DIFFERENT TYPES OF PRESENTMENT, MATERIAL, AND HISTORICAL STAGES IN THE
EVOLUTION OF SCULPTURE.
We have hitherto in our inquiry in the first instance looked about
us for the _general_ determinants, out of which it is possible to
develop the most adequate content for sculpture and the form which
best responds to it. We discovered the classical Ideal supplied this
content, so that in the _second_ place we were called to establish the
precise mode, in which sculpture among the particular arts is most
readily adapted to give shape to this Ideal. Inasmuch as we found,
moreover, that this Ideal is only to be comprehended in its essential
import as _individuality_, not only did we find that the ideal outlook
of the artist expand to a collective cyclus of ideal figures, but
the external mode of representation and execution in actual works of
art breaks up into _particular types_ of sculpture. In this latter
direction we have still several points of view left us to discuss as
follows:
_First_, there is the manner of representation, which, in so far as
actual execution is concerned, either creates single statues, or
groups, until finally in the relief we are confronted with the step of
transition to painting.
_Secondly_, there is the external medium, in which these distinctions
are given actual effect to.
_Thirdly_, we have to deal with the historical stages of evolution, or
the process within which works of art are executed in the various types
and material.
1. THE SINGLE STATUE, THE GROUP AND THE RELIEF
Just as, in the case of architecture, we made an essential distinction
between independent building and that which was subservient we may also
here establish a similar dividing line in sculpture, that is between
such works that have an independent position and those which rather
contribute to architectural decoration. In the case of the first the
environment is nothing more than an artificially prepared locality,
whereas in the latter cases their relation to the building which they
adorn is of the first importance, and does not merely determine the
form of the work of sculpture, but in a large measure even its content.
Speaking in a summary way we may assert in this respect that single
statues are set up on their own account, while groups and _a fortiori_
reliefs tend to lose this independence and are utilized by architecture
for its own artistic purposes.
(_a_) As to the single statue their original function is that of
sculpture generally, that is to supply temple images as they are set up
in the shrine of the temple, and all that surrounds them is in direct
association with them.
(_α_) In such a case sculpture retains its most adequate purity. It
displays the figure of the god apart from all situation, in beautiful,
unimpaired, and inactive tranquillity, or at least free, unmolested,
without definite action and development, such as I have on several
occasions depicted, that is, in unconstrained situations.
(_β_) The earliest departure from this austere loftiness consists in
this that the entire pose suggests the beginning of an action, or
the conclusion of the same, without the godlike repose being thereby
disturbed, or the figure being presented as in struggle or conflict.
We place under this type the famous Medicean Venus and the Belvedere
Apollo. In the times of Lessing and Winckelmann the admiration of the
critical world over these statues, as the highest Ideal of art, was
unconditional; nowadays, since we have come to know works more vital
and substantial in their configuration, and more profound in their
expressive power, we must deduct somewhat from this estimate; critics,
in fact, place them in an age somewhat subsequent to the great period,
an age in which the smoothness of their elaborate workmanship already
suggests that to please is the main object, and the genuine grand and
severe style is not persisted in. An English traveller goes so far as
to say that the Apollo is "a theatrical coxcomb," and while admitting
that the Venus has extraordinary softness, sweetness, symmetry, and
coy grace, yet only finds in this a spiritual quality that is wanting
in much, a negative perfection, and--a good deal of insipidity. We
may generally review that transition from the former more severe
repose and holiness as follows. Sculpture is no doubt the art of lofty
seriousness, but this elevated austerity of the gods, inasmuch as the
same are no abstractions, but individual figures, brings with it the
absolute blithesomeness, and thereby a reflex attitude to reality and
finite life, in which the blithesomeness of the gods does not express
the feeling of absorption in such finite content, but the feeling of
reconciliation, of spiritual freedom and alertness.
(_γ_) In consequence of this Greek art is throughout permeated with all
the blithesomeness of the Greek genius, and has found its satisfaction,
delight, and an object for its activity in a countless number of
gratifying situations. When it once had discovered a way from the
constraint of the abstractions of its presentment to an appreciation
of vital individuality, which is the unifying factor of the whole, its
joy in all that is indicative of life and cheerfulness became a real
thing, and artists became occupied with a great variety of subjects,
which, without glancing aside at anything suggestive of pain, horror,
distortion or injurious, fixed as its final limit unoffensive humanity
and remained thus. The ancients have in this respect executed much
of the greatest excellence. I will here only mention, among the many
mythological subjects of playful, that is playful in the most innocent
way, interest, the sports of Cupid, in which we already see a close
approach to the ordinary life of mankind, just as there were others in
which the vitality of the presentment is the main interest, and indeed
the very attempt to secure and execute such subject-matter itself
contributes this blithesomeness and innocence to the effect. In this
kind of way we may point out that the dice-players and satellite of
Polycleitus were thought quite as highly of as his Argive statue of
Here. The discus-throwers and racers of Myron were equally famous. How
dear to this folk, too, and admired is that youth in a seated posture
who extracts a thorn from his foot? There were many others of the same
type of production in great measure merely by name. We are face to face
with the fleeting moment of natural existence, which is here arrested
for ever by the sculptor.
(_b_) Beginning with examples such as the above of a movement towards
external objects, sculpture proceeds further in the representation of
situations, conflicts, and actions yet more involved with motion, and
at last arrives at the group. For with an increase of specific detail
in the action we have placed before us the more concrete animation,
which expands in contradiction, reactions, and thereby, too, in the
presence of several figures essentially related and intertwined with
each other.
(_α_) At first we have, however, merely tranquil juxtapositions, such
as, for example, the two colossal horse-tamers, which are set up in
Rome on Mount Cavallo, and indicate Castor and Pollux. The one statue
is commonly ascribed to Pheidias, the other to Praxiteles. There is,
however, no strong evidence for this, although the extraordinary
excellence of conception, and the no less exquisite thoroughness of
the execution justifies names as famous. Such are entirely independent
groups, which as yet express no real action, or the result of it, and
are wholly appropriate as representations of sculpture and public
exposition before the Parthenon, where it appears they were originally
placed.
(_β_) Sculpture, however, is equally occupied in the group with the
presentment of situations, which have as their content conflicts,
discordant actions, pain, and other similar conditions. In this
direction, too, we can only speak highly of the genuine artistic
insight of the Greeks, which did not set forth such groups
independently, and by themselves, but brought them, for the reason
that sculpture has already made a departure from its peculiar, that
is to say its self-subsistent, province, into closer relation to
architecture. The temple figure, that is the isolated statue, stood in
unimpaired tranquillity and sacredness within the inner shrine. The
external pediment, on the contrary, was decorated with groups which
represented definite actions of the god, and consequently admitted
of more animated movement in its elaboration. The famous group of
Niobe and her children is of this type. The general form for the
co-ordination of each part is determined by the space which the group
in question had to fill. The principal figure stood in the middle, and
was thus able to be the largest in size and most prominent. The rest
according as they were placed in the direction of the acute angle of
the gable-end had to submit to other postures, the limit being reached
by that of a reclining figure.
Of other famous works I will here only mention the Laocoon group.
It has now for over forty years been the object of much inquiry and
controversy. In particular it has been regarded as a matter of real
importance, whether Virgil in his description followed this work of
sculpture, or the sculptor adopted his work to the scene depicted by
Virgil, whether Laocoon here is actually crying out, and whether it is
appropriate in a work of sculpture to attempt to express such a cry,
and many more criticisms of this kind. Critics have worried themselves
up and down with such matters of psychological interest for the simple
reason that they have not as yet secured the sort of enthusiasm and
critical acumen which Winckelmann possessed; and, moreover, arm-chair
professors are more readily disposed for such investigations for the
reason that not unfrequently they have neither the opportunity granted
them to see real works of art, nor the capacity to grasp them for what
they are when they do so. The most essential thing which can occupy
our attention in this group is this namely, that in the supreme pain,
the supreme truth, the convulsive tension of the body, the distention
of all the muscles, the noble aspect of beauty is still preserved, and
the process has not been carried in the remotest degree to the extremes
of grimace, distortion, and over-strain. Despite of this, however,
the entire work belongs without doubt--we have only to consider its
subject-matter, the artificiality of its coordinate grouping, the
disposition of each posed figure and the type of its elaboration--to
a much later period, which already seeks to pass beyond simple beauty
and vitality by means of a deliberate obtrusion of science in the
configuration and muscular development of the human body, and no less
is anxious to please by refined excess in its executive elaboration.
The step from the ingenuous ease and greatness of art to a mere
mannerism is already taken.
(_γ_) Works of sculpture may be set forth in very various places,
such as in the entrances to columned halls, forecourts, landings
of staircases, niches, and so forth. It is just in this variety of
local position and architectural setting, which, on its account too,
is variously related to human circumstances and conditions, that
the content and object of such works of art are for ever changing,
approaching as such art does in the group yet more closely our
humanity. It is, however, a serious defect to place groups that embody
much movement and variety of figure on the top of a building without
further background against the sky. In other words the colour of the
sky may sometimes be gray, at others blue and dazzlingly bright, so
that it is impossible to see the outlines of the figures. Yet these
outlines, that is, the silhouette we find in them, is just what is most
important; it is the main thing which we recognize, and which simply
makes the rest intelligible. For in the case of a group we find that
many portions stand in front relatively to others, an arm before the
trunk of the body, or one leg in front of another. Now the fact of
distance alone disturbs the clearness and intelligible articulation
of such parts, or at least tends to do this more emphatically than
in the case of outlined portions which are independent. We have only
to imagine a group depicted on a piece of paper in which certain
parts of a figure are strongly and sharply indicated, while others
on the contrary are marked with lines of less defined and arresting
definition. This is precisely the effect of a statue's lines, and yet
more those of groups, which have no other background but that of the
sky; in the latter case we only see a sharply indicated silhouette,
in which, so far as what is within the compass of that outline, only
relatively weaker articulation is visible.
This is the reason that, to take an example near home, the Victory on
the Brandenburg gate in Berlin not only affects us strongly by virtue
of its simplicity and repose, but can be readily followed through its
separate figures. The horses, in fact, stand far from each other,
without either of them impairing the view of the other; and similarly
the figure of Victory rises sufficiently high above them. Conversely
the Apollo drawn in a car by griffins, which we have on the Opera
House, is less satisfactory from this point of view, however artistic
the entire conception and technical work may be in other respects. By
the favour of a friend I saw these figures before they were taken
from the workshop. The effect promised was noble. But as we see them
now at such a height, we have far too much of one outline partly
obscuring another, which in its turn is backed by something else, and
consequently is less freely and clearly silhouetted than would be the
case were all the figures silhouetted in their simple outlines[187].
The griffins, which necessarily, on account of their shorter legs, do
not stand up either so highly or so freely as horses, have wings into
the bargain, and Apollo, too, has his tuft of hair and his lyre. All
this detail is too much for the position, and only tends to make the
outlines obscure.
