LECTURES ON PAINTING
DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL
ACADEMY
BY
EDWARD ARMITAGE, R.A.
NEW YORK
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
27 & 29 WEST 23D STREET
1883
_Press of
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
New York_
PREFACE.
These Lectures are a selection from those delivered by me to the
students of the Royal Academy during the term of my professorship,--that
is, between the years 1876 and 1882.
I have limited the selection to twelve, partly to keep the book of a
modest size, and partly because many of the omitted lectures (and
especially those which treat of the great masters of the fifteenth,
sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries) would hardly be comprehensible
without the numerous engravings with which they were illustrated at the
time of delivery.
I ought, perhaps, to apologize for the roughness of my explanatory
diagrams, but as they only aspire to represent the rude sketches done
with white chalk during the actual delivery of the lectures, let us hope
they will be leniently dealt with.
It is a common practice with writers who are not yet hardened offenders,
to seek some excuse for rushing into print, and the excuse usually
offered is the “urgent entreaty of valued friends.” I certainly cannot
avail myself of this customary but I fear often uncandid plea.
My only reason for publishing must be looked for in the large and very
attentive audiences I have always had. This evident appreciation of my
teaching by the Royal Academy students, has led me to think that some of
these lectures might be interesting and instructive to other students
outside the Academy, and possibly even to those who do not intend to
follow art as a profession, but who would be glad to have a little
daylight thrown on a subject which, though much written and lectured
about of late years, does not seem to have been often treated in a
simple, practical manner.
At the same time I am fully aware that the practical part of drawing can
only be learned by real work; and I am also inclined to believe that a
knowledge of the old masters and their various schools is better
acquired by frequent visits to galleries where their works can be seen,
than by second-hand description from a lecture.
In my opinion, the special duties of a professor and lecturer on Art
ought to be, first, the general pilotage of the schools through the
quicksands and mud-banks with which the deep-water channel leading to
excellence is beset on every side; and, secondly, the alimentation of
that subtle flame without which the architect degenerates into a
builder, the sculptor into a statuary, and the painter into a
handicraftsman.
E. A.
_February, 1883._
CONTENTS.
LECTURE PAGE
I. ANCIENT COSTUMES 1
II. BYZANTINE AND ROMANESQUE ART 37
III. ON THE PAINTERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 67
IV. “DAVID” AND HIS SCHOOL 91
V. ON THE MODERN SCHOOLS OF EUROPE 119
VI. ON DRAWING 151
VII. COLOR 182
VIII. ON DECORATIVE PAINTING 207
IX. ON FINISH 233
X. ON THE CHOICE OF A SUBJECT 260
XI. ON THE COMPOSITION OF DECORATIVE AND HISTORICAL PICTURES 284
XII. COMPOSITION OF INCIDENT PICTURES 310
Lectures on Painting.
LECTURE I.
ANCIENT COSTUMES.
I do not purpose in this lecture to enter much into detail. Such a
course would indeed be impossible, without having a large collection of
costumes at hand to explain and illustrate my meaning as I go on. I may
attempt something of this kind in a future year, but my object to-night
is to make a few general observations on the dress of the ancients.
I will begin with the ancient Jews, from Noah downward. We have no
pictorial record of the dress of the patriarchs; we have therefore no
fixed data to guide us. We may, however, safely assume that a
straight-cut under-garment was commonly worn; that a long, ample drapery
or cloak was thrown over the shoulders; and that the head was protected
from the sun by a cloth, or possibly by some kind of skull-cap. Turbans
are essentially Mahometan, and the painters of the Flemish and Dutch
schools were certainly wrong in representing Abraham with a turban.
The costume I have suggested as appropriate to the patriarchal age is
identical with the dress of the modern Arabs, and there is no doubt
that, if not identical, it really was very similar. I think, however,
that in painting Biblical subjects we ought to be careful not to carry
the similitude too far. I see no objection to clothing Ishmael or any of
the tribes of the desert like modern Arabs; but the Jews, even in the
time of Abraham, were a peculiar people, and we may very well suppose
that they would modify their dress in such a manner as would distinguish
them from the wandering and predatory tribes.
Besides, there is always a danger, in dressing Abraham or Jacob like an
Arab chieftain, of importing into your picture that familiarity which
breeds contempt. It has often been done in modern times, but I cannot
say I approve of this easy way of solving the difficulty.
I should put the cloak on differently to what the Arabs do. I should
avoid the camel’s-hair cord which encircles the head, and thus, whilst
preserving the simplicity of that early period, my patriarchs would not
be mistaken for modern Arabs.
The women of remote Jewish antiquity, the Sarahs, the Rebeccas, etc.,
should be clothed in similar simple garments. Whatever may be said in
favor of dressing the men like Arabs, it would never do to introduce the
female Arab fashions into Biblical pictures. Their dress is peculiarly
Mahometan.
The women of the patriarchal age wore long straight-cut robes, longer
than those of the men, gathered round the waist by means of a cord or
narrow sash. They would have a cloth on their heads, falling a long way
down the back; and the young women would probably have their arms bare.
