Greek Sculpture
and
Modern Art
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
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C. F. CLAY, MANAGER
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THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA
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Greek Sculpture
and
Modern Art
Two lectures delivered to the students
of the Royal Academy of London
by
SIR CHARLES WALDSTEIN, Litt.D., Ph.D., L.H.D.
Fellow and Lecturer of King's College, Cambridge
Sometime Slade Professor of Fine Art, Reader in Classical Archaeology
Director of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, and Director of
the American School of Archaeology, Athens
with an appendix
ra
Cambridge :
at the University Press
1914
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A.
AT THK UNIVERSITY PRESS
N
7
(A/3
CCp.%
PRINTED IN SRE'tT
TO
MY FRIEND
GEORGE LEVESON GOWER
PREFACE
IT has been suggested to me that the two
lectures on Sculpture which I delivered in
February of this year to the students of the Royal
Academy Art School should be published in a
more permanent form. It was held that they
might prove useful, not only to students of art, but
also to the general public, as an introduction into
the study of sculpture. My own aim was a more
definite one.
The domain and the aims of Art have for many
centuries extended far beyond the mere expression
of Formal Beauty. They have encroached in all
times, even the earliest, down into the regions of
the Useful, they have blended and united in effort
and purpose with the wide and high spheres and
objects of Truth and Goodness. The artist may
primarily and ultimately, in many cases when great
works were produced, have conveyed deep thoughts
in his own peculiar mode of expression, have re-
corded the True, the leading and essential features
of things of the outer world in nature and of the
inner world in man, have lifted high the standard of
Goodness, of human love and happiness, even have
viii Preface
approached in expression the Divine in religious
fervour. He may be, and is often, spurred on and
inspired in his creation to express his own emotions
and those of mankind, as evoked or affected by
things that can be realised through the senses, felt
or heard or seen. Or he may set himself the
equally arduous and worthy task of merely con-
veying the truth of the things themselves in the
clearest and most convincing methods of artistic
expression. And this is true of Art.
Still the fundamental truth of Art is that it has
arisen- out of man's need for harmony and beauty,
prevalent, if not dominant, in the earliest stages of
his life of sense. As art, the satisfaction of this
fundamental instinct in its highest forms will always
remain its essential characteristic, if not its ultimate
aim. The direct expression and realisation of
Formal Beauty will always be one of the leading
purposes and aims of art, even though it is far from
being the only aim of the artist. But it must, to
some extent and in some form, enter into the mani-
festation of the artist's work, however far removed
his ultimate purpose may be from this primary and
elementary aspect of his effort. His truth in the
rendering of things — things of nature and life, or of
his own inner emotional experience, must be ex-
pressed through the "harmony" of that truth — the
comic, the tragic, even the grotesque, must be the
harmony of the comic, the tragic and the grotesque.
He must combine in its expression those aesthetic
features which produce a "harmony," in which every
Preface ix
element and every atom of expression are united and
fused into a living, an organic, whole, which is the
most perfect exposition of the thing conveyed through
an artistic vehicle.
This being so, the artist must have the natural
predisposition and bias in his mentality and character
and imagination towards the beauty-side of life. At
some phase or other of his education and in his
development he must cultivate and encourage this
side of his artistic nature. Without it, he may be
a most skilful and painstaking craftsman and may
produce works, which, because of the technique and
the honesty of labour, are interesting and valuable.
We must be grateful for their production and receive
them with sympathetic appreciation ; but they will
not be works of art and he will not be an artist.
He may also prove himself a most acute and accurate
observer, but he is not therefore an artist. He may
manifest a highly developed emotional nature which
he endeavours to analyse and present. We may
be interested in his psychology (if we can always be
sure of having realised it aesthetically and accurately
—which is by no means always the case), but he is
therefore not yet an artist. It is his primary sense
of Beauty, his natural and acquired sense of re-
garding all things and expressing all his feelings in
the light of " harmony," that makes him an artist.
This apparent truism is denied by many artists and
those practising artistic work, especially in their
theories, when they write and talk ; and is repeated
by a number of acute and sincere critics. We can
x Preface
understand and forgive this aberration on the part
of the theorising artist. For he has realised rightly
in his arduous training all the difficulties of technique,
so that it is natural for him to exaggerate its im-
portance and forget the elements of his nature, his
origin ; as people are likely to forget or ignore the
childhood training which made them men. But we
ought not to forget this.
I wish to acknowledge the kind help of Mr
A. D. Knox, Fellow of King's College, Cambridge,
in revising the proofs, and also to thank M. Rodin
for his kindness in authorising me to reproduce
several of his works.
C. W.
NEWTON HALL,
NEWTON, CAMBRIDGE.
November i, 1913.
LIST OF
ILLUSTRATIONS
(at end)
PLATE
I. Artemis from Delos, Athens.
II. Hera of Samos, Louvre.
III. Apollo of Tenea, Munich.
IV. Archaic figure from the Acropolis of Athens.
V. Similar statue from the Acropolis.
VI. Back view of statue from the Acropolis.
VII. Archaic Apollo from the Acropolis.
VIII. Female figure from the Acropolis.
IX. Bronze head from Herculaneum, Naples.
X. Marble figure from pediment of Aeginetan temple, Munich.
XI. Head of bronze charioteer from Delphi.
XII. Bronze head of Polycleitan Doryphoros from Herculaneum,
Naples.
XIII. The Polycleitan Diadumenos, Dresden.
XIV. Head of the so-called Lemnian Athene, Bologna.
XV. Bronze head from Benevento in the Louvre.
XVI. Bronze statue from Cerigo, Athens.
XVII. Bronze head from Herculaneum, Naples.
XVIII. Bronze head of boxer, Olympia.
XIX. Centaur in the Capitoline Museum, Rome.
XX. Head of Apollo, Western Pediment, Olympia.
Head from Eastern Pediment of Olympia.
XXI. Head from Eastern Pediment of Olympia.
XXII. Lapith Woman, Western Pediment, Olympia.
Head of River-god, Eastern Pediment, Olympia.
XXIII. Heads from the Frieze of the Parthenon.
XXIV. Heads from the Frieze of the Parthenon.
XXV. Heads from the Frieze of the Parthenon.
Head from the Metopes of the Parthenon.
XXVI. Heads from the Metopes of the Parthenon.
XXVII. Scopasian head from Acropolis, Athens.
XXVIII. Head of Cnidian Aphrodite, Vatican, Rome.
XXIX. The Kaufmann Aphrodite, Berlin.
XXX. Head of the Hermes of Praxiteles, Olympia.
XXXI. Head of Eros of Centocelli, Vatican.
XXXII. Marble head in Dresden.
XXXIII. The Petworth Aphrodite.
XXXIV. Head from Chios, Boston.
XXXV. Head formerly in possession of M. Palli, Athens, now in
Museum of Boston.
XXXVI. Head of Giant from the Frieze of the Altar at Pergamon, Berlin.
XXXVII. Head of Giant from the Frieze of the Altar at Pergamon, Berlin.
Xll
List of Illustrations
PLATE
XXXVIII. Head of Laokoon, Vatican, Rome.
XXXIX. Marble head in the Louvre Museum.
XL. Tomb of the Medici by Michelangelo, Florence. Photo Anderson.
XLI. Tomb of the Medici by Michelangelo, Florence. Photo Anderson.
X LI1. Portrait of Octave Mirbeau by Rodin.
XLIII. Portrait of Puvis de Chavannes by Rodin.
XLIV. Portrait of Balzac by Rodin.
XLV. Portrait of a lady by Rodin.
XLVI. Le Baiser by Rodin.
XLVII. Le Penseur by Rodin.
XLVIII. Le Penseur by Rodin.
XLIX. The Iron Age by Rodin.
L. Danaide by Rodin.
LI. Horsemen from the Frieze of the Parthenon.
LII. Attic Sepulchral Slab (Hegeso Proxeno), Athens.
LIII. Choiseul-Gouffier statue of an athlete, British Museum.
LIV. Standing Figure, Westmacott Youth, British Museum.
LV. Doryphoros of Polycleitos.
LVI. The Angelus by J. F. Millet. Photo Mansell & Co.
LVII. A Miner by Meunier.
LVIII. A Docker by Meunier.
LIX. La Vieille Heaulmiere by Rodin, in the Luxembourg Museum,
Paris.
LX. Theseus (? Olympos), Eastern Pediment of the Parthenon.
LXI. The Three Fates (? Hestia, Gaia and Thalassa) from the Eastern
Pediment of the Parthenon.
LXII. Niobide Chiaramonti.
LXIII. Charioteer from a Frieze of the Mausoleum of Halicarnassos.
LXIV. Dresden Statue, possibly reproduction of a Scopasian type.
LXV. Victory of Samothrace in the Louvre Museum.
LXVI. Two heads from the Tegean Pediment by Scopas.
LXVII. Hermes carrying the infant Dionysos, Olympia.
LXVIII. Statuette of Aphrodite or a maiden, Antiquarium, Munich.
LXIX. Marble copy of the bronze statue of the athlete Agias by
Lysippus from Delphi.
LXX. Apoxyomenos, marble copy of bronze typical athlete statue by
Lysippus.
LXXI. Portrait of Demosthenes.
LXXII. So-called Seneca. Bronze from Herculaneum, Naples.
LXXIII. So-called Scipio. Bronze from Herculaneum, Naples.
LXXIV. Laokoon, Vatican, Rome.
LXXV. Frieze from the Altar of Pergamon.
LXXVI. Toro Farnese, Naples.
LXXVII. Boy with the Goose. Greek genre sculpture.
LXXVIII. Man wasting away. Bronze statuette.
GREEK SCULPTURE
AND
MODERN ART
The practice and study of art are at this moment
passing through a critical phase. New standards of
art-work and of art-theory are being established.
They imply a distinct opposition to the current
methods, the technique of art-work; and an opposition
to the general aim which the artist previously held
before him, which, to use one wide, though vague
and often misleading, term, may be called the
realisation of beauty. What I hope to show in
these two lectures is, that, whatever justification
there be in the new aspirations, in the new methods,
and in the new outlook, the study of Greek sculpture
still remains, and will always remain, as far as its
fundamental principles and its main achievements
are concerned, a subject which you can study with
profit and at some stage you must study.
Now let us examine a little more closely the
nature of the present crisis in art, both as regards
technique and as regards subject-matter, the "how"
and the "what" of art, and let us, if possible,
determine the " wherefore " in these two questions.
w. i
Greek Sculpture
I. THE TECHNIQUE.
As to the question of technique : Each period
in the whole history of art invents, or rather
evolves, certain modes of dealing with the artistic
material — in fact each individual artist finds his
peculiar mode of expression, which we call his
" style." I shall hope to show you how the history
of Greek sculpture is to a great extent the history
of this process of evolving, modifying, and advancing
the mode of plastic expression, the technique, in
order to express more truthfully and adequately what
the artist desired to realise. It is soon found (in
the history of every art) that certain materials ex-
press more adequately than others the subject-matter
and the feelings of the artist. Each new material
requires, and consequently finds or evolves, a new
technical treatment, new drawing, new design, and
new modelling. In ancient Greece wood, clay,
bronze, marble (tinted or untinted), above all gold
and ivory, will be found to have had this effect.
This I shall illustrate to you. There is thus, on the
one hand, a natural advancement of technique in the
course of time, the successive artists and generations
of artists profiting by the labour and the skill of their
predecessors in the manipulation of their tools and
the elaboration of the material with greater facility
and skill, and again modifying their technique by
the acquisition or adoption of new materials and new
tools. But, on the other hand, we have also to
and Modern Art 3
count with a tendency to stereotype and retard this
natural progress. There is a natural tendency on
the part of the artists and the public (whose taste
the artists influence and direct) to stereotype the
technique, which gradually becomes fixed as a con-
vention, until it may become removed, and even
divorced, from nature. There then follows a revolt
against the tyranny of the established powers and
the ruling techniques, and there comes a period of
revolution in which new needs are advanced and
new experiments made in every direction. The new
and the old clash and struggle, and it is a question
which will survive. This is a most natural process
and one that constantly repeats itself in history.
Let me illustrate what I have just been main-
taining by definite instances from extant remains of
Greek sculpture.
There can be no doubt that in the earliest period
of Greek sculpture wood was the dominant material
for statues in the round, which they called Xoana.
Now let me show you in a series of early Greek
statues this process of change in technique, as
affected by change in material, and illustrate this
process especially in the rendering of texture in
hair. The instances I shall give will manifestly
show the influence upon the technique of the dif-
ferent materials and tools used for wood-carving,
modelling in clay and metal work.
The three statues here shown are the Artemis
from Delos (Plate I), the Hera from Samos (PI. II),
and the Apollo of Tenea (PI. III). Though of early
I 2
4 Greek Sculpture
dates themselves, they are transcriptions into stone
of originals far older, which were evidently in wood.