(_c_) The final mode of representation, in which sculpture makes an
important step in the direction of the principle of painting is the
_relief_; in the first instance the high-relief, and after it the
low-relief. The condition here is the surface, the figures standing on
one and the same plane, so that the spatial totality of the figure,
which is the point of departure of sculpture, more and more tends
to disappear. The older form of relief, however, does not as yet
approximate so closely to painting, which involves distinctions of
perspective between the foreground and background, but rather holds
fast to the surface or plane as such without permitting the different
objects to project into or to retire within the distinctions of their
spatial position by means of an artificial reduction of size. In the
present case figures in profile are preferred, and they are placed side
by side on an even surface. A simple treatment of this kind does not
admit the content of complicated actions, but actions which in real
life already adopt more or less of one and the same line of motion,
processions of all kinds, whether those of sacrifice or Olympian
victors or others. Add to this the relief is capable of the greatest
variety of form. It not only fills up and decorates the friezes and
walls of temples, but is attached to utensils of all kinds, sacrificial
bowls, votive gifts, shells, goblets, urns, lamps, and so forth; it
is the adornment of seats and tripods, and is closely allied to the
skilled crafts. Here as nowhere else the ingenuity of invention
receives the fullest scope in every kind of form and combination, and
is no longer in position to retain the true object of independent
sculpture.
2. THE MATERIAL OF SCULPTURE
We have, by our acceptance of the principle of individuality, which
is fundamental to sculpture, been compelled not merely to emphasize
in separation the different provinces of the divine, human and
natural, from which plastic art accepts its subject-matter, but also
to classify the several modes of presentation in the single statue,
group, or relief. In the same way we have to discover a like variety
of division in the _material_ which the artist can make use of in his
works. For different kinds of content and mode of presentation are more
particularly congenial to different kinds of sensuous material, and
betray a secret attraction to and affinity with such.
By way of generalization I will merely here permit myself the remark
that the ancients, in addition to the extraordinary excellence of their
invention, equally excite our astonishment by reason of the amazing
elaboration and versatility of their technical accomplishment. Both
aspects present an equal difficulty in sculpture, because the means at
hand here for such presentation are without the ideal many-sidedness,
which is at the disposal of the other arts. Architecture is no doubt
poorer still in this respect; but it is not her province to embody
spirit in its vitality, or what is actually alive in Nature in a
material which is by itself wholly inorganic. This elaborate dexterity
in the absolutely consummate treatment of pure material is, however,
bound up with the notion of the Ideal itself, for its very principle
is a complete entrance into the sensuous concreteness and the blending
together of the Ideal with its external mode of existence. The same
principle is therefore once again asserted, where the Ideal attains its
executed form and realization. In this respect we have no reason to
wonder, when it is asserted that artists, in periods distinguished by
great executive ability, either executed their works of marble in clay
without models, or, if they had recourse to them, set about their work
in a much freer and unconstrained manner than is the case in our own
times, where, to put the fact bluntly, it only makes copies which are
now executed in marble after originals carried out in the clay[188].
The old artists retained in fact the vital enthusiasm, which is always
to a more or less extent lost in the case of copies and replicas,
although it is undeniable that now and again we meet with defective
work in famous masterpieces, as, for example, eyes that are not of the
same size, ears one of which is placed lower than the other, feet that
are of unequal length and others of the same kind. They did not lay so
much stress on the absolute precision of the compass in such things as
ordinary production and art criticism, that mediocrity of talent which
imagines itself so profound, is wont to do; and it can do little else.
(_a_) Among the different materials in which sculptors have executed
images of gods, wood is one of the most ancient. A trunk, a post at
the top of which a head can be indicated, such was the beginning.
Among the earliest examples of the temple image many are of wood, but
the material was also used even in the days of Pheidias. The colossal
Minerva of Pheidias at Plataea was mainly carved from wood which
was gilded, the head, hands, and feet being of marble[189]; Myron,
too[190], executed a Hecate out of wood here with only one head and
body, and no doubt for Aegina, where Hecate was most revered and a
festival took place annually in her honour, a festival which the
Aeginetans maintained the Thracian Orpheus had inaugurated for them.
Generally speaking, wood, when it is not covered over with gilding or
some other precious material, by reason of its texture and the grain
of it, appears too fine a material for works of importance and more
appropriate to smaller figures, for which purpose it was frequently
used in the Middle Ages, and is still thus utilized nowadays.
(_b_) Other materials of most importance are _ivory_, associated with
_gold_, founded _bronze_ and _marble._
(_α_) As is well known, Pheidias employed ivory and gold for his
masterpieces, such as his Olympian Zeus, and also for his famous
colossal Athene in the Acropolis of Athens, who carried on her hand
an image of Victory, itself being larger than life-size. The nude
portions of the body were made out of sheets of ivory, the drapery
and mantle from gold plates, which could be removed. This type of
workmanship in yellowish ivory and gold dates from a period in which
statues were coloured, a kind of representation which steadily
approximated to the one colour tone of bronze and marble. Ivory is an
extremely pure material, smooth and without the granular character of
marble, and, moreover, costly. And among the Athenians the costliness
of the statues of their gods was itself of importance. The Pallas at
Plataea had merely a superficial gilding, that at Athens solid metal
plates. The statues had to be both of colossal size and of the richest
material. Quatremère de Quincy has written a masterly work upon these
works, upon the "toreutic" of the ancients. "Toreutic"--τορεύειν,
τόρευμα--is primarily applicable to figures whose lines are brought
out by engraving in metal, or cutting of some kind such as cut stones;
one uses the expression, however, to indicate entire works or parts of
entire works in metal, which are executed by means of moulds and the
founder's art, that is, not by means of engraving, then, still more
remotely from the original meaning, of superb figures on earthenware
utensils, and finally in the widest sense of mouldings[191] on
bronze. Quatremère's researches have particularly been directed to
the technical aspect of the execution; he calculates what must have
been the size of the plates made of elephants' tusks, and, among other
things, how much space, in proportion to the gigantic dimensions of
the figure, they would leave covered. From another point of view he
is equally concerned to reproduce for us from the sketches, or other
evidence[192] we possess from antiquity, a drawing of the seated figure
of Zeus, and, most of all, the great chair with its rich decorations
of bas-reliefs, and by so doing to give us in every respect some
conception of the splendour and perfection of the work.
In the Middle Ages ivory is mainly used for smaller works of very
varied character, such as Christ on the Cross and the Virgin Mary, or
yet again for drinking vessels with scenes of hunting and the like, in
which cases ivory, on account of its smoothness and hardness, is in
many respects preferable to wood.
(_β_) The material which was most favoured and most widely employed
by the ancients was bronze, in the casting of which it attained a
success of the highest mastery. Preeminently during the period of Myron
and Polycletus it was the prevailing material utilized in statues of
deities and other kinds of sculpture. The darker, less defined colour,
the sheen, the smoothness of bronze generally, has not reached the
abstract formality of the white marble, and it is at the same time
warmed. The bronze which the ancients used was partly gold and silver,
partly copper, varying considerably in the degrees of its component
parts. The so-called bronze of Corinth is, for example, a composition
unique of its kind which originated after the burning of Corinth from
the almost incredible wealth of this city in statues and vessels of
bronze. Mummius had many statues carried off on his ships; and the
excellent man was so full of anxiety for their safe deliverance in Rome
that he informed the captain that in case of loss he must recreate
the same exactly or suffer, such was the threat, heavy punishment. In
the founding of bronze the ancients attained an incredible mastery,
by aid of which it was possible to them to cast it securely despite
its extreme thinness. It is possible to regard such a feat as merely a
matter of technical dexterity which is unconnected with true art. Every
artist, however, works upon a certain material, and it is an essential
quality of genius to be complete master of the same. Dexterity and
adaptability in matters which concern the technique and instruments of
its work constitute one distinct aspect of genius. On account of this
virtuosity in the founder's art a work of sculpture in this medium
involved a less expensive process, and was in the reach of a larger
number than the chiselling out of marble statues. A second advantage,
which the ancients were able to attain in casting their work in bronze,
was the purity thereby acquired, which they carried so far that their
bronze statues did not require further enchasening, and consequently
lost nothing of the finer marks of expression, which is almost
inevitable where such a process is necessary. If we consider, then, the
extraordinary number of works of art, which originated in this facility
and mastery over technical matters, we cannot fail to be astonished and
admit that the artistic sense for sculpture is a distinctive impulse
and instinct of spirit, which can only, that is, in so overwhelming
a degree, appear in one period and one people. In the whole of the
Prussian State, for example, at the present time we can easily reckon
up the number of bronze statues, the single bronze door of a church
we find in Gnesen, and, with the exception of the standing figures of
Blücher at Berlin and Breslau, and Luther at Wittenburg, we have merely
a few more in Königsberg and Düsseldorf[193].
The very various tone and the infinite adaptability to form and
fusibility of this material, which may accommodate itself to every kind
of representation, gives to sculpture the pass into every conceivable
variety of production, and makes its sensitive material suitable for
a host of conceits, prettinesses, utensils, ornaments, and innocent
trifles of all kinds. Marble, on the other hand, is limited in its
suitability for the depicting of objects and their size; it is, for
instance, possible to execute bas-reliefs in it of a certain size on
urns and vases. It is, however, unsuitable for smaller objects. In the
case of bronze, however, which is not merely cast into specific forms,
but can also be beaten into shape and informed by the engraver's tools,
there is hardly any type or size of representation which it does not
command. We may here, by way of more definite example, instance the
case of coinage minting. In this art, too, we find that the ancients
executed masterworks of beauty, albeit in the technical aspect of the
mere mintage[194] they stand as yet far behind our present elaboration
of all that is mechanical in the design. The coins in fact were not
really minted, but beaten but of pieces of metal closely resembling
a globular form. This department of the art attained its culmination
in the time of Alexander. The coins of the Roman Empire have already
deteriorated. In our own time Napoleon endeavoured to revive the beauty
of antique work in his medals and coinage, and they are of great
excellence. In other states, however, the mere worth of the metal and
accurate weight is mainly important in the mintage of coin.
(_γ_) The last kind of material exceptionally favourable to sculpture
is stone, which possesses independently the external aspect of
consistency and permanence. The Egyptians long before chiselled out
their sculptured colossi with a labour that spared no pains from
the hardest granite, syenite and basalt. _Marble_ is, however, most
directly, as a material, in harmony with the aims of sculpture through
its soft purity, whiteness, no less than by the absence of definite
colour and the mildness of its sheen, and in particular possesses,
by virtue of its granular texture and the soft interfusion of light
which it carries, a great advantage over the chalk-like dead whiteness
of gypsum, which is too bright, and easily kills with its glare the
finer shadows. We find a distinct preference given to marble, only
at a later epoch of the Greek school, that is during the period of
Praxiteles and Scopas, who executed their most famous works in marble.