[Illustration]
The ancient Jews certainly wore sandals (or shoes, as they are
translated in our version of the Bible). These sandals were worn
out-of-doors only, and consisted most likely of a rude leather sole,
fastened to the foot and ankle by means of ligatures made of skin.
I will now pass on to the costumes of Assyria and ancient Egypt.
If we were to take literally the sculptured bas-reliefs of Nineveh, and
the numerous wall-paintings of Egypt, we should come to the conclusion
that the dress of those ancient peoples was of a very stiff, formal
character. Such, however, was probably not the case. The stiffness and
formality noticeable in these works is due rather to the want of skill
in the sculptors than to the fashions of the period. In the Nineveh
sculptures we notice everywhere the hair and beards of the kings
arranged in symmetrical curls, which would lead one to suppose that
these monarchs must not only have had beards of a very peculiar nature,
but must have spent a great deal of time under the hands of the barber.
On further examination, however, we find that the manes of the lions are
treated in the same way, and hence we conclude that these regular,
basaltic-looking curls were merely the artist’s conventional way of
representing crisp or knotted hair. The heavy fringes of the foldless
dresses must be interpreted in the same way. We learn from them that
Assyrian kings, priests, and high officials _did_ wear fringes to their
dresses, but it does not follow that these fringes were like those of a
drop-curtain, or that the dresses were tight and uncomfortable.
The peculiar-shaped hat is probably very much like what really _was_
worn. Something of the sort is still to be found in Persia and on the
Indian frontiers.
In treating of ancient Egyptian costume we must, in the same way as with
Assyrian, make a liberal allowance for the imperfections and mannerisms
of the art of the period. There is no doubt that the square shoulders
and narrow hips of the Egyptian figures were not pure inventions of the
artists. The peculiarity has often been noticed in ancient mummies and
skeletons. The artists doubtless exaggerated and embellished what was
possibly thought a beauty, just as we see more modern artists
exaggerating the human form in another direction.
The heavy fringes and tassels of the Assyrians seem to have been unknown
in Egypt. The male costume is generally very simple and even scanty. A
cloth, about two feet wide, wound single round the waist so as to allow
the hips and thighs to be covered, with the end brought from behind
between the legs, and tucked in to the waist, is in most cases the only
covering. Besides this garment, there is often a close-fitting kind of
bodice with straps or braces over the shoulders. Of shirts and tunics
there are a few examples cut in the Greek fashion, but these probably
belong to a much later period than the time of the Pharaohs.
We must not, however, argue that because we have no satisfactory
representation of these under-garments that therefore they did not
exist. We read in Genesis, that Pharaoh arrayed Joseph in vestures of
fine linen, and there is abundant evidence elsewhere that the rich
Egyptians wore not only fine linen under-clothing, but rich mantles
also.
The women in the ancient Egyptian paintings are represented in an
impossibly tight dress descending to the ankles, but as no female could
either walk or sit down in such a garment, we must suppose that the
painters of the period did not know how to represent folds and therefore
adopted this short and easy way of indicating clothing. This is
evidently a case where it would be absurd to follow literally the old
authorities. According to Herodotus, this robe was the only garment of
the ancient Egyptian women, but there are indications on many of the
bas-reliefs that some kind of thin tunic or under-garment was also
worn.
Most of the women in the ancient paintings, however, have no clothing
above the waist; but the neck and shoulders are adorned with a number of
necklaces, and we notice over the shoulders the same kind of bands I
have already mentioned in speaking of the men’s dress.
Of course, if you have a Cleopatra to paint, you may allow yourselves a
great departure from the scantiness of the ancient wardrobe.
The Roman fashions were in Cleopatra’s time grafted on the Egyptian, and
there are plenty of sculptures of the time of Adrian representing
Egyptian priestesses, sacrifices, and processions, which give ample
materials for dressing Cleopatra and her attendants, both male and
female.
The most singular and striking feature in the costume of the ancient
Egyptians is the head-gear. This takes the most fantastic and
extraordinary shapes. Many of these queer head-coverings are royal
crowns. Thus, _a_ was the crown of Lower Egypt, and was of a red color;
_b_, of Upper Egypt, and white; _c_, the crown of the two countries
united, which union took place about 3000 years B.C. Some of these
singular forms are doubtless heraldic imitations of flowers and
feathers.
[Illustration]
It is probable also that many of them are mere symbols and were never
worn.
The rather hackneyed bird head-dress was peculiar to the queens of
Egypt, and this, like the male crowns, was never worn except on state
occasions. Thus it would be incorrect to give Pharaoh’s daughter the
bird head-dress. If she had a right to it at all, she would not wear it
when going out to bathe with her attendants. She would probably have a
kind of veil fastened round her head with an ornamental band, but she
would no more think of putting on the insignia of royalty than our Queen
would dream of wearing her crown when taking a drive in the Highlands.
The Egyptian men shaved their heads, and commonly wore either a
skull-cap or the well-known cloth which we find everywhere from the
gigantic sphinx to the most minute coin.
[Illustration]
The best authorities give this head-dress an obtuse-angled triangle
shape, but I never could make any thing of this hypothesis.