It will readily be seen how the Artemis from Delos,
ending in the lower part in an oblong, with the feet
shown in the front, reminds one, especially in the
lower part, of a simple board. It is the yS/aeras or
craw's board shape, which we learn existed in the
earlier idols, and thus maintains itself even in the
early renderings of such figures in stone. The
Samian Hera, on the other hand, is composed exactly
within the compass of a round tree-stem, reminding
us almost of some of the early wooden Niirenberg
toys rudely carved out of wood, though, in compari-
son with the Delian Artemis, it shows considerable
advance in the modelling of the female figure and
greater roundness of form. It will be seen how the
indication of texture in the folding of the thicker
upper and the thinner under-garment is attained by
the cutting of parallel grooves in the manner of wood-
carving. The statue of the nude youth, called the
Apollo of Tenea, though showing a marked advance
in the art of modelling, is still reminiscent of the
early wood technique. The general composition still
reminds us of the circumscribed space of a tree-stem,
which primarily necessitated the close position of
the hands to either thigh, as well as the square
blocking-out of the thighs behind, like the chopping
of wood.
But, for our purpose in the short time before
us, it is perhaps most instructive to consider only
one special feature in the art of modelling, namely,
and Modern Art 5
the hair. If you take, as regards this treatment of
hair, merely the long curls that hang down from the
back of the head over the shoulders and breast in
two of these female figures (Pis. IV and V), you will
see how the rough texture of the hair is here in-
dicated by means of a dog-tooth pattern, a zig-zag
notching of long strips of material, corresponding
to the rudimentary process of cutting wood with a
knife, although the statues are later reproductions
of the type in stone in which the technique of the
earlier wood-carving survived. The same applies
markedly to the mass of hair on the back of one of
these figures (PI. VI). Now, when these curls pre-
sent a succession of round balls, as in the long curls
of the Apollo carrying a young bull (PI. VII), the
technique corresponds more to that of working in
clay, in which successive pinches of the soft clay
produce these balls. On the other hand, when
these curls represent a continuously twisted spiral,
you have in the marble copy (PL VIII) a reproduc-
tion of the peculiar early bronze technique. For in
the earlier bronze sculpture curls or ringlets are pro-
duced by actually inserting bronze wire, which is
twisted in spiral fashion, as will be seen from the
bronze head from Herculaneum (PL IX) which is
a good instance of ripe Archaism in which these
twisted wire curls are actually inserted above the
forehead and below the braid. The snail-like series
of ringlets surmounting the forehead of many heads
in marble belonging to the Archaic period are really
marble copies of this peculiar early bronze technique.
6 Greek Sculpture
One of the most authentic instances of this is the
head from the nude figure of the Aeginetan temple
(PI. X). All the statues from the pediment of this
temple are of marble ; but the Aeginetan school of
sculpture of that period was especially famed for its
bronze work, and these marble statues show very
clearly the predominance of the peculiar bronze style
of that school and period.
A most important landmark in the development
of bronze style during the period of transition from
Archaic sculpture to perfect freedom and naturalism
in the great art of the 5th century B.C. is furnished by
the famous Charioteer of Delphi (PL XI), a work
that can be accurately dated about the year 470 B.C.
It will here be seen how the hair follows the outline
of the scalp and skull in one smooth and compara-
tively thin layer, distinctly maintaining the shape of
the bony structure beneath the hair. The locks of
hair themselves are thus indicated, not so much by
pronounced modelling in the strong rise and fall of
these locks, but rather by the surface work in metal
corresponding to engraving — resembling rather a
metal-worker's chiselling than the actual work of
the modeller in wax or clay. Higher relief and
greater freedom are shown by the sculptor in dealing
with the locks of hair round the ear and in the
delicate indication of the nascent whiskers in front of
the ears. Here he has displayed much greater free-
dom and naturalism, as we should expect from an
artist standing on the very threshold of a period of
complete freedom. The bronze copy of the head of
and Modern Art 7
the Doryphoros of Polycleitos from Herculaneum
(PI. XII) in the Museum at Naples (which belongs
to the great period about the middle of the 5th
century B.C.) shows this same bronze treatment which
is flatly incised or closely massed following the shape
of the head ; but in the head of the Diadumenos (PI.
XIII) by the same sculptor, where the band which
the athlete is tying round his head becomes so im-
portant a part in the meaning of the whole figure,
there naturally followed a bulging out of the locks
above and below the band. Thus the sculptor was
led to advance beyond the flat incised treatment of
locks of the Doryphoros and to model in strong
relief with greater variety and sinuosity each lock as
it projects and intersects the neighbouring curl. In
the same way the head of the so-called Lemnian
Athene (PI. XIV), which has been attributed to
Pheidias, and if not by him belongs to one of the
prominent artists about the middle of the 5th cen-
tury B.C., shows a similar advance and refinement
in the rippling elaboration of the strands and locks
of hair which, however, are still restrained from the
bolder and deeper incision of modelling of later
periods by the traditions of the earlier bronze tech-
nique. A further step is made in the bronze bust in
the Louvre Museum (PI. XV) (supposed to have
been found at Benevento) which has been ascribed
to the second half of the 5th century B.C., in which
greater variety and depth of modelling are introduced
into the treatment of the hair. In the next century,
owing especially to the great advance made in the
8 Greek Sculpture
indication of texture in the sister art of painting and
more especially in marble technique, the bronze
treatment of hair still further emancipates itself.
But at first it remains more conservative than the
treatment given in marble, and the indication of
small ringlets with a crisp rise in each separate
lock is maintained, especially in the head of athletic
figures, as we find it, for instance, in the beautiful
bronze from Cerigo (PI. XVI). It was owing chiefly
to the vigorous naturalism of the greatest sculptor
in bronze of that age (perhaps of the whole of Greek
art) — Lysippos — that the treatment of hair in bronze
makes the greatest advance in freedom and in
boldness of modelling*; and we thus find that in the
head from Herculaneum (PI. XVII) in the Museum
at Naples (which probably belongs to a period suc-
ceeding Lysippos, though the type of head belongs
rather to the period immediately preceding him), the
locks which we noted in the Cerigo head are each
one of them modelled with a height and variety of
relief which favours the sinuosity of the metallic
treatment in bronze. This combination of natural-
ism, if not realism, with the accentuation of the dis-
tinctive qualities of the metallic material in bronze,
is well illustrated in the head of the Olympian
Boxer (PI. XVIII), where, both in the hair and in
the beard, the single locks intertwine and cross
each other and each single lock is actually modelled
and cast in strong relief. The sculptor revels still
more in this achievement of his art, — in the delight
of displaying a sinuosity of line and form which the
and Modern Art 9
material itself suggests, in the period succeeding the
4th century B.C., when, as in the Centaurs (PI. XIX)
of black marble (basalte nero), which endeavour in
stone to imitate as closely as possible a bronze
statue, his modelling of the hair and his indication
of the sinuous quality of bronze reach their highest
point. I may say, by the way, that no people have
realised so thoroughly this artistic quality of bronze
and all metal work as did the Chinese and Japanese
in their masterly casting of the most delicate spirals
and curves of their best bronzes. The last phase
in the development of the bronze technique in
Classical Art and the styles to which it led in the
later Hellenistic periods in the schools of Asia
Minor, had its influence on the marble work of that
period. We saw before that, even in the Archaic
period, the bronze-worker influenced the treatment
of the marble sculptor in dealing with hair.
If now we turn to marble sculpture we shall find
a similar development, as regards the innovations
introduced, as art advances ; and these are directly
produced or modified by the material used and its
manipulation. But it is well for us to remember in
dealing with Greek sculpture that, even in the earlier
periods and still more in the flourishing period of
marble sculpture during the 4th century B.C., poly-
chromy and tinting were freely applied to marble
and stone sculpture. In the pedimental figures from
the temple of Zeus at Olympia we see a period of
uncertainty as regards the evolution of a tectonic
style appropriate to the material used. This may be
io Greek Sculpture
seen in all the modelling, and especially in the hair.
The hair is indicated by conventional grooving or by
equally conventional modelling of curves and ringlets
(Pis. XX and XXI); but it is quite manifest that the
sculptor or sculptors relied to a considerable extent
on the intervention of, or assistance to be derived
from, colour. Thus in the head of one of the river-
gods (PI. XXII) the hair as we now see it is repre-
sented by a smooth cap-like covering ; but un-
doubtedly its texture was indicated throughout by
means of colour which has entirely disappeared.
The head of one of the Lapith women from the
Western Pediment (PI. XXII) is covered by a cap-
like arrangement of bands which were no doubt pro-
fusely ornamented with colour. The mass of hair
jutting forth below the band around the forehead
and the side of the head is now only indicated by a
projection with a roughened surface. There can be
no doubt that this roughened surface served as a
ground for the colour which was applied. The extant
heads from the Parthenon Frieze(Pls. XXIII, XXIV
and XXV) show a variety of actual modelling in
strands and locks in which the sculptor worked with
free chisel and mallet. But we must always remember,
in dealing with these works, not only that they served
as architectural ornaments and were, therefore, not so
carefully and highly finished, and that colour was
to some degree added ; but, especially, that they
were meant to be seen at a considerable distance
at which these details could only act as masses. In
the earlier Metopes from the Parthenon (PI. XXVI)
and Modern Art 1 1
we find a variety of treatment in the heads of Cen-
taurs and Lapiths corresponding to what has just
been said about the sculptures from Olympia.
It is especially in the 4th century, however,
notably through Scopas and Praxiteles, that marble
as a material for the highest form of sculpture really
comes in, and that its inherent artistic quality is
recognised and developed. The ancient authors
directly tell us that these two artists did thus raise
marble to the height to rank with the noblest
materials for artistic purposes.
The Aphrodite head from the south slope of the
Acropolis (PI. XXVII) maybe attributed to Scopas.
It will readily be perceived how, in the treatment of
the eye — especially in the softer treatment of the
parts surrounding the eyeball, and in the softer
modelling of the whole face — the actual quality of
the marble, its peculiar power of absorbing and re-
flecting light, — thus accentuating the softness of
texture in the human skin, — are here felt by the
sculptor and directly utilised to produce his artistic
effect. Especially is this the case with the hair,
where a certain superficial vagueness and roughness
of texture (in contradistinction to the sharp marking
and engraving of the bronze treatment) are intro-
duced to absorb the light and, by contrast to the
smoother modelling of the face itself, bring out the
true quality of marble as they accentuate the differ-
ences of texture in the parts of the human head.
But it must again be remembered that in the time of
Scopas, especially by Praxiteles, colour was called in
12 Greek Sculpture
to assist the sculptor in this indication of texture by
means of tinting and even by some form of encaustic
painting or enamelling. Thus in the head of the
Cnidian Aphrodite (PL XXVIII), which unfortu-
nately we only have in an inferior copy of the Roman
period, there can be no doubt that the hair was
tinted and colour was even added to the other parts
of the face. There are two other copies of the head
of the Cnidian Aphrodite among many inferior ones
which come nearer to the famous original in artistic
quality than does the head of the Vatican statue.
The one was found at Martres Tolosane in France,
the other — to my mind the best of all — is the
so-called Kaufmann head at Berlin (PI. XXIX).
The famous Hermes of Praxiteles at Olympia
(PI. XXX) definitely preserves traces of colour
and of gilding of the sandals. But being an
original work by that great artist — though far from
one of his famous works — it more adequately re-
presents his marble technique. The softness and
delicacy in the modelling of the features, especially
in the deep-sunk eyes, present a strong contrast to
the rough blocking-out of the hair, which on its part
again presents a most marked contrast to the treat-
ment of the locks of the hair in bronze sculptures in
the instances we have examined above. This bold
blocking-out with rough surfaces was so new a
feature to archaeologists when the statue was dis-
covered, that they at first thought the work was an
unfinished one. But it merely illustrates the main
thesis I am now supporting, that the Greeks boldly
and Modern Art 13
introduced innovations in technique corresponding to
the nature of the materials they used. Compared
with the treatment of hair in the Archaic period, this
work shows the introduction of innovation as bold
as is, in some respects, the work of M. Rodin by
contrast with that of his predecessors and some of
his contemporaries. But Praxiteles adapted his
technique to his subjects and did not establish a
convention of giving to all the hair he dealt with
this unfinished appearance. In the case of his
Aphrodite, the general arrangement of the hair
differs essentially from that of the Hermes. In the
famous Eros of Centocelli (PI. XXXI), which is a
poor and late copy, I see an underlying original
of Praxitelean type. It will be seen how the hair is
worked in a mechanical manner by the late copyist
with mechanically drilled grooves manifesting hasty
and mechanical workmanship. But the general
scheme of the hair shows Praxitelean innovation,
and no doubt the roughnesses of the surface in the
original produced the wonderful refractory effect in
the marble.
The sons and successors of Praxiteles, as we
know from ancient authors, carried this innovation
of texture by the surface treatment of the marble
still further than did the artists of the Praxitelean
and Scopasian periods. We must never forget that
Lysippos intervened between them, and that in his
bronze works the sculptor carried the actual refine-
ments of modelling without the aid of colour to a
higher pitch. A transition from the Praxitelean
14 Greek Sculpture
style in the indication of texture — in bringing out
the intrinsic quality of the material and in indicating
the softness of the human skin — is furnished by a
head in Dresden (PI. XXXII), which to me still
seems Praxitelean, but which leads over to the schools
immediately succeeding Praxiteles. These are repre-
sented by the well-known head of Aphrodite at
Petworth (PI. XXXIII), and still more perfectly by
the beautiful head from Chios in the Boston Museum
(PI. XXXIV). It has been suggested by Mr Marshall,
supported by M. Rodin, that this head belongs to
the period of Praxiteles ; but I venture to hold, and
believe that I can prove, that from the greater in-
dividuality given to the type, the still softer model-
ling of features and skin, and the further accentuation
of the qualities of marble, it belongs to the next stage,
in that school identified with the sons and successors
of Praxiteles. A still further step in this direction
is marked by the Aphrodite head (PL XXXV)
formerly in private possession at Athens and now in
the Museum at Boston.