Pheidias no doubt worked in marble, but for the most part only in the
execution of head, hands, and feet. Myron and Polycletus mainly made
use of bronze. Praxiteles and Scopas, on the other hand, appear to have
sought to remove from sculpture that feature which is alien to its main
principle, namely colour. No doubt it is undeniable that the beauty of
the ideal of sculpture is capable of being embodied in bronze as in
marble, with no diminution whatever of its purity. When, however, as
was the case with Praxiteles and Scopas, art begins to approach the
softer forms of grace and charm of figure, the marble asserts itself
as the more congenial medium. For marble "encourages, by virtue of
the transparency of its surface, a softness of outline, its gentle
articulation[195] and mild conjunction; add to this that the tender and
artificial elaboration of consummate work always appears more clearly
on the soft whiteness of stone than on bronze, however noble it may
be, which, in proportion as the transition of green is beautifully
gradated, makes the lustres and the reflections all the more disturbing
to the effect of repose[196]." For the same reason the careful
attention, which at this period was paid to effects of light and shade,
whose nuances and gradations are more clearly marked by marble than by
bronze, was a further reason why stone should be preferred to metal.
(_c_) In conclusion we ought to associate with the above more important
kinds of material _precious stones_ and _glass._
The ancient gems, cameos and pastes are invaluable. They repeat in
fact on the smallest scale, yet with consummate finish, the entire
survey of sculpture, from the simple figure of a god, through all the
varied forms of grouping to every possible kind of conceit in dainty
delight and prettiness. Winckelmann, however, observes with regard to
the Stosch collection[197]: "It was while looking at this that I was
made aware of a truth, which afterwards became to me of great value in
elucidating monuments, very difficult to understand; and the truth is
this, that on cut stones, no less than on imposing works of sculpture,
we very rarely come across events which took place after the Trojan
war, or after the return of Odysseus to Ithaca, if we only except
the one case of the Heracleidae and the descendants of Hercules; for
in this latter case the limits of history and fable still overlap,
and fable is the main subject of these artists. Only one example of
the tale of the Heracleidae, however, is known to me personally." As
for gems, the genuine and most consummately executed figures are of
the greatest beauty, fine as the work of organic Nature, and may be
inspected through a magnifying glass without any loss to the purity of
their delineation. I refer to this fact in proof that the technique
of art in such cases is almost an art of intuition; the fineness is
such that the artist is unable as the sculptor is to follow the work
with his eyes, but is rather compelled to _feel after_ it. He holds
the stone which is made fast on wax against tiny sharp wheels which
are made to spin by means of a flying-wheel, and in this way cuts
out the forms. By this process what we have is a kind of instinctive
sense, which takes in and directs so consummately the conception, the
intention of line and drawing, that we can almost fancy ourselves
to have before us in these stones, when one sees them properly
illuminated, a relief work.
The work on cameos is to be contrasted with the above. These represent
figures finely cut in out of the stone. The onyx was particularly
utilized as material for this kind of work. In dealing with these, the
ancients were expert in setting off to advantage and with taste the
various strata, in particular the white and yellow-brown. Aemilius
Paulus had a number of such stones and other trinkets carried to Rome.
In the representations which were depicted upon all this varied
material the Greek artists adapted as the basis of their work no
situations which were poetically conceived by themselves, but selected
their subject-matter invariably, if we only except examples of
Bacchanals and dances, from myths about the gods and sagas. Even in
the case of urns and representations of events relative to deceased
persons they had definite facts before them, which were associated with
the individual, whom it was thought right to honour by reason of his
decease. The direct allegory, in fact, does not belong to the genuine
Ideal, but only becomes perspicuous in art's later development.
3. THE HISTORICAL EVOLUTION OF SCULPTURE
We have hitherto regarded sculpture as the most adequate expression
of the classical Ideal. The Ideal, however, has not merely an
intrinsic forward development on its own account, by virtue of which
it approximates to that which it is in virtue of its notion, and
by doing so equally begins a forward movement beyond this absolute
harmony with its own essential nature. Quite apart from this, as we
have already seen in the second main division of this work during
our review of the particular types of art as a process, it contains,
putting on one side its mode of presentation under the symbolical
type, a certain aspect presupposed, which it is bound to pass beyond
in order generally to establish itself as Ideal, and moreover a
further type of art, that is the romantic, from which it will once
more pass away. Both types of art, the symbolical no less than the
romantic, likewise seize upon the human figure as an element of their
presentment, whose spatial outlines they adhere to, and consequently
set forth as sculpture sets them forth. We have, therefore, when it is
a question of drawing attention to the historical-development, not only
to speak of Greek and Roman sculpture, but also Oriental and Christian.
It was, however, the Egyptian people pre-eminently among all, among
whom the _symbolical_ type sums up the fundamental character of their
art-production, who first began to associate with their deities the
human figure as it emerges from a mode of existence that is purely
natural, and for this reason it is mainly among them that we meet
too with sculpture, inasmuch as they gave as a rule to their general
outlook an artistic existence in that which was simply material. The
sculpture of Christianity is of wider range and richer development.
We do not merely refer here to its uniquely romantic character in the
Middle Ages, but also to that further elaboration, in which we find it
made an effort once again to approach more closely the principle of the
classical Ideal, and establish that type most specifically consonant
with sculpture.
I will in concluding the present section of my work in its entirety,
and following the above general observations, add a few words,
_first_, upon Egyptian sculpture as contrasted with the Greek as the
introductory stage of the true Ideal.
The characteristic elaboration of _Greek_ sculpture makes our _second_
stage, which closes with _Roman_ sculpture. On the present occasion
what will mainly concern us will be to survey the stage which precedes
the really ideal mode of presentation, because we have already in our
second chapter considered at length ideal sculpture.
_Thirdly_, we have merely left us to indicate briefly the principle of
Christian sculpture. I can only undertake in this place to refer to it
in the most general terms.
(_a_) When we have the intention to investigate on the soil of Greece
the classical art of sculpture from the _historical_ standpoint, we
find ourselves already confronted with Egyptian art in the form of
sculpture before we have arrived at our object; and we must add not
merely is this so in regard to great works which bear witness to the
highest technique and elaboration in an entirely unique artistic
style, but as the point of departure and source for the forms of Greek
plastic art. That this last result on the ground of historical fact
amounts also to an external contact, an acceptance and an instruction
to which Greek artists submitted, this must be left to the history
of art to establish, whether it be in reference to the significance
of figures of deities represented from the field of mythology, or to
the particular methods of artistic treatment. The association between
Greek and Egyptian ideas of the gods is a conviction set forth with
proofs by Herodotus. Creuzer is of the view that we find this external
association of these arts most clearly demonstrated on coins, and
he lays exceptional stress on ancient Attic examples. He has showed
me one in his own possession in which without question the face, a
profile possessed quite the outline of the physiognomy of Egyptian
figures in every respect[198]. We must, however, here leave this purely
historical aspect to stand on its own merits, and confine ourselves
to the inquiry whether apart from it a more ideal and necessary bond
of connection cannot be established. This bond of intrinsic causality
we have already adverted to above. It is necessary that the art which
is incomplete must precede the complete form of art, the Ideal, by
means of the negation of which, that is by the stripping off of that
aspect which adheres to it as a defect, the Ideal is first realized.
In this respect unquestionably classical art is a _becoming_ or a
process, which, however, apart from it must necessarily possess an
independent existence, inasmuch as _quâ_ classical it must leave all
deficiency, all the mere becoming behind it, and be essentially rounded
in "completion." This process as such consists in this, that the form
of the presentation first begins to run counter to the Ideal, and
yet remains incapable of an ideal grasp, belonging as it does to the
symbolical synthesis, which is unable to embody in union the universal
aspect of the significance, and the individual embodiment as it appears
to sense. That _Egyptian_ sculpture possesses such a fundamental
character, is the single point that I will now briefly touch upon.
(_α_) The primary fact that calls for attention is the deficiency we
find here in ideal and creative _spontaneity_, despite the greatest
technical perfection. The source of works of Greek sculpture is the
vitality and freedom of the imagination, which builds up individual
figures from the religious ideas which are prevalent, and in the
individuality of this its production makes an actual fact of its
own ideal outlook and classical perfection. The Egyptian figures of
deities, on the contrary, receive an inherited[199] type. As Plato long
ago observes[200], the representations were long before fixed by the
priestly caste, and it was neither permitted to painter nor any master
of sculpture to introduce novelty, nor indeed to invent anything at
all, but to accept instead what was already among them and traditional;
neither is such permission conceded now. We consequently find that what
was made and fashioned, it may be myriads of years before (to allow
oneself a hyperbolical expression for the great number that is actual
verity), is neither more beautiful nor more ugly than the work of
to-day. The circumstance must also be associated with this scholastic
accuracy, that in Egypt, as appears clear from Herodotus[201], artists
did not enjoy the same respect as other citizens, but were forced
with their children to defer to all who were not engaged in artistic
work. Add to this art among the people was not followed according to
natural inclination; the institution of caste was paramount, and the
son walked after his father, not merely in the matter of profession,
but also in the way in which he made himself efficient in his duties
and his art. One man simply placed his feet in the steps of another,
so that, as Winckelmann has already observed[202], "Not a soul appears
to have left behind him a footmark, which he can appropriate as his
own." Consequently art, when fully confronted with this enforced
serfdom of Spirit--in conjunction with which the mobility of free and
artistic genius, in other words, not the mere impulse after external
honour and reward, but the more elevated impulse to be _artist_, is
banished--maintained itself simply as the mere craftsman working in
a purely mechanical and abstract way according to forms and rules
ready to hand, rather than with the vision of the artist of his own
individuality in his work, viewed in this way as his own unique
creation.
(_β_) Coming now in the _second_ place to the actual works of art,
here, too, we may borrow from Winckelmann, whose descriptions attest
once more his exceptional acuteness of observation and distinction, and
whose account of the character of Egyptian sculpture is in its main
lines as follows[203].
Speaking generally we may say that both grace and vitality, which
are the result of the genuine sweep and balance of organic line, are
absent from the entire figure and its detailed parts; the outlines are
straight or in lines that show less deviation from it, the pose appears
constrained and stiff, the feet are thrust close together, and in cases
of figures in the upright position where one foot is placed before
the other, both point in the same direction instead of having the
toes turned outwards. In the same way, in masculine figures, the arms
hang down straight and glued to the body. Further, the hands, such is
Winckelmann's view, are shaped much as we find them in men who possess
hands not badly shaped originally, but deteriorated and neglected;
feet, on the other hand, are too flat and spread out, the toes are of
equal length and the little toe is neither crooked nor curved inwards:
in other respects hands, nails, and toes are not badly shaped, although
neither the joints of fingers nor toes are indicated. And similarly
we may say of all the rest of the nude figure the muscles and bones
are but slightly indicated, and the nerves and veins not at all. In
short, so far as detail is concerned, despite the laborious and able
execution, just that aspect of the elaboration is absent which alone
communicates to the figure its true animation and vitality. The knees,
however, bones, and elbows are traceable in relief, as we find them
in Nature. Masculine figures are conspicuous for their exceptionally
narrow waist above the hips. The backs of figures, on account of their
position against columns and their being sculptured from one block with
them, are not visible.
Together with this lack of mobility, which is not entirely due to
the technical inferiority of the artists, but must be regarded as a
result of their primitive conception of the figures of deities and
their mysterious repose, is nearly associated the absence of any
true situation and any sort or kind of action, which are asserted
in sculpture by means of the position and motion of the hands and
the demeanour and expression of delineation. No doubt we do find
among Egyptian representations on obelisks and walls many figures
in movement, but these are purely reliefs and are for the most part
painted.