I am rather inclined to think that this most characteristic of Egyptian
coiffures was an elongated piece of heavy cloth; the lower half of which
was split into three divisions.
When the cloth was tied on the head, the two outer divisions were
brought over the shoulders, the middle one being left to hang down the
back.
A very becoming and very common head-dress of the women was a narrow
band or fillet round the black hair. This fillet was often embroidered
with gold and bright colors, and a large water-lily, or an imitation of
one, was fastened to it in front and projected over the forehead.
[Illustration]
At the British Museum upstairs you will find modern representations of
Egyptian warriors with their horses and chariots.
These are kings or great conquerors, and their clothing is exceptional.
If I had to paint Pharaoh pursuing the Israelites, I should not be
guided entirely by these representations without further research; but
they give an idea of what the Egyptian paraphernalia of war was like in
the time of Moses.
The caution I would give you in painting Egyptian subjects is not to
overdo the Egyptian element. If in your researches you find an
extraordinary head-dress like a chemical retort, or a patent cowl for a
smoky chimney, do not be in a hurry to introduce it. Be satisfied with
the simpler and more generic forms of Egyptian head-gear.
The transition from Egyptian to Greek costume, like the transition from
Egyptian to Greek art, was very gradual. Without, however, stopping to
speculate on the costume of the dubious Homeric period, we will proceed
at once to the _terra firma_ of the historical age.
I shall always use the word “tunic” to designate the under-garment, or
that which was worn next the skin. If the tunic were never more seen
than _our_ under-garments, its fashion and form would be of little
importance: but as it often (especially in early times) was the _only_
garment worn, it is well to consider its construction.
The tunic for both men and women was made either of wool, linen, or some
material resembling cotton. It was called by the Greeks “chiton,” and
appears to have been of two kinds, the Dorian and the Ionian.
The “Dorian” (the earliest form) was a short woollen shirt for the men,
without sleeves, and for the women a long linen garment, also without
sleeves.
These chitons were, however, not made like our shirts and chemises. They
consisted simply of two square pieces of stuff, one for the front and
one for the back. These pieces were linked together on the shoulders by
the means of clasps, brooches, or fibulæ, and the different varieties of
the Dorian chiton were mainly due to the degree in which they were sewn
together at the sides. The pieces never appear to have been united above
the waist or girdle, but below this zone they were sometimes united on
both sides down to the ground. Sometimes one side was open as high as
the middle of the thigh.
The Spartan girls, who were very active and athletic, adopted this
fashion, as it gave their limbs freer play. When they married, and gave
up active games, they wore the chiton close. The Amazons are always
represented with this slit-up garment. Sometimes (as in the Bacchantes)
one side is entirely open. Sometimes there is but one girdle, the usual
one round the waist, which is said to have been put on under instead of
over the garment it was intended to confine. In this case the chiton
must have been tucked into the girdle, and this may have been done
occasionally. But there are plenty of antiques where the girdle is
plainly visible outside. Sometimes there is a second girdle round the
hips, the use of which was to shorten the dress by pulling it up through
it, and then allowing it to flap over, so that this hip girdle is never
seen.
Before finishing with the Dorian chiton, I ought to mention that in cold
weather two (and sometimes three) chitons were worn, one over the other.
The rich people had inner chitons, made expressly for the purpose, but
the poor simply wore their old and shabby ones next the skin, and their
best of course outside.
The Ionic chiton was a long and very loose garment, made shirt fashion,
and with sleeves that seldom came below the elbow. These sleeves were
often slit up, and fastened at intervals with small clasps or studs.
The Doric was the older garment of the two.
In later times the Ionic chiton worn by the men was of two kinds. The
chiton worn by the freemen was a garment with openings, and sometimes
even sleeves, for both arms. On the other hand, that peculiar to slaves
had an opening only for the _left_ arm, leaving the right shoulder and
breast bare.
[Illustration]
The “diploidion” and “hemi-diploidion” are supposed by Müller and other
authorities to have been a kind of double chiton, but I do not think
this hypothesis to be correct. I rather believe these names to have been
given to a kind of short mantle, which was quite independent of the
chiton. Although, as I have already stated, the chiton was constantly
worn alone, yet no person could be considered what we should call full
dressed without the “pallium” or cloak. In Sparta, although the young
girls invariably wore the chiton alone, it would have been considered
highly improper for any married woman to appear without some upper
garment. Indeed, unless the climate has changed very much within the
last two thousand years, a cloak, (and a good thick one too) would be
indispensable. The only time I have ever landed at Athens snow lay thick
on the ground, and a bitter cold wind swept down from Hymettus.
The pallium was square-cut, but not necessarily a square. There were
several ways of putting it on. It was sometimes wound round the body and
thrown over the left shoulder. It was sometimes fastened on the right
shoulder with a clasp, leaving the right arm free. In short, there were
as many ways of wearing it as we have of wearing a Scotch plaid.
The pallium was of all degrees of thickness and of every variety of
color; scarlet, purple, saffron, olive, and pale green seem to have been
the most fashionable colors.
For the poorer classes the pallium served as a covering by night as well
as a garment by day. It was to them a blanket; and there is no doubt
that our word “pall” is derived from pallium.
