The true difference between the Gothic and the Renaissance does not lie
in the structure of the building but in the quality of the sculpture and
in its color.
What is meant by color in sculpture and in architecture? It is the law
of light and shade, the great law of oppositions which constitutes
the charm of nature, the beauty of a landscape at dawn, its splendor
at sunset. The color springs from the quality of the modeling; it is
the relief which gives the light tones and, by contrast, the dark,
in the parts that do not stand out. The ensemble of the intermediary
diminutions of light and shade produces the general coloring, whose
nuances can be infinitely varied according to the skill of the artist.
Modeling is the only way in which to express life; and there is only one
thing that counts in sculpture and in architecture--the expression of
life. A beautiful statue, a well-made monument, live like living beings;
they seem different according to the day and the hour. How beautiful it
is to give to stone, through nothing but the values of planes, through
the handling of shadow and light, the same charm of color as that of
living nature, of the flesh of a woman. In the plastic arts, the color
betrays the quality of the planes as a beautiful complexion reveals
health in a human being.
The antique has shorter planes than the Gothic; it lacks therefore
those deep shadows that give to the Gothic such a tormented and tragic
aspect. The Greek balances the framework of the human body on four
planes, the Gothic on two only. The latter produces a stronger effect,
a more _hollowed_ effect, that _effet de console_ which is essentially
Gothic. Nevertheless, the shadow that results from it is more sustained
than in the antique and nothing could be softer or more full of nuances.
The Roman presents an abundance of dark shadows which, in turn, create
an effect of heaviness and density. The Greek puts in just enough of
them to quicken the general coloring. The Roman gives a flatter effect,
which shows nevertheless a magnificent vigor. As for us, we copy these
styles endlessly without understanding them, for if we did understand
them we should do quite otherwise. We abuse the black, the powerful
lines, we put them everywhere; we do not know how to shade light. That
is why our sculpture is so poor, why our monuments appear so hard, so
dry. The Bourse, the Corps Législatif, might be made of iron with their
columns set against a uniform background which prevents the light and
air from circulating about them and enveloping them and destroys the
atmosphere. This is what people call a simple style. It is not simple,
it is cold. The simple is the perfect, coldness is impotence.
The Renaissance recaptured the antique measure and imposed its generous
color upon the Gothic plane. It used less shadow than our sculptors of
the Middle Ages; it diminished the reliefs. The effect in consequence
was lighter. This was because the Renaissance was enchanted by all the
Greek statues that were discovered at this period; and in its enthusiasm
it recreated Greek art, not by copying it, but by copying nature
according to antique principles. It is perhaps a little less beautiful
but it has quite the same feeling of gentle strength, of delicacy. One
feels the joy of the artist who throws himself against the problem of
the nude in the open air. Till then statues had been draped, but under
the draperies was concealed a carefully studied nude. In the Renaissance
the drapery was dropped: the nymphs of Jean Goujon, of Germain Pilon--I
recognize them; these long bodies of women, these undulating bodies, are
Gothic statues unclothed and set in another light. Our whole sixteenth
century is a song of grace rising from the Gothic heart to the art of
the Parthenon.
But nowhere than in the country of the Loire is there Renaissance art
more gentle and amply luminous. This is the Greek part of France. The
tranquil river touched the heart of our architects and bestowed on them
some of its calm and smiling majesty. From it, from the air impregnated
with its vapors, came those châteaux so happy in their beauty and those
lovable cottages; for the artist worked as beautifully for peasants as
for kings. Before Ussé, before Chenonceaux, Blois, Azay-le-Rideau, I am
not in the presence of dead things but of a living spirit, the spirit of
divine beauty that animated equally the antique and the Gothic. Charming
sixteenth century France, it is you who have forced me to the study of
chiaroscuro. Formerly I tried my best to understand your motives, your
thousand nerves, but the general law escaped me. I did not see your
soul, which consists entirely in the voluptuous shadings of light; I did
not perceive your principle, the modeling which impressed movement upon
everything and gave the movement life.