To add a few more examples of even more intimate detail, the eyes are
not deeply set as in the Greek ideal, but are almost on a level with
the forehead; they are flattened and extended obliquely. The eyebrows,
eyelids, and rims of the lips are mainly suggested by the graver's
lines, or the brows are indicated by a stroke in relief, which extends
as far as the temples and is at that point cut off angular wise. What
we above all find wanting here is the projection of the forehead, and
along with this, together with uncommonly high placed ears and arched
noses, as is the rule with vulgar natures, we have the retreating form
of cheekbones, which in contrast to other parts are strongly indicated
and emphasized, whereas the chin is always retiring and small; the
rigidly closed mouth, too, draws its corners in an outward rather than
an under-ward direction, and the lips appear to be separated from each
other by a mere slit. Speaking generally, then, such figures are not
only wanting in freedom and vitality, but more than anything else the
head fails to show us the expression of spiritual significance; the
animal aspect is the prevailing one, and Spirit is not as yet suffered
to appear in its self-poise and independence.
The execution of _animal_ figures is, on the contrary, according to the
same authority, carried through with much knowledge and an exquisite
variety of gently gradated outlines and of parts that flow one into the
other without a break. And if in the human figures spiritual life is
not as yet liberated from the animal type and the interfusion of the
Ideal with what is sensuous and of Nature on a new and free model is
absent, yet we find here that the specifically symbolical significance
of the human no less than the animal figures is directly expressed by
means of sculpture in these embodiments of forms, in which human and
animal shapes pass into one mysterious union.
(_γ_) Consequently the works of art, which carry on their face this
character, remain at the stage where the breach between significance
and form is not yet bridged over. For such a stage significance
is still of main importance, and what is aimed at is rather the
conception of that in its general aspect, than the vitalization of any
one individual figure and the artistic enjoyment derived from such
presentment. Sculpture proceeds here from the genius of an entire
people, about which we may on the one hand affirm, that it has in the
first instance arrived at the point where the need of _imaginative_
conception is disclosed; and it is satisfied to find that indicated in
the work of art, which is present in the conception, and here of course
is a conception which is _religious._ We are not therefore entitled,
taking into consideration the great strides they have made in laborious
activity upon and actual perfection in technical execution, to call
the Egyptians uneducated in their sculpture merely on the ground that,
despite all this, they did not as yet in great measure seek to attach
truth, vitality, and beauty to their results, by virtue of which
qualities the free work of art receives a soul. Doubtless from another
point of view the Egyptians did advance beyond the mere idea and its
necessary demand. They sought further to envisage and embody the same
in human and animal forms, nay, they knew how to comprehend and set
forth the forms, which they reproduced, clearly, without distortion and
in their just relations. They failed, however, to impart to them the
breath of vitality, which the human form in its natural state already
possesses, and to infuse with them that more exalted life, by virtue
of which an active and fluent motion of spirit could be expressed in a
created image that was adequate to its significance. Their works rather
attest a seriousness that is entirely lifeless, an unsolved riddle, so
that the configuration does not so much embody their own individual
ideality as permit us to surmise a further significance which is
still alien to it. I will here only adduce one example, namely, the
frequently recurring figure of Isis, holding Horus on her knees. Here
we have, so far as externals are concerned, the same subject-matter
that we meet with in Christian art as the Madonna and her Child. In the
symmetrical, straight-lined, and immovable pose of the Egyptian example
we discover, to quote a recent description[204], "neither a mother,
nor a child; there is no trace of affection, smile, or endearment, in
a word there is no real expression at all. Tranquil, unperturbed, and
immovable is this divine mother, who suckles her divine babe; or rather
we have here neither goddess nor mother, nor son, nor god. It is simply
the sensuous sign of a thought, which is capable of no result and no
passion; it is not the genuine presentation of a real action, still
less the just expression of a natural emotion."
And it is precisely this which constitutes the breach between
signification and determinate being, which creates the absence of
figurative expression in the artistic results of the Egyptian people.
Their ideality or spiritual sense is still so imbruted, that it has
no imperative desire to possess the precision bound up in a true and
vital representation carried through with detailed accuracy, to which
the onlooker has nothing to add, but may simply surrender himself
to the attitude of reception and translation, because everything is
already a gift of the artist. We must have a more lofty feeling of the
individual's self-respect aroused than the Egyptians possessed, before
we cease to be content with the indefinite and superficial features of
art, and make valid in its products a claim to reason, science, motion,
expression, soul, and beauty.
(_b_) We find this artistic self-consciousness, so far as sculpture is
concerned, first wholly alive among the Greeks. By its presence all
the defects of the Egyptian phase of art vanish. Yet in this further
development we do not have to make a wide leap from the imperfections
of a type of sculpture still symbolical to the perfected result of
the classical Ideal. Rather the Ideal has, in its own distinctive
province--I have noticed this more than once--although lifted to a
higher range, to remove the defects whereby in the first instance its
onward path of perfection is obstructed.
(_α_) I will here very briefly refer to _Aeginetan_ and ancient
_Etruscan_ works of art as examples of such beginnings within the
sphere itself of classical art. Both these stages, or rather styles,
already pass beyond that point of view, which is satisfied, as was the
case with Egypt, in repeating forms, we will not say absolutely opposed
to Nature, but at least forms that are lifeless, precisely as they
have been received from others, and is further content to place before
the imagination a figure, from which the same can abstract its own
religious content and recover the same for memory, without, however,
attempting to work it out under a mode, by virtue of which the work is
made apparent as the individual conception and vitality of the artist
himself.
But along with this and to the same degree this preliminary stage of
ideal art fails as yet to force its way entirely to the true classical
ground, and this, first, because it is still clearly constrained within
the bonds of the type and therewith the lifeless; secondly, because
though it makes an advance in the direction of vitality and motion,
yet in the first instance all that it attains to is the vitality of
what is wholly of _Nature_, rather than that beauty, whose animation
is Spirit's own gift, and which manifests the life Spirit inseparably
conjoint within the living presentment of its natural form, accepting
the individual modifications of this fully completed union with equal
impartiality from present vision of actual fact and the free creation
of genius. It is only in recent times that we have obtained a more
detailed knowledge of Aeginetan works of art, over which it has been
a matter of controversy, whether they belonged to Greek art or no. In
considering their artistic quality, as representations, we must at once
make an essential distinction between the head and the rest of the
body. The whole of the body, if we except the head, attests the most
faithful apprehension and imitation of Nature. Even accidental features
of the skin are copied and excellently executed with an extraordinary
manipulation of the marble's surface; the muscles are set forth in
full relief and the skeleton framework of the body well indicated; the
figures are thickset in their severity of line[205], but are reflected
with such knowledge of the human organism, that they appear alive to a
limit of actual deception, ay, to an extent, so Wagner assures us[206],
that we are almost scared at the sight and hardly like to touch them.
On the other hand, in the execution of heads all attempt to represent
Nature is abandoned. One uniform design of face is throughout apparent
in all the heads despite every divergence of action, character, and
situation; the noses are pointed; the forehead is still the retreating
type, which fails to rise up straight and with freedom; the ears
are set high in the head; the long slit eyes are flat and oblique;
the closed mouth ends in corners which are pursed outwards; the
cheeks are stretched flat-shaped; the chin, however, is strong and
angular[207]. Of a similar uniformity is the form of the hair and the
fall of the drapery, in which symmetry, a principle which is also
uniquely conspicuous in the pose and groupings, and second to that, a
peculiar kind of exquisiteness are the prevailing characteristics. This
uniformity has been in part imputed to a lack of the sense of beauty in
seizing national traits, and in part traced to the fact that reverence
for the ancient traditions of an art still immature has fettered the
hands of the artists. An artist, however, whose life is that of his
personality, and who lives in his work, does not suffer his hands to
be thus shackled; consequently we can only explain this type of work,
associated as it is with great ability in other respects, by assuming
some bondage of spirit, as yet not wholly conscious of its freedom and
independence of its creative powers.
The pose of these figures is of the same kind of uniformity, not so
much a quality of stiffness as uncouthness, lack of enthusiasm, and in
a measure, where we have the attitudes of warriors, resembling what we
sometimes find from artisans at their trade, such as the rough work of
joiners with the plane[208].
The net result, which we gather from the above description, we may
affirm to be that, however interesting they may be for the history
of art, what is wanting in such works of art, in the conflict they
disclose between tradition and the imitation of Nature, is _spiritual_
animation. For we must remember that, in accordance with what I have
already explained in the second chapter of this part of my work,
spiritual significance is exclusively expressed in the countenance and
the pose of the figure. The other parts of the body no doubt indicate
natural distinctions of soul, sex, and age, but what is spiritual in
the full sense can only be reflected by the general pose. But it is
precisely the traits of countenance and the posture which in Aeginetan
sculpture is the relatively spiritless.
The _Etruscan_ works of art, that is, such whose genuineness is fully
authenticated by inscription, display the same imitation of Nature in
a yet higher degree; they are, however, freer in their pose and facial
characteristics, and, in fact, some of them approximate closely to the
portrait. Winckelmann, for example[209], mentions the statue of a man
which appears to be simply a portrait, though it would also appear to
date from a later period of art. It is a man of life-size, representing
some kind of orator, a magisterial, worthy sort of person. It is
executed with an extraordinary spontaneity and naturalness both of pose
and expression. Remarkable and significant it would indeed be, if we
did not recollect that on Roman soil it is not the Ideal but actual and
prosaic natural fact which is from the first at home.
(_β_) In the _second_ place truly _ideal_ sculpture, in order to reach
the highest point of classical art, has above all, to abandon the
mere type and the respect for what is traditional, and to give free
scope to the principle of spontaneity in artistic production. It is
alone possible to a freedom of this kind entirely to incorporate the
significance in its generality in the individual presentment of the
form; or, from another point of view, to elevate the sensuous forms
to the high level of a true expression of their spiritual import.
Only after doing this do we find the rigid and inflexible aspect
which is native to the origins of the more ancient art, no less than
the emphatic prominence of the significance over the individuality,
by means of which the content ought to be expressed, liberated as
that vital creation, in which the bodily forms also on their part
equally lose the abstract uniformity of a traditional, character,
and an illusive realism, and by doing so move in the direction
of the classical individuality, which quite as much makes, vital
the universality of the form in the particularity of its object
as, on the other hand, it makes the sensuousness and actuality of
the same throughout interfused with the expression of a soul's
inspiration[210]. A vitalization of this type affects not only the
form, but also the pose, movement, drapery, grouping, in short
every aspect of the sculptured figure to which I have already drawn
attention. What here communicates unity are these two principles of
universality and individualization. They have, however, not merely to
be brought into harmony in respect to the spiritual content, but also
in relation to the material form, before they can be participant in
the indissoluble association which is the classical type in its full
flavour. This identity, however, has itself a series of stages. In
other words, under one extreme we find that the Ideal still somewhat
inclines to the aspect of _loftiness_ and severity, which it is true
does not deprive the individual object of its living impulse and
movement, yet does tend to concentrate it more securely under the
lordship of the general type. At the other extreme we find that the
universal aspect more and more tends to dissolve in the individual;
and while it pays the penalty for doing so in loss of depth it can
only replace this loss by further elaboration of this sensuous
individuality. Consequently it descends from the heights to the lower
levels of that which _gives pleasure_, is exquisite, blithesome,
and displays the charm which flatters. Between these two there is a
_further_ phase, one, namely, which carries forward the severity of the
first to increased individualization, without reaching that point where
mere charm of aspect is held to be the supreme object.