The “peplon,” or shawl, was worn in Greece by the women only. It was
much ampler and made of thinner material than the pallium; we find,
however, that the Orientals of both sexes wore something very similar,
and when we read of David or any other personage of the Bible rending
his garment, the shawl is most probably meant.
The modes of wearing the peplon were at least as numerous as the ways of
adjusting the pallium. In many of the ancient alto-reliefs women are
represented with both arms and hands concealed by the peplon. Indeed,
there does not seem to have been much coquetry displayed in wearing the
peplon. It was emphatically one of those garments used for comfort and
not for show. Nevertheless, from the fineness of the material and the
great area of the peplon, it was, perhaps, more picturesque and graceful
than more formal pieces of finery.
The Greek “chlamys” is best translated by the word scarf. Sometimes it
seems exactly to correspond with what we understand by “scarf,” being a
narrow strip of fine material, often embroidered and sometimes
ornamented with a fringe. The drapery which is often introduced to give
relief to a nude statue, is generally some kind of chlamys. The drapery
of the Apollo Belvidere is a familiar example.
There is another garment which was sometimes worn by the Greek women
over the long tunic. This was a sleeveless short tunic much ornamented,
but without a girdle. We have many examples of this dress in the figures
on the Greek vases. I am told that modern milliners call this kind of
thing a peplum, but this is quite a misnomer. A peplum or peplon is, as
we have seen, an ample shawl.
When the chlamys was worn as a cloak, it was either fastened in front
below the neck or on the right shoulder; in both cases by means of a
brooch. As the chlamys when cut as a scarf would be wretchedly meagre
and poor when worn as a cloak, it was modified and extended in shape,
and, indeed, in this form (were it not for the thinness of the material)
it would be hardly distinguishable from the pallium.
The female scarfs were almost always used _as_ scarfs and not as cloaks.
They were more ornamented than those of the men, and were often
embroidered with gold.
The Coa vestis, or robe of Cos, was made of the finest silk, and was as
transparent as our thinnest veils. It was generally dyed either deep
blue or purple, and I need hardly add, was never worn by any respectable
female.
Greek women do not appear to have worn much covering for the head,
except when they got old. In youth the hair was so abundant and the art
of arranging it was carried to such perfection, that to hide it would
have been a great blunder. To protect themselves from the sun’s rays in
summer and from the storms in winter they had parasols and umbrellas,
shaped exactly like the modern Japanese article. These they either
carried over their heads themselves, or had a female slave to carry
them.
Nothing, to my mind, shows the exquisite taste of the Greeks more than
the way the women arranged their hair. The bands and jewels with which
the hair was often adorned, rather assisted nature instead of
distorting her. If we compare these classical coiffures with the
frightful wigs worn by the Roman ladies under the Cæsars, or with the
plaited tresses of mediæval times, or again with the powder and pomatum
structures of the last century, we are struck by the great superiority
of the Greek fashion.
I am not giving a lecture on hair-dressing, and will say nothing about
modern times, beyond emphatically condemning every fashion which
distorts the shape of the head.
[Illustration]
The Greek modes of arranging the hair, however elaborate, never leave us
in doubt as to what is underneath. We can always trace the shape of the
head. We never fancy that the knots, chignons, and tresses conceal a
sugar-loaf or a small portmanteau.
Sometimes, as in the Medici Venus, the hair was gathered in a knot in
the front part of the head, but generally the knot was placed behind,
where it balanced the face, and broke the nearly straight line formed by
the neck and the back of the head.
The bands and fillets with which the head was often encircled are very
graceful adjuncts. A crescent or diadem is often seen on the heads of
goddesses, queens, and princesses; and it is not easy to conceive a more
noble or royal ornament.
Nets made either of thread or silk were also worn to confine the hair,
but these nets fitted close to the head and were not much used for the
chignon, as with us in the days of beavers’ tails.
The women of Lesbos had a peculiar way of dressing their hair, which
savors rather more of the later Roman than of the Greek fashions. You
will notice that none of these coiffures are suggestive of wigs. If
false hair _was_ worn, it was worn with judgment and discretion, and was
never allowed to mar the symmetry of the head.
Greek men, like the women, seldom covered their heads, except when on a
journey or at work in the sun.
The simplest and probably the oldest head-covering for the men was the
conical skull-cap as seen on the head of Ulysses, but there are examples
of soft broad-rimmed hats made either of felt, leather, or straw. These
would have been worn by field laborers, masons, etc.
The Phrygian cap is worn at the present day by almost all Mediterranean
fishermen. This is the famous cap of liberty, and although in very bad
repute since the French Revolution, it is a comfortable and inoffensive
head-covering.
The first helmets were modifications of the Ulysses cap. The material
was changed from straw or felt to thick leather or brass. A couple of
feathers were sometimes added, and sometimes doubtless the leather or
brass was ornamented with gold and precious stones.
