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PLATE I
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BERNINI AND OTHER STUDIES
IN THE
HISTORY OF ART
BY
RICHARD NORTON
MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, BOSTON
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN AND COMPANY
1914
All rights reserved
Fine Arts
١٧
1
Set
1
COPYRIGHT, 1914,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
up and electrotyped. Published October, 1914.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co. - Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
BERNINI
PREFACE
THE essays presented in the following pages are the prod-
uct of no hasty thought. I am grateful to the kind friends
who have encouraged their publication, and to the publishers
for giving them so attractive a form.
The choice of illustrations has been difficult. It has
seemed best, however, to reproduce in full the little-known
sketches of Bernini showing the development, in his mind, of
the design for the Piazza of St. Peter's, and the sculptor's
models wrought by his own hands. For the rest I have
thought that it would be more serviceable for the reader to
have a few typical examples illustrating the main points of
the text rather than a larger, and perhaps more confusing,
selection of subjects from the almost inexhaustible wealth of
available material. I am under deep obligation for the gen-
erous permission to include among the illustrations material
in the Brandegee Collection (at Faulkner Farm, Brookline,
Massachusetts) hitherto unpublished. The heliotype plates
were prepared and printed under the direction of Mr. William
C. Ramsay, of Boston.
LONDON, July, 1914.
RICHARD NORTON.
271665
CONTENTS
BERNINI
I. AN ESTIMATE OF BERNINI
II.
III.
A COLLECTION OF SCULPTOR'S MODELS BY BERNINI
BERNINI'S DESIGNS FOR THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER'S
ASPECTS OF THE ART OF SCULPTURE
3
44
50
I.
II.
THE ART OF PORTRAITURE, PARTICULARLY IN SCULPTURE
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO .
57
93
III.
A HEAD OF ATHENA FOUND AT CYRENE
135
GIORGIONE
I.
PAINTINGS ATTRIBUTED TO GIORGIONE
155
II. THE TRUE GIORGIONE
172
INDEX
215
vii
NUMBER
PLATES
PLATES I AND II. PORTRAITS OF BERNINI
I. Bernini. Pencil Drawing, by himself (p. 12); Brandegee
Collection
Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
II. Portrait, formerly thought to be of Velasquez, probably of
Bernini (p. 12, footnote 3); Capitoline Gallery, Rome.
PLATES III-X. WORKS OF BERNINI
4
III. Æneas and Anchises (p. 16); Borghese Collection, Rome
IV. David (p. 17); Borghese Collection
8
12
V. Proserpina and Pluto (p. 17); Borghese Collection
VI. Apollo and Daphne (p. 17); Borghese Collection
VII. Angel with the Crown of Thorns (p. 25); Church of S. Andrea
delle Fratte, Rome.
16
18
•
22
VIII. Angel with a Scroll (p. 25); Church of S. Andrea delle Fratte,
Rome
24
IX. Saint Theresa (p. 30); Church of S. Maria della Vittoria,
Rome
30
38
X. Louis XIV (p. 39); Versailles
PLATES XI-XXVII. SCULPTOR'S MODELS BY
BERNINI; BRANDEGEE COLLECTION
XI. Female figure in relief, with helmet (p. 46, No. 1) .
XII. Figure of Longinus, for St. Peter's (p. 46, No. 2)
44
44
XIII. Putti, for the decoration of the piers in St. Peter's (p. 47,
Nos. 3 and 4)
44
XIV. Two saints, for the Ciborio in the Cappella del Sacramento
in St. Peter's (p. 47, Nos. 5, 7)
46
XVI. Bas-relief with half-figures (p. 47, No. 9):
ix
XV. Two saints, for the Ciborio in the Cappella del Sacramento
in St. Peter's (p. 47, Nos. 6, 8)
46
46
X
PLATES
NUMBER
FACING page
XVII. Half figure of a Triton holding a woman on his shoul-
ders (p. 47, No. 10)
XVIII. Study for the head of the St. Jerome in the Duomo
of Siena (p. 47, No. 11)
XIX-XXIV. Models of Angels (pp. 47, 48, Nos. 12-21)
XXV. Standing male figure in high relief (p. 49, No. 22)
XXVI. Oval bas-relief of the Virgin (p. 49, No. 23)
XXVII. Standing female figure, and standing Angel (p. 49,
Nos. 24, 25)
PLATES XXVIII-XL. BERNINI'S DESIGNS FOR
THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER'S; BRANDEGEE
COLLECTION
XXVIII. Orb, surmounted by a cross; outline of a crucified
figure (p. 51, Nos. 1, 2)
46
46
48
48
48
48
50
XXIX. Outline plan of St. Peter's church correlated with a
figure on a cross above lines suggesting the col-
onnades (p. 52, Nos. 3, 4)
50
XXX. More complete correlation of the crucified figure with
St. Peter's church (p. 52, Nos. 5, 6)
50
XXXI. Outline elevation of north half of the façade of St.
Peter's, with the colonnade (p. 52, No. 7)
52
XXXII. Sketches of the north colonnade (p. 53, No. 8) .
XXXIII. More elaborate sketch of the north colonnade (p. 53,
No. 9)
52
52
XXXIV. Outline sketch of the outer end of the north arm of
the colonnade, treated as if in two stories (p. 53,
No. 10)
52
XXXV. Interior of inner end of north arm of colonnade (p. 53,
No. 11)
52
XXXVI. Plan and elevation of the Cortile di S. Damaso (p. 53,
No. 12)
54
XXXVII. Façade of St. Peter's, with both colonnades treated
as if in two stories (p. 53, No. 13)
54
No. 14)
XXXVIII. View looking east from the front of St. Peter's (p. 54,
XXXIX. The Borgo, looking toward St. Peter's (p. 54, No. 15)
XL. Correlation of the Piazza with the Orb (p. 54, No. 16)
PLATES XLI-LI. PORTRAITS
XLI. Sheik-el-Beled, statue of wood, Fourth Dynasty
(p. 57); Boulak Museum, Cairo.
54
54
54
58
PLATES
xi
NUMBER
FACING PAGE
XLII. Sheik-el-Beled, head of statue shown in plate XLI
XLIII. Portrait, so-called Scipio type, now identified as priest of
Isis (p. 57); Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
XLIV. Pericles (p. 78); British Museum
XLV. So-called Menander (p. 82); Brandegee Collection.
XLVI. Periander (p. 82); Vatican Museum
XLVII. Unknown Roman, terra-cotta (p. 85); Museum of Fine
Arts, Boston
60
64
66
72
74
78
84
86
L. Roman girl (p. 90); Museum of Fine Arts, Boston .
LI. Sabina? (p. 90); Brandegee Collection
88
90
XLVIII. Unknown old man, Roman (p. 85); Brandegee Collection
XLIX. Antoninus Pius (p. 88); Brandegee Collection
PLATES LII-LIX. PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL
ANGELO
LII. Caryatid from the Erechtheum, Athens (p. 101); British
Museum
96
•
LIII. Madonna and Child, by Michael Angelo (p. 116); Bruges
LIV. The Victor, by Michael Angelo (p. 116); National Mu-
seum, Florence .
100
106
LV. Bacchus with Satyr, by Michael Angelo (p. 116); Na-
tional Museum, Florence.
112
LVI. Eros, by Michael Angelo (p. 118); South Kensington
Museum
118
LVII. Ares and other Divinities (p. 118); Frieze of the Parthe-
non, Athens
124
LVIII. So-called Athena Medici (p. 119); École des Beaux-Arts,
Paris
126
LIX. Madonna and Child, by Michael Angelo, unfinished (p.
131); Church of S. Lorenzo, Florence
130
PLATES LX, LXI. CYRENE ATHENA
LX. Profile view of head (p. 135); Cyrene
LXI. Front view of head .
136
144
PLATES LXII-LXIX. PAINTINGS BY
GIORGIONE
LXII. The Judgment of Solomon (p. 172); Kingston Lacy,
England.
162
LXIII. Adoration of the Magi, or Epiphany (p. 175); National
Gallery, London
168
xii
PLATES
NUMBER
FACING PAGE
LXIV. Shepherd's Offering (p. 180); in the Lord Allandale Col-
lection, London
174
LXV. The Storm, gypsy woman and soldier in the foreground
(p. 181); Giovanelli Palace, Venice.
180
LXVI. The Three Philosophers (p. 181); Vienna
186
LXVII. Head of Christ bearing the Cross (p. 185); Gardner Col-
lection, Boston.
194
LXVIII. Portrait (p. 202); Wood Collection, Temple Newsam,
England
202
LXIX. Madonna and Child (p. 204); Vienna
204
I. AN ESTIMATE OF BERNINI
DURING the last hundred years there has come a great
change in the feeling of most people towards the art of the
different epochs of the Renaissance. Whereas our grand-
fathers and our great-grandfathers held Carracci and Guido
and others of the same time in high esteem, we are now
taught that these later men are of little value or interest in
comparison with the artists of the fifteenth century, and even
the most halting and stuttering "Primitive" is held of more
worth than the more able masters of the seventeenth century.
This change is natural enough, but betokens a lack of true
understanding of the purpose and powers of the fine arts.
a
The altered mental attitude in religious matters which ren-
ders most people incapable of feeling the appeal of the mystical
fervour of the seventeenth century explains in a measure
why the earlier work is preferred; and added to this is the
effect of the development of archæological training which has
given rise to an interest in the mere search for origins
search that has done infinite harm in blinding the eyes of
students to the fact that, for the world at large, it is far more
important to see whither life is carrying us than from what
slow, groping, and inexplicable protoplasm and haphazard
chance it sprung. The teachers of our universities go on
in their dull round, like Dervishes, repeating that the Par-
3
4
STUDIES
thenon was the most perfect expression of Greek art, and there
are those who cannot see the beauty of the silver vases from
Boscoreale because they choose to call them Roman. With-
out doubt there are many sound reasons for the purely ar-
chæological study of classic art, and recently a small but per-
ceptive band of scholars has raised Roman art from the
ignorant neglect into which it had fallen and given it the
proper position due to any such able expression of great ideas;
this justifies the hope that the worth of the later Italian
schools will become once more manifest, not again to be for-
gotten.
""
The idea that the art of any civilized people rises by a
steady and constantly more perfect progression to one glori-
ous peak of perfection and then falls by rapid and recurring
blunders to a waste of meaningless effort is, I believe, due to
the too frequent mistake of considering the monuments of
the arts as separate entities and as self-ordained rather than
as indices of vital currents of thought and life. The English
dictionary is not synonymous with English literature. Nor
does the will-o'-the-wisp phrase "art for art's sake mean
that each work of art is a unique and inexplicable phenomenon.
Its true meaning is that the artist, be he poet or sculptor or
musician - no matter what form his art takes-finds the only
adequate expression of himself in the forms and under the
governance of the laws of the art which he follows. By so
far as he follows these laws is his work intelligible to other
men; by so far as he finds new combinations for the forms
and new adaptations of the laws to meet the new circum-
stances of ever changing life is he original and great. When
Shakespeare or Keats wrote a sonnet the verses were not pro-

PLATE II.
BERNINI
5
duced by them merely for the sake of using a certain com-
plicated formula of fourteen lines to make certain statements,
nor when Pheidias carved the Athena or Praxiteles the Hermes
was it merely with the idea of reproducing the human form in
stone.
Had such been the motive of these poets and sculptors
their results would have had small value; but each one of
them had something to say that he could best express in
the form chosen, some feeling towards life he wished to
share with others, and in this outgiving he steadily sought
to perfect the form that held his idea. The care he lavished
on the verse and marble so that the expression of this thought
might be the completest possible and truest to his idea, the
delight in making his chosen art conform to the laws of
language or of gravity, while at the same time it held the
thought as a nest holds an egg, that was art for art's sake, and
a very different matter from mere technical dexterity.
All the arts are alike means of conveying ideas from
brain to brain and from the past and forgotten generations to
those not yet thought of. No one school ever told the whole
truth, but only that part of it maybe which local circumstances
enable it to see. Each of them, from the earliest which faded
away before recorded time, to the latest which looks eagerly
forward to to-morrow with the hope of new accomplishment
and absorption in new truths discovered, is but as the search-
light casting its sharp-defined ray through the immeasurable
dark. The flames of Priam's pyre crimsoning the night which
hung over the "topless towers" were not marked on the Ar-
give hills, but the message was flashed hither and yon over the
star-tracked sea, raising now hopes now fears, till at Mycena
6
STUDIES
no answering flame was lit, but instead the young Phoenix was
born.
And as no one school can answer all the questions, so
no one single pundit can tell all the truth even of his own
school. In each honest, unshamming workman there is some-
thing of truth, something others long ago thrilled to or that
others yet to come may also feel, something that he knows
with a clarity and conviction not to be equalled by any other.
In a sense he does express his time, but neither the artist nor
any man else is merely the product of his time, and the truly
great ones go ahead of it, following the gleam of the divine
spark which each man is born with to shelter in his heart as
best he may. If it keep alight, by God's grace, his life becomes
in truth art for art's sake, and he is one of the successful run-
ners in the torch race across the great divide of life that sep-
arates the hopeless past from the hopeful future.
Of such there are many to spur on the weary and to guide
the strayed back to the beacon path. In every man who has
appealed to the masses, whose ears have rung and whose heart
has swelled with the loud cries of "well done," there is, be
sure, something of the ultimate divine truth some no-
mockery - some sincerity which heated in the fires of his
soul and beaten with long pain and trouble on the anvil of his
heart, shall be, if we can grasp it, a treasure undiminishing so
long as we have breath to live.
Such an one was Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, whose life was
almost coterminous with the seventeenth century (1598-
1680). Honoured during life by three courts, and at that
time court patronage was a very different thing to what it is
now, he has of late been treated with a disregard which is
BERNINI
77
unjustified, and has been blamed for faults which were not his.
These false judgments can be traced back to the envy of some
of his contemporaries, who on the one hand accused him of
ignorance of the mechanics of his art and of stupidity of design,
and on the other, oftentimes, did their best to copy him. But
it gives us pause when we consider that notwithstanding the
forces of jealousy backed by powerful influence that were
brought to bear on him he remained in the eyes of artistic
Italy during his sixty and more working years the "Michael
Angelo of the seicento." And this estimate of him, if we lay
aside preconceived notions and formulas handed down to us
by our parents, and look at his work with our own eyes and
study it in the light of our own knowledge, will turn out to
be the right one. Only the rash and heedless dare say of
one who acquired such admiration in his own day that his
work was poor and unworthy. And yet this is what is said.
His style is said to be extravagant and artificial and his violent
material effects are said to show that he was unable to express
thought. Even the group of Apollo and Daphne is held to
exhibit his ignorance of the proper domain of sculpture. It
seems to me more likely that the judgment of the artists and
critics of the seventeenth century is apt to be the correct one.
What would be artificial in an artist to-day was not so in
Bernini, but was, if we could see it and free our hearts from the
bonds of tradition, the most honest and simplest expression of
a genius who had a new message for those who would take the
trouble to understand. Frequently his work is criticised for
not conforming to the "severe laws" of good sculpture and
in this criticism lies the common fallacy of letting personal
taste usurp the place of critical judgment. There are, of
8
STUDIES
course, laws of gravity, and of stress or strain to which a sculp-
tor must conform because they are in the nature of the ma-
terial he uses, just as there are optical laws which the painter
should know; but there are no laws to fix what the artist
may or may not represent or the forms which he should give
to his representations. Personal taste is very well in its place,
but it is not criticism; and severe laws are good training for
our powers, but dependence on them leads to stagnation and
not to discovery. Because the stage-coach follows the old
gray road is it artificial of the aeroplane to soar through the
trackless ether? Probably most critics, when they speak of
severe laws as fixed and irrevocable, have in mind those fol-
lowed by the Greeks of the fifth century B.C.- surely of no
later time, for what of the violent material effects of Per-
gamon? But suppose portraits of the present-day business
kings were carved according to the one-time valid classic
laws? Strangely unlike the subject would such portraits be!
There is nothing ultimately right in severity nor ultimately
wrong in violence. The money-changers were not led from
the temple by a ribbon round their necks. The pioneer and
path breaker must be violent. This was Bernini's work and
purpose, and it is no more reasonable to blame him for the in-
sincerity and stupidity of his followers than to blame Colum-
bus for lynch law. As of many another, Bernini's fame has
been dimmed by the follies and shams of his would-be imi-
tators. Many tried to imitate and surpass him, but it was not
to be done. He had the quality of genius which is more than
the power of taking infinite pains. That his pupils had, but
they merely exaggerated the form of the outer husk of his
work till it lost all semblance of truth and became nothing