(_γ_) _Thirdly_, in the art of _Rome_ we have indications of the
dissolution of classical sculpture. In this art it is no longer upon
the true Ideal that the entire conception and execution depends. The
poetry inherent in the vital action of Spirit, the breath and nobility
of the soul apparent in the essentially perfected presentment, these
peculiarly emphasized excellences of Greek plastic art disappear,
and give place, as a rule, to a preference for portraiture studies.
And this insistence on realistic truth in art is carried out in all
possible modifications. Notwithstanding, this Roman sculpture maintains
so lofty a position in this its own province, that it is only in so
far as it withdraws from that which brings a work of art to its full
perfection, in other words, the poetry of the Ideal in the true sense
of the word, that it essentially falls behind Greek art.
(_c_) Fixing now our attention on _Christian_ sculpture we shall find
that the principle of artistic conception and its mode of embodiment is
from the commencement one that does not so directly commend itself to
the material and forms of sculpture as we find to be the case in the
classical Ideal of the Greek imagination and art. The romantic Ideal in
short is essentially concerned, as we discovered in the second portion
of this work, with a personal withdrawal of the self into its own realm
from the external world, with a self-absorbed individuality, which
no doubt possesses its external reflection, but which permits this
external appearance to issue independently from it in its aspect of
particularity, without enforcing a fusion between it and its ideal and
spiritual self. Pain, torture of body and soul, martyrdom and penance,
death and resurrection, the personality of the individual soul, inner
life, love, and emotional life in general--this characteristic content
of the romantic imagination, in a religious sense, is no object, for
which the external form taken simply for what it is in its spatial
entirety, and the material which belongs to it in its more sensuous
existence unrelated to ideality, can supply either a form that is
wholly relevant to it, or one similarly congruent with it. It is
therefore not in romantic art sculpture contributes the fundamental
type and the affiliating quality of membership in a system[211] to
all the other arts as in Greece, but yields the palm in this respect
to painting and music, as arts more adequate to express the life of
the soul, distinct from the external world of particularity which is
withdrawn from it. No doubt we find also in Christian art repeated
examples of sculpture in wood, marble, bronze, and both silver and gold
work, examples of the greatest excellence. Yet for all that sculpture
is not here the art which, as in Greek art, is most fitted to reveal
the Divine image. Religious romantic sculpture, on the contrary, is
to a larger extent than in the case of the Greek, an embellishment of
architecture. The saints are placed as a rule in the niches of towers
and buttresses, or at the entrance doors. Likewise the birth, baptism,
the histories of the passion and resurrection, and many other incidents
in the life of Christ, the day of Judgment and so forth, accommodate
themselves naturally by the multiplicity of their subject-matter to
reliefs over church doors, on church walls, and stalls in the choir,
and readily approximate to the character of arabesques. All such
sculpture contains, for the reason that it is the life of the soul
which is herein pre-eminently expressed, characteristics suggestive
of the painter's art in a higher degree than is permitted in the
plastic of ideal sculpture. And from another point of view, for the
same reason, such a sculpture seizes more readily upon aspects of
ordinary life, and therewith inclines to portraiture, which, as in the
case of painting, it is quite prepared to associate with religious
representations. The goose-seller, for example, in the Nürnberg
marketplace, which is highly prized by Goethe and Meyer, is an ordinary
rustic of very realistic appearance in bronze (it would be impossible
in marble), who carries a goose under either arm to market. There are,
too, the many sculptured figures, which we find upon the St. Sebaldus
Church and on many other churches and buildings, especially dating from
the period previous to Peter Vischer, and which in their representation
of religious subjects such as the Passion, make clear to us with great
vividness this particular type of individualized form, expression, mien
and attitude, more particularly in their reflection of every degree of
sorrow.
As a rule, then, romantic sculpture, which has deviated only too
frequently into every kind of confusion, remains most loyal to the
genuine principle of plastic art in those cases where it approaches
most nearly the Greek, and either is concerned to treat in the mode of
sculpture ancient subject-matter, much as the ancients would have done,
or to model the standing figures of heroes and kings, and portraits,
with an intention to imitate the antique. This is exceptionally the
case nowadays. Much of the most excellent work, however, has been
accomplished by sculpture, even in the religious field. It is only
necessary here to mention the name of Michelangelo. We can hardly
admire sufficiently his dead Christ[212], of which we have a plaster
cast in our Royal Museum. The authenticity of the sculptured figure
of the Madonna in the Frauenkirche at Bruges, a consummate work, is
disputed by certain critics. Speaking for myself, nothing has ever
more impressed me than the tomb of the Count of Nassau at Breda[213].
The Count reposes with his lady, life-size figures both in alabaster,
on a slab of black marble. At the angles of this are placed Regulus,
Hannibal, Caesar, and a Roman warrior in a bowing posture, and they
support above their heads a black slab similar to the one beneath.
Could anything be more interesting than to see a character such as that
of Caesar placed before our eyes by Michelangelo. Even when dealing
with religious subjects the genius, the power of imagination, the
force, thoroughness, boldness, in short all the extraordinary resources
of this master tended, in the characteristic production of his art, to
combine the plastic principle of the ancients with the type of intimate
soul-life which we find in romantic art. But as we have seen, the
direction as a rule of the Christian emotion, where the religious point
of view and idea are paramount, is not towards the classical form of
ideality, which primarily and with highest results is the determinant
factor of its sculpture.
From this point we may now fix the transition from sculpture to another
principle of artistic apprehension and presentment, which requires for
its realization another sensuous material. In classical sculpture it
was the objective and _substantive_ individuality in its human shape,
which constituted the vital core, and the human form was placed thereby
at such a lofty level, that it was in fact retained in its abstract
simplicity as the beauty of form, and as such converted to the Divine
image. Under such a one-sided aspect of content and representation man
is not fully himself in his _concrete humanity._ The anthropomorphism
of art remains in its incomplete state in ancient sculpture. For that
which fails us here is humanity in its _objective universality_, a
universality which we identify at the same time with the principle
of _absolute personality_, quite as much as that aspect of it which
in common parlance is called human, in other words the phase of
_subjective singularity_, human weakness, contingency, caprice,
immediate sense life, passion, and so forth, a phase or factor which
must be taken up into that universality in order that the _entire
individuality_, the subject of conscious life, that is, in its entire
range, and in the infinite compass of its reality, may appear as the
vital principle both of the mode of presentment and its content.
In classical sculpture one of these phasal aspects, that is the human
from the side of immediate Nature, is in part only brought before us
in animals, quasi-animals, fauns and the like, without being reflected
back again into the personal life of soul, and stated as a negation
of that; and also in some measure this type of sculpture only accepts
the factor of particularity, only directs its interest to external
things in the _pleasing style_, in the countless sallies of delight and
conceits, in which the antique plastic lives and moves. Owing to this
we wholly fail to meet here the profundity and infinity which lies at
the root of man's personal life, that inmost reconciliation of Spirit
with the Absolute, that ideal union of humanity with the humanity of
God. No doubt Christian sculpture is the instrument which makes visible
the content which here enters the domain of art more consonant with the
above disregarded principle. But it is precisely its modes of art's
embodiment which expose to us the fact that sculpture is insufficient
for such a content, that other modes of art will infallibly arise able
to reach in very truth the mark which sculpture failed in its work to
achieve. We may collectively unite these new arts under the title of
the _romantic arts._ They are indeed the modes most adequate to express
the romantic type of art.
[Footnote 111: _Sein subjektives Fürsichseyn._ Subjective independence
of material conditions. Self-consciousness.]
[Footnote 112: _Rückkehr in sich._ Into itself, its own ideal world of
conscious thought and emotion.]
[Footnote 113: _In seine innerliche Subjektivität._ That is, what is
essentially the world of soul. Spirit here stands for mind and _Gemüth_
or emotional life.]
[Footnote 114: _Ein Sichzeichen des Geistes_, _i.e._, are signs of
itself which mind evolves in a mode of externality.]
[Footnote 115: Here called generically _Baukunst._]
[Footnote 116: _Die plastische Deutlichkeit._]
[Footnote 117: _Das subjektive Innere, i.e._, spiritual experience of a
personality.]
[Footnote 118: That is in comparison with the fully independent arts.]
[Footnote 119: That is to say it must be a distinct object of the
senses.]
[Footnote 120: _In sich materiell particularisirt._ We see Hegel's
false notions of the theory of colour influencing his expression. It is
really false to say that sculpture has nothing to do with colour. Light
and shadow at least are necessary and colour is implied.]
[Footnote 121: That is, lets fall some of its aspects.]
[Footnote 122: _Das Gemüth._ Strictly the more emotional part.]
[Footnote 123: Between the extremes of architecture and poetry or
music.]
[Footnote 124: Lit., "Without being manifested in its return to itself
as ideal substance."]
[Footnote 125: Unparticularized, that is in its essential experience.]
[Footnote 126: He explains this lower down. The concentrated point is
in the flash of the eye. Perhaps here he merely refers to it generally.]
[Footnote 127: _Als Innerlichkeit._]
[Footnote 128: This is only partially true of bronze, and any marble
that has had weathering.]
[Footnote 129: By _grosse geistige Sinn_ Hegel means no doubt more than
"taste." He refers to the deep-rooted instinct in the genius of the
race.]
[Footnote 130: Meyer, "History of the Plastic Arts among the Greeks,"
vol. I, p. 119.]
[Footnote 131: _Die acht plastische Mitte._ Hegel means that plastic
art comes to its most important focus, as it were, between the arts
that either incline too much to the material as in architecture, or to
ideality as in poetry.]
[Footnote 132: _Näheren._]
[Footnote 133: The reader must always bear in mind that Spirit
(_Geist_) includes intelligence. It might no doubt in some places be
better translated as "mind."]
[Footnote 134: _Substantielle._ That is what is the concrete fulness of
real spiritual content.]
[Footnote 135: _Als Subjekt._]
[Footnote 136: _Besonderheit._ The isolated self of the _Aufklärung._]
[Footnote 137: _Zufälligen Selbstischkeit._ Contingent selfness. The
ego above described.]
[Footnote 138: _Ohne innere Subjektivität als solche._ That is, in the
wholly abstract sense.]
[Footnote 139: _Begriff_ appears to refer here to the notion of animal
life generally, rather than the generic notion in its narrow sense.]
[Footnote 140: _Innern Strukture._ The structure that ideally motives
the whole.]
[Footnote 141: _Dieses ideelle einfache Fürsichseyn des leiblichen._
Apparently this includes the vegetable world.]
[Footnote 142: _Macht sich._ That is an operative principle in the
working out of.]
[Footnote 143: _Als Seele_, _i.e._, in the narrow sense of the
expression above defined.]
[Footnote 144: _Pathognomik_, _i.e._, the science, that is, of the
expression of the passions, together with that of their physiological
aspect.]