After a time it was found that this primitive helmet did not protect the
face; so a large piece was added in front. This covered the face, but
was soldered to the helmet and not movable. It is this immovability of
the vizor which throws the whole helmet back when the face is uncovered,
and it is this backward position which gives the peculiar character to
the Greek helmet. We see it constantly in the statues of Minerva, and we
have adopted it for our figure of Britannia.
[Illustration]
In later times still further improvements were made. A movable vizor was
invented and flaps to protect the ears, and the coal-scuttle shape went
out of fashion.
The defensive body-armor of the Greeks consisted of a close-fitting
leather jerkin terminating at the hips. Strips of leather loosely
connected together sprang from the bottom of this jerkin, and reached
nearly half-way down the thigh. Both the jerkin and the strips of this
petticoat were often strengthened by bands of metal. Armor was also worn
below the knees. These greaves protected the shins, but did not encircle
the whole leg.
There can be no doubt, from the descriptions of Homer and other ancient
authors, that all this defensive armor was worn, but many of the
elaborately ornamented and embossed breast-plates and greaves which are
to be seen in every museum (though nominally Greek) are the works of a
much later age.
Before finishing what I have to say about Greek costume, I ought to
mention the coverings for the feet. These were of manifold shapes and
fashions; sometimes they consisted of a mere sole fastened to the foot
with thongs; sometimes the toes were covered, but as there were no sides
nor heel-piece the thongs were still necessary. The most elegant form
was that which we see in the statue of Diana.
In the very early days of Greece, it was considered effeminate to
protect the foot, but at a later period every one except children,
slaves, and ascetic philosophers wore some kind of sandal when they went
out; and in the last two centuries before the Christian era, great
luxury and elegance were displayed in the adornment of those sandals.
The costumes of some of the nations inhabiting Asia Minor differed
greatly from those worn by the Greeks.
In several of the maritime provinces which had frequent intercourse, and
indeed had been colonized by the Greeks, this difference was not very
marked, although even here there was an Oriental or Assyrian element
introduced; but the dresses of Phrygia were much more Assyrian than
Greek. In the first place, the Phrygians, like Oriental people
generally, had a dislike to expose any part of the body, consequently
they wore tight sleeves reaching down to the wrist. Drawers or
close-fitting hose covered their legs and feet, and over these they wore
regular shoes made of soft leather.
To complete the costume, an armless tunic was worn, reaching to below
the knees and girt by a leather belt. The whole of this rather elaborate
dress was often embroidered and ornamented with the richest colors. It
was altogether an effeminate and a gorgeous dress, such as Paris might
have worn when he captivated Helen.
The dress of the women bore a greater resemblance to the Greek; but
fashion insisted on having the arms and feet covered. Whilst the women
of Lydia and the maritime provinces indulged in the most coquettish and
elegant Greek fashions, the ladies of the interior had quite a Persian
way of dressing. A very long close-fitting tunic or gown with tight
sleeves reaching to the wrist, with a girdle for married women, and
ungirt round the waist for young girls, seems to have been the usual
costume. Like the men, they wore shoes, and often the Phrygian cap.
If the men were fond of embroidered garments, it may be guessed that the
ladies were not behind in the matter of ornament. Many of their dresses
were figured all over with spots, stars, and a kind of shawl pattern,
whilst the coiffures sometimes developed into sultana-like turbans, and
were enriched with the most showy jewels.
Jewelry of all kinds was indeed worn profusely by both sexes, and it was
a common saying in ancient Greece, when a man was effeminate or
voluptuous, that he ought to go to Lydia and have his ears pierced.
Before passing on to the dresses of Imperial Rome, it will not be out of
place to consider the important question of how to clothe the personages
of the New Testament.
I call this question an important one, because the New Testament is,
_par excellence_, the great field for subjects of a high class, and in
the present era of research and investigation, it cannot be a matter of
indifference to the painter how the Founder of Christianity and his
disciples were dressed.
The Mosaic laws strictly forbade any representation of living organisms.
We have therefore nothing to guide us in our research, as we have for
Egyptian, Assyrian, and Greek costume. The dress of the Jewish priests
is tolerably minutely described in Leviticus, and is indeed almost
identical with that worn at the present day; but we have no authority
whatever for the ordinary dress of the Jews in the time of Tiberius.
The old masters almost invariably adopted some shade of red and blue
for the dress of Christ, and the same colors were also generally
reserved for the robes of the Virgin Mary.
This choice of colors seems to have originated somewhere about the sixth
century, but it was not till much later that the Church adopted these
colors so exclusively that the artist had no option in the matter. This
traditional choice of colors became more and more binding as ages rolled
on. It has lasted even to the present day, and few painters of religious
subjects for church decoration would venture upon a departure from the
time-honored red and blue.
The practice may have some advantages. In the first place, these colors
(when in combination) have come to have a kind of sacred significance,
and from being reserved for the highest personages of the New Testament,
they serve the same purpose that was formerly fulfilled by the nimbus.
They attract the eye to the principal figure in the composition. Again,
they are strong primary colors; their juxtaposition in a picture is
unusual, and therefore likely to draw attention to the figure which is
clothed in them.
The disadvantages are, first, the difficulty of harmonizing two such
colors as red and blue (a difficulty enormously increased when there are
several figures in the composition); and, secondly, the great
improbability that our Saviour or the Virgin Mary ever _were_ so
attired.