PLATE III.
BERNINI
9
but untruth and error. In him was the divine spark, the light
of which showed new worlds for sculpture to work in and the
heat of which moulded his material into the eternal forms of
beauty.
The study of Bernini is established on very strong founda-
tions, and the misinterpretation of his aims is inexcusable;
for we have sure records of every kind concerning him. From
his surprising youth to his busy old age we can trace his prog-
ress and the development of his powers. Of all his numerous
works scarcely one is lost, and such as have disappeared are of
no importance whatever in comparison with what remains.
The full account of his life was written by two contemporaries,
one of them his son, and this is amplified by many letters and
other papers
accounts of payments for his work, stories of
his doings, plans for work sometimes never undertaken and
other times finally accomplished by himself or his pupils,
that have been turned up into the light after long sleep in
Italian archives.¹ It is all before us, and each chapter of his
life can be recalled from the Elysian fields. We grow eager
with the same hopes, we feel despondent at the same broken
faith and pledges, we grow interested in the same companion-
ships, we rest after the same magnificent accomplishments,
and to the end we are keen in search of new worlds to open up.
Even the look of him we know; what the appearance was
as he moved among the Popes and Kings, the Cardinals and
Princes of Europe. What it was for a man they saw we too
can see. What it was of a heart he felt dragging him on with
1 Filippo Baldinucci Fiorentino. Vita del cavaliere Gio. Lorenzo Bernini.
Firenze. 1682.
Domenico Bernino. Vita del cavaliere Gio. Lorenzo Bernino. Roma. 1713.
Stanislao Fraschetti. Il Bernini. Milan. 1900.
10
STUDIES
engine throbs we can guess when our amazed eyes rest on the
Saint Theresa, the bust of Louis XIV, or the throne in St.
Peter's. A strongly built, dark man, his thick hair whitening
in old age, but the quick eye never losing its brilliancy and
piercing glance. Of simple fashion in dress, as the pictures
and drawings by himself and others show him, for all his love
of rich stuffs and floating draperies. A ready and pleasant
wit made him the best of company, though at times withdrawn
into himself by some mystical absorption. For just as the
great religious leaders, so the great artists are at times lifted
by some ecstasy away from actual surrounding fact and lost
in worlds only visible to their inner eye, and though visible
never to be told of. At other times his spirits broke forth
in irrepressible gaiety which though it might form itself as
satire was never malevolent. Generous to a fault, and always
ready to lift up a friend, he was implacable towards his ene-
mies, and rightly showed them no mercy. He had the strength
to be a good hater, not feebly excusing hypocrisy and mean-
ness because the hypocrite was weak or knew no better, but
hating, not the poor miserable individual, but his qualities,
and, to the best of his own power, destroying them. Proud
and self-confident, but willing to answer questions or to explain
what might seem faults. A lonely man; one with many ac-
quaintances but few friends. Too sincere not to be shocked
by the heartless brutishness of the woman he loved, too honest
a workman not to be hurt by the attacks of envy, but never
losing heart, always following his ideal and seeking to eternize
the beautiful visions of his bright soul.
There are many portraits of him, some done with pencil
or pen or graver, others more elaborate oil paintings. They
BERNINI
11
are the work of his friends, or done by himself, and show him
at various periods of life from young manhood to old age.
Naturally they vary in many ways, but the variance is for
the most part in the details of the outer shell of the man. The
thick dark locks of the youth give place to the thin gray hairs
of the old man; the full cheeks grow sunken and wrinkles
frame the piercing eyes; but in all the portraits certain char-
acteristics remain constant. A pencil drawing in the Galleria
Nazionale in Rome is the best of the youthful portraits.¹ It is
by himself, done when he was some twenty years old. It
shows a finely shaped head with thick, waving hair. The face
is strongly modelled, and all the features noticeable; the nose
large and slightly bent, the chin square and strong. Lips full
and sensitive, but vigorous. Most noticeable of all are the
eyes, large and dark, set rather deeply under heavy brows,
looking straightly and sadly but imperturbably on the world.
A face of power yet of sweetness. A man to ask after and to
watch what he will do in this world. Rather older we see
him in two drawings in the private collection of Prince Chigi
in Rome.2 Life was testing him severely we know, but the
eyes are still steady, are still bright with the inner light that
was leading him on, and the mouth is still sweet and undrawn.
Of about the same time, or a little later maybe, is the oil
portrait supposed to be by himself (though for this there is
little proof), in the Uffizi. No change yet in the character
except in a strengthening and making permanent the good
qualities of his youth. The man has found himself. Many
years go by before we again see him face to face.
¹ Fraschetti, op. cit., p. 47.
› Fraschetti, op. cit., p. 428.
3
2 Fraschetti, op. cit., pp. 425, 426.
12
STUDIES
In the Gallery of St. Luke¹ and in the possession of Count
Andreozzi in Rome 2 are portraits of him in his last years, and
a very fine pencil drawing by himself in the Brandegee Collec-
tion (Plate I). All his works were completed, his visits to the
courts of Europe were over, he is the "Michael Angelo of the
seicento," and yet he is just as simple in his dress and pose
as ever. Obviously a great man whose ideals were so much
greater to him than what he had accomplished that no possible
flattery could disturb the balance of his mental poise. One
change there is in the face more to be remarked than the
higher forehead and the fuller chin. The eyes are still bright
and level, the mouth still as soft and strong, but the sadness
of expression has gone. Had he realized, I wonder, that soon
all the sorrows of life would be hidden and lost under the
gray church floor? Though the glad light of the sun no
longer shone upon his life his face is bright with a mystical
light as of the ranging stars which for countless thousands
of years have guided the feet of man.³
It may be thought that I have given a fanciful interpreta-
1 This portrait (Fraschetti, op. cit., p. 434) is probably a copy of one owned by
Baron Geymüller in London.
2 Fraschetti, op. cit., p. 429.
³ In the Museum at Weimar is a portrait on which is written that it was done by
Bernini himself, and as an autoritratto it has been published by Fraschetti (p. 433).
It is a wretched performance, done not by Bernini, but by someone who had neither
an observant eye nor a well-trained hand.
There is still another portrait which I think is very probably of him. It hangs in
the Capitoline Gallery in Rome (Plate II), where it is called "Portrait of Velasquez,
by himself," an attribution which no student of Velasquez would maintain to-day.
The shape of the head and face and the expression are extremely like Bernini.
Even the different shape and angle of the two eyebrows is the same as in his por-
traits. The quality of the hair is the same, and the way it grows over the temples.
In the earlier portraits of him the hair is parted on the right side as in the Capitoline
picture. The nose is very nearly the same as in the pencil portraits by himself
in the National Gallery in Rome and in the Chigi collection.

PLATE IV.
BERNINI
13
tion to the change that came in his face from youth to old age,
but it can be shown that some such thoughts as I have sug-
gested moved him. About 1650, at a time when his enemies
had attacked his work in St. Peter's and caused him great finan-
cial damage and still greater hurt to his natural and proper
pride, the idea came to him to carve an allegory that should
show the ages what his feeling towards his critics, towards
art and towards life truly was. Allegories in painting or
sculpture are usually, owing to the fixed limitations of these
arts, unintelligible, but no artist ever lived who could have
done as well as Bernini in making clear his idea with the ma-
terial he used. Even if we did not have his own words about
this group his thought would be seen, for his amazing command
of technique and his knowledge of statics made it possible for
him to combine figures with a freedom rarely equalled, and
thereby to express himself with an ease and fulness beyond
the powers of most sculptors of any time. Only one of the
two figures which were to form the group was ever finished,
but there is a sepia sketch showing the whole composition.
In it we see the winged figure of Time hovering above a
beautiful woman from whose nude body he lifts a mantle. She
is Truth; in her hand she holds an image of the Sun darting
bright rays in all directions. This group meant much to him ;
was perhaps the most personal and truly expressive work he
ever made, and till his death he kept it by him. In his will
he says that not without reason has he kept this statue of
Truth unveiled by Time which he wishes to remain for ever
in the possession of his descendants who, as they look on it,
may remember that the most lovely of the virtues is Truth
and that if one works under her guidance Time in the end
14
STUDIES
reveals her. Are the "severe laws" of the ancients any more
severe than this rule Bernini held before himself and wished
his descendants never to forget, and is it sensible because at
first sight his work seems strange and unaccountable to
damn it with such words as fantastic" or
or "baroque"?
The group was never finished, but in a dirty courtyard off
the Corso in Rome, neglected as only the Italians know how
to neglect such things till some outsider stirs their jaded ap-
preciation to new interest, is the Discovered Truth. Time on
hasty wings flies by, but as Bernini knew, Truth stays always,
heedless of neglect, the fixed pole for all those who set their
aim beyond the bounds within which their earthly eyes would
prison them. And knowing this, it came to pass that his
old face was lit with a peaceful smile as he came to the evening
of life.
Bernini's work is of unusual variety, but the best of it falls
into four classes. There are the wonderful groups illustrating
old world myths that he produced in the full joy of life in his
youth; there are the amazing religious monuments in which
he embodied with unrivalled skill the mystical intensity of
the religion whose chief priests he served; there are the su-
perbly joyous settings for fountains which though the waters
might dry up and cease to flow will still, so long as the stone
lasts, echo their murmuring music; and there are the long series
of magnificent busts on which he was employed from his very
earliest days to his latest. He was besides author, painter,
illustrator, and architect. I have no intention of cataloguing
the long series of work his never idle hand produced, but wish
merely to point out some of the forgotten beauties that he
brought into being. In a measure, it is possible to trace the
BERNINI
15
source of his inspiration and in lesser degree to foresee its
outcome.
His father, Pietro, a Florentine, was a sculptor of no mean
power before him. His mother was of Naples, and in that
southern, passionate city Gian Lorenzo was born in 1598 and
there he passed his first years. Some day another Mendel
may be able to establish what were the forces of Florentine
and Neapolitan blood that lay dormant in his young brain,
but for us is no such certainty, and we can only guess at the
effect of the father's artistic occupations and the mother's
quick blood. In 1604, when the boy was but six years old,
his father moved to Rome, the city his son was destined to
impress with his genius as no city but Athens has ever been
impressed by a single artist. Working at first for his father,
he was only fourteen years old when he drew to himself the
attention of all the connoscenti by two busts which, as Anni-
bale Carracci said, any artist after years of work might have
been proud to make. The admiration Bernini won for these
works, to which I shall return, led, as was the good habit
of those days, to the patronage of the Borghese pope, Paul V.
In the Borghese villa, the ruined grandeur of which is still
the chief pride of Rome, the young Bernini was surrounded
by beautiful antique marbles, some of which he was called
upon to restore. This familiarity with ancient sculpture,
and this subjection in the task of restoration of his own spirit
to that of classic masters, had a very marked effect on him —
an effect which in its deepest sense lasted throughout his long
life, though its more obvious and visible manifestation soon
waned and faded away. That is to say, while his work at all
times showed a perfect comprehension of some of the funda-
16
STUDIES
mental laws of the material out of which sculpture is formed,
laws that were first clearly expounded by the Greeks, it is
only in a few of his earliest, and for a youth miraculous,
works that he shows a tendency to imitate classic form.
Four wonderful works were produced for the Borghese
family. The Eneas and Anchises (Plate III), the David
(Plate IV), the Rape of Proserpina (Plate V), and the exquisite
group of Apollo and Daphne (Plate VI). All these were
finished when he was only twenty-seven. Realizing this,
the comparison of him with Michael Angelo no longer seems
exaggerated, but one sees further that no such comparison can
perform the ordinary service of all such juxtapositions, which
is to afford a scale of better or worse, for the two masters
are supreme, each in his own individual and original way,
and incomparable.
Opinion may easily differ in regard to the first three of the
works just mentioned. To me the Æneas is the least pleasing
and the David the least successful artistically. The faults
of both may be in part due to the fact that in each case Ber-
nini's imagination was to a certain degree hampered by work
of other men which he seems to have set himself to surpass,
and even though it may be granted that he did surpass his
models, he would have done better, as in the Proserpina and
Daphne, to let his own genius lead him whither it would and
ignore other suggestion. The models I refer to are, in the
case of the Æneas, the Christ by Michael Angelo in Santa
Maria sopra Minerva and for the David the Borghese Warrior
now in the Louvre, both works of small merit.¹ The reason
¹ The Borghese Warrior was found at Anzio at the beginning of the seventeenth
century. See Friederichs-Wolters, Gipsabgüsse, 1885, p. 541 f; Vulpius, Vetus
Latium, 1726, Vol. III, p. 28.