In the Pergamene and Rhodian periods which
follow, boldness, if not sensationalism, of technique
is carried still further, and the vigorous modelling
in bronze, as introduced by Lysippos, is blended
with supreme virtuosity in the indication of texture in
marble. This is best illustrated by the heads of giants
from the Pergamenean Frieze (Pis. XXXVI and
XXXVII) and the head of Laokoon(Pl.XXXVIII).
The high-water mark in this rendering of texture in
marble sculpture seems to me to be attained by a
and Modern Art 15
head, as yet but little noted, in the Louvre Museum
(PI. XXXIX), which shows the individualism in the
modelling of each feature — eyes, cheek, mouth and
neck — contrasted with the rougher texture of the
hair, which well illustrates the development of Greek
sculpture in technique.
If now, with an abrupt stride, we turn to
modern times, it will be most instructive to
examine a few of the works of M. Rodin. I have
singled him out among all contemporary sculptors,
not only because of his great achievement and emi-
nence, but because he has himself directly, or in-
directly, undertaken to express by word and criticism
the theories on which his art is based (or he supposes
it to be based) — from many of which I venture to
differ. What is most important, however, is that
his work does mark a new departure in the applica-
tion of the sculptor's technique, especially in this
indication of texture. Great artists of the past,
especially Michelangelo, already ventured to vary
the scale of finish in their work in order thereby
to create different values in the co-ordination
of parts, to express an artistic idea and to widen
the range of possible emphasis. In the Tomb of
the Medici (Pis. XL and XL I) Michelangelo no
doubt designedly left some parts unfinished in
order to accentuate all the more strongly those that
were completed in modelling. M. Rodin carries
this still further in that, by this relative contrast,
with various gradations from the elaborately model-
led to the rough block of material, he could also
1 6 Greek Sculpture
bring out the artistic quality of the material he uses,
whether marble or bronze. Take his portrait of
Octave Mirbeau (PI. XLII) and you will realise how
in the highly finished and delicate modelling of the
whole face — the eyebrow, the upper and lower eyelid
with the intervening orb, the peculiar quality of
the flesh on the cheek of the man no longer in the
height of youth, — contrasted with the almost metallic
accuracy in the modelling of the ear ; the lines and
curves of the nose and chin, contrasted again with
the rudely blocked-out moustache [I might be
permitted to question whether a slightly greater
elaboration of the moustache would not have helped
to convey its form and texture, while harmonising
in tone with the general scale of finish of the rest of
the head] — and again, in the wonderful indication of
the structure of the skull and the gentle nodosities
of the bald skin covering it, with the delicately
modelled thin hair on the side of the head — there is
manifested the greatest mastery in the art of model-
ling and especially in the indication of texture through
the qualities of the marble material. But these
qualities are still further emphasised by the mass of
drapery placed round the greater portion of the head
in bold folds, which powerfully suggests its own
texture and which is again varied in the degree of
finish in the upper portions, as contrasted with the
lower portions, until, round the neck and at the back
of the head, the marble is left in its crude and un-
finished state. There is thus created a wide scale of
values in light and shade, approaching to the very
and Modern Art 17
indication of colour, which can hardly be separated
from form and chiaroscuro. But the drapery and the
unhewn marble surrounding the head itself help to
accentuate all the refinements of modelling in the in-
dication of texture in the head itself. By their com-
parative want of elaboration they, moreover, force the
eye to concentrate on what in fact — in real life and in
art — was to the sculptor the one important element of
his artistic effort, namely, the portrait itself, the man's
head. Negatively put, the attention of the spec-
tator is thus not deflected to any other less essential
details ; and positively it increases — I was almost
going to say idealises — the presentation of individual
character in the portrait of a human head. The
same boldness of modelling is to be noted in his
portrait of the great painter, Puvis de Chavannes
(PI. XLIII), where the breadth and boldness of
modelling lead the sculptor to avoid some of the re-
finements in the previous head, in order to accentuate
the sterner and more serious nature of the character
of the man whom he is presenting. A still bolder
step is made in the elimination of minor details in
his monument of Balzac (PI. XLIV). This is an
outdoor monument and is thus meant to be seen
from a distance. I regret to say that I have never
seen the original and have, therefore, not the right
to pass a final judgment. But I venture to doubt
whether the same effect of vigour could not have
been produced by a slight degree of more detailed
drawing and higher finish. That Rodin is able to
produce this highest finish when he thinks it
w. 2
1 8 Greek Sculpture
appropriate can be realised in contrast by his T£te de
femme (PI. XLV) in the Luxembourg, in which, in
order to render the peculiarly charming and typical
qualities of French finesse, he models face, neck and
hair with consummate finish. I cannot leave the
work of this great sculptor without pointing to a
few of his ideal statues. His famous large work
called Le Baiser (PI. XLV I) is one of the great
masterpieces of the age. The depth and purity of
meaning in this group of the strong man and the
strong and yielding beautiful woman are here again
powerfully expressed by the supreme and legitimate
means of the sculptor's art, in the general com-
position, in the movement and rhythm of the figures,
in every aspect and in every part of the body, from
whatever side the group is viewed. But though it is
called Le Baiser the eye of the spectator is not
meant to dwell upon the heads and still less the
lips. They are left comparatively unfinished and
thus the work does not illustrate a casual embrace,
but becomes almost cosmical in its significance.
The same largeness of meaning and of treatment
applies to his two masterpieces, the two renderings
of Le Penseur (here given in two renderings, Pis.
XLV 1 1 and XLV 1 1 1). The powerful unintellectual
working man, whose vigorous development of bodily
strength has been devoted to labour, is seen in one
moment of concentrated rest, when the muscles
(though in repose) are still in active tension. He
stops to think and rest his chin on his powerful
hand, he seems to ponder over his own strength, his
and Modern Art 19
own claims, his potential power and his present
weakness in human society. These two statues
remain among the greatest works of sculpture of
modern times. The same applies to his nude figure
to which he gives the title of The Iron Age (PI.
XLIX). The arrested and complex, though har-
monious, movement of the figure rising to its erect
position, as if the consciousness of strength were
just born in it, is a most perfect rendering in every
respect of movement in sculpture. The sense of
form and beauty is carried out in the whole and in
every detail and satisfies the spectator by the har-
mony between life and its meaning and beauty of
form. Let me finally, among the few works of the
great sculptor that I have singled out, draw at-
tention to his marble statue of the Danaide in
the Luxembourg Museum (PI. L), in which the
gradation between the supremely finished treatment
of the nude in the modelling is accentuated by the
comparative absence of finish in the treatment of the
hair, which merges into the suggestive indication of
waves, roughly blocked out, but thoroughly sug-
gestive of the swish and movement of water. It
is in this work that the actual quality of the marble
itself is again brought out through the art of model-
ling and becomes an element of aesthetic delight ;
as in similar compositions in bronze he has used
that material to produce aesthetic pleasure in bring-
ing out its intrinsic metallic qualities by means of
his modelling.
In this rapid survey of sculpture, past and
2O Greek Sculpture
present, I have endeavoured to indicate how in-
novations of artistic technique constantly introduced
have tended to supersede the older established
techniques, and I especially desire to remind you
that such a struggle between old and new, the pre-
sent traditions and the aspirations of the future,
is nothing new. But I must now remind you, in
limitation of my remarks about the technical innova-
tions of M. Rodin, which we have seen are artistically
justified, that there is danger lest such peculiarities
of technique — as, for instance, the occasional rough-
ness of the marble left in almost its natural unhewn
condition — should become themselves a convention
to be followed, a trick of craft arrogating to itself
the quality of a "style." Young disciples and even
apprentices make a positive quality of this negative
neglect of work, leaving their compositions un-
finished and rough ; and then the public, who merely
take a superficial view of things, associate these
eccentricities with the well-known work of a great
master and actually demand what is only the
absence of finished work. Such practice on * the
part of novices reminds me of the quaint remark
of a shrewd Quaker who, while listening to the
exaggerated rhetorical display of a young lawyer
at the Philadelphia Bar, said to his neighbour,
" How very much our young friend reminds him-
self of Daniel Webster." Every artist would do
well to remember the dictum reported of the great
Greek sculptor Polycleitos — the real difficulty of
the sculptor's work only begins when the clay
and Modern Art 21
adheres to the finger-nails. You must be able to
reach the high state of finish in the honest tech-
nique of drawing and modelling before you can
allow yourselves the occasional divergences in vary-
ing this degree of finish in order to produce definite
and individual effects. There is one further point
I should like to impress upon you that, justifiable
as all these developments of technique are in their
approach to the rendering of texture in various
objects of nature, we must not forget, that art may
thus suggest, but must not imitate. If Rodin, in
his marble group of the Danatde, produces so
striking an effect of contrast in the modelling of
the nude female figure and the composition of its
lines with the system of lines running in horizontal
curves along the pedestal on which the figure
itself is posed, he not only emphasises the quality
of texture in the nude Dana'ide, but he also sug-
gests to the eye of the spectator, in accordance
with his subject, the swish of water over which
the figure is bending. Yet this water and its swirl
are only suggested and are not imitated. We never
forget, and we are never meant to forget, that
it is modelled marble and not flowing water ; and in
thus bringing out the quality of the marble itself,
the play of light and shade, the various refractions
and absorptions of light which, owing to his model-
ling and to the wavy treatment of the marble, he
presents to the eye, he has produced in itself a
source of artistic pleasure which is essential to the
sculptor's art, belongs to him and to no other artist,
22 Greek Sculpture
which he alone can do and certainly can do best in
presenting his subject of the Danaide as a sculptor
— not as a painter, a poet or a musician. The poet
and the musician, and even the painter and draughts-
man, would treat the subject in quite a different way
to produce their own artistic effects. None of them
should ever attempt actually to imitate water. If
they were foolish enough to do so, they would (as I
shall have occasion to repeat to you from another
point of view later) challenge a comparison between
nature herself and art, much to the detriment of art.
The consideration of this one point brings me to
the last question of technique with which I mean to
deal to-day, the question : " Where is the limit to
this naturalism of technique ? " My answer is :
The limit after all must be sought for, and will be
found, in the nature of the material itself. As we
have just recognised that M. Rodin has manifested
a high artistic quality in his sculpture by bringing
out to the full the nature of the marble and, in other
cases, the nature of the bronze, or whatever material
he may have used in his works, so the whole history
of sculpture shows that the limit to the attempt at
producing natural illusion by means of technique is
to be found in the essential nature of the material
which the artist uses. The sculptor after all uses
stone, metal, and other similar materials ; he does
not reproduce the actual living flesh, and bone, and
muscle, and skin ; nor water, nor trees ; nor can it
be his object ever to deceive the spectator into
believing that he is viewing the actual objects of
and Modern Art 23
nature when he contemplates the work of sculpture.
Though in the treatment of your material, in your
composition, and in your modelling you may use
every means, however new they may be, however
unaccustomed the public may be to such artistic
treatment, if they honestly tend to express the
artistic forms you wish to put into your work ; yet
you can only afford to do this after you have
genuinely learnt modelling as such, as the ancient
Greeks practised it and have carried it to the highest
point of finish in their work. You may be still
further encouraged in your attempt to adopt new
methods of manipulation when you recognise that
even the ancient Greeks were not as limited in their
material and in their technique as we are. They
used wood, stone, clay, wax, bronze. But one of
the most important vehicles of plastic art in the
greatest periods was what they called chryselephan-
tine sculpture. These huge structures, representing
colossal statues and compositions, with the core of
wood and other materials, were overlaid with model-
led sheets of gold and delicately adjusted ivory to
which were added enamels, covering and accentua-
ting the raised designs and ornamentations and
contributing the beauty and harmony of colour to
design and modelling. Their marble statues, more-
over, were tinted and coloured, and they never
hesitated to call in the aid of another process or any
addition of materials which would contribute to the
legitimate artistic effect which their work was to
produce. But this boldness and fearlessness in
24 Greek Sculpture
enlarging technical possibilities were always regu-
lated in the sculptors by the most complete power of
composition and modelling in its normal and central
form, by the rise and fall of light and shade which
the treatment of the surface of their material pro-
duced, giving the correct drawing in line and in
mass of the subject they wished to convey to the
spectator, and thus telling the whole story by
means of composition and modelling completely and
convincingly. This modelling, moreover, was in
conformity with the essential spirit of sculpture as a
monumental art ; the statue fixing and fascinating
the eye of the spectator upon itself and in itself,
where the artistic harmony was to be found irrespec-
tive of surroundings or accidental conditions. When
you are able to produce such a work by these
essential means of the sculptor's craft, then you may
adapt your work to further pictorial or decorative
effects, and you may consider surroundings and
modify your technique in accordance with it. You
may be bold when you are masters of your craft, and
courage will be a virtue ; but be sure that you have
mastered your craft. You may find that the earliest
childish attempts of a great master, his hasty sketch
in a few lines, are valued by a subsequent genera-
tion, treasured and studied, because he was the
great master who presented the world with his
completed works. But do not think that you as
students or apprentices may directly aim at pro-
ducing works corresponding to these childish en-
deavours or mere sketches, when you have not
and Modern Art 25
proved your power in finished work. So too a
definite or peculiar subject or situation may call for,
and justify, a new and peculiar technical treatment
and innovation. This may be right ; but beware
lest you make an exclusive habit or a general method
of such an exceptional treatment. In the Parthenon
Frieze, which, as you may know, rises to 2j inches
from the background and frequently presents two or
three layers of figures, riders and horsemen one
above another (PI. LI) on this shallow rise from the
background, and was moreover seen under peculiar
conditions of light by the spectator standing 39
feet below the Frieze, in this Parthenon Frieze,
I say, you may find, for instance, that in the bellies
of the horses and other portions the outline is
enforced by a groove running parallel with it and
that the outline runs straight at right angles to the
background of the relief. This peculiar treatment
was adopted by Pheidias in order clearly to define
the complicated outline-drawing of the figures in
the Frieze under the peculiar conditions of lighting.