[Footnote 145: Lit., contingent subjectivity.]
[Footnote 146: Hegel's expression _Mienen_ is not easy to translate
by a single English equivalent. It signifies the passing look--the
general variety of facial expression as contrasted with the permanent
expression of substantive character.]
[Footnote 147: _Den eigentlichen Mienen._ The definite aspects of the
face which express relatively permanent states of soul-life.]
[Footnote 148: Persists in the line of direction of the Ideal.]
[Footnote 149: _Die schöne freie Nothwendigkeit._]
[Footnote 150: By _Witzigkeit_ I presume Hegel means oddity and
funniness of every kind--perhaps "humorous eccentricity" would
interpret it.]
[Footnote 151: I think this gives the sense, though the language is
rather confused because his image is that of invention attaching itself
to what is already presented rather than creating a form that is based
on external suggestion.]
[Footnote 152: The celebrated courtesan. She entered the sea with
dishevelled hair at a celebrated festival at Eleusis. She had a statue
of gold at Delphi.]
[Footnote 153: _Eigentlich Vorstellung ist._]
[Footnote 154: _Statarisch._ That is, modelled on historical
associations or the results of former work; perhaps "eclectic" would be
a better word.]
[Footnote 155: _Der geistige Ton._]
[Footnote 156: _De varietate nationum_, § 60.]
[Footnote 157: As in savage animals.]
[Footnote 158: The word _system_ is used, which is not readily
translated in this context, though I have adopted the literal
translation lower down.]
[Footnote 159: _Mildrung._ The softening of its severe lines.]
[Footnote 160: Werke, vol. IV, bk. 5, c. 5, § 20, p. 198.]
[Footnote 161: It is difficult to see what Hegel means exactly here by
_Schnitte._ I suppose he means the external lines of the eye-socket.]
[Footnote 162: _L.c._ § 29.]
[Footnote 163: _Flügeln_ must here refer to the orifices of the nose.]
[Footnote 164: Winck, _l.c._ § 37, p. 218.]
[Footnote 165: Hegel's word is _habitus._ Customary attitude and mode
of connection appears to be included.]
[Footnote 166: _Gebehrde_, a word somewhat difficult to translate here.
It seems to combine the ideas of gesture and pose.]
[Footnote 167: The reference is, of course, to painting and indirectly
to poetry.]
[Footnote 168: _Ein in sich versunkenes Dastehn oder Liegen._]
[Footnote 169: _Gediegenheit._]
[Footnote 170: See vol. I, pp. 268-272.]
[Footnote 171: _Das höhere Innere._]
[Footnote 172: _Das geistige Bewusstseyn._]
[Footnote 173: Her. I, _c._ 10.]
[Footnote 174: This vitality.]
[Footnote 175: Vol. V, bk. 2, p. 503.]
[Footnote 176: Vol. V, bk. 6, ch. 2, p. 56.]
[Footnote 177: Mus. Pio-Clement. Tom. 2, pp. 89-92.]
[Footnote 178: Winck., vol. II, p. 491.]
[Footnote 179: Vol. IV, bk. 5, ch. I, § 29.]
[Footnote 180: I am not sure what is exactly meant by _gekrümmt_ here.
The description is not very lucid.]
[Footnote 181: IV, 5, 2, § 10.]
[Footnote 182: Winck., vol. VII, p, 78.]
[Footnote 183: Winck., vol, VII, p. 80.]
[Footnote 184: Vol. IV, p. 78.]
[Footnote 185: Vol. II, § I.]
[Footnote 186: Winck., vol. IV, p. 116.]
[Footnote 187: Such is, I think, the general meaning, though the
literal translation of the words _als den Figuren sämmtlich die
Einfachheit abgeht_ is not quite clear. I take the word _sämmtlich_ to
mean "taken collectively as separate units."]
[Footnote 188: Winck., Werk., vol. V, p. 389. Anmerk.]
[Footnote 189: Meyer's _Gesch. der bild. Künste bei den Griechen_, vol.
I, p. 60.]
[Footnote 190: Pausanias, II, 30.]
[Footnote 191: I presume this is the meaning of _Bildnerei._]
[Footnote 192: I am not sure whether _Angaben_ refers to actual
sketches, or merely other evidence handed down.]
[Footnote 193: In the year 1829.]
[Footnote 194: That is in the accuracy of mechanical line as the result
of machine.]
[Footnote 195: _Sanftes Verlaufen, i.e._, passage from one plane
surface to another. _Zusammen-stossen_ appears to me the melting
together of lines, _i.e._, conjunction, fusion.]
[Footnote 196: Meyer's _Gesch._, vol. I, p. 279.]
[Footnote 197: Vol. III, Vorr. XXVII.]
[Footnote 198: That is in 1821.]
[Footnote 199: _Statarischen_, scholastic, eclectic.]
[Footnote 200: "De Leg.," Lib. II, ed. Bekk., III, 2, p. 239.]
[Footnote 201: Herod, II, _c._ 167.]
[Footnote 202: Vol. III, bk. 2, ch. I, p. 74.]
[Footnote 203: Vol. III, bk. 2, ch. 2, pp. 77-84.]
[Footnote 204: "Cours d'Archéologie par Raoul-Rochette,
1-12me leçon," Paris, 1828.]
[Footnote 205: I am not sure if this rightly gives the sense of the
words _Die Gestalten bei strenger Zeichnung gedrungen._]
[Footnote 206: Ueber die Aeg. Bildwerke mit kunstgesch. Anmerk. von
Schelling, 1817.]
[Footnote 207: That is, it does not approach Egyptian type so nearly.]
[Footnote 208: Hegel's words mean this, I suppose, though the German is
somewhat compressed and not very clear as it stands.]
[Footnote 209: Vol. III, ch. 2, § 10, p. 188 and Pl. VI, A.]
[Footnote 210: Hegel uses the unusual word _Begeistigung_, I presume
somewhat in the sense of _Begeisterung_, signifying the personal
inspiration of the artist.]
[Footnote 211: This appears to be the meaning of the difficult
phrase that sculpture supplies _das gesammte Daseyn_, _i.e._, is the
affiliating link of the collective body. All the different arts are
stamped with its characteristics.]
[Footnote 212: I presume the Pietà in St. Peter's.]
[Footnote 213: Hegel's "Vermisch. Schriften," vol. II, p. 561.]
SUBSECTION III
THE ROMANTIC ARTS
The source of the general transition from sculpture to the other arts
is, as we have seen, the principle of _subjectivity_, which now invades
art's content and its manner of exposition. What we understand here by
subjectivity is the notion of an intelligence which ideally exists in
free independence, withdrawing itself from objective reality into its
own more intimate domain, a conscious life which no longer concentrates
itself with its corporeal attachment in a unity which is without
division.
There follows from this transition, therefore, that dissolution,
that dismemberment of the unity which is held together in the
substantive and objective presence of sculpture, in the focus of its
tranquillity and all-inclusive rondure and as such is apprehended
in fusion. We may consider this breach from two points of view. On
the one hand sculpture, in respect to its _content_, entwined what
is substantive in Spirit directly with the individuality, which is
as yet not self-introspective, in the exclusive unit of a personal
consciousness, and treated thereby an _objective_ unity in the sense in
which objectivity suggests what is intrinsically infinite, immutable,
true--that substantive aspect, in short, which has no part in mere
caprice and singularity. And from another point of view sculpture
failed to do more than discharge this spiritual content wholly within
the corporeal frame as the vital and significant instrument of the
same, and by doing so create a _new objective_ unity in _that_ meaning
of the expression, under which objectivity, as contrasted with all that
is wholly ideal and subjective, indicates real and external existence.
When we find, then, that these two aspects, at first thus reconciled
in one another by sculpture, are separated, that which we call
_self-introspective_ spirituality is not merely placed in opposition
to that which is _external_, but also, in the domain of what is
_spiritual_ throughout, what is substantive and objective in that
medium, in so far as it no longer continues to be retained in what
is substantial individuality simply, is dissevered from the vital
particularity of the conscious life, and all these aspects which have
been hitherto held together in perfect fusion are relatively to each
other and independently free, so that they can be treated too by art as
free in this very way.
1. If we examine the content, then, we have through the above process,
on the one hand, the substantive being of what is spiritual, the world
of truth and eternity, the _Divine_ in fact, which however here, in
accordance with the principle of particularity, is comprehended and
realized by art as a subject of consciousness, or as personality, as
the Absolute, which is self-conscious in the medium of its infinite
spiritual substance, as God in His Spirit and Truth. And in contrast to
Him we have asserted the worldly and _human_ condition of soul-life,
which, regarded now as no longer in direct union with the intrinsic
substance of Spirit, can unfold itself in all the fulness of that
particularity which is simply human, and thereby permits the heart of
man wherever and whenever represented[214], the entire wealth of our
human mortality, to be open to art's acceptance.
The meeting-ground upon which these two aspects once more coalesce is
the principle of _subjectivity_, which is common to both. The Absolute
is, in virtue of this, disclosed to us to the full extent a living,
actual, and equally human subject of consciousness, as the human and
finite conscious life, viewed as spiritual, makes vital and real the
absolute substance and truth, or in other words simply the Divine
Spirit. The new bond of unity which is thus secured no longer, however,
supports the character of that former immediacy, such as sculpture
disclosed it; rather it is a union and reconciliation which asserts
itself essentially as a mediation of opposed factors, and whose very
notion makes its apprehension only possible in the realms of _the
soul_ and ideal life.
I have already, when the general subdivision of our science in its
entire compass offered an opportunity for doing so, laid it down, that
if the Ideal of sculpture sets forth in a sensuously present image the
essential solidity[215] of the individuality of the God in the bodily
form alone able to express that substance, the community thereupon
essentially confronts such an object as the intelligent reflection of
that unity. Spirit, however, that is wholly self-absorbed can only
present the substance of Spirit under the mode of Spirit, in other
words as a conscious subject, and receives thereby straightway the
principle of the spiritual reconciliation of individual subjective
life with God. As particular self, however, man also possesses his
contingent natural existence, and a sphere of finite interests, needs,
aims, and passions, whether it be more extensive or restricted, in
which he is able to realize and satisfy his nature quite as much
as he can in the same be absorbed in those ideas of God and the
reconciliation with God.