PLATE V.
BERNINI
17
the Æneas seems to me unpleasing is because of the weakness
and unheroic look of the faces and figures, but others may not
feel this, and the skill of the group is undoubted. The lack
of success in the David is due to a slight failure in understand-
ing the Greek motive that Bernini was copying. Whether
or not he had in mind the Borghese Warrior as he carved this
figure is a matter of slight importance. He was in any case
representing a single figure in a position of strongly marked
action, a problem that Myron magnificently solved in the
Discobolus. The Borghese Warrior is by no means so suc-
cessful. The David would rival the Discobolus had Bernini
not made one mistake. The figure is turned to the wrong
side. As he stands, the right arm drawn back, the left hand
holding the stone in the sling in front of the body, the sling
must fall loose and dead, the body must again be flung for-
ward and the right arm swung upwards before the youth can
get the momentum to hurl the stone at his enemy. Had
Bernini turned the figure the other way with the left hand
behind and the right in front of the body, this sense of ineffec-
tiveness in the pose would not have existed, and the whole
body would have been tensely set at the moment of rest be-
tween the action of drawing back for the aim and the instan-
taneously following motion of the cast.¹
Though such slight criticism may be passed on these
two works, the other two, the Proserpina and Daphne are not
open to any similar attack. They are magnificent, and compel
¹It is not improbable that the statue of St. Lawrence, in the Strozzi palace in
Florence, which Bernini made at this time, was influenced by the Dying Gaul.
The two statues resemble each other closely in many ways. There is a tradition
that Michael Angelo restored certain small portions of the Gaul, but the character
of the work of the restorations suggests Bernini rather than Michael Angelo.
C
18
STUDIES
admiration even from those whose training would tend to
limit their preferences to work of another type. Never was
the spirit of the two stories more fully understood or more
adequately rendered. Never was marble managed in more
masterful fashion and given such flux and flow of life. One's
breath catches as one looks, for it seems no longer a work of
art before one's eyes, but life itself. There is the dark, pas-
sionate rape of Proserpine, her splendid soft body shrinking
and twisting in the grasp of the undeniable, compelling God
of the underworld. There is the sweet, sad loss of Daphne,
her exquisite springtime figure fading and changing into the
rustling silver leaves in fright at the too hasty claim of her
lover. Her face is still lovely, though the wide eyes and open
mouth show her fear, but is there nothing in her fear of loss
of her dear pursuer? And what of him? Not to be thought
of as Olympian brother to the cruel, forceful Pluto. His
face and action betoken the tenderness that would save the
woman he loves from the heartless folly she would thought-
lessly commit. In the one group the storm and rush of pas-
sion; in the other the tender restraint of love. Both purely
Greek and classic, and both carved with such consummate
mastery that we forget the marble and see only the dark Tar-
tarean glow and hear only the whispering of the sad leaves.
The perfection of technique displayed in the works of
Bernini's youthful years is obvious to anyone with the slight-
est knowledge of sculpture. His knowledge of anatomy must
have been almost instinctive, while he used the chisel with an
ease that few painters could rival with a brush. His under-
standing, too, of balance and composition and of the forms the
marble could be given was a revelation, and infinitely enlarged

PLATE VI.
BERNINI
19
the field of sculpture. As a mere group, the Daphne has never
been surpassed, and Bernini himself recognised that, at least
from the point of view of technique, none of his later works
were any more marvellous. The spirit and character, however,
of the later work are very different. It is worth noting that
his method of production differs greatly from that of his
predecessors. Hundreds of sepia drawings by him still exist
which show the fertility of his invention and the labour he
spent in getting the best design for his works. There are also
many terra cotta models for his statues, and in all of these we
see a directness in the way he approached his subject that dif-
ferentiates him from the forerunners in the art. Among the
Greeks, among the painters at least, it was not uncommon to
think of the body and the drapery as separate and to draw
or model the first entirely nude and then afterwards to put
drapery over it. This habit was common enough during the
Renaissance, and the studies of such men as Dürer and Leo-
nardo show that it was not confined to the lesser men whose
lack of skill and knowledge was helped by such double process.
But among all the hundreds of sketches on paper and models
in terra-cotta that are left us of Bernini's work there is scarcely
a trace of this method of procedure. He visualized each work
in endless different ways, making rapid but most skilful studies
of them all, but he saw the figure each time completed. The
figures and drapery and setting were one indivisible whole to
him, and his uncommon knowledge of anatomy, and the rare
clearness of his mental vision, made it possible for him when
the final form of the work was fixed upon to work at it from the
outside inwards, and not, as in something built of blocks, from
the inside outwards. And while his sketches differ in this
20
STUDIES
regard from those of most other artists, the variety of them,
especially the very numerous ones for the same monument,
show the pitch of excellence to which art had arrived, for
these sketches are no longer the record of the artist's search
to learn how, but of his eager search how best. Not that Ber-
nini was unique in this. The fertility of invention of such
men as Domenico Tiepolo is as that of a tree putting forth
leaves, but no other artist illustrates these qualities and
methods more completely and masterfully than our Gian
Lorenzo.
I have mentioned above the originality displayed by men
such as Michael Angelo and Bernini. Many another name
could be added to these two, but it is not of men I wish to
speak, but of this quality of originality, this crucible from
which the old is drawn forth new, this Spring season of the
mind which clothes the old, dry stumps with fresh life. The
word is so often misused about the artists of to-day that its
real significance is lost and true originality is too often imi-
tated by a cheaper, rottener stuff. Every one of us is original
in some degree. No one, unless he be mentally dead, sees or
feels or believes as his father or grandfathers did before him.
It may be the old belief was more correct and the old eyes were
sharper than the new. Only the purblind and myopic think
that all the early stages were wrong and that the solitary
Present is alone right. Were this so, how hopelessly wrong
this same Present would soon be! What a hideous precipice
of error would this life's painful course appear! As in life,
so it is in Art, and all artists are original who are genuine and
honest, who are spurred on only by their ideals and their love
for their work-who give up worshipping the xoana and
BERNINI
21
idols of a past day. It may be suggested that there is little
difference, or perhaps even none, between one's own ideal
and any other suggested to us by some wrought image, whether
in stone or verse is no matter. But there is. There is the
difference of life. The light of one is of the dying embers, but
the light of the other is of the rising Sun which shows the path
we follow till our feet grow slower and slower, till at the last
they halt and stop fixed. While the idol remains but the
symbol of the ideal it is right. When it becomes the God it is
wrong, or when doubt has cut its roots and sapped its strength
and we pay it service merely because to do so has become an
easy habit. So it is we come to see that the originality of
these artists was not mere novelty, but was truthfulness. It
represents their beliefs, and what you believe you believe for
yourself alone. It shows us what their real, sure-founded
and enduring hopes and aims were. Mere novelty cannot be
believed in because it is accidental. It has neither root nor
promise of flower. It is the mirage of the salt desert, and it is
this mere queerness, mere strain, mere novelty which is too
often mistaken for originality. It is the paradox masquerad-
ing as the True Word. Just as this world whirls like a "fret-
ful midge" through space, ever in the same track, a recur-
ring course, but gradually unperceived moves elsewhither,
so do the great artists revolve, and impelled not by their own
wilfulness but by the power of the divine spark within them,
slowly move forward. And among that splendid company is
Bernini.
1
The terra cotta studies in the Brandegee Collection ¹ illus-
trate clearly Bernini's originality and the power to which
¹ In Brookline, Mass.; see p. 44 and Plates XI-XXVII.
22
STUDIES
I have referred above, of seeing his visions in their complete-
ness without having to painfully build them up. I do not
mean to imply that each separate detail of his works was the
same in his first vision of them as in their finished form. He
worked at them assiduously, and perfected them with the
greatest patience and care, but when they came into his mind
they rose before him like ghosts from the tomb
entire.
vague but
It is noteworthy that most of these models are of angels, and
as such represent the religious work by which Bernini is best
known, and on which he was most often employed after his
youth was past. By the time he was twenty-five years old
he had been employed by three Popes, and before his death
five others sought his aid and depended largely on his genius
in their endeavours to beautify Rome and to render their
own fame imperishable. These undertakings were of very
various character, but the greater number of them, such as
statues of Saints, decoration of chapels, altars and taber-
nacles, grave monuments of Popes and prelates, were done
with religious purpose and may be called his ecclesiastical
work. It is superb in its mastery, magnificent in effect, and
while utterly different from anything that had been done be-
fore, gives the impression of complete and perfect sincerity.
Though unlike earlier work and though the religion that in-
spired and made it possible has changed so that never again
will an artist be able to give similar expression to his ideals,
still there is no ground for considering it merely curious and
the expression of insincerity or passing error. Anything that
affected so many thousands of men, which they found beauti-
ful and satisfying to their souls, must be in a measure true,

PLATE VII.
BERNINI
23
must have in it some portion of ultimate wisdom. Silence or
contempt towards it, any feeling but of sympathy with it,
shows not a better knowledge but a duller understanding.
During the sixteenth century a great change had come about
in the way men looked at life. Discoveries were made of all
sorts; on land for men's feet to follow or in mathematics and
philosophy for their souls to reach up to. Old dogmas became
untenable and the roofs with which men had sheltered their
heads became scaffolding on which they planted their feet.
It was a time of revolution - the revolution of the wheel of
life which advances as it turns. I have called attention to
the fact that the artists in their search for the fullest possible
expression of their thought often threw off dozens of designs
for a single work before finding the one most adequate. Tech-
nique no longer hampered them in the slightest way, and they
readily changed their mode in accordance with new views, no
longer blindly following the old guides. The work of Titian
is one of the most obvious illustrations of this. In his youth
he followed, like the Indian, the steps of his leaders, but as he
aged, he broke from them more and more, till at the end
he arrived in a world his teachers could never have imag-
ined. Bernini had a similar experience.
One of the commonest complaints brought against Bernini
is that he introduced the habit of decorating the archivolts
or domed roofs of the churches with figures of angels fluttering
about like great white birds, and in this complaint no distinc-
tion is made between the idea that underlay this scheme of
decoration and the inappropriate and exaggerated use of it
made often by his imitators. From the earliest times of the
Renaissance, this scheme had been used. Bernini did not
24
STUDIES
invent it. The Gothic portals and towers of France are
crowded with figures of saints and kings, of angels and de-
mons. In orderly ranks they guard the gates or singly spring
into mid air from the balconies. In Italy the shepherds of
the people stood in pulpits which rested on the strong shoul-
ders of Christ's soldiers or on the steady wings of the heavenly
host, while high o'erhead (as in the Portinari Chapel in S.
Eustorgio, Milan), a ring of winged figures, hand holding hand,
danced and sang, and down the long aisles and in the dark
chapels every sleeper in his stony bed was guarded by the
faithful spirits.
Why then find fault with Bernini and think he erred in
doing what all the world found good? If Bernini is mistaken
in putting marble figures above our heads, why excuse Cor-
reggio for the circling swarms with which he covered the
church domes, or Michael Angelo for the cataract of figures
with which he covered the Sistine Chapel? All such work
must be considered for its suggestion, not from the point of
view of its actual substance. Why, if the conventional and
halting work of the nameless early artists is good, should the
masterly work of Bernini be considered bad? Only because
the modern world thinks it foolish to believe in anthropo-
morphic angels and having no belief, has lost the power of
understanding symbols. And also the antagonism Bernini's
work arouses is due to the fad for the primitive and incomplete.
The very lack of power that every early artist tried to rid
himself of is now thought to be his chief value and grace, and
as in the daily press a missing word puzzle attracts more at-
tention than a sonnet so the halting early work finds more
admirers than the later perfect art.

PLATE VIII.
Dor M
BERNINI
25
Perfect as they are, there is something more than anthro-
pomorphism in Bernini's angels. Earlier artists, even the
best of the Florentines, when representing these heavenly
messengers, almost always make them so solid and human that
the wings are utterly inadequate, or else they suggest the body
by a thin and shapeless swirl of drapery topped by a perfectly
substantial head. In either case the result is unsatisfactory,
for though the figures conform to the usual idea of angels as
effeminate human forms with wings, the chief impression they
make is of inconsistent and impossible anatomical combina-
tions.
They fail just as the archaic Greek centaurs with human
feet fail. When one looks at Bernini's angels, the two done
in his youth for the altar of Sant' Agostino, or the two for
instance which he carved in later years for the Ponte Sant'
Angelo, but which were considered too beautiful to be exposed
in the open air and are now sheltered in Sant' Andrea delle
Fratte (Plates VII, VIII), or at the one which kneels on the
left hand of the Ciborio in the Cappella del Sacramento in Saint
Peter's, one has no sense of unreality. The bodies are human
in form, but spiritual in their lightness and grace. The wings
are strong and large, and yet so feathery as to seem almost
transparent. The drapery falls and clings to and fits the
body as a cloud might, and the face and action express a per-
fect and soul-filling adoration that finds expression in tireless
worship and unending song of praise. These are the true
'sexless souls, ideal quires.
This same strong religious feeling is shown with equal
certainty in other figures by Bernini which are better known
than his angels. These are the figures of saints which he
26
STUDIES
made in his middle and later years. The earliest of them,
that of Santa Bibiana, done in 1626, when he was still a young
man, shows in the arrangement and pose of the figure the
influence of the antique. The technique exhibits the same
magnificent ease and the same power of reproducing the
various qualities of drapery and flesh and hair that we saw
before in the Borghese groups, and there is in the face and
gesture the expression of self-effacement in religious ecstasy
that is the most noticeable quality of the later figures of this
kind. As he grows older, these two characteristics of techni-
cal differentiation of surface and of ecstatic expression altered.
While he lost no atom of technical power he tended to lay less
stress on the appearance of the mere surface of his figures and
to pay more attention to and show forth more clearly their
mental condition. In doing this he brought into being figures
as truly representative of the religion of his time as those of
Michael Angelo or any other sculptor of any epoch.
Religious emotion must always call forth strong feeling,
but the strength is sometimes shown in terms of apparent
restraint, at others it shows itself in violent action. Athena
Parthenos is as emotional as the Santa Theresa and Savona-
rola, and Luther is as violent as the Crusaders. The seven-
teenth century was a time when men thought it no shame to
show their feelings. The Puritans showed them as clearly as
the Italians, though in a less pleasant form. If to-day it is
difficult to realize and sympathize with the sentiment shown
in Bernini's Sant' Andrea, or Daniel, or Maria di Magdala, it
it is not because of our superiority, but rather because we have
lost a very precious sense and power of spiritual levitation.
Look at the Habakkuk. Is it not a splendid presentation of
BERNINI
27
the prophet who was burdened with the grievance which he
beheld, who saw for so long the righteous compassed about by
a “bitter and hasty" race that he felt the Lord would never
respond to his cry? But even as he complains the visible an-
swer of the Lord appears, and the Angel with playful tender-
ness pulls at his hair so that his face is upturned to the light
of Heaven, not any longer dark with earth's despair, as he bids
him write the vision of the Lord's judgment that shall not
tarry write it so that he may run who readeth. And
Habakkuk still points to the iniquity that blackens the world
and the angel points to the inevitably approaching woe. It
is superbly original. It is deeply felt.
The St. Jerome in the Duomo at Siena is another very
striking figure; if it seems to most observers unpleasant,
this is mainly because it does not conform to the conventional
and uncharacteristic way they are accustomed to see Jerome
represented. As a subject for artists he has been treated far
more often by painters than by sculptors, and in the paintings
the mere beauty of colour and of surroundings adds charms
which are uncharacteristic of, and distract from, the real
interest of the figure. When carved by Bernini, there is
nothing but the figure to consider whether it be suggestive
of the real man as we know him by his writings or not. Prob-
ably most people if asked what image the name of the saint
brought to their minds would recall the print by Dürer or
some painting such as that by Catena in the National Gallery.
But splendid as the print and the painting are, it is only by a
pleasant fiction and by refusing to regard the truth that they
can be thought to represent in any way the Saint as he was
among men. They show a very gentle old man in the neatest
28
STUDIES
and quietest of surroundings, peacefully writing his comments
on the scriptures.
It can hardly be supposed that his contemporaries regarded
Jerome primarily as a peaceful and abstracted scholar. Surely
Bernini did not, but instead shows us the unhappy wanderer
and ascetic monk. Scholarship was only one phase, and
among the people with whom he lived scarcely the most im-
portant phase of St. Jerome's life. To his contemporaries he
showed himself chiefly as an acrid controversialist taking a
leading part in the "strife of tongues." Unhappy in his
Pannonian home, he spent a restless youth wandering over
Europe, but instead of peace found only momentary forgetful-
ness in pleasures, the remembrance of which brought deep
sorrow in his later years. Then he turned to asceticism and
sought by living as an anchorite in the desert to conform
himself to the teachings of his Lord. But the degradation of
such a life, the unnatural and disgusting view it took of the
image of his Maker and the temple of his soul, the morbid in-
trospection and sterility of selfish self-mortification, brought
him trouble and pain, not calm, till, at last, an old man, he
died in Bethlehem thoroughly disheartened with the iniquity
of the world and the horrors resultant on the destruction of
Rome by the barbarians.
The battered, way-
Such is the man Bernini sets before us.
worn feet; the strong, coarse body; the ragged, unkempt
hair show the life he led. The face bending with closed eyes
dreamily over the figure of the crucified Christ betrays his
holy, misdirected zeal. What he was, and what he stood for,
could not be shown more clearly than our sculptor has shown it
here.
BERNINI
29
Equally fine, and in certain ways more beautiful, is the
statue of Daniel in the lions' den, which Bernini made in
1656 for Cardinal Chigi, who placed it with the Habakkuk in
Santa Maria del Popolo. The youthful and splendidly built
figure rests on one knee, his hands upraised in attitude of
prayer, his head bent back with eyes wide open gazing up-
wards. From one shoulder, beside his body and over his legs,
falls in wind-blown folds a single heavy mantle. A great
lion crouches behind him, licking his foot. In its perfect
physical beauty, in its not over-emphasised anatomy and in
its entirely successful composition, by which great movement
is given the appearance of completeness and stability, the
figure is more closely allied to Bernini's earlier works than to
the mystical passionate figures such as the Jerome or Mary of
Magdala or others of this period. It is unnecessary to dwell
on the beauty of the figure and the technical skill it displays,
for these can be seen by anyone whose eye and hand have been
trained at all.
There is one less obvious point, however, to which I wish
to draw attention, for it is as good an example as could be of
what I have mentioned above. I refer to the way the legs
show through the heavy drapery that covers them. The
mantle does actually clothe the leg. It is not a mere addition.
It takes its shape and movement from the leg beneath it.
The one cannot be thought of without the other. Were the
statue destroyed, and did only the right hip or left knee
remain, one would instantly recognise what parts of the figure
these were. But classic though the figure is in general ap-
pearance
it might almost be one of the Niobids — the
feeling of absolute ecstatic faith is very clearly given in the
30
STUDIES
upturned face and the reaching arms.¹ Now there have been
times great and noble times when men did believe that
God would send angels to shut the mouths of lions, and when
men felt no fear, but only a carefree trust in His help if true
innocency could be found in them.
Such work is not baroque, nor decadent, nor over-emotional,
as it is commonly and thoughtlessly said to be, but it is a
very adequate and convincing representation of a powerful
and uplifting spiritual condition. It is just as fine as the
graver and more sombre figures of Greece, or as the sad and
ponderous figures of Michael Angelo.
Of all the figures of this period in Bernini's development the
most famous is the Saint Theresa (Plate IX). It is hopeless to
express in words the great beauty of this figure. This can no
more be done than the full perfection of any great poem can be
rendered in a translation. The work is perfect in itself, and
what of this kind can be shown in sculpture is here expressed
with complete and ultimate adequacy. That most people
are startled and shocked when they first see the figure is due
to the fact that they do not think of what the scene really
means, and they are not accustomed to seeing scenes of divine
significance treated with perfect simplicity and pure faith.
Not that such scenes ought not to be so treated, but few
are the artists who feel deeply enough or whose technique is
finished enough to enable them to represent a scene of this
sort so clearly and beautifully. As a result, the artist falls
back on forms which have been repeated so often that they
have become conventional and no longer can give the beholder
¹ The head reminds one of the Capitoline Alexander, which Bernini may have
seen.