In the _very_ early ages of Christianity, we never find this red and
blue.
The Saviour, unless enthroned in glory, is generally represented as the
Good Shepherd, and his garments are white or some shade of gray.
It may be argued that as he personates the Good Shepherd, the artists of
course give him a shepherd’s dress, but that this dress may have been
totally unlike the one he actually wore.
This is perfectly true, and I am not recommending the blind adoption of
this shepherd’s tunic. I merely mention these earliest representations
of Christ, as an answer to those who argue for the antiquity of the red
and blue. If in the absence of precise information we allow ourselves to
be guided by precedent, it is only logical to go to the _earliest_
precedent.
The truth is that there are two distinct methods of treating subjects
from the New Testament, especially those where Christ himself is
introduced.
One is the traditional or mediæval method, and the other the
naturalistic or (as I prefer to call it) the natural method, the word
“naturalistic” being generally applied to the grotesque style of the
early German and Dutch masters.
The first or traditional method seems to me more suitable for
stained-glass windows and for church decoration generally, than for
easel pictures. In decorative work no one expects to see the apostles
and saints clad in the homely garments they certainly wore.
The figures are to a certain extent symbolical; they represent the
personages beatified; and gorgeously colored mantles with jewelled
borders, nimbi, and other mediæval ornaments are not so much out of
place.
Even here I would depart from the traditional red and blue for the dress
of Christ. White and gold are more suggestive of perfection and purity
than strong colors, and I cannot help thinking that the red tunic which
tradition gives to St. John is singularly inappropriate to his
character.
I do not, however, wish to extend my remarks in this direction, but
rather to confine what I have to say about costumes to real, and not to
ideal dresses.
If there exists a danger of degrading the ancient Jewish patriarchs by
giving them the dress which they probably wore, the danger becomes
greatly intensified when we have to deal with the sacred personages of
the New Testament. Nevertheless, I think that something might be done
toward an approximation to truth without any irreverence.
In the first place, I would discard all strong positive reds, blues, and
purples for the dresses, as inappropriate. To wear garments of these
bright hues was the prerogative of kings, emperors, and great generals,
and it is quite out of keeping with the spirit of the New Testament to
clothe its personages in these imperial colors.
White, dull yellow, brown, and black are the colors to which I should
principally adhere. Linen, bleached and unbleached, goats’ hair, and
wool of all shades, from creamy white to sooty black, would be the
materials.
Clemens of Alexandria says: “All dyed colors should be avoided in dress,
for these are far away from man’s need and from truth; and besides they
give proof of evil in the inward disposition.”
Tertullian, who wrote about two hundred years after Christ, has a whole
chapter denouncing the iniquity of dyed colors.
Now it is hardly conceivable that these early Christian writers would
have fulminated against red, purple, and blue garments if Christ and his
apostles had been in the habit of wearing them.
Secondly, I should endeavor, while preserving the tunic and outer cloak
or pallium, to give to these garments something of an Oriental
appearance. There is not much scope for doing this with the tunic. Rich
men, like Joseph of Arimathea or Nicodemus, would wear long tunics
reaching to their ankles; but it is very doubtful whether Christ
himself, who denounces the scribes on account of their loving to go in
long clothing, would wear a garment of this description.
The women would have two tunics, one over the other, with short or long
sleeves, but never with the open sleeves of the Greek women.
The under tunic (which would, in fact, be the Roman stola) would reach
to the feet. The upper one would be shorter, and embroidered or
ornamented with colors.
The pallium or cloak, both of the men and the women, should have a
fringe; not a heavy gorgeous one, like the Assyrian kings, but a thin
light one.
In the 22d chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses commands: “Thou shalt make thee
fringes upon the four quarters of thy vesture,” and in the Book of
Numbers these fringes are again ordained. When we consider how
particular the Jews were in observing their law, we may assume, as a
fact, that the cloak or outer garment of the New Testament would have a
fringe, and this would at once give it a Jewish or Oriental character.
Broad vertical stripes again, either on the tunic or the cloak, of a
different colored wool to the garment itself, would be unlike Greek or
Roman fashions, and would be perfectly allowable.
Thirdly, I should not hesitate (when the subject required it) about
covering the heads of my figures.
In most Biblical pictures by the old masters, particularly of the Roman
school, we find the figures bareheaded.
There does not seem to be any special reason for this, and whatever may
have been the practice in Italy, it certainly could not be the custom in
Syria and Palestine to expose the head to the burning rays of the sun.
St. Peter and the other Galilee fishermen may very likely have worn some
kind of Phrygian cap, and we may be quite sure that all the personages
of the New Testament would have had some protection for the head;
probably a loose cloth bound round the head with a cord.
Some writers have said that they merely threw a portion of the cloak
over their heads. This they very likely did on an emergency, but when
undertaking a journey or wandering about the country, they must have had
a proper head-covering.
As to the shoes, I should avoid both the elegant sandal of the Greeks,
and the elaborate leggings and straps of the Roman soldier.