It has accentuated this outline, made it clear. Some
of his immediate followers or contemporaries, minor
artists or satellites, reproduced these peculiarities of
technique, justified by the peculiar conditions of the
work, in works in which these peculiar conditions
did not prevail. So, for instance, in some of the
sepulchral reliefs (PI. LI I), which were meant to
be seen on the eyeline, the edge of the relief runs at
right angles straight to the background and thus
produces a disturbing and ugly surface when seen
26 Greek Sculpture
on the eyeline. This is an instance of the intro-
duction of what might have been called an inno-
vation, and of the slavish reproduction of tricks of
technique evolved by a great master with a de-
finite purpose but not meant to become a normal
part of the sculptor's technique.
But let us turn to modern times, our own im-
mediate days. I have, for instance, seen the intro-
duction of a dark brownish line surrounding the
contour of face and figure, or of objects in landscapes,
to heighten the relief and to assist in the indication
of aerial perspective. This may sometimes be justi-
fiable and add a desired effect. But to see, as I
have recently seen, a whole technique as it were
made of this one peculiar experiment, and to see
nearly all faces and all outlines of clouds cumbered
and coarsened by the introduction of such a dark
edging, is an aberration of pictorial technique and
only shows the vicious exaggeration of a tendency
which may have sprung from qualities that point
to a virtue, — I mean courage and the desire for
originality in this extension of technical possibilities.
Thus the reformers who revolt against what is
established and scorn the idea of following slavishly
in the footsteps of their predecessors really fall into
the same vice in a more acute and exaggerated form.
They follow slavishly, not the established rules nor
the achievements of the great masters, but the
momentary peculiarities or eccentricities of one con-
temporary master. The technique established gene-
rally for real drawing or modelling is then forsaken.
and Modern Art 27
The roughnesses in Rodin's work without his finish
are to be met with in every exhibition. In their
revolt against classicism artists slavishly follow a
new method that has not been tried by ages, simply
because it is new and not established. I would
beg you to remember an important distinction ; the
distinction between fashion and tradition. While
recognising that the attempt to widen the possi-
bilities of artistic technique in new and untried
directions is justifiable and even desirable, you must
remember that each innovation must win recognition.
Like the processes in nature, those of history, of
man's work and achievement, point to the survival
of the fittest. Each innovation must prove that it is
the fittest for the purposes for which it is introduced.
If it is not, it may become a fashion, but soon dies
away. If it is, it establishes what we may call an
artistic and technical tradition. You may endeavour
to produce a fashion in art which may ultimately
become a tradition ; but you must not follow a
fashion, though you may and ought to follow a
tradition while you are learning.
28 Greek Sculpture
II. THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF ART.
I have limited my remarks hitherto to the first
part of the subject with which we are dealing,
namely, the sculptor's technique. We now come to
the second part, the subject-matter, the conception
of the artist, the spirit in which he approaches
nature and chooses his subject. Here again we are
in a great crisis. There is strife everywhere, both
within the public and among the mass of artists,
between the new and the old, between the adopted
and prevalent conception of art and its domain and
a revolt against these conceptions on the part of a
group of artists, many of them, I may say most of
them, sincere and ardent enthusiasts in the cause of
art. They revolt against the restrictions in the
choice of their subject, as well as in its presentation.
They wish to widen out the domain of art to com-
prise the whole of nature and of life. If this domain
of artistic subject and of its treatment has been fixed
by convention, then the revolt against such a con-
vention is normal and natural and is a sign of
vitality and sincerity. And the process of such a
struggle is the normal process in the evolution of all
human effort and achievement. As an old Greek
philosopher said: "Strife is the essence of life";
and such strife may mean advance when it leads to
positive results. But let me add that, when it merely
means the opposition to what has been painfully
evolved by logical, reasonable effort on the part of
and Modern Art 29
previous ages, and the destruction of this highest
result of human effort in the past, it means retro-
gression from civilisation to savagery, from cosmos
to chaos.
In the history of art this process of struggle has
been a normal process in all times. The history of
Greek art is the history of a succession of such
struggles towards expansion and intensification and
purification ; and, taking Greek art as a whole,
we have had throughout the ages a succession of
revolts against its dominance, when its laws and
standards have been so far fixed and stereotyped as
to have destroyed its essential spirit into what is
called Classicism, which is a wholly different thing
from true Hellenism. The history of Greek art and
thought, as we shall see, belies all the tenets of the
stereotyped classicist. Nevertheless its essential
principles and its main achievement, as I hope to
convince you in these two lectures, though lost sight
of in the heat of the battle, always re-assert them-
selves and ultimately hold their sway over the
artistic world — as they always will.
We can thus distinguish in the history of Greek
art such periods of struggle ending in the victory
and re-instatement of its essential spirit. This pro-
cess we might call renaissance. We can distinguish
in all periods and climes such re-births of the es-
sential spirit of Greek art. When the realists and
sensationalists in the 3rd and 2nd centuries B.C. in
ancient Greece ran riot in the domain of sculpture,
there was such a renaissance in the classical world
30 Greek Sculpture
even before the Christian era. You all know the
Italian Renaissance, from which event I have bor-
rowed this word. Remember that the cry of the
Renaissance was : "back to nature," which to them
always meant back to beauty. This Renaissance
was carried on to France and spread over the whole
of Europe. It passed through, we might say, de-
generated into, the dominant barocco of the period
of Louis XIV and the chinoiserie of Louis XV,
until again it led to the revival under Louis XVI
and was fixed and made academic and lifeless among
the Davidian classicists, against whom again arose
the romantic movement in the early iQth century.
In England the Jacobean Renaissance, with ad-
mixtures from the art of France, from Holland, and
from China, led through Queen Anne's reign to the
efflorescence of the period in which the brothers
Adam set a key-note of decorative principles and
the great i8th century painters imbibed much of the
sense of classical beauty. In sculpture the good
work of Canova and Thorwaldsen lost its spirit in
the contemplation of late Greek or Roman types of
art and imposed the narrow tyranny of classicism,
until true Hellenism was brought before the eyes
of the world with the Elgin marbles and the later
discoveries of other purely Greek works in more
modern times, including those interesting specimens
of Archaic sculpture which illustrated the vital pro-
cesses of the art of the Greeks, until we come to
our own days when the strife is raging anew. But
the victory of the principles embodied in the
and Modern Art 31
Renaissance, of Greek naturalistic idealism, is con-
stantly manifested before our eyes. Let me just
point to one significant instance that the students
could have witnessed in a definite locality. In the
United States about 40 years ago there began a
revolt against the sham of Victorian classicism in
architecture. Great vitality, if not genius, was
shown in the revival there headed by Richardson ;
but it soon degenerated (owing to its mere opposi-
tion to the main principles of harmony and line and
form as established by the Greeks) to an eccentric
restless anarchistic form of architecture, in which
the picturesque was wantonly introduced in defiance
of essential architectural principles, and the result
was again the return to pure Hellenic principles.
Each one of these periods when you study them
thoroughly and dispassionately, as true historians
and critics of art (who, by the way, have their
function and right of existence as well as the pro-
ducing artists, though essentially differing from them),
shows evidence of a vital process and develop-
ment, of adaptation of new needs in the history of
man and of human society. But let me add, that
each confirms certain broad and essential principles
of art which must be adhered to. I may say that
these principles were first laid down by the Greeks
and are illustrated in their works. The drawing-up
in battle array of the opposing forces in the struggle
of art in every domain is not exceptional, but is the
normal process in all times of artistic vitality. Look
at the opposing movements when the French drama
32 Greek Sculpture
of the 1 7th and i8th centuries was tied down to
the formalism (let us, say classicism) of the gods
appearing with wigs and red heels. Remember the
powerful attack which Lessing made upon this
restriction of subject and treatment, and how the
whole sphere of actual life was widened out by such
writers as Richardson. Remember how in more
recent times Balzac and Flaubert and their followers
wrote long prefaces to justify the principles on which
they produced their art. Remember the strife be-
tween the English poets and the Scotch reviewers,
between the upholders of Lamartine's lyrics and
those who realised the power and courageous vitality
of Victor Hugo. Many of you will recall the in-
sistence with which the admirers of Tennyson's
finished lyrical form opposed the rugged vitality
with which Browning deals with life and thought.
Turn to music and remember that almost the same
words that were used by the opponents of Wagner
against his conception of harmony and orchestration
were before hurled at Beethoven and are now used
(I do not say rightly or wrongly) against Strauss,
De Bussy and other living composers. I am saying
all this merely to show you that such strife and
struggle is not exceptional to our own days, but
clearly marks the usual process of artistic develop-
ment. The desire to expand, to extend and to
intensify the practice of art, as regards its technique
and as regards its choice of subjects, is natural and is
right. But the protagonist must remember always
to retain his sincerity and to keep his eye fixed on
and Modern Art 33
the positive goal of extending and intensifying his
art and must not be conscious of, or even dwell and
insist upon, the fact of its novelty, still less its eccen-
tricity. Nor must he be absorbed by the negative
impulse of opposing that which has established its
right of existence through ages of sincere and de-
finite effort ; until, in endeavouring merely to be
different from him whom he imagines to stand in
his way, he loses sight of the real positive goal
towards which he is struggling. He must expect
from the nature of things to be unrecognised until
his individual effort has at last passed through the
stage of a fashion into a justly established tradition.
Please remember that in the instances I have just
mentioned, the struggle between two great directions
and schools of art, the new school won the day,
passing through the stage of fashion into that of
tradition. But there were hundreds, nay thousands,
of individuals and schools who endeavoured to im-
pose their innovations upon the body of art of whom
you have never heard and whose efforts have flowed
by in the course of time like evanescent ripples in a
rushing stream. This is especially the case with
those movements that are essentially negative, simply
opposed to what is or what has been universally re-
cognised, without any positive justification of their
own, which ought to form the moving power of
every effort. What I object to in the work, and
still more in the written and spoken theories of
many of the innovators of our day, is not their
positive achievement when they have really produced
w. t
34 Greek Sculpture
something that tells a new story ; but their opposi-
tion to what they call beauty. Their work becomes
often a puerile — or, at all events, an exaggerated
— protest against that which has hitherto been
considered worthy of artistic effort. In painting a
head (they seem to enjoin) choose the fattest and
coarsest peasant face, without a harmonious line of
refinement in it, without even what we call decided
character as indicating a marked and individual soul,
avoid all grace and refinement and distinction, and
you can then claim to give nature. Van Dyck, and
even Rubens and Rembrandt (they seem to imply),
did not present human nature, because they generally
rendered superior types of strength and refinement.
If you wish to represent a nude female figure, choose
a model with the thinnest legs, the most exaggerated
hips, the evident signs of want or excess, if not
disease, and call her a Venus ; but by all means avoid
what, through countless generations and through the
actual laws of human vision itself, has been estab-
lished to be the normal development of the body
and the realisation of the sense of proportion and
beauty of line and form. If you wish to present
attitudes or movements, avoid all that is really ex-
pressive of repose or motion, especially if it also satis-
fies the sense of proportion which the normal human
eye craves for in lines and forms ; do not choose this
attitude of men standing at rest (Pis. LIII and LIV),
as the Greeks have presented it with the convincing
suggestion to the eye of the spectator of stability and
repose, but twist the one hip round and turn the
and Modern Art 35
one toe in and the figure will almost appear bow-
legged! At all events you will have succeeded in
avoiding the charge of having satisfied the sense
for beauty which the Greeks established, and you
can then claim (without a particle of justice to your
claim) to have " followed nature," which you main-
tain is the only object of the artist. But I tell you
that you will be emphatically and absurdly wrong in
attributing to nature your own vagaries. For re-
member that if nature produces the individual, she
also produces the type ; in fact that she is chiefly
concerned in producing the type, or the genus and
species, in the whole history of her noble struggle.