PLATE IX.
BERNINI
31
the full impression of their meaning. No one is offended on
seeing the Son of God bleeding on the cross around which
surges a host of idle spectators, or at seeing Him in the manger
before which all the nobles of Florence kneel in various the-
atric attitudes. But Saint Theresa is a figure new to them, and
to have her shown in the crisis of her ecstasy with other figures
looking on from the walls of the chapel, offends their " sense
of propriety" and seems "paradoxical," "perfervid” and “in-
consequent.
991
<<
Were this a fair criticism, a large number of the most
beautiful works of Christian art would fall under the same
condemnation. Far more paradoxical than Bernini's figure
are the representations of the Marriage of Saint Catharine,
and they are quite as unpleasing if thought of in their literal
sense. As for the figures looking at the Saint from the opera
boxes" at the sides of the chapel, it must be remembered that
at this time most of the drama in Italy was founded on re-
ligious subjects, and such dramatic representation made a
very deep appeal to men's minds. The critics who find the
Saint Theresa in bad taste do not hesitate to form part of the
audience when Christ's Passion is played among the hills of
Oberammergau, and they will no longer be afraid to render
Bernini the homage that is his due when they cease lazily to
measure his work by conservative standards. The glory of a
comet is not measured by the Eddystone Light nor a miracle
by nventions of ordinary society.
One other point concerning this statue remains to be con-
sidered. A recent critic 2 says that "there are many ecsta-
1 Balcarres, The Evolution of Italian Sculpture, p. 333-334.
2 Balcarres, op. cit., p. 334.
32
STUDIES
sies, and Bernini has chosen something that borders closely on
the most displeasing." In this he expresses a common opinion,
based, I believe, on a misconception, and on ugly, puritanical
prudishness. Possibly there are many ecstasies, but religious
ecstasy, the ecstasy of the Saint in joining herself to the
spiritual existence of Christ, and the pure and natural ecstasy
of love when self is lost in the future of the race, are as nearly
as possible identical. The Venus de Medici is far more dis-
pleasing than the Saint Theresa.
In one portion of the group Bernini certainly did fail, and
in a way that is surprising. Usually his figures of angels are
successful, but the one standing over Saint Theresa is assuredly
very bad. Its figure is unconvincing, and its face, with tilted
nose and silly smile, is more that of a Greek paniskos than of
a heavenly messenger. But notwithstanding this blemish, no
work by Michael Angelo or any other sculptor ever made the
beholder forget so completely the substance out of which it is
carved, and think only of the scene represented as Bernini has
done here. He has given the softness of life to the snow-white
stone. His hand and mind worked in perfect accord and
produced a work unrivalled in technique and of very great
beauty.
Another statue of similar character is the Beata Albertona.
It is a little less delicate in treatment and more emphatic in
expression than the Saint Theresa, but is, none the less, of very
great beauty and power.
Were a man's failures as worth study as his successes, I
could mention works by Bernini which are distinctly bad.
The Maria di Magdala is one. Though full of feeling, the
figure of the Saint is coarse and clumsy. But though a man's
BERNINI
33
defeats show, of course, the principles for which he stood, his
victories are more worth considering and are the fairest test
of him. A very false estimate of Michael Angelo would re-
sult if one considered the Rondanini Pietà, the David, or the
Christ in Santa Maria sopra Minerva as of equal importance
with his other works.
It was not only in works in marble that Bernini showed his
power as a sculptor. He handled dark, impressive bronze
with the same complete understanding of its qualities and
possibilities that he showed in carving the gleaming Carrara
marble. Such a 'work as the Baldacchino in St. Peter's is
beyond any words to praise. It is enormous, but not clumsy,
and sumptuous without being ornate. The most stupendous
of his bronze works is not, however, the Baldacchino, but the
Throne, the Cattedra in the apse of St. Peter's. It was in 1657,
during the pontificate of Alexander VII, that Bernini was
ordered to carry out his design for this work, and eight years
later it was finished and uncovered to the admiration of all
Rome.
This monument is too well known to need detailed descrip-
tion here, but it is well here to recall its purpose, which was
not for actual ceremonial use by the Popes, but to serve as a
frame, or strong-box, for the ancient chair of carved ivory on
which tradition said, and the whole Catholic world then be-
lieved, St. Peter had himself sat. There in the heart of the
greatest Christian Church, raised above the soiling earth,
high in air for the thronging worshippers to behold, was to be
the visible and material sign of infallibility. Bernini alone
had the feeling that made him capable of such a task. Four
magnificent figures of Doctors of the Church support the
D
34
STUDIES
chair -two of the Western church, Saint Augustine and
Saint Ambrose, and two of the Eastern, Saint Chrysostom and
Saint Athanasius. Stately great figures; on their outstretched
hands they hold the Throne with the ease that comes of per-
fect faith, raising it up even as sixteen hundred years before
the Apostles had raised up this earth for the glory of God.
In all these religious works by Bernini there is beside the
expression of the faith that begot them the expression of a
decorative sense, something dramatic. He delighted in move-
ment and expression for the mere sake of beauty of active
form, and this feeling of joy in life, in the spirit of movement,
whether in Nature or in Man, Bernini reproduced in a series
of works which by themselves would make him unique among
all sculptors and which give Rome a distinction and character
far more decisive than her ruins or palaces and set her alone
and apart from all other cities. These are the fountains.
The list of fountains is of amazing length. The Barcaccia
in the Piazza di Spagna, one in the Villa Mattei, one in the
Vatican Gardens, another in the Barberini Gardens, the
Triton in the Piazza Barberini; the lovely shell which used
to be on the corner of the Via Sistina, but has been destroyed
to make way for modern improvements so called; in the
courtyard of the Palazzo Antamoro, in the Piazza Navona,
and the broad pool of the Fountain of Trevi. They have the
infinite variety and infinite pleasantness of Nature herself.
By the side of the placid pool whence the ciociaras draw the
water for their flowers, or where the sparkling stream of the
Triton shoots heavenward from the gray pavements like a
white crocus from the frosty ground in Spring; where the
Nile, the Ganges, the Plata and the Danube pour forth their
R
BERNINI
35
incessant floods, or where Neptune shepherds his foaming
steeds over the rocks as they dash down into the pool that if
we once drink from our hearts evermore yearn for the Eternal
City by each and all of his fountains our ears are filled with
the pleasant voices of the waters and our eyes with the sight
of the nymphs and nereids who gambolled among the water-
courses when the world was young.
source.
What the secret of their charm? No one ever understood
the artistic value of water as Bernini did. No one else ever
held in check the full stream and gave it back again the ripples,
and spurts and sudden rushes of its upper course and of its
The angels must have washed his spirit in the foun-
tain of eternal youth to enable him to express the joy which
flowed through his veins in the undying music of the waves,
moulding and combining them to his intention as a musician
makes the rough strings of his instrument sing of the life
that lies hidden in them till his knowing touch gives them
voice.¹
I have spoken of the groups representing classic myths,
of the innumerable statues motived by religion and of the
fountains, but even this huge mass of work does not come near
completing the list of Bernini's output. The numerous por-
traits remain to be considered. Some, such as the Constan-
tine in St. Peter's, were ideal, but most were of his patrons
and friends and were of very varied types. There were co-
lossal equestrian statues, ordinary busts, full-length figures
and groups for tombs, and they show that he possessed just
1 In relation to the influence of ancient work on Bernini, it is worth note that the
four great figures in the Piazza Navona are very Hellenistic in character and would,
if turned into reliefs with their surrounding trees and animals, resemble closely the
fountain-reliefs of the Græco-Roman world.
36
STUDIES
as great skill in direct portraiture as in more purely imagina-
tive work.
To carve or paint a successful portrait, two powers are
absolutely essential to the artist. On the one hand he must
have the sympathy that will enable him to comprehend the
sitter's character, and to see what lines and expressions of the
face express that character most clearly; on the other he must
have the power of suppressing his own individuality and of
lending his hand and eye, as it were, to the sitter to make the
portrait himself. If the artist lacks sympathy, he will pro-
duce a work which may be correct in all detail of colour, line
and modelling, but it will only be a sort of mask; if he lacks
the power of self-suppression, the work will be unlike the sitter,
even though true in detail, because it will show not his char-
acter, but that of the artist. Bernini illustrates these points
with perfect precision, and as a result his portraits are unsur-
passed by those of any other artist of the Renaissance and are
far finer than the quaint efforts of the earlier sculptors which
many students of art admire with the enthusiasm of deca-
dence and a fatuous misunderstanding of both the value of art
and the aim of the artist.
Just as it was fortunate for Turner that in his early years he
was forced to draw with painstaking accuracy, so was Fate kind
to the young Bernini in giving him to do, when he was but four-
teen or fifteen years old, the portraits of two well-known Prel-
ates. Success in these meant fame and an assured future for
the boy. Like every genius he must have felt, with perfect
simplicity, with no conceit, his power; but what must have
been his feelings of tremulous satisfaction when, the busts un-
veiled, the crowd of Cardinals and Prelates who were gathered
BERNINI
37
to see his work, broke into enthusiastic applause? The cheering
words of those long since silent voices echo again in our hearts
as we look at these busts of the Bishop Santoni and of Mon-
signor Montoya, for two more perfect portraits can hardly be
found.
A mere child made them; a boy whom one could more
easily think of playing at marbles in the sunlit street; but
instead his playground is the Temple of the Lord and his toys
the souls of men. The mere knowledge of anatomy and the
technical skill they show is most unusual for one so young, but
what shall be said of the spiritual insight of the artist who
carved these two bowed heads with their sweet, strong, grave
faces? The excellence of the ancient Greek, in certain forms
of sculpture, has given us his name as an adjective to express
one kind of superlative merit and these two busts can, with
perfect accuracy, be called Greek. They are as like as can
be to the bronze bust by some unknown Grecian sculptor
which in the Museo dei Conservatori bears the name of Brutus.
As in his other work, so in the making of portraits Bernini
soon broke away from traditional methods and gave his own
spirit full sway. This is evident in the bust of Costanza
Buonavelli, his mistress, which is one of the treasures of the
National Museum in Florence. It is not only the technical
skill with which he gave the different qualities of the pleated
dress, the round soft neck and cheeks and the blown tresses
of waving hair that make this portrait so remarkable, but
beyond this one sees in it the artist's own human love for the
actual woman and his delight in her as a suggestion of a beauti-
ful work of art. This bust is unique among his works, for the
woman who inspired it then, with thoughtless animal selfish-
38
STUDIES
1
ness, killed the inspiration she had begotten. The bust is
the tombstone for the most sensitive part of Bernini's heart.
Among the other busts of his early years are one of his
great patron Paul V (Borghese) and two of his steadfast friend
Cardinal Scipio Borghese. They are all of them noteworthy,
but the finest is the first one he made of the Cardinal. In
this the growth of Bernini's dramatic feeling is very plain and
is shown in a technical way which he repeated many times
thereafter. It is this. He carves not alone the head and a
small portion of the breast, but he gives the whole upper part
of the torso and arms and skilfully suggests by the turn and
position of this part the action of the whole body, so that as
one looks at this bust of Scipio Borghese, one has the feeling
of seeing not his head alone but his whole figure. The won-
derful realism with which Bernini has rendered the crinkly
silk cape and the rolling flesh of the fat face with the lips just
parted as though the burly Cardinal were whistling for breath
is obvious to the most casual observation; but realistic though
the bust is, Bernini was skilful enough to give chief emphasis
to the character of the sitter so that the impression that one
takes away with one is not of the external appearance of the
figure so much as of his nature and quality as a man.
In many
ways it closely resembles the portrait of Pope Innocent by
Velasquez.
Other portraits are to be seen not only in Rome, but in
Modena, at Versailles and even at Windsor; for, as Bernini's
fame spread, the great people all sought him and even Louis
XIV and Charles I were delighted to have the artist give them
1 The one of Paul V is in the Villa Borghese, Rome; the other two are in the
National Gallery, Venice.

