AN APOLOGY
FOR THE
COLOURING OF THE GREEK COURT.
The coloured or colourless state of the monuments of the Greeks, and
more particularly of their monumental sculpture, has long been a subject
of discussion in the world of art; a discussion which, although it may
have been carried on with too much faith on the one side, has certainly
been accompanied, on the other, with too much prejudice.
At a very early stage in the arrangements for forming in the Crystal
Palace a series of reproductions of architectural monuments, I felt that
to colour a Greek monument would be one of the most interesting problems
I could undertake; not indeed in the hope that I might be able
completely to solve it, but that I might, at least, by the experiment
remove the prejudices of many.
I felt persuaded that when we had a Greek monument placed side by side
with reproductions of other coloured monuments, the authorities for
which were indisputable, people would be more willing to recognise the
necessity for believing that the monuments of Greece were no exceptions
to those of civilisations which preceded or followed them, but that they
also like the rest were coloured in every part, and covered with a most
elaborate system of ornamentation.
So early as the publication of the “Antiquities of Athens,” by Stuart
and Revett, the traces of ornaments on the mouldings of the Greek
temples were known and published by them, some of the painted ornaments,
however, which they found, being engraved in their work as if in relief;
but artists were for long after unwilling to accept these fragments as
evidence that an entire system of ornamentation prevailed on the Greek
buildings. The late Jules Goury and Professor Semper, from whom will be
found a paper on Polychromy in the Appendix, were amongst the earliest
to direct attention to this subject; but the most diligent labourer in
the field is M. Hittorff, of Paris, who has devoted many years to the
production of a magnificent work, in which will be found all the facts
that are known, and a history of the long discussion which this subject
has provoked.
Mr. Penrose also, in his work on the “Principles of Athenian
Architecture,” has recorded all that he himself saw, but is reluctant to
believe that any ornaments existed where traces of ornament can no
longer be found. He feels that there is “some slight ground of evidence
that a peculiar yellow tinge upon some parts of the columns, especially
of the west front of the Parthenon, is not simply the yellow said to
result from the oxidation of iron contained in Pentelic marble, but has
been applied externally as a tint, though perhaps so delicately as
merely to reduce the high light of the marble without obscuring its
crystalline character.”
He considers it “unreasonable to suppose that the ancients entirely
concealed, or even materially altered in appearance, the general surface
of the white marble, which they made a great point of obtaining whenever
possible; but that no one who has witnessed the painfully dazzling
effect of fresh Pentelic marble under the Athenian sun will deny the
artistic value of toning down the almost pure white of its polished
surface, and the more so when considerable portions of the architecture
were painted in the most positive colours. We need not suppose,” he says
further, “this tone to have produced more than the difference between
fresh white marble and ivory.”
An examination of the facts recorded by these various authorities will
convince any one that the question is now narrowed to one of degree
only—
“To _what extent_ were white marble temples painted and ornamented?”
I would maintain that they were _entirely_ so; that neither the colour
of the marble nor even its surface was preserved; and that, preparatory
to the ornamenting and colouring of the surface, the whole was covered
with a thin coating of stucco, something in the nature of a gilder’s
ground, to stop the absorption of the colours by the marble.
The Egyptians covered their buildings and statues in a similar way, no
matter what the material; the Greek temples, which were built of
lime-stone, were so undoubtedly; the ancient Greek terra-cottas almost
without exception have traces of this ground.
To the belief that the Greeks employed it also on their marble temples,
there is only one stumbling-block—the artificial value which white
marble has in our eyes.
The Athenians built with marble because they found it almost beneath
their feet, and also from the same cause which led the Egyptians to
employ granite, which was afterwards painted—viz., because it was the
most enduring, and capable of receiving a higher finish of workmanship.
With these high thoughts of perfection and durability, they not only
built their temples of Pentelic marble, but paved their carriage-way to
them with the same material.
The ruin of the Parthenon, as seen at this day on the Acropolis, with
the rich tones which the sun of centuries has developed upon it, is a
very different thing from a bran-new white marble Parthenon, with many
of its enrichments _proved_ to have been picked out in the strongest
colours. Such a building would have been horrible to behold under any
sun, much more under that of Athens.
Could we set aside the whole of the evidence to the contrary; could we
forget the paintings recorded on its cella walls—its interior filled
with upwards of six hundred statues, many of them of colossal
dimensions, enriched with painting, ivory, gold, and precious stones,
which would demand a far different treatment of the building which
contained them; could we forget that when a marble statue left the hand
of the first of sculptors, it passed into the hands of an equally
celebrated encaustic painter to receive its ultimate finish;[1] could we
forget the varieties of material which they combined, certainly
harmoniously, in the statues of their gods—the varieties of colour which
they gave to a material, by us considered to be so uniform as bronze, in
which to heighten the expression they wished to obtain; (by alloys of
iron, silver, and gold, used on the various portions of a figure, the
greatest known sculptors produced the paleness of death,—the blush of
shame,—the smile on the mouth,—the fire of the eye, and the healthy
redness of the cheek;)[2] the ornaments of metal with which many of the
marble statues were covered—earrings, bracelets, armlets, sandals, bands
round the hair, crowns, diadems of pearls, precious stones, eyes of
silver, glass, and precious stones; the metal crown of the Laocoon, the
metal casque of the statue of Mars, the metal drapery of the Antinous,
the earrings of the Venus de’ Medici, or her golden hair;—could we set
aside the evidence either of that which is recorded, or of that which
may still be seen, we should yet have felt that it must have been so,
from the knowledge we have of the practice of those civilisations which
preceded and followed that of the Greeks. How can one believe that at
one particular period in the practice of the Arts, the artistic eye was
so entirely changed that it became suddenly enamoured of white marble?
Such an idea belongs only to an age like that through which we have just
passed—an age equally devoid of the capacity to appreciate, and of the
power to execute, works of art—when refuge is taken in whitewashing.
Footnote 1:
See page 31.
Footnote 2:
See Quatremère de Quincey.
Under this influence, however, we have been born and bred, and it
requires time to shake off the trammels which such early education
leaves.
There is another theory which it is necessary to notice, viz., that the
marble was not painted, but stained in some way or other, so as still to
retain the transparency of the marble. As this has never been tried, and
can only be tried on marble, I dare not say that it would not produce an
agreeable result. I am not able, however, to conceive it, and feel
certain that it could not fulfil the required conditions of monumental
sculpture, though presenting more chance of success with isolated works.
As far as regards monumental sculpture, the evidence of Mr. Bracebridge,
which was produced before the committee of the Institute,[3] would
appear to settle the point. The fragments dug up at Athens in the winter
of 1835–36, are stated by him to have been in perfect preservation, and
“_painted with the brightest red, blue, and yellow, or rather,
vermilion, ultramarine, and straw colour, which last may have faded in
the earth_.” He further states, that “_the colours were laid on in thick
coats_.”
Footnote 3:
See page 40.