If nature presents to you movement, she does so
not only in the individual ! Remember that every
individual varies in the manner of carrying out such
movement. No two horses, not to speak of men,
walk or move rapidly or jump alike. Which are
you to copy, if, in accordance with nature whom you
profess to worship, you wish by means of your art
convincingly to present us with the act of walking
or of jumping ? Well I will tell you whom you are
to follow : Nature, who has established the type of
such movement of walking or jumping from the
point of view of the movement itself, and the dis-
covery and establishment of these types, is, as I shall
endeavour to show you, the achievement of Greek
art of which you saw a few specimens a moment ago.
There is a certain right way to move, adapted to the
organism of man or animal, and used for different
purposes of their lives. This is the right way and it
3—2
36 Greek Sculpture
therefore becomes the convincing form for the artist to
present, and the Doryphoros (PI. LV) is one of many
that renders one important and pregnant moment in
this typical form of movement. I may tell you that
there is a typical — or ideal if you like — form in which
the horse can jump and this you must endeavour to
render, when you wish to convey to the spectator
who stands before your work, the act of jumping—
unless you wish to give a portrait of one individual
horse with a peculiar style of jumping as a portrait.
But I find, and I am told by the artist of the modern
school, that " all you have to do is to watch the in-
dividual movements of one model and to try and
catch it and render it truthfully as you think you see
it, and that this is the whole domain of art. But
whatever you do," they maintain, " avoid the typical
renderings, which, worst of all, lay claim to beauty
of line and harmony of composition. If you have
merely run counter to these accepted traditions of
the artist in the past and to the natural craving of
the art-loving people for the satisfaction of their
instincts which make for harmony and beauty, you
have then fulfilled all that sincere, free, and living
art ought to do."
The fundamental error of all these vagaries,
proclaimed by would-be critics and by the artists
themselves (who fortunately never in their good
works live up to them), is caused by, what I should
like to call, THE DOCTRINE OF ARTISTIC EQUIVALENCE
IN NATURE AND LIFE. They say : " Draw and paint
and model what you see, it makes no difference
and Modern Art 37
what it is. On the contrary, if you dare to select
from (or, as they choose to put it, to improve upon)
nature, you will be committing the one great crime
of art." To begin with, as I have already indicated,
nature herself and life belie this principle of equi-
valence. I have already alluded to her constant
endeavour to establish the type in life and move-
ment. With persistent intensity she watches over
the survival of the fittest. Human life as well, in
the history of the past and in the actual fullness
of the present, is struggling towards the same end.
As I am moved by it at this moment, let me appeal
to you by a complex instance within our own ex-
perience. Last week we were all thrilled and
saddened by the tragic news of the loss of Captain
Scott and his heroic assistants. At the same
moment we heard of the death of thousands of
soldiers in the Near East. Did the loss of each
individual life affect us in the same way? It is not
only that the death of the one comes nearer to our
homes, that we knew of him and not of each one
of the thousands, sons of parents and fathers of
children, who have died in the East, that we feel
this difference. But life itself has established for
us this difference between the life of a Darwin
and the one unit of life among the thousands who
leave no mark upon the time they live in. Do not
misunderstand me, it would be unjust to me to
charge me with intellectual or artistic — forgive the
word — snobbery. I do not say that art should only
present the life of the leisured and prominent people,
38 Greek Sculpture
it can and must widen out its spheres in every
direction. The subjects chosen, for instance, by
J. F. Millet in painting (PI. LVI) and by Meunier
(Pis. LVI I and LVI 1 1) in sculpture from the lives
of peasants and labourers are of the noblest. A
novel presenting, by all the legitimate means of
that art, the life history of a servant may be, and
very often is, nobler than one that deals with
the life of princes or heroes. But let me, by the
way, warn you not to think that the lives of the
latter are not also part of that nature which you
worship, and that spurning or opposing the artistic
treatment of such spheres of life does not of itself
make you truer to nature. Nor are you justified in
making a school or a whole movement rest upon
such negative limitations. If you will allow me to
quote my own words published more than 30 years
ago with regard to sculpture, I maintained that :
"A marble Angel of Death bearing heavenwards
in his arms a dead infant, with marble tears trickling
down the cheek, suspended from the ceiling of a
drawing-room by a silver rope, has less artistic soul
than the statue of this pugilist." What I am in-
sisting upon now is that nature herself does not
admit of such a doctrine of equivalence. But when
we come to art, this doctrine leads us still more
directly into the domain of the absolutely absurd.
Science, though its direct and ultimate object is
Truth, towards the discovery of which it must direct
every effort, must deal with the facts as they pre-
sent themselves and must avoid all personal equation
and Modern Art 39
in observing them, in order to arrive at the laws
governing the phenomena. In so far science much
more justifiably maintains the doctrine of equivalence,
though a great deal could here be said against such
an assumption. Yet when we come to art the
adoption of such a principle at once leads us into
conditions which stultify the very nature of artistic
effort. Even so great an artist as M. Rodin preaches
that all the artist ought to do is to see and to re-
produce faithfully what he sees, simply to follow
nature, for she is always artistic, always beautiful.
As he proceeds to develop his views (I am not
referring to some of his best works] he begs the
whole question by maintaining, that the artist must
see more, and more perfectly, than the ordinary
man, that he must render what lies hidden below
the surface, as it were the soul of the thing, that he
must give character (what the Greeks called ethos].
In using such terms he simply begs the question ;
for this is not simply seeing and reproducing only
what we see. The true artist cannot, and ought
not, merely to record what he sees indiscriminately.
If that were the object of art, then it would, in the
first instance, merely have the function of recording
the facts as an illustrated text-book of science or a
snap-shot photograph would do it. Art would merely
be a recording machine, a matter of convenience ;
so that man should have presented what he happens
not to have before him in life at that moment.
Remember that then the actual sight of the object
in nature and life would always be preferable to this
4O Greek Sculpture
convenient record called art. A murder in the street,
or a case in a divorce court, would produce a higher
artistic impression than the reading of the account
of it in the daily paper, and the latter a more artistic
rendering of both than a novel or a drama which
gives such incidents as they have passed through
the brain of a literary artist. Still, neither the
seeing of such events nor the transcription in the
daily press constitute a work of art. And if the
justification of art were merely the most truthful
rendering of such aspects of nature and of life, its
whole raison d'etre would have vanished.
If you think it misleading to use the word BEAUTY
(which is undoubtedly a very complex term), let me
then say, as practically Aristotle did, that harmony
is, and ever will remain, the essence of art, its
primary impulse and its ultimate purpose. You may
conceive of this term harmony as widely as you like,
but you are bound to cling to it. This harmony
primarily means the satisfaction of man's sense of
form. Man's senses, let me remind you, are, after all,
also a part of nature, and you cannot be naturalistic,
true to nature, without taking these into account as
well. On purely physiological grounds this craving
for harmony and form, essentially inherent in human
nature, demands satisfaction ; and in the course of
time and in the evolution of the human race people
qualified to respond to, and to satisfy, this natural
craving of the human mind arose and became artists.
In a great variety of forms and by means of vehicles
of different kinds (tones, words, movements, lines
and Modern Art 41
and mass, and colour, etc.) they all endeavoured to
express this element in the human mind and in
nature, and to satisfy that fundamental craving. Out
of it grew the need for beauty ; and this fundamental
beauty of tone and line and mass and colour ought
never to be absent from a true work of art. It may
at first only have led to the selection of a well-
rounded pebble and the symmetrical cutting of a
cave, or the construction of a wattle-hut ; to rude
carving of stone and modelling of clay and the in-
cision of symmetrical lines ; but this harmony must
ever be present in a true work of art. As the
horizon of man's life widened and his experiences
increased infinitely in number, and as power of
thought outran his power of observation, new forms
grew up in which this need for harmony expressed
itself. He then followed nature in her endeavour,
to which I referred before, to fix the natural type
for life and its changes in movement, and the Greeks
came and did this for man — though they did much
more than that besides. The idea of harmony was
then transferred to wider and more complex spheres
suited to the special form of expression which each
artist chose, and to epic poetry was added lyrical
poetry in ancient Greece, and both were joined in
the high achievement of their immortal dramatic
poets in dealing with the life of man, his joys and
sufferings, of heroes and of demi-gods. All was
presented harmoniously, convincingly, to force the
spectator into the ideal spheres of life, based upon
nature, replete with it, presenting it in its highest
42 Greek Sculpture
form. The sculptor and the painter equally ex-
tended their art into wider spheres of harmony
above and beyond the mere satisfaction of the
immediate sense of form which the eye alone craves
for. At times it was even essential to the more
complex work of art that parts of it should not
represent the broader, and more typical, and healthy
form ; but should be exaggerated in its individuality,
even abnormal, in order that thus it should har-
monise with a wider idea into which the artist
wished to raise his presentation of artistic harmony.
But the whole work would at least have to be har-
monious in that it expressed fully and convincingly
what the artist desired to convey by the actual
means of that art, in a manner most suited to that
art ; so that it could never be said that some other
art, some other form of expression, would have done
this more adequately and more harmoniously. At
all events, any deviation from the fundamental prin-
ciples of harmony of form would have to be justified
in that the deviation was dissolved into the wider
harmony of another and higher sphere, to which all
parts of the work were subordinated ; just as an
occasional dissonance, if not cacophony, in the course
of a musical composition might be admissible, if it
is dissolved into a further harmony which it ac-
centuates as harmony.
Let me illustrate what I have just endeavoured to
put to you by a definite instance which must be of in-
terest to you all, because it has been pushed forward
in a recent controversy between Mr McColl and
and Modern Art 43
Mr Frederick Harrison as bearing upon the question
of beauty in art and the actual struggle of the two
artistic camps that stand opposing one another in
our own day. Among the numerous works of
M. Rodin there is a statue in the Luxembourg
called La Vieille Heaulmiere (PL LIX). This
statue, we are told by M. Rodin, was inspired by
the beautiful poem of Villon, in which, with supreme
pathos, the lyrical poet describes the old age of a
famous courtesan, once in the height of beauty, and
now a shrunken and shrivelled old woman, who has
nothing left but the memories of a past glory which
make the hideousness of her present decay stand out
in the more awful misery and tragedy. M. Rodin
might justify the production of such a statue, which
he could not pretend (as the whole point is the
contrast between former beauty and present decay)
to be anything but ugliness, on the ground of its
being a presentation of nature, which the artist is
always right in reproducing faithfully ; and, if so,
he might even maintain that it is very beautiful.
I will not dwell upon the question of technical
modelling. Let us assume that it is perfect. But
I maintain, and emphatically maintain, that the pro-
duction of such a statue is an artistic mistake. On
his own showing, it is not only because it is a
copy from nature, as an unwrapped mummy from a
mummy-case, or a wax model representing diseased
states of the body in a medical museum might be,
that this work claims to be a work of art — though,
according to the main doctrine, that ought to be
44 Greek Sculpture
enough ; but because, as he admits, he wishes to
render all that there is in the poem of Villon in a
work of sculpture, that the work is decidedly a failure.
He might claim that he makes it a kind of " pro-
gramme sculpture." He must then present every
spectator with a copy of Villon's poem whenever the
latter stands before the statue ; and even then the
work remains only the presentation of a female
figure deformed in every detail by the wear and
tear of time and of a life ending in disease, and
nothing more. It is the worst form of "literary
sculpture " of which we have had so much by artists
who represent the very opposite pole of the modern
realists. Praxiteles came much nearer the mark
when, apparently, he endeavoured to deal with a
similar situation in life ; for we hear from Pliny that
spectantur et duo signa eius (Praxitelis) diversos
adfectus exprimentia, flentis matronae et meretricis
gaudentis ; hanc putant Phrynen.... In this case
he used his figure of the weeping old woman
as a foil and contrast to the beauty and form of
Phryne, whose statue was placed beside her. I
will not dwell upon the question whether even this
attempt of Praxiteles was worth making ; but I do
maintain that the very opposite of man's craving for
form and harmony to which this statue of M. Rodin
appeals, the definite repulsion which it arouses, are,
in the work itself, not mitigated by its being sub-
ordinated and absorbed by a higher artistic idea.
He has succeeded in shocking the classicists, but
that is not enough. Villon's poem is a great work
and Modern Art 45
of art, and the introduction of that subject by him
was worthy of that art and is worthily carried out.
The pathos of the situation not only overcomes any
sense of revulsion, but is even produced and in-
tensified by his suggestion of the decay of human
beauty. The principle of harmony which must
always guide every art is here sinned against, be-
cause sculpture is not the proper vehicle for the
expression of these groups of ideas, and, instead of
there being harmony, there is contrast or dissonance.
Poetry and sculpture differ essentially ; and what
can be best done in one, cannot be done in the
other. It is a mistake to attempt it.
Do not misunderstand me, I am far from main-
taining that the only subject the sculptor must aim
at is the direct presentation of physical beauty. The
abnormal, even the diseased, may well be introduced
into art if it dissolves itself into a higher normality,
the harmonious expression of some greater idea.