PLATE X.
ସ୍
Wor M
BERNINI
39
that immortality which neither their deeds nor position could
assure them. One of the quieter and less dramatic works is
the beautiful bust of Monsignor Francesco Barberini. It is
realistic like the Cardinal Borghese, but the realism is made
subordinate to a higher aim and only used to emphasise the
ideal character of the work.
Numerous as are these effigies by Bernini of Popes and lesser
men, there are two which stand out above all the rest as un-
surpassed in art and as combining and illustrating more fully
than any others the character of the time, of the sitter and of
the artist which, all together, made them possible. They are
of Francis I of Este, now in Modena, and of Louis XIV (Plate
X), at Versailles. The first was made in 1651, the second dur-
ing Bernini's visit to Paris in 1665. Only Bernini was capable
of representing these two proud princes in all their splendour
of ornamental wig, and lace and armour. It demanded tech-
nique such as his to make anything but a great lump of
complex and ugly form out of such settings for the head as
these; and he succeeded, to the unquestioned admiration of
all time.
That was an epoch when men liked theatrical display of
all sorts, when what in these colder days seems exaggerated
expression was natural and pleasing to people. Bernini knew
and understood this, had often himself been employed in
writing plays or arranging stage scenery, and has represented
the two rulers just as they delighted to show and think of
themselves, adorned with all that was rich and splendid,
haughty and disdainful as was the nature of those endowed
with the divine right of Kings. Even more than in the case
of the portrait of Cardinal Borghese do these two busts seem to
*
40
STUDIES
make us see the whole figure and yet they have an appearance
of lightness that is most surprising. Not to be made again
such busts — nor such men. Democracy, and a belief in
equality as absurd as that in Kingship was overweening, have
snuffed out all such pretensions, and have snuffed out the art
too. But thanks to Bernini we have the record of them. We
see them in their moment of splendid satisfaction and self-
confidence, and made beautiful through mere enjoyment of
their bubble reputation.
The final value of portraiture is that it should be character-
istic of the person depicted. No matter how great the skill
shown in giving Napoleon the appearance of a Greek athlete
or Washington that of Olympian Zeus, such works are only
folly and waste. Bernini made no such mistake, but with
deep insight and unrivalled skill proved himself one of the
greatest portraitists of all time.
I have spoken of Bernini's versatility. I have considered
in some detail the sculpture by which he is best remembered.
Of his painting not much is left, and what remains is naturally
not of any great value as art. Still less is left of his work as
an organiser of plays and arranger of processions or carnival
displays. A few drawings and engravings and some slight
accounts by contemporaries give us an idea of this work of
his, but it was the occupation of his more idle hours and is
of little moment. Of his architectural work a good deal is
still to be seen, though in many instances later workmen have
added to or altered the original structure, which was almost
always skilful and big in conception, though occasionally he
made a mistake, as when he put the towers — asses'
asses' ears his
contemporaries called them on the Pantheon.
BERNINI
41
The structure by which Bernini is best known is the double
colonnade of the Piazza of St. Peter's. Of this his original
sketch book still exists.¹ It is an intensely interesting record
of the different schemes and plans which Bernini worked at till
in the end he produced the splendid simple and grand design
which gives Rome the finest public square in the world.
There are several sheets of drawings in the book, some show-
ing Leonardesque studies of the relations between the propor-
tions of the human figure and those of architecture, others show
views down the Borgo from the church or looking up towards
St. Peter's with plans for the rearrangement of the district,
and some are views and designs of various types of colonnade
showing deep study of their perspective appearance. But
of all these sketches, there is one of far greater interest than
all the others, for it shows that insight into the deeper meaning
of things which made Bernini the supreme genius he was
(Plate XXX).
On this sheet are two similar drawings showing St. Peter's and
the colonnade. Over these, as though they formed the head
and arms of a cross, is drawn a bearded figure, his head crowned
by the dome of the church, his arms outstretched on the col-
onnades and with his feet crossed slightly one above the other
and resting just where, at the beginning of the Borgo, Bernini
intended, as another of the sketches makes plain, to put a
building. There can be no doubt, after seeing this drawing,
that Bernini's intention was to make the Piazza symbolic of
1 ¹In the Brandegee Collection. It was published by Signor Busiri-Vici in
his work La Piazza Vaticana, Rome, 1890, and by Fraschetti, op. cit., p. 307.
The latter gives reduced and poor reproductions of the drawings. We have
thought it worth while therefore to reproduce them on a larger scale; see Part III
of this Study.
42
STUDIES
Christ and the Crucifixion. Evidently not a mere builder
of houses this man Gian Lorenzo Bernini, but somehow, and
somewhence, he has got a poet's vision and he makes his mark
in the world not merely by moulded clay and shaped stones,
but by shaping men's hearts and moulding their ideas.
Such was Bernini, one of the great artists of the world.
It is true that he was revolutionary, but he destroyed not
through ignorance or envy. He destroyed merely that he
might then create. The arts in his day were strangled by
academic rules and had become cold and lifeless. The in-
tensity with which he felt things gave him strength to break
these bonds and to make sculpture once more a means of
conveying living thoughts and emotions. He was like the
butterfly which tears away the stiff-plated chrysalis before
it can spread its wings in the free air. It is useless to try to
explain his technical skill; he was born with it, just as others
are born with a keen sense of colour or a musical ear, but it is
certain that without it he could never have carved such figures
as the Saint Theresa or the portrait of Fonseca¹ which show
intense emotion brought on by loss of all sense of self in the
contemplation of the mystical meaning of the Passion. Such
feeling could not be shown by restrained action and quiet
faces. Much movement was necessary and the works are
successful and beautiful because the feeling shown is perfectly
simple and natural and not forced and put on for the sake of
effect.
Bernini's technical power made him, however, a bad master
for others to imitate. Not that the work of his followers is
any more inane than that of the copiers of Michael Angelo
1 In San Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome.
BERNINI
43
peculiarities were
Where he quite
or of those of any other great man, but his
such as are at least superficially easy to see.
easily and simply distinguished between the appearance of
silk or flesh, his imitators wasted their energies on elaborate
arrangements, the only object of which was to show technical
dexterity. Where he carved figures that are racked and torn
with feeling, the imitators gave forms that are contorted and
as unemotional as gymnasts. But he is not to be blamed for
their work. By no means was he one of the blind leading
the blind. He was the seer, the prophet, by odd chance hon-
oured in his own home, whose visions were so believed by
his followers that they vainly tried to see the like. What
their eyes strained towards and failed to see, his heart yearned
for and gained. To them praise was a prize to win, to him it
was a spur to renewed effort and further advance. He had
faults, as who has not, but they were due to his being a path-
breaker and having to find out for himself ways to carve and
show figures such as no sculptor before him had ever dreamed
of; they were not the faults of ignorance or stupidity. If it
be well for us that we judge not lest we be judged, so too is it
well, should we judge Bernini or other men, to judge not what
there is in him of weakness or failure, but what there may be
of noble intention and high endeavour. Doing this we shall
see that Bernini, working always with bowed heart, but with
uplifted spirit, broke down the middle wall of partition be-
tween art and life.
II. A COLLECTION OF SCULPTOR'S MODELS
BY BERNINI
THE clay models by Bernini, descriptions of which follow,
form one of the most interesting artistic records left us of
the sculpture of the Renaissance. Drawings made by the
painters of that period to serve as studies for their pictures
are not uncommon, but the sketch-models made by the
sculptors are rare.
This is because sculptors carved the marble without any
prévious models, as Michael Angelo frequently did, or else
that the models, being cumbrous and of material that was
easily destroyed, have, in the course of years, been got rid of
either intentionally or by accident. It may seem strange to
suggest that the clay of which the sculptors may have made
their studies is more liable to destruction than the paper
used by the painters, but it must be remembered that while
nothing is more durable than baked clay, air-dried clay is
extremely perishable. Wax was also used by the sculptors
for their preliminary sketches, but this, owing to expense,
could never have served for work of any great size or quan-
tity; and even if less apt to complete disintegration than
unbaked clay, it is very liable to injury.
What precisely was the origin of this collection of Bernini's
models we cannot tell; but it is our great good fortune that
when they were made there was some one, perhaps one of
44

Vor M
PLATE XL.

PLATE XII.

a
PLATE XIII.
b
BERNINI
45
Bernini's pupils, who cared for them and saw to their being
properly dried or baked so that they have preserved their
pristine freshness. It is also extremely fortunate that their
present owner realized their great beauty and extreme interest
and added them to the artistic treasures stored in America,
where they will serve in the ages to come to show students
and sculptors a clear reflection of the mind of one of the
world's greatest artists.
In the Museum at Berlin are other models by Bernini, but
there is, so far as I know, no other collection, either public
or private, that approaches the Brandegee Collection in number,
variety or excellence of these works. In America I know
of but one other model purporting to be by Bernini. It is
in the Morgan collection and represents Pope Urban VIII,
but it does not show a single touch by the master; it is an
imitation, copied from the statue in the Campidoglio at
Rome. In the collection of the late Mme. Edouard Aynard,
sold in Paris, December 1-4, 1913, were two terra-cotta models
of angels (lot 307) "attribuées au chevalier Bernin, d'après
les originaux du port Sant Ange, à Rome," and one equestrian
statuette in the same material (lot 308), said to be the "es-
quisse originale de la statue en marbre de Louis XIV, dans
le parc de Versailles, par le chevalier Bernin.' The two
angels are certainly not by Bernini; the portrait may be.
From the artistic point of view these models are of the
highest importance, for they show with startling clearness
the great fertility of invention which characterized Bernini
and the vivid way in which he visualized the creations of his
brain. There is not a trace of effort in them, there is not a
sign of rubbing out or doing over, but each group or figure
46
STUDIES
was obviously seen by him with the sharpness of a dream
and reproduced by his skilful fingers in the fresh clay while
the impulse and uplift of the vision was still on him.
The knowledge of the purely technical side of the art of
sculpture which the models reveal is magnificent. The way,
for instance, in which the various planes are treated in the
oval relief of the Virgin and Child (Plate XXVI) is as subtle
as, and very similar to, that of the reliefs on the ancient
vases from Arezzo, while the relation of draped portions
of the figures to the parts left nude, and the manner in which
the body beneath gives life and meaning to the covering
drapery, is as fine as any work by Pheidias.
But the most fascinating and interesting characteristic
of these terra-cotta figures is that one sees in every least
portion of them how Bernini's fingers, trained by long years
of hard practice, played over the wet clay like wavering flame
and moulded the dead material to enduring forms of beauty.
Once more the old mythology comes true, and Pygmalion,
taking the rough material offered him by Mother Earth, fondled
it, and, warming it with the fires of his brain, gave it back the
life that lies asleep till the lover's kiss wakes it once again.
DESCRIPTION OF THE MODELS
No. 1. — PLATE XI
Seated female figure in high relief, wearing helmet, and heavily draped;
the left cheek rests on the back of the raised left hand. Feet missing.
For the tablet in memory of Carlo Barberini in Santa Maria d'Aracoeli,
Rome.
Width 10 inches.
No. 2. ·PLATE XII
Figure of Longinus, in St. Peter's. In the round, and gilded.
Height 203 inches.

a
PLATE XIV.


Mor M
a
PLATE XV

PLATE XVI.

PLATE XVII.
Uor M

PLATE XVIII.
BERNINI
47
No. 3. — PLATE XIII, a
Two putti, for the decoration of the piers in St. Peter's. High relief.
The scale of measurement is scratched on the right edge. The wings are
broken from the lower figure.
Height 11 inches.
No. 4. PLATE XIII, b
Another two putti, also for St. Peter's. The scale of measurement is
scratched on the left edge. The wings are broken from the upper figure.
Height 113 inches.
Nos. 5, 6, 7, 8. — PLATES XIV, XV
Four heavily draped bearded male Saints, for the Ciborio in the Cap-
pella del Sacramento in St. Peter's.
The figures stand on thin, square plinths, one of which (Height 103
inches; PLATE XIV, a) is unmarked, but on the other three are the names
Bartolomeo (Height 10 inches; PLATE XV, b), Tomaso (Height 103 inches;
PLATE XIV, b), and Filippo (Height 10 inches; PLATE XV, a).
The heads of all four are turned to the left, and the figures rest their
weight on the right leg. The left arm of the Bartolomeo is gone, but was
outstretched; the others all stretch out their right arm.
No. 9. PLATE XVI
M
Bas-relief with half-figures of four men, and traces of architectural back-
ground.
For the side wall of the Cappella Borghese in Santa Maria della Vittoria,
Rome.
Width 17 inches.
No. 10. — PLATE XVII
Half figure of a Triton holding a draped woman on his shoulders.
For a fountain. The head and arms of the woman are gone.
Height 19 inches.
No. 11.
PLATE XVIII
Front part of the head of a bearded man.
For the Saint Jerome in the Cappella Chigi in the Duomo of Siena.
Height 13 inches.
No. 12. PLATE XIX, a
Model (head missing) for the kneeling Angel on the left of the Ciborio
in the Cappella del Sacramento, St. Peter's.
Height 11 inches.
48
STUDIES
No. 13. PLATE XX, a
Another model for the same figure. Tip of right wing missing.
Height 11 inches.
No. 14. PLATE XX, b
Angel on the right of the Ciborio in the Cappella del Sacramento.
Other models for these two Angels are mentioned by Fraschetti (p. 394),
who also suggests that this angel on the right is not by Bernini, but "per-
haps by Paolo Bernini, touched up by his father."
I do not feel tempted to agree with this idea of Signor Fraschetti; there
is no doubt whatever that this model of the right-hand angel is by Gian
Lorenzo himself. Height 133 inches.
No. 15. PLATE XXI
Nude figure of an Angel holding the Crown of Thorns. The head and
feet are gone. The weight rests on the right leg.
Sant' Andrea delle Fratte, Rome.
Height 131 inches.
No. 16. - PLATE XXII
Angel holding the Crown of Thorns.
This is the final model of the figure in Sant' Andrea delle Fratte.
The action of the legs is the reverse of that in 15. Height 17 inches.
No. 17. PLATE XXIII, a
Model for the Angel holding the Scroll. The tips of the wings are missing.
In Sant' Andrea delle Fratte.
Height 11 inches.
No. 18.
PLATE XIX, b
Another model for the same figure as No. 17; lacks the right leg, the
head and most of the wings.
Height 11 inches.
No. 19. PLATE XXIV, a
Angel, perhaps for the ecstasy of Saint Theresa in Santa Maria della
Vittoria, Rome. Right hand missing.
Height 11 inches.
No. 20. PLATE XXIII, b
Angel, draped, right leg bare, turning to the left. Part of right wing
missing.
Height 11 inches.

DorM
a
PLATE XIX.

a
PLATE XX.

PLATE XXI.

PLATE XXII.

a
PLATE XXIII.
b

a
PLATE XXIV.
b

DorM
PLATE XXV.