2. _Secondly_, if we consider the aspect of the representation on its
_external_ side, we find that it is by virtue of its particularity
at once self-subsistent and possesses a claim to stand forth in
this independence, and this for the reason that the principle of
subjectivity excludes that correspondence in its immediacy, and
disallows to itself the absolute interfusion of the ideal and
external aspects in every part and relation of it. For the subjective
principle is here precisely that which comes to be, in self-subsistent
seclusion, that inward life which retires from real or objective
existence into the realm of the Ideal, the world of emotion, soul,
heart, and contemplation[216]. This ideal life is manifested no doubt
in its external form, under a mode, however, in which the external
form itself appears, that is to say it is _merely_ the outer shell
of a conscious subject that is growing _independently_ within. The
hard and fast association of the bodily form and the life of Spirit
in classical sculpture is not therefore carried to the point of an
all-dissolving unity[217] but in so light and slack a coalescence
that both aspects, albeit neither is present without the other,
preserve in this connection their separate independence relatively to
the other, or at least, if a profounder union is really secured, the
spiritual aspect as that inward principle, which asserts its presence
over and beyond its suffusion with the objective or external material,
becomes the essentially illuminating focus of all. And it results from
this that, to promote the enhancement of this relatively increased
self-subsistency of the objective and material aspect,--we have in
our mind mainly, no doubt, the extreme case of the representation
of external Nature and its objects, even in their isolated and most
exclusive particularity,--yet even in such a case and despite all
realism in the presentment it is necessary that such counterfeits
should permit a reflection of the artist's soul to be visible on
their face. They should in other words suffer us to see the sympathy
of Spirit in the manner of their artistic realization, and therewith
discover to us the life of soul, the ideal life which is the vital
breath of their co-ordination, the penetration of man's emotional life
itself into this extreme type of external environment.
Speaking, then, generally, we may affirm that the principle of
subjectivity carries with it as its inevitable result, on the one hand,
that the wholly unconstrained union of Spirit with its corporeal frame
should be given up, and the bodily aspect be asserted in a more or less
negative relation over against the former, in order that the ideality
of Spirit may be emphasized on the front of that external reality, and,
on the other hand, in order to procure free scope for every separate
feature of the variety, division, and movement of what is spiritual no
less than what directly appeals to man's senses.
3. And, _thirdly_, this new principle has to establish itself in the
sensuous material, of which art avails itself in its new manifestations.
(_a_) The material hitherto was matter simply, that is, the material
of gravity in the content of its spatial extension, and no less was it
form under its simplest and most abstract definition of configuration.
Now that the _subjective_ and at the same time the essentially
particularized content of the soul is imported into this material,
the spatial totality of such material will without question in some
measure suffer loss in order that the former content may appear
upon its face with its ideal mintage[218], and contrariwise will be
converted from its immediately material guise to an appearance which
is the product of _mind_ or spirit; and, on the other hand, both in
respect to form and its externally sensuous visibility, all the detail
of what appears will be necessarily emphasized in the way that the new
content requires. Art is, however, even now compelled in the first
instance to move in the realm of the visible and sensuous, because,
following the above course of our inquiry, though no doubt the inward
or ideal is conceived as self-introspection[219], yet it has further to
appear as a return of its own quality to itself from this very realm
of _externality_ and _material shape_, in short, as a return of itself
to itself, which can only from the earliest point of view be portrayed
in the objective existence of Nature and the corporeal existence of
Spirit's life.
The _first_ among the romantic arts will consequently have as its
proper function to assert its content in the visible forms of the
external human figure and the natural shape wherever disclosed,
without, however, remaining bound to the sensuous ideality and abstract
range of sculpture. This is the task and province of _painting._
(_b_) In so far, however, as we find in painting for its fundamental
type, not as in sculpture the entirely perfected resolution of the
spiritual idea and the bodily form in one content, but rather the
predominant exposition of the self-absorbed ideality of soul, to that
extent the spatial figure in extension is not a truly adequate medium
of expression for the inward life of Spirit. Art therefore abandons the
previous medium of configuration, and in the place of spatial forms
employs the medium of _tone_ in the limited duration of its sounds;
tone in fact by its assertion of the material of Space under a purely
negative relation secures for itself a finite existence nearer to
ideality, and corresponds to that soul-life, which in accordance with
its own inward experience conceives and grasps that life as emotion,
and then expresses that content, as it enforces its claim in the unseen
movement of heart and soul, in the procession of tones. The second
art, therefore, which follows this principle of exposition is that of
_music._
(_c_) Thereby, however, music merely is placed at the opposite
extreme, and, in contrast to the plastic arts, both in respect to its
content and relatively to its sensuous material, and the mode of its
expression, cleaves fast to the formless content of its pure ideality.
It is, however, the function of art, in virtue of its essential
notion, to disclose to the senses not _merely_ the soul-life, but the
manifestation and actuality of the same in its _external reality._
When, however, art has abandoned the process of veritably informing
the real and consequently visible form of objective existence, and has
applied its activity to the element itself of soul-life, the objective
reality, to which it once more recurs, can no longer be the reality as
such in itself, but one which is merely _imagined_ and prefigured to
the mind or sensitive soul. The presentment, moreover, as being the
communication to Spirit of creative mind working in its own domain
is compelled to use the _sensuous_ material united to its disclosure
simply as a mere means for such communication. It must consequently
lower its denomination to that of a sign which of itself is without
significance. It is at this point that _poetry_ or the art of speech,
confronts us, which now incorporates its art-productions in the medium
of a speech elaborated to an instrument of artistic service, precisely
as intelligence already in ordinary speech makes intelligible to
spiritual life all that it carries in itself. And, moreover, for the
reason that it is able thus to unfold the _entire_ content of Spirit in
its own medium, it is the _universal_ art, which belongs indifferently
to all the types of art, and is only excluded in that case where the
spiritual life which is still unrevealed to itself in its highest
form of content is merely able to make itself aware of its own dim
presentiments in the form and configuration of that which is external
and alien to itself.
CHAPTER I
THE ART OF PAINTING
The most adequate object of sculpture is the tranquil self-absorption
of personality in its essential substance, the character whose
spiritual individuality is in the fullest degree displayed on the face
of its corporeal presentment, making the sensuous frame, which reveals
this incorporation of spirit, adequate to such an embodiment of mind
wholly in its aspects of external form. The sightless look has as yet
failed to concentrate at one point the supreme focus of ideal life,
the vital breath of soul, the heart of most intimate feeling, and is
as yet without spiritual movement, without the deliberate distinction
between a world without it and a life within. It is on account of this
that the sculpture of the ancients leaves us in some degree unmoved.
We either do not remain long before it, or our delay is rather due
to a scientific investigation of the fine modifications of form and
detail which it displays. We cannot blame mankind if they are unable
to take the profound interest in fine works of sculpture which such
works deserve. To know how to value them is a study in itself. At
first glance we either experience no attraction, or are immediately
conscious of the general character of the whole. To come to closer
quarters we have first to discover what it is that continues to supply
such an interest. An enjoyment, however, which is only the possible
result of study, thought, learning, and a wide experience is not the
immediate object of art. And, moreover, the essential demand we make
that a character should develop, should pass into the field of action
and affairs, and that the soul should thereby meet with divisions
and-grow deeper, this, after all our journey in search of the delight
which this study of the works of antique sculpture may bring to us,
remains unsatisfied. For this reason we inevitably feel more at home
in painting. In other words we are at once and for the first time
conscious in it of the principle of our finite and yet essentially
infinite spiritual substance, the life and breath of our own existence;
we contemplate in its pictures the very spark which works and is active
in ourselves. The god of sculpture remains for sense-perception an
object simply; in painting, on the contrary, the Divine appears as
itself essentially the living subject of spiritual life, which comes
into direct relations with the community, and makes it possible for
each individual thereof to place himself in spiritual communion and
reconcilement with Him. The substantive character of such a Divinity
is not, as in sculpture, an individual that persists in the inflexible
bond of its own limitations[220], but is one which expands into and is
differentiated within the community itself.
The same principle generally differentiates the individual from his
own bodily frame and external environment to quite as considerable an
extent as it brings the soul into mediated relation with the same.
Within the compass of this subjective differentiation--regarded as the
independent assertion of human individuality as opposed to God, Nature,
and the inward and external life of other persons, regarded also
conversely as the most intimate relation, the most secure communion of
God with the community, and of individual men with God, the environment
of Nature and the infinite variety of the wants, purposes, passions,
and activities of human existence--falls the entire movement and
vitality, which sculpture, both in respect to its content and its
means of contributing expression, suffers to escape; and it adds an
immeasurable wealth of new material and a novel breadth and variety
of artistic treatment which hitherto was absent. Briefly, then, this
principle of subjectivity is on the one hand the basis of division,
on the other a principle of mediation and synthesis, so that painting
unites in one and the same art what hitherto formed the subject-matter
of two different arts, namely, the external environment, which
architecture treated artistically, and the essentially spiritual form,
which was elaborated by sculpture. Painting places its figures on the
background of a Nature or an architectural environment, both of which
are the products of its own invention in precisely the same sense,
and is able to make this external material in both of these aspects
by virtue of its emotional powers and soul a counterfeit within its
ideal realm, in the degree that it understands how best to place it in
relation and harmony with the spirit of the figures that live and move
therein.
Such is the principle of the new advance that painting contributes to
the representative powers of art.
If we inquire now the course which the more detailed examination of our
subject necessitates the following division will serve us.
In the _first_ place we shall have yet further to consider the _general
character_ which the art of painting must necessarily receive in
accordance with its notion and relatively both to its specific content,
the material that is made consonant with this content and finally the
artistic treatment which is thereby involved.
_Secondly_, we have to develop the _separate_ modes of definition,
which are contained in the principle of such a content and manner
of presentation, and more succinctly fix the boundaries of the
subject-matter which is adapted to painting no less than the modes of
its conception, composition, and technical qualities as painting.
_Thirdly_, painting is itself _broken up_ into _distinct schools_ of
painting by reason of the above divisions of matter, technique, and so
forth, which, as in the other arts, have their own phases of historical
development.
1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE ART OF PAINTING
After having thus emphasized as the essential principle of painting
that world of the soul in its vitality of feeling, conception, and
action cast in embrace round heaven and earth, in the variety of its
manifestations and external disclosures within the bodily frame, and
affirmed on this account that the focus, and centre of this art is to
be sought for in romantic and Christian art, it may immediately occur
to the reader that not only do we find excellent artists among the
ancients, who are as distinguished in this art as others of their
age in sculpture--and we cannot praise them more highly--but also
that other peoples, notably the Chinese, Hindoos, and Egyptians, have
secured distinction in the direction of painting. Without question the
art of painting is, by virtue of the variety of the objects treated and
the particular type of its manner of execution, less[221] restricted
in the range of nations that exemplify its pursuit. This, however, is
not the point at issue. If our question is simply that of the historian
doubtless we find single examples of one type[222] of painting or
another have been produced at the most varied epochs by the nations
already mentioned and others. It is, however, a profounder question
altogether when we ask ourselves what is the _principle_ of painting,
examine the means of its exposition and in doing so seek to establish
that content, which by virtue of its _own nature_ is emphatically
consonant with the _painter's art_ as such and its mode of presentment,
so that we can affirm the form thus selected to be wholly adequate to
the content in question. We have but little left us of the painting of
the ancient world, examples, in fact, which we see can neither have
formed part of the most consummate work of antiquity in this respect,
nor have been the product of its most famous masters. At least all that
has been discovered through excavation in private houses is of this
character. It is impossible, however, not to admire the delicacy of
taste, the suitability of the objects, selected, the clearness of the
grouping, and, we may add, the lightness of the handling and freshness
of the colouring, excellences which without doubt were present in the
originals of such pictures in a far higher degree, in imitation of
which, for example, the wall paintings in the so-called house of the
tragedian at Pompeii have been executed. We have, unfortunately, no
examples of the works of famous masters. Whatever degree of excellence,
however, these more original productions attained, we may none the
less affirm that the ancients could not, alongside of the unmatchable
beauty of their sculptures, have lifted the art of painting to the
level of artistic elaboration as painting which we find secured in the
Christian era of the Middle Ages, and pre-eminently in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries. And we may assume this to be so on the
philosophical ground that the most genuine heart of the Greek outlook
is, in a degree which is inapplicable to the other arts, concordant
with the root and fragrance of that which sculpture and sculpture
alone can supply. And in art we are not entitled to separate spiritual
content from its mode of presentation. If, having this clear to our
minds, we inquire how it is that painting only reached its most
characteristic consummation through the content of the romantic type of
art, we can but reply that it is precisely the intimacy of feeling, the
blessedness[223] and pain that give to us the soul of this profounder
content, whose demand is for such a vital infusion, which has paved the
way to and in fact been the cause of this higher perfection of painting.