The ordinary Jew, of the class to which the apostles belonged, was not
in the habit of wearing any foot-covering at home, but when on a journey
he would protect the soles of his feet with leather or goat-skin.
It is a mistake to suppose that garments made of coarse materials are
incompatible with dignity. Any one who has seen the fishermen of the
Adriatic or the Arabs of the desert, knows the contrary. It is not the
material, but the amplitude of the garment and the mode of wearing it,
which give grandeur and dignity.
We, as artists, have no means of making our personages speak. All we can
do is to take care that their gestures, appearance, and dress, shall
not be inconsistent with the words they are supposed to utter. If we
bear this in mind, and at the same time honestly endeavor to clothe them
according to their station in life, we cannot be far wrong.
Before leaving the subject of the New Testament, I should like to say a
few words about the position the Jews assumed at their meals. I
endeavored to get at the truth a year or two ago, and the results of my
investigations were these.
The rich Jews, like the rich Romans, reclined at their meals; the poor
either stood or sat. Of this there can be no doubt, and it is only what
might have been expected. The rich would have a proper dining-hall,
fitted with a triclinium or couch. The poor would dine in the same room
in which they worked, and would have no place for so bulky a piece of
furniture as a broad couch.
As for the Last Supper, it must be recollected that the room where it
was eaten was an upper room, and therefore very unlikely to be furnished
with a triclinium; and, secondly, it was more in keeping with Christ’s
teaching to adopt the humble fashion of sitting rather than the
luxurious one of reclining. Finally, all the Evangelists use the word
“sat” and “sitting,” which, if correctly translated, ought surely to
settle the question.
On the whole, therefore, I think that Leonardo, Andre del Sarto,
Raffaelle, and all the old masters were right in giving the figures a
sitting posture, and that modern innovators are wrong in assuming that
because Roman patricians and their imitators in Judæa reclined at their
meals, our Lord, and his disciples would also adopt the same position.
The costume of the ancient Romans under the kings was very like that of
the Greeks. The resemblance was especially noticeable in military
costume. If, therefore, you have to paint any Roman or Sabine warriors
of the time of the early kings, you should take Greek armor as your
model, rather than the late Roman, such as is seen in the reliefs of the
Trajan column. The Romans, however, appear never to have worn the
peculiar Greek helmet which protected the face.
In these early times there is no reason to suppose that the civil dress
differed materially from that of the Greeks. Both sexes wore the tunic
and pallium (or cloak). The Roman “toga” was a large semicircular
pallium.
[Illustration]
The question as to the exact shape of the toga has never been settled,
and most likely never will be. The older authorities say that it was
rectilinear on one side and curvilinear on the other; but more modern
writers say it was of the shape of two segments of a circle joined
together. I am inclined to favor this latter opinion. It would in this
case be folded in two before being put on, and the complicated and
multitudinous folds would be easily accounted for.
It is doubtful when it was first worn, but it certainly was in fashion
during the kings, and it would therefore be the proper clothing for Numa
Pompilius, the elder Brutus, Tarquin, and the other personages of that
period. The mode of wearing it in these ancient times was slightly
different to the fashion which prevailed in the time of the Cæsars.
Instead of being brought round the body _under_ the right arm it was
laid _over_ the shoulder, thus covering the whole right arm. This must
have been extremely inconvenient, and although when sitting in judgment
or taking part in some state ceremonials, the ancient Roman senators may
have muffled themselves up in this way, it is impossible to believe that
they did not adopt some more comfortable way of draping themselves when
actively employed.
We are told that in early times the toga was the _only_ garment worn by
the men, but I suspect that this is a mistake. I rather think that a
short sleeveless tunic was always worn.
I shall refer to the toga again, but I wish to proceed chronologically,
and to finish what I have to say about the costume of the earliest Roman
period. Whatever may have been the custom with the men, the women
certainly wore a long tunic, and a shorter one underneath. It is well
to avoid giving them the chlamys, as we have no evidence that they wore
it: but a cloak was certainly customary. It was either of the toga,
semicircular make, or cut square like the Greek pallium. Care should be
taken, in dressing Roman figures of this period, to keep the costumes
very simple and primitive.
The togas of the Roman kings are said to have been striped with purple.
Pliny mentions this, and in a matter of this sort he is likely to have
been correct.
Silk was introduced into Europe about this time, but the material was
far too costly to be generally worn. We may suppose that a luxurious
monarch like Tarquinius Superbus may have worn a tunic of Oriental silk,
but luxury of this kind was not general, as it became six hundred years
later under the emperors.
The same stern sobriety of costume should be observed in painting
subjects of the Consulate.
Scipio Africanus, Regulus, Coriolanus, and the other heroes of this
period, should be clothed with Spartan plainness. White (or at any rate
monochromatic) cloaks and togas, armor composed of iron, bronze, and
leather would be the proper clothing during the Consulate.
We now come to the Imperial period; and here I would remark that in the
Augustine age, luxury had not reached that point of extravagance and
bad taste which it acquired afterward. The toga was still the ample
woollen cloak of preceding ages, and was worn over a simple short tunic.