C
PLATE XXVI.

a
PLATE XXVII.
b
BERNINI
49
No. 21.PLATE XXIV, b
Angel, draped, kneeling, head turned to right, right arm (hand missing)
raised, left arm with open hand stretching downwards and outwards.
Height 11 inches.
No. 22. PLATE XXV
Standing male figure, in high relief. Drapery hangs from the right
shoulder, leaving torso bare but covering the legs with heavy folds. The
left arm hangs down, and there was a palm branch in the now missing
hand. The right arm is bent up with the hand over the chin. The head
bends down and to the right. The figure rests its weight on the left leg.
The right side of the plaque is curved; the left side is straight, and on it
is scratched a scale of measurements.
Height 165 inches.
No. 23.- PLATE XXVI
Oval bas-relief of the Virgin seated and looking down to right while
holding the Child in her lap. High relief.
Very sketchy, but the most masterly of all these models.
Height 11 inches.
No. 24. PLATE XXVII, b
Draped, standing female figure. She bends forward, turning to the
left with arms (right arm missing) raised to support a slab that rests across
her shoulders. The weight rests on the left leg. At her feet suggestion
of a cuirass.
Study for the base of some monument such as the obelisk in the Piazza
della Minerva. (Cf. Fraschetti, pp. 300-303.)
Height 8 inches.
No. 25. — PLATE XXVII, a
Standing angel, heavily draped; the left knee is bent sharply backwards.
The right arm is bent across the breast, the left arm (forearm missing)
bent across the body lower down. The wings are missing.
Height 87 inches.
No. 26
The Magdalen kneeling, and grasping the foot of the Cross.
This figure is not by Bernini, and shows clearly the difference between
the work of a master and that of an imitator.
Height 10 inches.
Study of a hand.
Length 8 inches.
E
No. 27
III. BERNINI'S DESIGNS FOR THE PIAZZA OF
ST. PETER'S
THE pen and ink sketches by Bernini for the construction
and adornment of the piazza in front of the Vatican, together
with the surrounding buildings, deserve to be more widely
known than they are at present.¹ Any details regarding the
history and growth of this part of Rome are of the deepest
interest to those who study the intellectual development
of mankind. Did we possess any record of the reasons why
Pericles and his advisers placed the temples and other build-
ings on the Acropolis of Athens just as they did, we should
have a clearer understanding of the character and ideals of
Athens than we now have. So a study of these drawings by
Bernini will show very distinctly that the present form of
the piazza is due to no mere thoughtless and haphazard erec-
tion of colonnades and fountains, but is the result of a deeply
considered plan and illustrative of a very large idea.
The drawings are carefully done with pen and ink on four-
teen sheets of paper which were numbered by some old-time
owner. These sheets have had the edges trimmed. Ten are,
with slight variations, 14 by 62 inches. The others are, as
will be noted later, of different sizes. All, however, judging
by the paper and method of drawing, belong unquestionably
1 They were exhibited in Rome by the then owner Sig. Andrea Busiri-Vici at the
Bernini Exposition in 1879 and are spoken of and reproduced in small form by
Fraschetti in his book on Bernini.
50

Vor M
2
1
PLATE XXVIII.

DO
60
3.4
PLATE XXIX.


PLATE XXX.
ார்
BERNINI
51
to the same series. The drawings were mounted and bound
together by the previous owner.
The history of the drawings can only be guessed at. In
this connection the following facts are to be noted. Bernini
was officially appointed architect of the Fabbrica of St. Peter's
in 1680. After him Luigi Vanvitelli was head architect.
With Vanvitelli there worked Andrea-Vici. In 1817 Vici
left by his will to his friend the sculptor Canova drawings by
Bernini representing the burial of the Countess Matilda,
and Louis XIV on horseback. This legacy shows Vici to
have owned original drawings by Bernini, and it is not im-
probable they had been given him by Vanvitelli. By the
same will Vici left to his grandson Busiri his name and his
studio, with all the original drawings by various masters
therein contained. Consequently it is not a rash hypothesis
that these drawings of the piazza came from Vanvitelli to
Vici, and so to Busiri-Vici. Finally they were sold at auction
in Rome in 1903. They are now in the Brandegee Collection.
DESCRIPTION OF THE DRAWINGS
No. 1. PLATE XXVIII
This drawing shows the Orb; the Christian symbol of the world, sur-
mounted by a cross.
The cross with the head and arms ending in curves like apses suggests
the plan of a church, and the following drawings show clearly that the
Orb and Cross were the fundamental idea in Bernini's mind when he
planned the piazza.
No. 2. PLATE XXVIII
This is on a square piece of paper, similar in size to No. 1, and at present
mounted on the same sheet at the left of No. 1. It shows the figure of
a bearded man with arms outstretched as though on a cross. A curved
dotted line stretches from hand to hand over the head and drops about an
inch perpendicularly below each hand. This dotted line is a suggestion of
the existing colonnades.
52
STUDIES
That the figure is thought of as being on a cross is borne out by sketches
that follow and also by the dot in the palm of the left hand which possibly
represents a nail.
The sharp, broken lines with which the figure is drawn are characteristic
of Bernini.
No. 3. PLATE XXIX
An outline plan of the church with the colonnades in front. It is to
be noted the latter start at the corners of the façade of the church and
project a short distance parallel to the main axis before curving to each
side.
Size 6 8 inches.
No. 4. PLATE XXIX
Similar to No. 3, but in greater detail. The figure of a bearded man
represented within the plan of the church in the attitude of crucifixion.
In the left arm of the colonnade is drawn the sun and in the right arm the
moon and stars.
This is pasted in the book at the left of No. 3.
Size 67 x 8 inches.
No. 5. PLATE XXX
This shows the same crucified figure as before. Over the head and
below each hand is the dotted line seen in No. 2. Behind the head and
arms is drawn with dots the elevation of St. Peter's, the Vatican and the
colonnades.
No. 6. PLATE XXX
Similar figure to the preceding, but with the arms contorted so as to
follow the straight portion of the colonnade (shown in No. 3) before fol-
lowing the curve. Behind the head the dotted outline of St. Peter's and
behind the figure's left arm the colonnade and Vatican buildings laid in
with dots and a few lines.
No. 5 is at the right of No. 6, and the size of the sheet is 14 × 62
inches.
It should be noted that the figure is so placed in these two drawings
that the dome of the church suggests a bishop's mitre.
No. 7. — PLATE XXXI
Outline elevation of the north half of the façade of St. Peter's and the
north colonnade, rising behind which is shown the Vatican Palace.
On the left half of the sheet are faint pencil lines showing the south
side of the colonnade and façade.
The sky is touched in with bluish white.
Size 141 × 6 inches.

PLATE XXXI.
-14

Uor M
PLATE XXXII.

9.
PLATE XXXIII.
13

PLATE XXXIV,

Uor M
100
11.
PLATE XXXV.
00
8
BERNINI
53
No. 8. PLATE XXXII
-
Two drawings of the north colonnade. These are similar to the pre-
ceding, but more elaborate (with shadows washed in in gray), as shown
by dotted lines drawn to the eyes of outlined figures from various points.
We find here the architect's intention regarding the view from different
positions.
Size 143 × 62 inches.
On the back of the sheet is a sketch of the door of St. Peter's with the
balcony where the Pope used to appear. I do not feel sure that this is by
Bernini. There is also another sheet with a more detailed drawing of this
door.
No. 9. — PLATE XXXIII
A
Similar to No. 8, but still more elaborate and larger; there is only one
drawing on the sheet.
Instead
In this design Bernini has altered the line of the colonnade.
of having, as in the preceding drawing, a straight portion projecting from
the church, he has here drawn the colonnade in one large curve from the
church outwards, putting an elaborate entrance to the Vatican Palace
near the church. This entrance would have led to the Cortile di San
Damaso.
Size 14 × 6 inches.
No. 10. PLATE XXXIV
Slight outline sketch of the outer end of the north arm of the colonnade,
which is here made two-storied.
Size 137 × 63 inches.
Interior of inner end
No. 11. — PLATE XXXV
of north arm of colonnade, showing the stairway
as it exists at present. Size 14 x 6 inches.
No. 12. PLATE XXXVI
-
Two sketches; one showing the plan, the other the elevation, of the
Cortile di San Damaso.
Size 131 × 6 inches.
No. 13. PLATE XXXVII
-
View of the façade of St. Peter's with both colonnades, which are two-
storied. The sky is touched in with bluish white.
The buildings of the Vatican are also shown, those on the right exist,
those on the left are imaginary.
Size 14 × 63 inches.
54
STUDIES
No. 14.
PLATE XXXVIII
View looking east from the front of St. Peter's.
On each side are the ends of the colonnades; they are in two stories,
that on the right crowned with low clock-towers similar to the "asses'
ears" once placed by Bernini on the Pantheon.
Beyond the piazza is the Borgo much reconstructed and made sym-
metrical. In the distance the Castel Sant' Angelo.
Size 143 × 6 inches.
No. 15. PLATE XXXIX
Two sketches in pen, washed with sepia, of the Borgo, looking towards
St. Peter's.
These show different methods of treating the north arm of the colonnade.
The' one on the right shows the colonnade closing the view up the Borgo,
the other shows an opening carrying the eye beyond and between St. Peter's
and the Vatican.
Size 14 × 6 inches.
The buildings shown exist in much the same form to-day. Even the
fountain still serves.
No. 16. PLATE XL
Plan of the piazza showing how it was intended to symbolize the orb
of the world suggested on No. 1.
In this sketch we see the circle within which is a dotted
square. Within
the square is a figure with arms and legs outstretched along the diagonals.
At the top is written over a faint pencil outline of the church (perhaps
not original) San Pietro. At the bottom is written twice Piazza Rusticucci
and on a piece of paper pasted on is the plan of a building shown in No. 14,
- one of the buildings intended for the reconstructed Borgo.
On the right and left of the figure are indicated the Porta Angelica and
the Porta Cavalleggieri.
The dotted square within the circle is divided into quarters in which is
written Asia, Europa, America, Affrica.
Size 72 × 83 inches.
These are the plans showing Bernini's ideas regarding the Piazza of
St. Peter's. From a study of them we see how the circular piazza itself
was intended to represent the world at large, while the colonnade sym-
bolized the arms of the Cross. Crowning all was the great Church, founded
by Him whose arms could embrace the whole earth, and from whose doors
should stream to every quarter the promise of hope and love for which He
died.

12
PLATE XXXVI.
O!

STIA
348882370
NADY STRESTONS PERUAL
พิจา
PLATE XXXVII.

Uor M
3813
五
​PLATE XXXVIII.

170
ชุด
15
PLATE XXXIX.

PLATE XL.
Porta Caualleggieri
Africa
pinca puti quei
Levente
Asia
粥
​America
euroya
San Pietro
Porta Angelica
L!
ASPECTS OF THE ART OF SCULPTURE
I. THE ART OF PORTRAITURE
ALL students have noticed the similarity in style between
certain Egyptian portraits and other works by ancient Roman
as well as Florentine artists, and the resemblance in style that
exists between Greek and Venetian portraits. Also there is
a marked dissimilarity between the Egyptian-Roman-Floren-
tine Group on the one hand and the Greek-Venetian Group
on the other; and these two facts suggest the conclusion that
the art of portraiture consists in something more than the
mere photographic imitation in stone, or with paint, of the
human face or figure. Were such imitation the essential
factor in the art the only differences in portraits of different
epochs would be those of ethnographic character. The special
characteristics of portraiture as of the other arts at any given
period are the result of the intellectual and material condition
of the people to whom the artist belongs. Style, that is the
distinguishing quality of the work of art, the quality which
differentiates it from a work of another period or race, is the
result, largely unconscious, of the relation of the artist to life
and its effect upon him. The material, the means by which he
gives expression to his endeavour at creation or representation,
is of minor importance.
The Sheik-el-Beled (Plates XLI, XLII) and the bust of
Scipio so called (Plate XLIII) might almost be portraits of
brothers; and the family is increased by a little Egyptian head
57
58
STUDIES
in the museum in Venice, and by some of the men immortalised
by Donatello. So too Pericles as we see him in the bust by
Kresilas seems separated by but a narrow margin from Gior-
gione's Knight of Malta. And yet in blood, traditions, cir-
cumstances and hopes these men were the poles asunder.
How then is this likeness of certain portraits to one another
to be explained unless by the existence of some connection
dependent on the temper of the artist?
There is still another curious likeness and another difference
to be noted among the carved and painted portraits of various
epochs and schools. While the head of Corbulo is unlike that
of Pericles in the aesthetic impression it gives, and that of
Angelo Doni by Raphael also is æsthetically unlike the Duke
of Norfolk by Titian, still the carved heads have a common
bond as have also the painted ones.¹ They do not make the
two broad groups into which I have, for the sake of making
plain a general idea, divided portraits æsthetically similar,
but they make plain when understood that painted portraits
are necessarily different from carved ones different in more
than the mere fact that one is round and the other flat. The
difference springs deep down from what is possible to attain
by either art. The sculptor of the Pericles and the painter
of the Norfolk both set before us the grave, elegant and
stately face of a bearded man in middle life. Neither artist
distracts our attention by bravura or technique or by realistic
emphasis of detail. Though stylistically similar, these works
still do not impress our minds in the same way. The follow-
ing pages will be clearer if I say at once that this differing
¹ And these bonds are dependent, I believe, on fundamental laws of sculpture
and painting.

PLATE XLI.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
59
mental impression arises because in busts our attention is
drawn chiefly to the mouth while in painted portraits it is
turned on the eyes. This is due to the special laws of the
technique by which the works are produced; given a painter
and sculptor with the same point of view and the same mental
tendencies, the portraits produced by them, even of the same
person, though evidently expressing the same intellectual quali-
ties both of artist and of sitter, are in modes of expression
and certain external aspects necessarily unlike. In pursuing
this investigation and in discussing the existence and nature
of the various laws the governance of which I have sug-
gested, the history of the rise and spread of portraiture must
be kept in mind.
Before the intention of the maker of portraits can be com-
prehended the motives that lead to the desire of the public
or of private individuals to possess such work must be under-
stood. In the main they are two, one religious and one
historic; to these may be added a third, that of sentiment
and friendship. The religious cause is best illustrated by
Egyptian statues, of which a large proportion were made
to be placed in tombs. These are the earliest portraits of
western origin which exist in sufficient numbers to afford a
sound basis of criticism. The well-known dependence, in that
country, of these works on religious prescriptions needs hardly
more than passing mention. That the soul of dead mortals
might, returning to this earth and to the tomb, find its ac-
customed corporeal dwelling place, portrait statues of the
deceased were placed in the sepulchral chamber.
Holding this belief, it was only natural that the sculp-
tors often made statues life-size, and as closely resembling
60
STUDIES
the dead original as possible, in order that the soul might
find a shelter exactly similar to its original living one. Had
they not been so made, the soul would have been troubled in
its search. Work such as this was of course expensive and
the mass of the people had to content themselves with smaller
and less elaborate figures or with mere glazed figurines.
But the more rare elaborate works show the ideal and serve
as a sure guide in studying the conceptions and hopes of this
or any people just as the gold treasure from Mycenæ is of
much greater value than all the terra-cotta vases in showing
the life and thoughts of the time.
Other portraits of Pharaohs and their queens, of priests
and generals, were carved on temple walls or set up to com-
memorate striking events, and these also were made realistic
because of the egotistic idea that called them into being. Un-
less the person portrayed was carved realistically the com-
memorative value of the monument was lessened. These
religious and commemorative ideas influenced the sculptors
in their choice of material. Both the desire to make an en-
during image of the dead for the sake of the soul that might
return and the wish to make the memory of the person as
enduring as possible led the sculptors to make use of the hard-
est stones; stones such as do not lend themselves to sculpture
and such as are never used where the art develops in accord-
ance with cultivated taste rather than special demand.' But
though exactness of likeness was tirelessly sought for by the
¹ It is true that wood was sometimes made use of, but for serious work only in
the early times before the art had been developed. Nor can it be supposed that
the lack of marble in Egypt was the effective cause that led to the use of granites
and basalts. The Egyptians were energetic traders and might have obtained
marble had they desired it, but the fact is they preferred the harder sorts of stone,
though alabaster was sometimes used.