As an example of what I mean I will but recall to recollection one
particular instance already cited, namely, that we borrow from
Raoul-Rochette of the treatment of Isis carrying Horns on her knees. In
general the subject is identical with the Madonna pictures, a Divine
mother and her child. The difference of handling and conception in the
two cases, however, is immeasurable. The Egyptian Isis, as we find
her thus situated on bas-reliefs, has nothing maternal about her, no
tenderness, no trait of soul or emotion, such as is not even wholly
absent in the stiffer Byzantine pictures of the Madonna. And if we
think of Raphael, or any other great Italian master, what results have
they not achieved from this subject of the Mother and Christ-babe!
What depth of emotion, what spiritual life, what intimacy and wealth
of heart, what exaltation and endearment, how human and yet how
entirely filled with divine spirit is the soul which speaks to us
from every line and feature. And under what infinite variety of forms
and situations is this one subject presented to us even by particular
masters taken singly and still more by different artists. The mother,
the pure Virgin, the physical, the spiritual beauty, loftiness and
devotion of love, all this and countless other features are emphasized
in their turn as the main significance of the expression. But chief
of all we find throughout that it is not the sensuous beauty of mere
form, but the animate life of Spirit, by virtue of which artistic
genius no less than mastery of execution is asserted and secured. Now
it is quite true that Greek art has passed a long way beyond Egyptian
art, and we may add that it has made the expression of man's soul an
object aimed for. But it was not capable of grasping that intimacy
and depth of emotion which is discovered to us in the Christian type
of expression, and indeed was careful, in accordance with its entire
character, not to attach itself to such intensity of feeling. Take, for
instance, the case I have more than once already cited of the faun, who
carries the youthful Bacchus in his arms; it is, no doubt, expressive
of extremely tender and amiable qualities. The nymphs are equally so
who tend upon Bacchus, a situation which is depicted by a gem in a
very beautiful group of figures. In such cases we have an analogous
sentiment of unconstrained love for a child, equally free from passion
and yearning; but, even putting on one side the maternal relation[224],
the expression possesses in no respect the intimacy, the depth of soul,
which confront us in Christian paintings. The ancients may very well
have painted excellent portraits, but neither their way of conceiving
natural fact, nor the point of view from which they regarded human and
divine conditions was of the kind that, in the case of painting, an
infusion of soul-life could be expressed with such intimate intensity
as was possible in Christian painting.
The demand of painting, however, for this more personal type of
inspiration is a result of its very material. In other words, the
sensuous medium in which it moves is an extension on pure surface, and
the display of form by means of the use of _diversified_ colours, by
virtue of which process the objective shape, as we have it presented
to the vision, is converted to an artificial illusion adopted by a
spiritual agency[225] in the place of the actual form of fact. It is
part of the principle of such a treatment of material that which is
external should not ultimately retain its validity in its independent
native existence, even in the modified form it takes as a vital
product of human hands, but should in this form of realization be
lowered as reality to a purely phenomenal reflex of the _inward_
soul-life itself, which seeks to contemplate itself independently as
such. When we look into the heart of the matter we shall find that
the advance from the rounded form of sculpture amounts to nothing
less than the above statement. It is the soul-life, the ideality
of Spirit which undertakes to express itself in an intimate way
through the counterfeit of the objective world. Add to this, in the
second place, that the surface on which the art of painting makes
its objects visible, opens independently the path to the employment
of a surrounding background and other complex relations; and colour
too, regarded as the articulation of that which appears, requires
a correspondent differentiation of soul-life, which can only be
rendered clearly through the definition of expression, situation,
and action, and consequently makes necessary variety, movement, and
the detailed exposition of both the inward and external life. This
principle of inwardness[226] taken alone, which at the same time in
its actual manifestation is associated with the variety of external
existence and is cognizable on the face of such particular existence
as an essentially complete and independent complex of conditions, we
have already seen to be the principle of the romantic type of art, in
whose configuration and mode of presentation consequently the medium
of painting discovers in a unique way its _wholly adequate object._
Conversely we may affirm at the same time that romantic art, when
the question is actually one of definite works of art, must seek for
material which is consonant with its content, and in the first instance
it finds such in painting, which consequently remains more or less of
a formal character when dealing with all objects and compositions not
of this type[227]. Granting, then, the fact that we find outside the
Christian paintings an Oriental, Greek, and Roman school of painting,
yet the real centre and focus of all is none the less the elaboration
which this art secured within the boundaries of romantic art. We can
only speak of Oriental and Greek painting in the same kind of way
as we did when, despite our main thesis that sculpture attained its
highest crown of perfection in the classical Ideal, we referred to a
subordinate Christian type of sculpture. In other words we are forced
to admit that the art of painting first apprehends its content in the
material of the romantic type of art, which completely corresponds to
its instruments and its modes, and consequently that it was only after
the treatment of such material that it discovered how best to use and
elaborate in every direction all the means at its disposal.
Following now the course of the above remarks in a wholly general
way we have to observe as follows in connection with the _content_,
_material_, and _artistic mode_ of treatment of painting.
(_a_) The fundamental definition of the _content_ of painting is, as we
have seen, subjectivity as an independent process[228].
(_α_) In this process, looking at it from the point of view of a
_reflex of soul-life_, individuality must not wholly pass into the
universality its substance, but must on the contrary disclose how
it retains that content as a distinctive personality[229], and
possesses and expresses its inward life, that is the vitality of its
own conception and feeling in the same; neither should the external
form be wholly dominated by the ideal individuality as is the case
in sculpture. For the principle of subjectivity, albeit that it
permeates the external material as the mode of objectivity adequate to
express it, is notwithstanding likewise an identity which withdraws
itself into itself out of that objective domain, and by virtue of
this self-seclusion is relatively to that objective aspect neutral,
leaving it quite untrammelled. Just as therefore, on the spiritual
side of the content, the particularity of the personal life is not
set forth in direct union with its substance and universality, but is
essentially reflected as the culminating feature of its independent
embodiment[230], so, too, in the objective envisagement of form, the
particularity and universality of the same are carried from their
previous plastic union[231] to a predominance of the individual aspect,
and indeed of comparatively accidental and indifferent features, and
in a manner much the same as that which, in the reality of sense
experience, is the prevailing character of all phenomena.
(_β_) A _further_ important point is that connected with the range
of _scope_ that is permitted to the art of painting in virtue of its
principle with regard to the objects to be thus presented.
The free principle of subjectivity suffers on the one hand the entire
field of natural objects, and every department of human activity to
remain in its substantive mode of existence; on the other, it is
capable of entering into fusion with all possible detail, and creating
therefrom a content of its own ideal life, of rather we should say that
only in this interfusion with concrete actuality does it assert itself
as concrete and vital in its products. Consequently it is possible for
the painter to import a wealth of material into the realm occupied by
his artistic works, which remains outside, the reach of the sculptor.
The entire world of the religious idea, conceptions of heaven and hell,
the history of Christ, his disciples and saints, external Nature, all
that concerns humanity down to the most fugitive of situations and
characters, all this material and more can find a place here. For as
we have seen all that pertains to the detail, caprice, and accidental
features of human need and interest is affected by this principle,
which at once strives to comprehend and compose it.
(_γ_) And along with this fact we have as its _corollary_ that painting
makes the _soul_ of man itself the subject of its creative work. All
that is alive within the soul is present in ideal form, if it is,
when we consider its content, at once objective and absolute in the
abstract sense[232]. For the emotional life of soul can without
question carry the universal within its content, a content, however,
which, as feeling, does not retain the form of this universality,
but appears under the mode as I, this individual person--I know my
identity therein and feel the same. In order to educe and set forth
this objective content as objective, I must forget myself. In this way
the painter no doubt reveals to our sight the ideal substance of soul
in the form of external objects, but the truly real content which it
expresses is the personal soul that feels. For which reason painting,
from the point of view of form, is unable to offer such distinctive
envisagements of the Divine as sculpture, but only ideas of less
defined character such as belong to the emotions. It may appear as a
contradiction to this position that we find again and again selected
as subjects of the paintings of masters, who stand without question
in the highest rank, the external environment of mankind, mountains,
valleys, meadows, brooks, trees, ships, buildings, their interiors,
in short earth, sea, and sky. What, however, constitutes the core in
the content of such works of art is not the objects themselves, but
the _vitality_ and soul imported into them by the artist's conception
and execution, his emotional life in fact, which is reflected in his
work, and gives us not merely a counterfeit of external objects, but
therewith his own personality and temperament[233]. And it is precisely
by his doing this that the objects of Nature, as reflected by painting,
even from this realistic point of view, are relatively insignificant,
because the influence of soul-life begins to assert itself in them as
the main significance. In this tendency towards temperament, which, in
the case of objects borrowed from external Nature, may frequently only
amount to a general response emphasized between the two sides, we find
the most important distinction between painting on the one hand and
sculpture and architecture on the other. Painting indeed approximates
in this respect more closely to music and emphasizes here the point of
transition from the plastic arts to that of tone.
(_b_) To proceed to our _second_ main division I have already several
times referred, if only in respect to features of fundamental
importance, to the difference we discover between the sensuous
_material_ of painting and that of sculpture. I will therefore in this
place only touch upon the closer connection which obtains between this
material and the spiritual content which it most notably has to display
to us.
(_α_) The first fact we have to consider in this connection is this
that painting compresses the _three_ dimensions, of Space. Absolute
concentration would be carried to the point, as elimination of
all juxtaposition, and as unrest essentially predicable of such
concentration, as we find it in the point of Time. Such a mode of
negation carried out in its entire result, however, we only meet
with in the art of music. Painting, on the contrary, permits the
spatial relation still to subsist, and only effaces _one_ of the three
dimensions; superficies is made the element of its representations.
This reduction of the three dimensions to level surface is implied
in principle of increasing reality, which is only capable thereby of
asserting itself in spatial relation as such ideal transmutation, owing
to the fact that it does not suffer the complete totality of objective
fact to persist as such, but restricts the same. Ordinarily we are
accustomed to view this reduction as a caprice of the art which amounts
to a defect. What is here sought for, it appears, is that natural
objects in all their naked reality, or spiritual ideas and feelings, by
means of the human body and its postures should be made visible to our
senses for such an aim it is obvious that the surface is insufficient
and inferior to Nature, which appears before us with a completeness
wholly different.