The raising of Lazarus, the Crucifixion, the numerous
pictures and statues of the Pieta with the emaciated
body of the Saviour, the School of Anatomy by
Rembrandt, and innumerable other works that I
might recall to you, do represent forms of physical
suffering and disease. But there can be no re-
vulsion ; because they are subordinated to a higher
idea which they help to realise and impress and
which fixes the attention and fills the soul of the
spectator.
The artist cannot, and should not, put his hand
into the great grab-bag of nature like a blind child,
46 Greek Sculpture
and pull out for presentation in his craft whatever
he finds there.
But let me impress upon you the one great
rule, especially in view of artistic training, to be
considered by those who are still learning, who
are pupils or apprentices and not yet masters,
that you must learn to realise and to reproduce
in your art the normal and healthy and typical in
nature, before you venture upon the expression and
impression of any individual ideas you wish to
convey, before you turn to the individual, the ab-
normal and eccentric in the nature with which your
art deals. Do not trouble about your own in-
dividuality of expression or your originality. They
will look after themselves. If they are there, they
cannot be suppressed by any amount of study, of
discipline, of artistic self-restraint and self-efface-
ment. In one word, cultivate in yourselves the
sense of beauty, which is not only a simple and
elementary factor in the mental constitution of the
simplest man, but has also been evolved by count-
less ages of artists who have impressed it upon the
consciousness of civilised man. When you have
this sense of beauty, when you have realised the
broader types of nature, its life and its movement,
you can then afford freely to extend your vision and
your artistic practice into any domain that your own
creative soul prompts you to penetrate. You can
then be original, and not only reproduce truthfully
what you see ; but, what is equally important, re-
produce truthfully what you feel. And this latter
and Modern Art 47
aspect of truth may perhaps be the most important
element in a true artist's nature and function. If we
wish to learn how to write we must not be concerned
with at once acquiring what is called character and
individuality in our handwriting. We must learn to
fashion the letters as they have been fixed in their
normality ; and, after we have learnt accurately to
fashion them, our own individual handwriting and
the character it expresses will manifest itself in the
course of protracted practice. An actor must learn
elocution, the proper pronunciation of words in his
own language, enunciation, the use of the voice.
He and the dancer must study, in walk and gesture
and movement, the normal forms as they are estab-
lished ; and then, in impersonating some individual
character they may be allowed to deviate from the
standard pronunciation, modulate and modify their
voice, even into an eccentric form, adopt a limping
gait, an awkward gesture, if this should suit the
presentation and situation of the character they are
impersonating. But to begin prematurely by de-
veloping the eccentric forms and, above all, to claim
more naturalness and closer proximity to nature
simply because of the opposition to the broad laws
of nature, as man and as artists have recognised
them, is as absurd and as misleading as it is de-
structive to the true spirit and advancement of art.
As sculptors the school for these normal standards
of art and harmony will ever remain to you the art
of the ancient Greeks. It is they who have estab-
lished for us these canons of taste.
48 Greek Sculpture
It is one of the most remarkable, nay wonderful,
phenomena in man's history that a comparatively
small nation, living in the south-east corner of
Europe more than two thousand years ago, should
have established canons of taste in art which govern
our own taste in the present day, after so long a
lapse of time and the succession of historical and
ethnical upheavals intervening between the life of
the ancient Greeks and the modern people of
Western Europe. The reason for this persistence
in the influence of Greek art is to be found in the
fact, that the ancient Greeks, for the first time in
man's history, presented the world with an art, the
dominant principle of which was the complete fusion
of naturalism and idealism. Their art thus presented
nature, which practically remains the same in all
times and climes, and, at the same time, nature
idealised — that is, presented in its broadest and
most lasting aspects, freed from individual accidence
of one place or one period, of one individual or of
one situation ; free also from the accidence of in-
dividual perception on the part of man, and thus
corresponding to the laws which govern man's per-
ception and man's fundamental desire for harmony.
In the physical world this ideal attribute of art
meant the establishment of the Type ; in the
spiritual world of thought and feeling it led to what
we call the Ideal1.
I have endeavoured to show you, towards the
beginning of the first lecture, how the establishment
1 See Waldstein, Essays on the Art of Pheidias, 1885, pp. Soseq.
and Modern Art 49
of this type in the presentation of man, in the
rendering of the human form true to nature, and
even in the presentation of attitude and movement,
was influenced by the changes in the sculptor's
technique, and led to the successive schools which
gradually developed naturalism in sculpture. The
instances I gave were chiefly chosen from earlier
phases of Greek art, which we call the Archaic
period.
As you advance in the development of Greek
sculpture to the highest period in the age of Pheidias,
through the wonderful art of the 4th century B.C. (as
chiefly represented by Scopas, Praxiteles and Ly-
sippos), until we come to the period of decline in
the vigorous, though sensational, art of the schools
of Pergamon and Rhodes, which lead over to
Graeco- Roman art, marking the not inglorious end
of the Greek artistic spirit — you will realise how
even in the comparatively few works that have come
down to us and illustrate these several periods, there
are manifestations of every aspect and direction of
art well worthy of your study. In their variety,
covering every aspect of art-production, no ground
is left for the charge of a cut-and-dried academic
classicism, which the modern iconoclast in art brings
against this wonderful achievement of the art of the
past.
Let me merely select a few typical instances —
I hope most of them known to you — which will
illustrate and exemplify the qualities of Greek art
which I have claimed for it.
w.
50 Greek Sculpture
The well-known reclining figure of Theseus
(I have ventured to call him Olympos) (PL LX) from
the Eastern Pediment of the Parthenon will be ad-
mitted to represent, in the modelling of the whole
figure and in the smallest portion and detail of the
surface, absolute truth to nature. But, even at the
risk of enunciating a paradox, I would call your
attention to the fact, that what is most remarkable
in the modelling of the surface of this nude figure,
is, not what is expressed, but what has been omitted
and remains unexpressed. I mean by this, the
avoidance of the introduction of any unnecessary
detail in the modelling of the body, which might
have added to the appearance of individual life
and might have given opportunities for consum-
mate skill, the indications of smaller and less ap-
parent muscles, and more accidental variations in
the surface of the skin, leading to the presentation
of varying half-tones as the more elaborate surface
is affected by light and shade — all evoking in the
spectator admiration for the virtuosity of the sculptor
in his skill as a modeller. This fatal excess of the
craftsmanlike skill of the artist was foreign to the
great sculptor who fashioned this figure. He avoided
the introduction of un-essential detail. He spurned
the effect of half-tones, which would have interfered
with his broader masses and lines ; the obtrusion of
individualism in the rendering of the human figure
which would have detracted from the broad and
typical effect in the rendering of normal nature as
she has manifested herself in the production of the
and Modern Art 51
healthy human body. So too in the attitude and
general composition of this statue the sculptor has
shown convincingly movement in repose, the natural
reclining of the figure in ease and relaxation on the
rock that is covered with the skin, a perfect ex-
pression of such an attitude in life and nature. And
yet, with the suggestion of the life inherent in the
body that is thus in repose, there is a further
suggestion of the potential, more manifest, move-
ment if the figure were to exchange this attitude of
rest for one of energetic activity when the youth
rose in his strength and stepped forward. What
we feel in the contemplation of this presentment of
man is that it becomes a Type of human health,
strength and vigour worthy to be thus chained
down for centuries by transference into monumental
marble. Yet, while thus responding to all that art
can demand from the artist in his convincing pre-
sentation of nature, attitude and movement, the
artist has, at the same time, satisfied the equally
just claims of the human senses and the human
mind for harmony and beauty. The curved out-
lines of the general composition, composed within
the ellipsis from the crossing of the ankles to the
top of the head, and back again with wavy curves
within it rising over the knee, descending again
to the middle, and again rising up by chest and
shoulder to the head, and so in every portion of
the figure have their rhythmical effect — perhaps
unconscious to him who observes it — upon the eye
of the spectator, and produce vibrations through
4—2
52 Greek Sculpture
his senses into his whole sentient nature, corre-
sponding to the lyrical harmony in melodious verses
and the measured interweaving of a world of beauti-
ful tones in a composition of fine musical symphony.
The same can be said of the three female figures
from the same Pediment, commonly known as the
Fates, and which I have ventured to call Hestia,
Gaia and Thalassa (PI. LXI). In these the gamut
of plastic expression has been widened out in that,
to the possibilities of varied line and surface, texture
and tone, in the modelling of the nude, have been
added the wonderful possibilities that lie in the
rendering of drapery. The indication of its varied
texture, from the thicker felt-like material on which
the reclining figure is resting, through the firm, yet
pliant, material of the upper garment, to the rippling
pliancy of the thin upper garment which covers,
without hiding, the beautiful forms over which it
ripples like crystalline waves over a lucent stream-
bed — this indication of texture has enabled the artist
to present us with a world of varying masses and
lines, redolent with natural form, and suggestive of
natural movement in every particle of their flowing
curves, which bring us face to face with nature har-
monised and beautified, and thus satisfy at once our
craving for truth and our longing for consummate
beauty.
Greek sculpture, however, does not only present
you with this highest and most solemn form of its
artistic spirit, as manifested in the age of Phei-
dias ; it will strike you in every aspect of man's
and Modern Art 53
experiences, aspirations and even moods. Thus in
the art of the 4th century B.C. with the work of a
Scopas, the more individualistic, the more moving
and passionate side in the sculptor's presentation of
human life are expressed.
We know, from the subjects of his famous statues
recorded by ancient writers, such as the raving
Menad, that his works were replete with life, move-
ment and passion. You will see how, in the so-called
Niobide Chiaramonti (PI. LXII), this problem of the
forward movement of a draped female figure is ex-
pressed convincingly with truth to nature, not only
in the composition of the body, but especially in the
swish and movement of the drapery, as it is affected
by the forward rush of the figure against the wind.
No modelling of drapery could surpass this indica-
tion of its texture as affected by, and as expressive
of, such movement. The same applies to this one
figure of the Charioteer (PI. LXII I) from the long
series of reliefs decorating the Mausoleum of Hali-
carnassos which I have long since endeavoured to
identify with that master or his school. More com-
plex rhythms and cross-rhythms in the composition
of the body and of the drapery are manifested in a
torso from Dresden (PI. LXIV) which can also be
ascribed to Scopasian art. The famous Victory of
Samothrace in the Louvre (PI. LXV) movement
marks a still further development of movement in
the complex attitude and in folding of drapery,
probably the work of a later artist of the Scopa-
sian School. When we come to the treatment of
54 Greek Sculpture
expression in the face, the two extant heads from
the pediments of the Temple of Athene at Tegea
(PI. LXVI) show, in the upward turn and sideward
twist, in the modelling of the deep-set eyes and the
upward look, the indication of passion, which is both
life-like and still harmonious and beautiful. You
will note the same characteristic treatment, especi-
ally of the region of the eye, in the relief of the
Charioteer from Halicarnassos.
Another aspect in the expression of greater in-
dividualism is manifested in the development of
Greek sculpture by Praxiteles, to the characteristics
of whose art I have already drawn your attention in
the previous lecture. Feeling and pathos, which
ancient writers especially attribute to Scopas and
Praxiteles, assumes a different form in the art of
Praxiteles from what we have just noted in Scopas.
For in Praxiteles it is less the manifest and violent
feelings but rather the more delicate and dreamy
moods that are with preference represented. Attic
grace, both in composition and in the delicate model-
ling of the surface, are his chief characteristics ; the
gentle and more languid curves of the body, as
shown by the Hermes from Olympia carrying the
infant Dionysos (PL LXVI I), by his various statues
of Aphrodite and of Eros, the youthful god of love,
will illustrate this. If, as is most probable, he intro-
duced for all ages the type of female beauty in the
nude figure, the type of Aphrodite affecting most of
the subsequent renderings of Venus which are known
to you all, I might bring to your notice now a small
and Modern Art 55
bronze statue recently acquired by the Antiquarium
of Munich (PI. LXVIII), which, though influenced
by him, on the other hand, shows reminiscences in
the head of the earlier art of the 5th century B.C. l
In Lysippos, the famous sculptor of the age
of Alexander the Great, whose portraits of the
victorious Macedonian were especially famous in
antiquity, individualism makes a still further stride
forward. The athlete statues, for instance, that were
formerly treated in a broader and more typical
manner, become more individualised, as is seen in
this marble copy of a bronze original of the
athlete Agias discovered by the French at Delphi
(PI. LXIX); which, when compared with the
marble copy of a famous, more typical, rendering
of athletic life in the so-called Apoxyomenos
(PI. LXX) of the same sculptor, show the varying
attitude of his mind when dealing with either the
more ideal, or the more naturalistic, aspect of
athlete statues. As a type of Greek portraiture
in this period, with its broader self-restraint which
checks the tendency towards accurate naturalism
in portraiture, I would select this portrait statue of
the famous Attic orator, Demosthenes (PI. LXX I).
Yet, I will at once anticipate and show how, in the
1 Dr Sieveking, in an able article (Munchener Jahrbtuh der Bildenden
Kunst, 1910, I Halbband), assigns this bronze, which is 25 ctm. in height, to
the school of Polycleitos in the 5th century B.C., and considers it probable that
it represents a maiden as a votive offering to Aphrodite. He makes out a very
strong case for his identification, but, for reasons which will only become clear
when I have published my book on Alcamenes, I venture to assign the figure
to that master or his school.