PLATE XLII.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
61
Egyptians (I refer of course to the earlier epochs before the
influx of Greek or Roman ideas), it was not attained with the
same success as in later days by the Romans and Florentines.
This failure was in part due to the use of unyielding material,
such as granite and basalt. Successful representation, in
such stone, of the finer details of facial form, was practically
impossible, and furthermore, owing to the dark and variegated
colour of these stones, would have been scarcely noticeable
could it have been attained. Hence the sculptors were led to
practise a certain broadness of treatment that makes their
work seem, to careless observation, like the Greek; but
though one of the chief charms of Greek work is broadness, it is
the outcome of very different causes and, if carefully studied,
is seen to produce a very different effect from that of Egyptian
work. 1
Any phenomenon is due to mixed causes, and it must
not be supposed that the use of hard materials alone led to
breadth of treatment. The conventional position of the
figures in Egyptian art (due in large measure to various non-
æsthetic causes) was suited better by a broad and convention-
alised treatment of the face than by more particular niceness
in the rendering of its detail.2 Religious feeling led to the
placing of quietly posed statues in the tombs, and as regards
¹ That there may be no misunderstanding of the terms employed, I will say that
by breadth of treatment I mean that the sculptor or painter leaves the various
surfaces of the object reproduced by him in large measure unbroken by small lights
and shades which, however true to nature, are apt in art to distract the attention
from the general effect. Though small differences are disregarded there may be,
as Greek work shows, exquisite modulation of surface.
2 I refer of course to statues in the round. The bas-reliefs show much free action
due partly to the technique, partly to their being in softer stone and partly to the
fact that the figures in them are illustrations to historic chronicles and not primarily
portraits. So too figures and groups in wood, faience or metal are freer.
62
STUDIES
the figures of the great rulers whose word was law, attitudes
expressive of the calm that results from absolute power were
best fitted to express the current beliefs. These attitudes were
also restrained in consequence of the refractory nature of the
stones used.
It is interesting to consider what would have been the devel-
opment of sculpture in Egypt had the art been freed from the
necessity of conforming to the demands of religion and con-
temporary history. One searches in vain among the masses of
Egyptian sculpture for the expression of the individual sculptor's
emotions. We do not even know the names of the sculptors.
They were not noted by their contemporaries nor did interest
in their work lead them to sign it. Sculpture in that antique
land was not a fine art in the sense of being chosen by men of
special tastes and feeling to express the enjoyment felt by
them in certain forms. It was a highly developed handicraft,
a technique pursued by rule. As illustrative of the character,
the life and the thought of the people portrayed it is allied to
Roman work rather than to Greek.
Religion is seen to influence portraiture in another way.
Many pictures, the subjects of which are religious, by Botti-
celli, Ghirlandaio and others, are filled with portraits, but these
are essential to the composition, and are thought of as figures
first, as portraits afterwards. But there are many sacred
pictures of the Renaissance in which, with varying degrees
of simplicity and frankness, a portrait of the donor of the
painting is inserted not as an essential part of the composition
but because of the desire of the donor to secure lasting recog-
nition of the fact that he had fulfilled his religious vows and
duties. It was an accepted proof of respectability in this
ART OF PORTRAITURE
63
world and might possibly help in the next. Neither in Egypt
nor in this class of pictures of the Renaissance are the works
thought of primarily from the point of view of being artistic
reproductions of the human face, but they are means to an end.
They are in fact symbols. Work of this sort is so rare in
Greek or Roman art that it may be considered as practically
non-existent.¹
The personal portrait, the portrait made for the sake of
gratifying the self-esteem of the person represented, is well
exhibited in Egyptian work in the bas-reliefs illustrating the
conquests of the Pharaohs and in the colossal statues erected
in a spirit of pride and self-glorification such as was exhibited
again by the Romans. Such portraits as these are a certain
indication of the all but universal desire for glory and fame.
They are an expression of the same confident spirit that leads
the owners of great buildings to carve their names over the
entrance and are produced in large numbers only during pe-
riods when individuals seek eagerly for personal recognition.
Such periods occur when large stores of money are possessed
by private persons; then religious beliefs grow faint, in men's
if not in women's² minds, and the quiet and enduring appreci-
ation of a few objects gives way to the excited pursuit of con-
stant novelty in enjoyment. Consequently instead of being
content with philosophic moderation men attribute an untrue
value to mere possession, and, since money can buy many
¹ The bas-relief of the potter in the Acropolis Museum in Athens belongs to this
class.
2 Though no woman has ever reached the highest rank in any art, her influence
has been enormous. It is a subject to be studied by itself, but it must be constantly
kept in mind that no people who have regarded woman from any but the highest
point of view has ever produced the noblest art. It may be a fallacy to regard her
so, but it is the most powerful and helpful ideal the western mind has yet conceived.
?
64
STUDIES
material things, come to the false conclusion that he who
has the most is to be ranked among the world's greatest
sons.
But the qualities needful for amassing riches are by no means
rare and in the main are correlated with lack of interest in the
Past and with undeveloped imagination. Hence ignorant
of, or at least not sympathetic with, the more subtle but more
effective types of men who work not with money but with
personal character, the wealthy naturally come to think of
themselves as individually interesting and important, and in
consequence their portraits are made in every shape and size.
Such works cannot, as regards the person portrayed, be of
much interest, and are usually ugly, because the lives and occu-
pations of people invariably affect the forms and expressions
of their faces. The exceptions to this rule are the portraits
of such men as Lorenzo dei Medici, or others of our own day
who use their inherited or acquired wealth in the patronage of
the arts and sciences - who use their powers indirectly for
the cultivation of ideals.
Such portraits as these are of varying character. They may
be public, put up, that is, by a grateful and flattering people
to commemorate a ruler or chief citizen, as in the case of
Gattamalata in Padua and Colleone in Venice; or they may
be of purely private interest and intended only for the eyes of
the successive generations of the family to which the person
depicted belongs. But public or private, in the one case as
in the other, the desire for them being due to personal regard
and love of fame, an accuracy in the reproduction of fea-
ture is sought that distinguishes them clearly from portraits
made with other less worldly motives.

PLATE XLIII.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
65
It is known of course that this desire for fame stirred the
hearts of oriental potentates long centuries before the begin-
ning of connected history. But in that classic part of the
ancient world with which we are intimately related, it does not
become specially noticeable till the time of Alexander. It
was an active factor in life during the existence of the Roman
world, and again in the Renaissance. One of the phenomena
most indicative of this aspiration is the character of the monu-
ments placed on graves, and particularly the inscriptions on
such stones. On the Greek grave stones we find often enough
the name of the deceased but rarely if ever any intimate notice
of his life. On Roman and Renaissance monuments, on the
other hand, the length of life, and the honorific offices held, are
all given with wearisomely full detail.
Portraits made for friendship's sake are uncommon and do
not, I believe, occur before the time of the Renaissance.
Then one hears of friends sending their portraits to one an-
other. In Rome a somewhat similar custom was practised to
a certain extent, as is shown by the portraits on rings and
cameos. Such work, meant as it was for personal adornment,
must have been, at least in part, inspired by the tender regard
of friend for friend. But it seems not to have been a common
custom in the ancient world; just why it would be hard to
tell, for no more inviolable friendships have ever been known
than those told of in ancient history and drama, nor more
tender feeling than is expressed in many of the inscriptions
on ancient tombstones. Perhaps it was that the house
architecture of those days was but little adapted to the dis-
playing of such objects, and the collection by private individ-
uals of things was but little practised except in Rome, and
F
66
STUDIES
even there collectors were comparatively few. However
this may be, the fact remains that the portraits of the
ancient world were in the main religious or commemorative,
and the idea of friendship being maintained or strengthened
by the possession of the dumb semblance of absent dear
ones seems to have grown and spread with the Christian
religion.
At first sight it appears as if there were three ways of making
portraits the sculptor's, the painter's, and the writer's.
It is not however in any true sense a portrait that a writer
sets before us. This is beyond his power to accomplish. He
is unable, that is, to give various readers such impression of
the look and carriage of the person described that they can in-
evitably recognise him in the passing crowd. Continuous
and sequent events may be described by words, but they can-
not show instantaneously isolated images. Masters of style
can call up visions to the mind by well-selected epithets, but
such visions are typical rather than actual; and they are
of scenes of considerable scope, or of actions of dramatic
quality, rather than accurate images of facial form and ex-
pression such as, in the only true sense of the word, can be
called portraits.
So far as art in the sense of reproduction is concerned, it is
evident that language can be used for description, for sugges-
tions of moods and general conditions, but not for showing
in a sharp and quickly defined manner a given scene or object
at a given moment. When Shelley speaks of
The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;
The vultures to the conqueror's banner true
Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
And whose wings rain contagion, —

EPIKA
PLATE XLIV.
0
ART OF PORTRAITURE
67
he calls to mind most vividly conditions consequent on war,
but before no two readers of the lines will the same visions
rise. To see such horrors as Shelley writes of, presented so
that all beholders will regard them in the same way, we must
turn to such a work as Turner's Rizpah."
The Greeks, it is interesting to note in this connection, rec-
ognised this limitation of the power of words and rarely tried
to delineate the actors in their poetry and drama by other
means than the description of traits of character. It may be
said that the Greeks also did not attempt landscape in their
writing. True, but we have every reason to know that the
Greek mind was not interested seriously in beauties of land-
scape, while we know that it was deeply concerned with the
characters and actions of individuals. Landscape was not
studied by the Greeks as an end in itself, whereas portraiture
was. Hence the absence of an attempt at portraiture in their
literature by other means than description of character is the
natural result of their mental tendencies. Such description
can of course be accomplished by language with greater cer-
tainty than by sculpture or painting. It can give such an
impression of the nature of a person that there is no more
room for doubt concerning the qualities that constitute that
nature than there is concerning the colour of eyes that have
been put on canvas by some painter. Take any example
and it will appear that when an author tries to stir the imag-
ination to form an image of a character, he does it mainly by
describing carefully his nature rather than his personal ap-
1 When kept to its true course, the magnificent effects attained by language in
perpetuating landscape are splendidly seen in Ruskin, when, for example, he de-
scribes the Roman Campagna (Preface to 2d ed., Modern Painters) or Verona
(Joy Forever, sec. 76 ff.).
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STUDIES
pearance, and when he attempts to do more than this, he sug-
gests inevitably a different vision to every reader. Shake-
speare's sonnets are sufficient evidence of the truth of these
statements.
I should not wish to imply that writers, even the greatest of
them, do not sometimes attempt to depict persons by elaborate
descriptions, but a comparison of any two illustrated editions
of an author will show my contention to be correct. The in-
efficiency of the means and the inadequacy of the result has
been recognised by the masters of literature. And it needs
but to compare a word portrait with a painted one of the same
person to be convinced of the painter's greater power in this
work. Take Shelley's lines describing the crazed musician :
There the poor wretch was sitting mournfully
Near a piano, his pale fingers twined
One with the other, and the ooze and wind
Rushed through an open casement, and did sway
His hair, and starred it with the brackish spray;
His head was leaning on a music book,
And he was muttering, and his lean limbs shook;
His lips were pressed against a folded leaf
In hue too beautiful for health, and grief
Smiled in their motions as they lay apart
As one who wrought from his own fervid heart
The eloquence of passion, soon he raised
His sad meek face and eyes lustrous and glazed
And spoke sometimes as one who wrote and thought
His words might move some heart that heeded not
If sent to distant lands.
As a portrait the failure of these verses lies in the fact that
the attention of the reader is hurried on from point to point
like a storm-driven bird and never allowed to rest. Look, for
half the time it takes to read the lines, at Titian's Concert, and
you have a much more definite image of a musician. It is
ART OF PORTRAITURE
69
just because of this unrest of the attention, due to continued
introduction of some new feature of importance, that poets
and writers of prose are much more successful when they en-
deavour to reproduce a landscape, for it is a natural tendency,
as we look at any scene of nature, for the eyes to wander over
the hills and far away. They cannot seize the essential
points instantaneously and they cannot apprehend the interre-
lation of the details as when they look at a person's face and
figure.
Sometimes the poet-it is generally a poet, for the epithets
that poets use are apt to be more carefully chosen and so
have greater graphic force than those of prose writers
seems
to succeed in portraiture, but if you will consider closely, it
will be seen that the success is fictitious. It is due to our
having a ready-formed picture of the character of the person
described which is suited by the poet's words, as in Browning's
lines:
You know we French stormed Ratisbon,
A mile or so away
On a little mound Napoleon stood
On our storming day
With neck outthrust, you fancy how,
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.
But to one who had never seen a picture of Napoleon what
image would these lines give? Or, take Lowell's lines on
Lincoln. Not a word in them concerning the outward ap-
pearance of the Martyr Chief; but the attempt, successful to
the uttermost, is made to impress on the reader's mind what
there was of him to think of, not to look at:
Wise, steadfast in the strength of God and true.
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STUDIES
These epithets offer no suggestion that can be visualised, nor
is there when we note
that sure mind's unfaltering skill
And supple tempered will
That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust.
And then finally, to sum up:
Here was a type of the true elder race,
And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
Vivid and eloquent as all this is, it offers no picture of the tall,
gaunt President. It is but a suggestion of mental conditions.
It does not show the deep-set eyes, sorrowful with the sorrows
of two races, or the firm mouth lined with the humour that
helped him to bear his burden of care. Plutarch himself does
not show us Cæsar, or Pericles, or Demosthenes or any other
worthy, as the sculptors do.
Possibly it might be suggested that in such poems as those
quoted the writer had no intention of giving a suggestion of
the outer husk that hides the inner man; but there is one class
of poems the love lyrics in which the passion-driven bard
would surely, could it be accomplished, give the immortality
of portraiture to the beloved. But those "dear dead women,"
the ever-renewing Spring brood of Sappho, Chloris, Lesbia,
Lalage and Doris, are but the vague dwellers of dreamland.
Sometimes they are dark and sometimes fair; they have cheeks
that shame the rose, and eyes whose glance overwhelms as
does the bolt of Jove; their brows are white as driven snow,
and a nest for little loves is in their bosom - but can we ever
be sure that we recognise from such description each particu-
lar Lesbia as, waiting and watching at the corner, we hope-
fully murmur She comes, she's here, she's past"? Such
66
ART OF PORTRAITURE
71
words as these form a portrait only for that one love-stung
heart that beats the overtone to the note of Lesbia's
footfall.
No, the writer cannot, in any adequate sense, place before
us portraits.
Literature being excluded as a means of portraiture, it
remains to consider sculpture and painting. In order to
understand why painted and carved portraits showing similar
types with equal distinctness and emphasis produce very
different effects on the observer and hold his attention in
different ways, study must be made of the different results
possible to attain by these arts. If these general propositions
in regard to the two arts be true, the demands and character-
istics of portraiture will become plainer.
The fundamental distinction between sculpture and painting
lies in the fact that the former concerns itself not always, but
primarily, with light and shadow and fully modelled forms, while
the latter deals chiefly with colour. Furthermore, painting
works in two dimensions, while sculpture exercises herself
with three. Hence, figures in positions that are much con-
torted or groups that are complexly organised in retreating
planes are unsuitable subjects for a painter, inasmuch as he
cannot represent them clearly except at the expense of in-
finite labour. If the sculptor, on the other hand, chooses
such subjects, he is not hampered by the difficulties that
block the painter's path. His finished work can be looked at
from all sides, and he is not liable to the painter's risk that his
final effect may, perhaps, be ruined by a misuse of light and
shade or by faulty drawing and perspective.
The advantage, however, is not altogether on one side. The
72
STUDIES
sculptor has this other difficulty to contend with, that the
appearance of his work will change with every change of light.
The painter can fix whatever light he pleases on his canvas.
As the appearance of the sculptured work will vary with the
light, the sculptor can attain but partial success in the rep-
resentation of figures or scenes in which much active emotion
is shown in the faces. But in such scenes as these a painter's
power can well be shown, since, owing to his ability to paint
any power of light (except, of course, direct sunlight), and his
power of placing the various figures of a group in various
lights, and by means of varied tints and lights being able to
bring sharply into notice any expression of the face, he can
well depict most violent emotion. It will be found, I think,
that the sculpture which is most successful deals with groups
or figures whose meaning is made clear by action and by the
form of the body as a whole, and the paintings that are most
successful are those in which effects of chiaroscuro, colour and
facial expression are the most satisfactory method for making
the figure intelligible. Several facts which will be readily
acknowledged show the truth of this statement. For instance,
Veronese, Rubens, Tintoretto, Velasquez when painting scenes
the interest of which depends on the individual figures ap-
pearing in them (not such scenes as Paradise, Hell or battles
where the interest is in the masses and spaces), compose them
mainly in one plane. Also if single heads be taken from pic-
tures and from sculptured groups, it will usually be found that
the former give a fuller impression of the artist's intention
than the latter.
Every rule has exceptions and among Michael Angelo's
sculptures are works in which he sought to reproduce effects