I ought, however, to mention that in the time of Augustus the toga began
to be discarded in favor of more convenient garments. It was, however,
always worn on ceremonial or state occasions, and great care was taken
with the adjustment of the folds. A Roman gentleman would dress for a
dinner at Lucullus’, or a grand show at the Colosseum, by putting on a
clean white toga.
The toga pulla was made of the wool of black sheep. It was of a coarser
texture than the white toga, and was worn by mourners. The toga picta
was, as its name implies, embroidered with colors. The toga prætexta had
a purple or rather what we should call a lake-colored border. It was
worn by young people, and also by magistrates and other officials. The
purple and white striped toga, already mentioned as having been worn by
the old Roman kings, was also worn, under the Empire, by the “equites,”
or mounted knights. The emperor alone had the privilege of wearing a
toga entirely of purple. The female cloak of this period was the palla,
which is only another form of the word pallium. It differed only from
the toga in being rectangular.
The long tunic worn over the inner one (the gown in short) of the Roman
matrons was called a “stola.” The lower part of it was crimped or
plaited, so as to form a kind of flounce. This explains the numerous
minute folds we see about the feet and ankles in many of the portrait
statues.
I ought not to omit mentioning a very important article of female dress,
viz., the “strophium.” It was the same as the Greek “strophion,” and
seems to have been of universal use. It was a broad band, supposed to
have been made of kid leather, and was wound round the waist to give
support, and to improve what dressmakers call the figure. It was put on
over the inner tunic, and therefore corresponds exactly with the modern
corset. It does not appear that either the Greek or Roman ladies
attached any value to a thin waist, and this strophium was worn for
comfort and not in compliance with the fashion.
The Romans (I am still speaking of the Augustan age) wore in time of war
the “sagum.” This was a cloak made of thick woollen material, and
fastened in front or on the shoulder with a brooch. It was, in fact,
identical with some forms of the Greek chlamys. The “paludamentum” was
the same kind of garment, made of finer wool, and used by the officers.
The sagum and paludamentum were not exclusively military, as in time of
war it was the custom for civilians to throw aside their togas and
assume this war-like garb. The “lacerna” was very commonly worn by the
Roman citizens either simply over the tunic, or in cold weather over the
togas as well. It was very much the same kind as the sagum, and worn in
the same way. It was almost always of a dark color. The “pœnula” was
a circular cloak, with a hole in the middle to put the head through. It
was slit open in front from the bottom, about half-way up, so as to give
a little freedom to the arms. It was made of thick cloth, and generally
had a hood. It was a garment essentially for bad weather, and must have
greatly resembled our Inverness capes, or rather what is called a
“poncho.”
The want of head-coverings amongst the higher classes of both the
ancient Greeks and Romans has always struck me as being very singular.
The Etruscans, like the semi-oriental peoples of Asia Minor, had a great
variety of head-gear.
Caps of all shapes, more or less richly ornamented, were common amongst
the Etruscans; but the Roman citizens (at least the upper ten thousand)
seem to have had nothing to protect the head from the sun’s rays. We all
know that habit will do a great deal; our Bluecoat boys do not suffer by
going about bareheaded; but I cannot help thinking that an elderly Roman
senator must occasionally have found the want of a hat on his way to the
forum.
You will not often have to paint pictures of the ancient Etruscans. I
need not therefore say much about their rich and varied dresses. I may,
however, mention that their wardrobe bore about the same relation to the
Roman costume that the Asia Minor dresses did to the Greek. There was
an Oriental and sometimes an Egyptian tendency about the cut and
ornamentation of their garments. Instead of the classical sandal of the
Romans they wore shoes, and even boots, made of some soft material. In
short, they were more effeminate in their tastes. The more wealthy an
Etruscan was, the richer would be his garments. He resembled in this
respect many modern Orientals, whereas his neighbor of ancient Rome
would (at least in the Augustan age) affect the greatest simplicity.
A Roman patrician would as soon think of decking himself out in an
embroidered and spangle tunic, as an English gentleman would of assuming
the plush and gorgeous livery of a Belgravian footman.
Luxury and effeminacy of dress began to creep into fashion in Rome as
early as the time of Tiberius, who (probably because he did not wish to
have any imitation of the finery of his own court) promulgated very
strict sumptuary laws as to dress.
These laws were enforced and even made more stringent by some of his
successors, but fashion was too strong even for Roman emperors; and
under such sovereigns as Heliogabalus, but little was left of the
ancient Roman simplicity. In one particular alone did the Romans of the
Decadence contrast favorably with their neighbors the Etruscans--I mean
in the matter of jewelry. The Roman noble, even of the most degraded
period, never decked himself out with necklaces, armlets, and breast
ornaments of gold like the Etruscan. The only jewelry he wore was a
signet ring.
The Roman ladies were less sparing of ornament, but even they did not
load themselves with gold trinkets of every description after the
Oriental and Etruscan fashion. Much of this Roman jewelry was of very
beautiful design, and has been most conscientiously imitated by
Castellani.
With regard to the fashion of wearing the hair and beard, it is certain
that up to the third century B.C., the Romans wore their hair long and
did not shave.