional refinement seems rather the
result of accident or of individual superiority, than of systematic
perceptions, or of transmitted precept. Their best statues have an
elevation of seven hands and a half, being divided equally, the torso
and limbs having the same length. These proportions are pleasing,
and borrowed directly from nature; but they show nothing of that
characteristic beauty of physical art, which, in the varied harmony
of parts, indicates the capabilities of form. A similar principle
regulates the details, which, though brought out with considerable
propriety and softness, are yet without precision or anatomical
knowledge, especially of internal structure,--the heads of the bones,
the insertions and terminations of the muscles, never being correctly
indicated. Hence the forms appear coarse and inelegant, the limbs heavy
and inert, because without vigorous marking on the joints, where the
deeper depressions only and the strongest projections are aimed at,
not feelingly touched. The attitude, also, is constantly rectilinear,
denoting that condition of the art when poverty of source limits its
reach of the beautiful by the difficulties of execution. It is, in
fact, the first choice of invention rendered permanent by prescriptive
institutions. From the curve being thus unknown in the contour, the
action is necessarily angular in its direction, unless the movement
be parallel to the gravitating line of the figure. Hence the range of
action and of attitude is very circumscribed; the arms either hanging
close by the sides or crossed at right angles on the breast; or, as a
slight variation, one is placed in each posture. Lateral movements in
like manner are limited, the statue standing equally poised on both
limbs, the feet not exactly opposite, one being in advance, often
almost in front of the other. Whether erect, sitting, or kneeling, the
action is the same: hence, little of grace or animation of movement
is to be found even in the most perfect works; yet there is often to
be remarked a grave and staid serenity, neither unpleasing nor devoid
of interest. As in the selection of attitude, however, the artist
has been guided, not by the beautiful, but by his own timidity and
confined resources; so in expression, little beyond a vague and general
emotion has been attempted; seldom more, indeed, than might be produced
by the symmetrical arrangement of the features. These are flat, the
countenance being Ethiopian, and are just sufficiently distinguished
for the effect of separation; the depth of shadow is wanting to give
contrast and firmness. The eyes, whether long and narrow, the peculiar
characteristic of the earliest era, or more full and open, as in the
Greco-Egyptian period, are nearly on the general level of the face; the
nose is broad and depressed, the lips thick, and always sharp on the
outer edge, though often touched with great softness and delicacy; the
cheeks, chin, and ears, are large, ill made out, and without feeling.
Hence, although the heads are often finished with wonderful labour, the
effect is always feeble, while the whole is uniformly surmounted by
harsh and disproportionate masses of drapery, overpowering the already
too weak expression. The superior beauty of some of the colossal busts
may perhaps be rightly attributed to their having been executed as
portraits. Conventional art, even in the most skilful hands, is rarely
pleasing; nature, even rudely imitated, is ever viewed with a degree of
pleasure.
On the methods employed to work materials so unyielding as those of the
Egyptian sculptors, it is difficult to propose any decided opinion.
On their porphyry, granite, and basalt, modern tools can hardly make
impression; yet are the forms, in all instances, highly finished, with
angles sharp and unbroken. The latter circumstance, indeed, constitutes
a peculiar feature in the works of this country as distinguished from
Oriental art generally, which, together with breadth and simplicity,
brings them nearest the productions of the Grecian chisel. From the
style of execution, however, it would appear that the effect has been
brought out rather by patience and labour, than by rapid or dexterous
management. In fact, the general character has been influenced not a
little by the materials; for in the statues of wood, both as described
and discovered, the action is bolder, and the manner more free. If a
conjecture may be hazarded on the subject of their theory, it would
seem that the Egyptians, in the infancy of their arts, were guided
by an outline traced round a human figure, dead or alive, extended
upon the block, face upwards, with the arms close by the sides, and
the limbs placed together exactly as their statues are composed. The
scattered details given in the Greek writers respecting the arts of
this ancient people, have indeed induced the belief, that they were
acquainted with much more refined canons of symmetry; but it ought to
have been observed, that Diodorus and others describe the practices
existing in their own times, when Egypt had, to a certain extent,
become the pupil of Greece. In some respects, also, it is difficult
to give implicit credit to their accounts, at least in the common
interpretation. It is farther particularly to be observed, that the
supposition now made will account for the correctness of the general
proportions which would thus be obtained from nature; likewise no
theory of proportional parts can be detected different from the results
thus obtainable, while those details which a refined theory would
preserve, but which could not by such method be measured, are defective.
We have been thus minute and critical in these investigations for
two reasons: from Egypt certainly descended the first principles of
improvement to Western art, while no less evidently did the Eastern
world derive its entire knowledge from the same source. Consequently,
in carefully examining that of the Egyptians, the best account,
deduced too from monuments actually observed, has been given of
Oriental Sculpture generally. Of the mighty empires, indeed, which
once embraced the happiest regions of Asia and of the globe, a name,
or at most a shapeless mass of ruins, alone remain. Of Jewish art,
the sole memorials in existence are the sculptured transcripts on
the arch of Titus. But every description in the sacred records,
from the calf of the wilderness to the twelve oxen of the molten
sea, or the lions of the throne of Solomon, evinces the taste of
the former bondsmen of Pharaoh, and of him who was skilled in all
the learning of the Egyptians; at the same time we learn that the
Israelites quickly departed from the severe and simple grandeur of
the parent source. Moving eastward: Baalbec's gigantic masonry is
adorned with little of sculpture; the lonely Palmyra exhibits only
Roman ruins, for the Tadmor of Scripture has long disappeared; the
pillared Persepolis claims a remoter antiquity; but the Pelhavi and
arrowheaded inscriptions, instead of hieroglyphics, show comparatively
recent, and the innumerable and beautiful sculptures, display certain
traits of the Grecian school. They cannot be older than Cyrus, but
most probably belong to the age of his successors. The mysterious
monuments of Hindustan alone seem to claim an equal or more ancient
date compared with the labours we have surveyed. Their nature, also,
is the same; hence there are not wanting names of highest eminence,
who have maintained not only the greater antiquity of Indian art, but
that thence has been derived all other, as from the parent source. This
opinion has been grounded too exclusively on the dubious inferences of
philology, or of mere antiquarian erudition,--dubious, at least, when
applied to Sculpture. Here the subject itself ought to supply the true
principles of decision; and on this point one observation will suffice.
The sculpture, like the architecture, of Egypt, bears the impress of
uniform simplicity; the grand lines of composition are few, accessories
are sparingly introduced, and wear the same sober, massive, and
unpretending character. In the works of Asiatic art, on the contrary,
although presenting a general resemblance to those of Egypt, the design
is neither simple nor uniform; the parts are numerous, breaking the
master lines into multiplied compartments, while the style of ornament
is replete with complicated details, and of pretension above the means
of the artist. Now, judging according to the natural inferences from
these facts, and according to the acknowledged precepts of imitative
art, this latter style, with its defects in keeping, has evidently
arisen in consequence of superinducing a laboured and injudiciously
aspiring taste upon the more severe and simple conceptions of a
primitive composition. Similar principles may be obviously traced in
the farther progress of the arts eastward. China is admitted, on the
most learned authorities, to have been planted by colonists from the
banks of the Indus and the Ganges; and in the unchanging modes of that
country, we seem almost to catch glimpses of the aboriginal knowledge
of our race. Yet how striking the difference between the ornate and
the frittered labours of the Chinese compared with the works either of
India or of Egypt! Even their great wall is but the accumulation of
petty exertions--an evidence of numerical, not of scientific energy.