56 Greek Sculpture
Graeco- Roman period, the ancient sculptors could,
if they chose, respond to the impulse of still more
vivid individualisation in portraiture, by bringing
before you the two bronze busts from Herculaneum
—the one the so-called Seneca (PI. LXXII), the
other the so-called Scipio (PI. LXXII I). Following
the schools of Lysippos, the great schools of Asia
Minor, of Pergamon and Rhodes, will show you
still further individualism and naturalism, which
gradually degenerated into realism and sensation-
alism, and a certain want of restraint in the bold
and vigorous decorative effects, which, with supreme
skill of modelling, the sculptors of this period de-
lighted in rendering. This will be illustrated to you
in such works as the famous Laokoon (PI. LXXIV),
the frieze from the altar of Pergamon (PI. LXXV)
and the colossal marble group of the Toro Farnese
at Naples (PI. LXXVI). They all tell complex and
complicated stories, replete with dramatic incident
and sensation, which bring us to the limit of capacity
of sculpture and remind us that such subjects are
more adequately dealt with in the more dramatic
arts.
Even in the rendering of the minor aspects and
incidents of daily life in what is called genre, Greek
sculpture will furnish you with remarkable specimens.
I will merely select two instances, the one earlier, the
other later— the Boy with the Goose (PI. LXXVI I),
and a small statuette (PL LXXVI 1 1), a life-like
portrait of a person whose bodily vigour is wasting
away. The Greeks could deal with such subjects ;
and Modern Art 57
but I would have you note the fact that this last
instance of realism which I bring before you, pre-
sents the subject in a statuette not over three inches
high, and that such presentation in art stands on a
different level and is governed by different laws
from the larger aspects of the monumental art of
sculpture.
I have chosen these few isolated instances in a
rapid survey of Greek sculpture to show you the
universality of that art ; to prove to you that what
has been called classicism in no way covers the life
and spirit of the sculpture of the ancient Greeks and
that their true spirit will ever be worthy of study
and worthy of assimilation into the artistic nature of
the modern sculptor. I do not want you to copy, or
even to adapt, these works of Greek art when once
you are prepared to produce original works of your
own. You must not favour the weak classicism of
a Canova or a Thorwaldsen. When you have be-
come masters, express your own age and be true to
your own nature and what it prompts you to express.
But fill yourselves with the spirit which moved the
Greek sculptors of old then, as it moves the true
artist now. Above all, as artists, develop in your-
selves the Sense of Beauty, and remember, that art
without beauty is at best a counterfeit and inaccurate
science.
58 Greek Sculpture
APPENDIX.
GREEK SCULPTURE AND MODERN ART.
[Reprinted from a Leading Article in The Times, Feb. 24, 1913.]
Sir Charles Waldstein, lecturing last week on
the Achievement of Greek Sculpture in its Relation
to Modern Art, said that Greek sculpture had
established for ever the normal standards of art and
harmony. This saying by itself is so vague that
any one can agree or disagree with it as he chooses ;
but the lecturer made his meaning more clear by
other remarks. What he objected to, he said, in
the work, and still more in the theories, of many
present-day innovators was not their positive achieve-
ment but their opposition to what they called beauty ;
and by beauty he evidently meant the beauty of
persons or objects represented. For he complained
that they avoided by all means the normal develop-
ment of the body and beauty in line and form ; and
he gave as an instance " La Vieille Heaulmiere" of
M. Rodin, which, he said roundly, was an artistic
mistake. Therefore, when he speaks of the normal
standard of art and harmony established by the
Greeks, he is thinking rather of their choice of
models than of their methods of treatment. And
he would have modern artists follow them in their
choice and confine themselves to the representation
and Modern Art 59
of the beautiful, or at least the normal and the
healthy, in human beings. Now on this point he
may be right or wrong ; but he is certainly wrong if
he supposes that there is any novelty in the rejection
of Greek standards. Northern art, whether sculpture
or painting, has always rejected them. Medieval
sculptors and artists such as the Van Eycks, Diirer,
and Rembrandt, have always been strangely in-
different to the beauty of the human form. It is
true that most of them were entirely unacquainted
with Greek or even Graeco- Roman art ; but their
indifference cannot be attributed merely to ignorance
of that art. In other respects they attained to
excellence without the help of the Greeks ; and it
would not have needed Greek example to make
them represent beautiful people if they had wished
to do so. Indeed, the great Donatello, an Italian
acquainted with classical art, shows almost as much
indifference to these normal standards of art and
harmony as M. Rodin himself.
And yet we feel that Donatello and M. Rodin,
and even the medieval sculptors, are much nearer in
spirit to the Greeks of the prime than artists like
Canova, who have tried to imitate the Greeks in
their choice of models. In fact, the more we study
the arts of painting and sculpture, the more we find
that their beauty consists, not in the representation
of beautiful people or things, but, as Michelangelo
said, in a kind of music of their own which has a
beauty independent of the ugliness or beauty of what
is represented, and of which we can only become
60 Greek Sculpture
aware when we no longer demand that art shall
remind us of beautiful things. This does not mean
that the Greeks were wrong, or that any modern
artist is wrong, in representing people or objects
beautiful in themselves. The choice of what he shall
represent is a matter for the artist himself, but the
beauty of a work of art does not depend, any more
than the beauty of a flower, upon its power of
reminding us of other beautiful things. It is, like
the beauty of music, independent of all reminders
whether of beauty or ugliness ; and if we cannot
enjoy a statue by Donatello or Rodin, or a picture
by Rembrandt, because they happen to remind us of
people whom we consider ugly, then these works of
art fail with us, not through their own fault, but
because we have set up obstacles to our own enjoy-
ment of them. This may seem an extreme doctrine,
but it is borne out by experience. For when once
we get used to the reminders of ugliness which we
find in the works of Donatello or Rembrandt or
M. Rodin, our enjoyment of those works is not
affected by them. Then our minds are open to
their music, and we enjoy that without caring whether
it issues from the representation of ugly or beautiful
things.
One may ask why an artist should choose to
represent ugly rather than beautiful people ; but that
is a question which even he himself would probably
fail to answer. At any rate we have no right to
accuse him, whether he is Rembrandt or a youth of
the present day, of a perverse love of ugliness. We
and Modern Art 61
have no right, merely because we do not like his
work, to impute low motives to him at all. It is
probable that many eager young artists avoid the
representation of obviously beautiful things from an
ascetic timidity. They see so much work which is
popular because it reminds people of what they
consider beautiful in reality ; and they are determined
not to court that kind of popularity. The imitative
representation of what is beautiful always results in
prettiness, which is to beauty what sanctimonious-
ness is to virtue. It is the result of an effort to
produce an effect without a cause. The finest art of
the Greeks, when it represented beautiful people,
was quite free from prettiness ; and we may be sure
that they did not represent beautiful people with the
object of pleasing their public any more than Rem-
brandt represented ugly people with the object of
shocking his public. Sir Charles Waldstein says
that " the abnormal, even the diseased, may be
introduced into art if it dissolves itself into the
harmonious expression of some greater idea," and
he gives as instances subjects like the Raising of
Lazarus and the Crucifixion. But who is to decide
that an artist has no great idea in his art merely
because he does not give it a familiar title ? So far
as we can talk of ideas in art at all, they are quite
independent of titles, and an artist does not need
the justification of a familiar subject if he wishes to
represent something that is not beautiful in itself.
We are not shocked by the horror of the Crucifixion
in art because it is a familiar subject ; and the
62 Greek Sculpture
difference caused by the familiarity of the subject
lies in us, not in the artist or the work of art. That
is a fact which we should always remember when we
are inclined to be shocked by what seems to us the
novel ugliness of a work of art. It may be merely
that we are unprepared for the effect which it is
designed to produce, that the shock is transitory,
and that after we have recovered from it we shall
see in the work that music, that independent abstract
beauty, which is common to all true works of art,
however ugly in their subject matter, and which is
lacking in all false ones, however eagerly they may
try to remind us of beautiful things.
ROYAL ACADEMY LECTURE ON SCULPTURE.
[Answer to The Times Article in a Letter to The Builder, Feb. 24, 1913.]
SIR, — I believe, Sir, that those who were present
at my two lectures at the Royal Academy will bear
me out when I say that most of the views opposed
to my own contained in your interesting leading
article to-day were emphatically supported in my
lectures, even the warning against following the
example of Canova and his school. I warned my
hearers, as I did in the same place many years
before, against confusing " classicism " with the living
naturalistic art of the ancient Greeks, against the
mere copying of definite models and the limitation of
the sculptor's art to what you, Sir, and others call
and Modern Art 63
mere " prettiness." I even avoided, as far as pos-
sible, the use of the term "beauty," as being com-
plex and misleading, and generally substituted the
term "harmony" for it. Important as the establish-
ment of formal harmony of line, mass, and colour is,
and will always remain, in the graphic and plastic
arts (as harmony of sound and versification will
always remain an important part of lyrical poetry,
though not its only aim), there are much wider
spheres of harmony into which these arts have in
the past extended and will do so in the future. But
this harmony also includes the harmony between the
artistic vehicle and the subject chosen for presenta-
tion ; a subject fitted to one art might not be suited
to another. It is on this ground that I maintain
that " La Vieille Heaulmiere" by Rodin is an artistic
mistake. Villon's poem is a beautiful work of art
and conveys the artistic idea adequately, even with
tragic impressiveness ; but the bronze statue is
merely the representation of a repulsive subject.
To convey the idea of the poet by means of the
statue, each spectator would have to be presented
with a copy of the poem while standing before the
work, and even then it would not convey adequately
the stirring tragedy. I maintained that in the
representations of the Pieta, the Raising of Lazarus,
the School of Anatomy by Rembrandt, and number-
less other works of the same category, the diseased
body, or the corpse, was subordinated to a wider
artistic idea and therefore lost the undoubted
elements of repulsion which every normal man feels,
64 Greek Sculpture
and naturally feels, and that this repulsion was not
an element directly to be aimed at in art. When
you object to my thesis by saying, " But who is to
decide that an artist has no great idea in his art
merely because he does not give it a familiar title ?
So far as we can talk of ideas in art at all, they are
quite independent of titles — " — my answer is that
the works of art I have mentioned need no title.
The figures surrounding the corpse, the clear action
and the idea conveyed by the whole composition tell
the whole story completely. The corpse forms an
essential part of the story, but it is subordinated to
it to such a degree that what would form elements
of repulsion in actual life are raised by the purely
artistic quality of the work of the great composition
into a wider sphere which clearly belongs to the
domain of art, not requiring the introduction of any
extraneous supports. M. Rodin's work requires not
only a title, but even the reading of a poem convey-
ing a very complicated situation.
In my lectures I chiefly opposed what I should
like to call " The Doctrine of Artistic Equivalence
in Nature and Life." We are constantly told that
Nature is always beautiful. This I should like to
answer by a question: Which Nature? If Nature
presents us with the individual, she has also estab-
lished the "type," and she is constantly enacting
the drama, perhaps the tragedy, of the survival of
the fittest. This applies not only to things and
beings in nature, but also to movements and situa-
tions. The actual rendering of an individual
and Modern Art 65
movement by an individual model, however true it
may be, fails from the point of view of the movement
itself, as no man or no horse moves or jumps in the
same way. If the artist is to choose anything and
everything in nature and life for presentation in his
work, art is merely a recording machine or a make-
shift for reminding us of what we cannot conveniently
see before us, and even then actual observation will
beat art every time, and there really is no use for
her. You need not fear, Sir, that I shall give you
the whole of my lectures on these very subtle and
difficult questions. But you wrong me when you
imply that I wish to limit the choice of the artist's
subjects to objects of "prettiness," or to what is
patently and glaringly called beautiful, noble, or
virtuous in life. I told my hearers that there might
be more artistic soul in the presentation of a pugilist
than in the statue of the Angel of Death with marble
tears carrying a dead infant in her arms. I even
venture to maintain that a novel which deals artisti-
cally with the life of a servant may be nobler and of
higher art than one which records the life of kings
and princes. But I warned them against making
a whole school of servant novels and turning their
back on more interesting spheres of life which, to
say the least, are also part of nature and general life.
I especially warned them, and I wish to repeat it
now, against turning their backs on the study and
the presentation of what is normal in nature and in
life, though art need not be restricted to such definite
presentations. And when you say, Sir, "It is
w. c
66 Greek Sculpture
probable that many eager young artists avoid the
reproduction of obviously beautiful things from an
ascetic timidity," I should like to answer: fa explique
mats fa n excuse pas. At all events, for students
(and, remember, I was addressing them) it is impor-
tant to remind them that the study of physiology
must precede the study of pathology, especially in
art ; that they must learn to draw and model accu-
rately ; that they must learn through Nature what
she has established in the normal realisation of life
and movement ; and that in all these respects the
spirit of Greek art and the principles which it
embodies in its sculpture (much wider than the
mere idea of " prettiness ") will be their best guide
during a certain phase of their studies. In learning
to write we must first endeavour to fashion the
letters as they have been established (and are there-
fore legible), and in doing this in the course of time
our individual character in handwriting will naturally
develop itself. The actor and the dancer must learn
proper elocution, enunciation, the use of the voice,
gesture, and movement in their most normal forms,
and then they can, as occasion arises, vary this
accent, even mispronounce words, and give awkward
gestures and movements to suit the character they
are impersonating. So in modelling, however wide
you may make the sphere of subjects for artistic
presentation, beauty, direct and immediate, will
always form an integral element, and the student
will do well to fill his soul with it, in order that he
may at times turn his back upon formal beauty to
and Modern Art 67
realise in his work a higher spiritual aspect of the
harmony of things. You have quoted music from the
lips of Michelangelo. You could not have chosen
a better instance for the fundamental principles
of all arts. However much music may become
imitative of definite life and occasionally even intro-
duce dissonance, as an art it will always rest on the
harmony of tones. Looking as far ahead into the
future as you like, I doubt whether it will ever
develop into that form where it strives to render
truthfully the noises of Piccadilly in the height of
the season. If it does, the gramophone will be a
better vehicle for doing this than the elaborate com-
position of the greatest futurist composer, seconded
by a futurist orchestra, with elaborate instruments
that convey every possible sound in the growing
cacophony of modern life.
CHARLES WALDSTEIN.
P.S. — At my first lecture I exhibited a number
of illustrations of remarkable statues by M. Rodin,
for whose best work I have the most intense admira-
tion. While dwelling on their great qualities I
warned young students against merely imitating him
when he left the marble unfinished, which, in his
case, nearly always had a deep artistic significance
and justification.
INDEX
Aeginetan school 6
,, temple 6
Agias 55
Alcamenes 55
Aphrodite, at Boston Museum 14
,, Cnidian 12, 13
,, from Acropolis it
,, ,, Chios 14
„ Pet worth 14
Apollo, carrying bull 5
,, of Tenea 3, 4
Apoxyomenos 55
Aristotle 40
Artemis, from Delos 3, 4
Athene, Lemnian 7
,, Temple of, at Tegea 54
Balzac, Honore de 32
Beethoven, Ludwig van 32
Benevento 7
Boston Museum 14
Boxer, Olympian 8
Boy with the Goose 56
Browning, Robert 32
Canova, Antonio 30, 57, 59, 62
Centaurs 9, 1 1
Centocelli, Eros of 13
Cerigo, bronze from 8
Charioteer, from Delphi 6
,, ,, Mausoleum 53, 54
Chios, Aphrodite from 14
Cnidos, Aphrodite of 12
De Bussy, Claude 32
Delos, Artemis from 3, 4
Delphi, Athlete from 55
,, Charioteer from 6
Demosthenes, portrait of 55
Diadumenos 7
Donatello 59, 60
Doryphoros 7, 36
Dresden, head from 14
„ torso from 53
DUr«r, Albrecht 59
Eros 54
,, of Centocelli 13
Farnese, Toro 56
Fates, from Parthenon Pediment 52
Flaubert, Gustave 32
Frieze, from Parthenon 10, 25
,, „ Pergamon 14, 56
Gaia, from Parthenon Pediment 52
Halicarnassos, Mausoleum of 53, 54
Harrison, Frederick 43
Hera, from Samos 3, 4
Herculaneum 5, 7, 8, 56
Hermes, of Praxiteles 12, 54
Hestia, from Parthenon Pediment 52
Kaufmann head 12
Lamartine, Alphonse de 32
Laokoon 14, 56
Lapiths, from Parthenon Metopes ri
Lapith woman, from Olympia 10
Lazarus, Raising of 45, 61, 63
Lemnos, Athene of 7
Lessing, Gotthold 32
Louvre Museum 7, 15, 53
Luxembourg Museum 18, 19, 43
Lysippos 8, 13, 14, 49, 55, 56
Martres Tolosane 12
Mausoleum 53
McColl, D. S. 42
Medici, Tomb of the 15
Menad, of Scopas 53
Metopes, from Parthenon 10
Meunier, Constantin 38
70
Index
Michelangelo 15, 59, 67
Millet, J. F. 38
Munich, Antiquarium of 55
Naples Museum 7, 8, 56
Niobide Chiaramonti 53
Niirenberg toys 4
Olympia, Boxer from 8
„ Hermes of Praxiteles at 12,
54
„ Temple of Zeus at 9, 10,
ii
Parthenon Frieze 10, 25
„ Metopes 10
,, Pediments 50, 52
Pediments, from Olympia 9, 10
,, ,, Parthenon 50, 52
Pergamenean Frieze 14, 56
Pergamene school 14, 49, 56
Petworth, head of Aphrodite at 14
Pheidias 7, 25, 49, 52
Phryne, of Praxiteles 44
Pieta, the 45, 63
Polycleitos 7, 20, 55
Praxiteles n, 12, 13, 14, 44, 49, 54
Rembrandt, H. v. R. 34, 45, 59, 60,
61, 63
Renaissance, Italian 30
,, Jacobean 30
Rhodian school 14, 49, 56
Richardson, H. H. 31, 32
Rodin, Auguste 13, 14, i$foll., 27,
39, 43, 44, 58, 59, 60, 63, 64, 67
Rodin's
Balzac 1 7
Danaide 19, 21, 22
Rodin's
La Vieille Heaulmiere 43, 44, 58,
63
Le Baiser 18
Le Penseur 18
Octave Mirbeau 16
Puvis de Chavannes 17
Tite de femme 18
The Iron Age 19
Rubens, Peter Paul 34
Samos, Hera from 3, 4
Samothrace, Victory of 53
Scipio, bust of 56
Scopas n, 13, 49, 53, 54
Seneca, bust of 56
Strauss, Richard 32
Tegea, Temple of Athene at 54
Tenea, Apollo of 3, 4
Tennyson, Alfred Lord 32
Thalassa, from Parthenon Pediment
5*
Theseus, from Parthenon Pediment 50
Thorwaldsen, Bertel 30, 57
Toro Farnese 56
Van Dyck, Sir Anthony 34
Van Eycks, the 59
Victor Hugo 32
Victory of Samothrace 53
Villon, Fran£ois 43, 44, 63
Wagner, Richard 32
Xoana 3
Zeus, Temple of, at Olympia 9, 10
Cambridge : Printed at the University Press
PLATES
Plate I
Artemis from Delos, Athens
(See p. 3)
Plate II
Hera of Samos, Louvre
(See p. 3)
Plate 111
Apollo of Tenea, Munich
(Sec f. 3)
Plate IV
Archaic figure from the Acropolis of Athens
(Sec p. 5)
Plate V
Similar statue from the Acropolis
(See p. 5)
Plate VI
Back view of statue from the Acropolis
(See p. 5)
Plate VII
Archaic Apollo from the Acropolis
(See p. 5)
Plate VIII
Female figure from the Acropolis
(Sec p. 5)
Plate IX
Bronze head from Herculaneum, Naples
(See p. 5)
bd
1C
Plate XI
Head of bronze charioteer from Delphi
{Sec />. 6)
Hate
Bronze head of Polycleitan Doryphoros from Herculaneum, Naples
(See /. 7)
Plate XIII
The Polycleitan Diadumenos, Dresden
(Sec f. 7)
Plate XIV
Head of the so-called Lemnian Athene, Bologna
(See p. 7)
Plate XV
Bronze head from Benevento in the Louvre
(Sec p. 7)
Plate XVI
Bronze statue from Cerigo, Athens
(See p. 8)
Plate XVII
Bronze head from Herculaneum, Naples
(See p. 8)
Plate XVIH
Bronze head of boxer, Olympia
(See p. 8)
Plate XIX
Centaur in the Capitoline Museum, Rome
(See p. 9)
Plate XX I
& + •
Head from Eastern Pediment, Olympia
(See p. 10)
W
•a"
8>
\
.
Plate XXIV
Heads from the Frieze of the Parthenon
(See f. 10)
Plate XXV
Head from the Metopes of
the Parthenon
Heads from the Frieze of the
Parthenon
(See p. 10)
Plate XXVI
Heads from the Metopes of the Parthenon, British Museum
(See p. 10)
Plate XXVII
Scopasian head from Acropolis, Athens
(See p. 1 1 )
Plate XXVIII
Head of Cnidian Aphrodite, Vatican, Rome
(See p. 12)
Plate XXIX
The Kaufmann Aphrodite, Berlin
(See p. 12)
Plate XXX
Head of the Hermes of Praxiteles, Olympia
(See p. 12)
Plate XXXI
Head of Eros of Centocelli, Vatican
(S(e p. 13)
Plate XXXII
Marble head in Dresden
(See p. 14)
Plate XXX III
The Petworth Aphrodite
(S« p. M)
Plate XXXVI
Head of Giant from the Frieze of the Altar at Pergamon, Berlin
(Seep. 14)
rial,- xxx\rn
Head of Giant from the Frieze of the Altar at Pergamon, Berlin
(Seep. 14)
Plate XXX Till
Head of Laokoon, Vatican, Rome
(See p. 14)
Plate A'A'AVA'
Marble head in the Louvre Museum
(See p. .5)
rlate XL
Tomb of the Medici by Michelangelo, Florence
(See p. 15)
Plate XLI
Tomb of the Medici by Michelangelo, Florence
(See p. 15)
Plate XLII
Portrait of Octave Mirbeau by Rodin
(See p. 1 6)
Plate XLIII
Portrait of Puvis de Chavannes by Rodin
(See p. 1 7)
Plate XLIV
Portrait of Balzac by Rodin
(See p. 17)
Plate XLV
Portrait of a lady by Rodin
(See p. 1 8)
Plate XL VI
Le Baiser by Rodin
(Seep. 1 8)
Plate XLVII
Le Penseur by Rodin
(See p. 1 8)
Plate XLV1I1
Le Penseur by Rodin
(Atv/». 1 8)
Plate XL IX
The Iron Age by Rodin
(Seep. 19)
Plate /,//
Attic Sepulchral Slab (Hegeso Proxeno), Athens
(See p. 2?)
Plate /,///
Choiseul-Gouffier statue of an athlete, British Museum
(See p. 34)
Plate LIV
Standing Figure, Westmacott Youth, British Museum
(See p. 34)
Plate LV
Doryphoros of Polycleitos
(Seep. 36)
Plate I.V11
A Miner by Meunier
(See p. 38)
Plate I.I' HI
A Docker by Meunier
(Sec p. 38)
Plate I.1X
La Vieille Heaulmiere by Rodin, in the Luxembourg Museum, Paris
(Sec p. 43)
o
c
u
I
•3 ^
u o
CU ir-
c <,
Plate LXII
Niobide Chiaramonti
(See p. 53)
Plate LXIfl
Charioteer from a Frieze of the Mausoleum of Halicarnassos
(Av P- 53)
Plate f.XIV
Dresden Statue, possibly reproduction of a Scopasian type
(See p. 53)
Plate LXV
Victory of Samothrace in the Louvre Museum
(.See p. 53)
Plate LXVI
Two heads from the Tegean Pediment by Scopas
(See p. 54)
Plate LXVI1
Hermes carrying the infant Dionysos, Olympia
(See p. 54)
Plate LXVIII
Statuette of Aphrodite or a maiden, Antiquarium, Munich
(See p. 5=;)
Plate f.X/X
Marble copy of the bronze statue of the athlete Agias by
Lysippos from Delphi
(Sec p. 55)
Plate I. XX
Apoxyomenos, marble copy of bronze typical athlete statue
by Lysippos
(See p. .55)
Plate I. XXI
Portrait of Demosthenes
(See p. ?5)
Plate i.xxrr
So-called Seneca. Bronze from Herculaneum, Naples
(See p. 56)
Plate LXXIIl
So-called Scipio. Bronze from Herculaneum, Naples
(Seep. 56)
riate A.V.V/F
Laokoon, Vatican, Rome
(See p. 56)
Plate LXXV
Frieze from the Altar of Pergamon
(See p. 56)
Plate LXXl'I
Toro Farnese, Naples
(See p. ;6)
Plate LXXTIf
Boy with the Goose. Greek genre sculpture
(See f. 56)
Plate LXXVIII
Man wasting away. Bronze statuette
(See p. 56)
Essays on the Art of Pheidias (Camb. Univ. Press, 1885).
The Work of John Ruskin (Methuen & Co., 1894).
The Study of Art in Universities (Osgood, Mcllvaine
& Co., 1896).
The Argive Heraeum (Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston,
U.S.A., 1902).
Art in the Nineteenth Century (Camb. Univ. Press,
1903)-
Herculaneum : Past, Present and Future — with L.
Shoobridge (Macmillan & Co., 1908).
The Balance of Emotion and Intellect (C. Kegan Paul
& Co., 1878, and Harper & Brothers, 1878).
The Expansion of Western Ideals and the World's
Peace (John Lane, 1899).
The Jewish Question and the Mission of the Jews
(Harper & Brothers, New York, 1894 : 2nd edition, Gay & Bird,
1899).
Three Conversation Stories (Grant Richards, 1897-1900).
What may we read ? (Smith, Elder & Co., 1911).
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Essays on the Art of Pheidias. By Sir CHARLES WALDSTEIN,
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7445 Greek sculpture and
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