PLATE XLV.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
73
of light and shade and expression that if given by painting
would have been more successful because the latter would
have expressed the artist's intention more clearly; and in
certain of his paintings he attempted effects of form that
could be given more satisfactorily by sculpture. Done by any
less a genius than Michael Angelo, such work would be either
ineffective or laboured. Done by him one can but marvel
at his mastery over the sister arts that enabled him to approach
so closely to the effects proper to the one while using the means
offered by the other. But such success as he attained does not
prove soundness in the principles that led him to make the
attempt. A tour de force is but the attempt to attain a result
by means other than the best. It may be successful, but it
must be unsatisfactory. It is unreal, impractical; it is a
form of jugglery!
To see how similar scenes are treated in the two arts, com-
pare the group of Niobe and her Children with the Massacre
of the Innocents as painted by the Renaissance artists.¹ In
such comparison trivial details must not be too much regarded,
for of the Niobe group there consists but one incomplete set
of copies of the original figures and of the Massacre of the
Innocents each one of us probably considers a different artist's
conception of the scene most effective. But the general
impression given by Niobe and her children is that of bodies
driven into violent motion by fright, what might be called
frightened motion; the figures are rushing from one spot to
another in search of safety; they bend and cower in terror of
1 ¹ In speaking of Niobe I refer naturally to the group in Florence and not to the
less well known and understood earlier groups at St. Petersburg and elsewhere;
typical examples of the massacre are those by Matteo di Giovanni, in the church
of the Servi at Siena, and by Fra Angelico in the Academy at Florence.
74
STUDIES
the peril. They are the incarnation of dread of physical
suffering. The impression of the Massacre of the Innocents
is one of faces contorted by horror. The action of the bodies
is of less concern. The attention is drawn to the eyes, the
mouths, the hands, the three chief outlets of mental feeling.
The sufferers in the scene are moved by the horror of unjusti-
fiable slaughter. They are the incarnation of anger, revolt
and despair induced by the sight of pitiless massacre.
In portraiture the painter and sculptor are drawn together
because the greatest interest of the work is centred in the
face, which is the clearest index of thoughts and emotions.
Both sculptors and painters even when making figures of life
size are limited in portraiture to seeking their chief effects in
the treatment of the face. But though so far working in
common, the painter and sculptor still have different aims;
for that part of the head the expression of which can be more
strongly accented and more completely reproduced by the
use of colour and a chosen shade and light, is the eyes; while
that part the expression of which can be most adequately
rendered by modelling is the mouth. This is the reason why
portraits similar in style, such as those above mentioned, the
bust of Pericles, and the painting of the Duke of Norfolk,
attract our attention in different ways. In the bust the most
noticeable feature is the firm but sensitive mouth, in the paint-
ing it is the steady, but vivid, eye.
Mindful of these conditions that govern the art of portrait-
ure we find it easy to see how the artists of various epochs
have conformed to them. This may seem to be putting the
cart before the horse; to be fitting the facts to the theory.
But it is not so, it is merely searching for proof of a work-
1

PLATE XLVI.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
75
ing hypothesis. The theory was suggested by the phenomena
and it will be seen to explain these phenomena.
The study of Greek sculpture is at present seriously ham-
pered by statements and beliefs concerning it which arose
at a time when its place in the history of art was very inac-
curately understood. These have been repeated so often that
they are frequently accepted without being critically weighed
in the light of recent knowledge. It is a unique and very
perfect art, but the causes and qualities of its perfection are
sometimes misunderstood. Justifiable admiration has out-
weighed the critical faculties. It is generally thought to be
more imaginative and ideal than is in fact the case. The
quality of realism is not usually attributed to such a work as
the portrait bust of Pericles. And yet this bust is quite as
realistic, though not so prosaic, as that of the Roman general
Corbulo. I mention these two because they are very generally
known; but many others such as the Demosthenes, Sophocles,
Cæsar, Caligula would do equally well. The word realism is
reserved too much for those works in which the artist has
represented the forms that would be first noticed by the casual
observer and, in this limited sense, the Corbulo is far more
realistic than the Pericles; but realism is just as truly dis-
played in works in which the forms, while reproducing those of
the model, may perhaps not be the most obvious ones and
though the juxtaposition of them be not their most common
combination. In this sense the Pericles is as realistic as the
Corbulo. Greek realism in portraits deals chiefly with faces
and figures in repose; Roman realism deals in the main with
faces and figures in action.
It is noteworthy that portraiture was a late development of
76
STUDIES
sculpture in Greece. We know, for instance, of no contem-
porary portraits of Solon or Peisistratus, and there exist in
museums and private collections extremely few busts or stat-
ues of the period preceding the middle of the fifth century
B.C., that have the character of portraits. One reason of this
doubtless was the feeling that the success which brought fame
in its train was due more to the Gods than to the individual.
The individual was an accident in the exhibition of beneficent
power by the Gods, and consequently, so far as form and fea-
ture are concerned, was of no special interest. Furthermore,
there was the feeling that the fame of individuals was due to
and a part of the fame of the whole state; hence the individual
was not apt to overestimate his own value nor to be thought of
by his neighbours with any such feeling of special respect as is
expected by, and often granted to, those who are "self-made."
Over and above these causes was another which must
have been largely responsible for the late development of
portraiture and for its character when it began to be common.
This was the Hellenic love of beauty. Divided though the
Greeks were into numerous states, they were held together
by bonds of language, tradition, religion and politics. But
the bond that united them more strongly than all others, even
than their hatred of barbarians, was their love of beauty.
"Beauty the first of all things" says Isocrates "in majesty and
honour and divineness. Nothing devoid of beauty is prized.
The admiration of virtue itself comes to this, that, of all mani-
festations of life, virtue is the most beautiful." The conse-
quence of this feeling was to make the individual and imperfect
man uninteresting to the artist while the general and typical
figure became his supreme aim. When at last in the fifth cen-
ART OF PORTRAITURE
77
tury B.C. portraiture became more frequent than it had previ-
ously been, the perfect portrait was the one which gave most
completely the impression of the general character of the man
and not the one which gave the most vivid and striking rep-
resentation of the separate features of his face.
Curiously enough the first portrait we hear of in Greece
was a caricature of the poet Hipponax by Bupalos and Athenis,
artists of the sixth century B.C. While caricature was at-
tempted as early as this, as is shown by the drama, by terra-
cotta figurines and by vases such as those from the sanctuary
of the Kabeiroi in Boeotia, it may be questioned whether such
a portrait of Hipponax ever existed. The details of the story,
such as the suicide of the artists owing to the satirical attacks
of the poet, are scarcely credible, and if we remember the very
strange and unlifelike appearance of archaic art it seems not
improbable that the story arose in the attempt to explain
some rude statue the true intention of which had been long
forgotten or had not been clearly indicated. Even were it
certain that such a caricature did once exist, the knowledge
would be of no great interest, because caricatures are but a
debased form of art. They are only the exaggeration of acci-
dental physical peculiarities. If the traces of a warped or ill-
developed character show in the face or figure, the represen-
tation of them may be made a caricature, but almost all
so-called caricatures show not oddities of character but de-
formities of person. It is in literature, in the works of Molière
or Shakespeare, rather than in sculpture or painting, that we
find true caricatures. Not that they do not exist in the plas-
tic arts, but the literary art lends itself more readily than the
others to this mode of representation.
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STUDIES
Whatever the actual facts regarding the reported portrait
of Hipponax may have been, it is not till about the first quarter
of the fifth century (circ. 500-475) that we have undoubted
evidence of portraiture. To that time belongs the bust of a
bearded man wearing a helmet, in the Glyptothek in Munich.
A replica of this work exists in the collection of Barrone Bar-
racco in Rome. These two heads may well be copies of a
statue of some victor in the games. As is known, portrait
statues were allowed only to thrice victorious athletes, and
they were erected not so much as an honour to the victor
as to keep fresh the memory of one who had thrice been
cherished by the Gods. But this rule governing the mak-
ing of statues of athletes clearly shows what deep signifi-
cance a statue was considered to express and the secondary
importance to the Greek mind of keeping a record of personal
appearance. Whether of a victor or not, the bust referred to
belongs to the early period of development of the technique
of sculpture, before it had been perfectly mastered, when the
artist was able to represent not what he wanted to but what
he was able to. Hence it is conventional; so much so that
were it not for the helmet and the absence of any attribute of
Divinity we could hardly be sure that it was intended as a
portrait.
Probably the best known example of portraiture produced
during the period when the technique of sculpture was thor-
oughly understood and mastered, is the head of Pericles by
Kresilas to which I have already made reference (Plate XLIV).
It is a work of special importance owing to the interest attach-
ing to the character of Pericles, but more particularly from the
artistic point of view; and fortunately there exist several

PLATE XLVII.
DorM
ART OF PORTRAITURE
79
careful copies of it. These make us sure what its artistic
character was,¹ and furthermore Pliny has handed down to us
an estimate of the original work by a critic of the ancient
world. This critic expressed concisely and epigrammatically
the intention that is manifest in all Greek work of the best
time, in saying that the bust of Pericles by Kresilas shows how
art can make a noble man still nobler.2 Now this can only
be said of the best Greek and Italian work. And all work, no
matter where or by whom produced, if wrought in the spirit
which was shown more by Greek sculptors and Venetian
painters than by other artists, may be described by such words.
Such a criticism could not be made of most Roman or Floren-
tine work. It can only be said of work in which the attempt
is successfully made to suggest a perfected type by the improve-
ment of an individual example, not of work the intention of
which is to represent the individual example as the embodi-
ment of special peculiarities with indifference as to their
excellence or defects.
The method adopted by Kresilas is not difficult to analyse.
The character of Pericles was a rare and happy mixture of
calmness, foresight, perseverance and sensitiveness. His
power of understanding men and conditions, together with his
quiet and steady pursuit of his aims, is shown by the course
of his political policy. His sensitiveness is made clear by his
1 The copies known to me are (1) in the British Museum, (2) in the Vatican,
(3) in the collection of Barrone Barracco, Rome, and (4) a fragment in the collec-
tion of Alden Sampson, Esq., Haverford, Penn.
2 This is not the place to discuss the meaning of the Latin word nobilis. Suffice
to say that if it is translated in this passage by its more commonplace equivalent
of famous, the criticism has little point, since it is self-evident that an enduring
monument, whether a statue or bust, adds to the fame of the individual in whose
honour it is erected.
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STUDIES
unselfish ambitions, by his delight in works of the fine arts and
by his chivalrous conduct towards Aspasia, whom general
opinion, not confined to the ancient world, would have al-
lowed him to disregard and forget, when for the sake of giving
offence to him the populace attacked her character. Such was
the man whom Kresilas had to portray, and with high artistic
perception he chose his means.
Kresilas, we can well understand, might have shown us Peri-
cles the warrior, or Pericles the orator, or Pericles the lover of
philosophy and the arts, and in doing so might have given a more
striking impression of one or more of the special qualities by
which his contemporaries were impressed. Instead of this he
succeeded in setting before us the complex of all these qualities,
and many more, that formed Pericles the man. The helmet
lifted back from the face reminds us of his military career but
does not force this on our attention.¹ The expression of the
face is not in the least dreamy but is thoughtful and grave;
an expression which, considering his life and friends, must
have been habitual when he was in repose. It should not be
forgotten that the attitudes assumed by the body when at
rest show the presence or lack of inborn grace and dignity,
and the expression of the face when in repose is an index to
the mental nature. The expression of the eyes is open; the
gaze is steady; the brow is undisturbed. The impression
given by the eyes is of clear, highly developed intelligence.
In the mouth which, as pointed out above, is the most in-
¹ It is a long-standing error to suppose that Pericles's skull as shown in these
busts is peculiarly domed. The shape of the tilted helmet makes it seem to be so,
but comparison with other heads covered by the Corinthian helmet shows that
his is in no way abnormal when thus represented, however it may have been when
uncovered.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
81
dicative single feature in portrait sculpture, may be seen
even more markedly than in the eyes, the man's character. It
is a very noticeable mouth, with full and softly modelled lips,
lips such as usually suggest a weak and sensuous character.
But this mouth is neither insignificant nor weak. Its great
sensitiveness passes into firmness in the closure of the lips and
the strong jaw, and shows itself not as that of an ungoverned
and libitudinous nature, but of a reserved and, in the best
way, sensitive quality. It is a mouth that implies vigour
but not self-will; the mouth of a very sensitive and apprecia-
tive, but not a sensual man.
Besides the character of eyes and mouth, the treatment of
the whole head must be studied in order to understand what
the critic meant when he wrote that this work made a noble
man still nobler. The treatment is broad. The minor and
accidental details are disregarded that the general effect may
be clearer. The curling hair of head and beard, for instance,
is not tossed about in disordered masses, as so often in later
works, but is conventionalised. The artist realised that he
could not imitate hair, and consequently sought for the best
graphic symbol by which to suggest curls. In the modelling
of the face he chose an expression of quietness and not one
of any fitful, momentary emotion; and by not representing
any slight irregularities of surface or structure, he emphasised
and made more inevitably noticeable that expression which
was most completely indicative of the man's essential nature.
He has given us not alone Pericles the leader of the state, nor
Pericles the patron of the fine arts, nor Pericles the impas-
sioned orator, but the Pericles of history, the embodiment of
all the best qualities bred in Athens.
G
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STUDIES
It must not be thought that the Pericles head alone ex-
hibits the qualities of both artist and sitter which I have
attempted to suggest. In their various ways the portraits of
Sophocles, Euripides, Demosthenes, the so-called Menander
(Plate XLV), Periander (Plate XLVI) and many another
famous Greek show similar æsthetic feeling.
It was but a short time after the death of Pericles that the
intellectual conditions of Greece underwent a great change.
Beliefs that, heretofore, had been universally held by the
Greeks began to be questioned, and the conditions of state-
craft passed into a new phase. The rise and fall of the Mace-
donian power was of lasting effect on the Greek character.
Alexander exhibits the type, which became common again
in the Renaissance, of the selfish despot who maintained his
power by having the money to maintain his personal influence.
His thoughts were set chiefly on his own personal glory as
expressed in his empire. He tried, but unsuccessfully, to
make his court the centre of the artistic life of the day. He
was not a patron of the arts but of artists. To Lysippus
alone was granted the right to carve his portrait. No natural
development of the arts was possible under such conditions.
The granting of such a monopoly to Lysippus shows that
Alexander was merely interested in producing on posterity
a good effect so far as his portraits could help him to do so.
Copies of some of these portraits exist. They are fine in many
ways and, to a high degree, lifelike, but they and other similar
works of the epoch lack the quietness and repose of the works
of earlier times. There is a melodramatic feeling in the looser
treatment of the hair, and, oftentimes, an attempt to give a
superhuman expression to the face.
•
ART OF PORTRAITURE
83
These qualities, as critics have often noticed, are to be
found in all the forms of art of the time, so far as we now
have the means of judging. Even in architecture there is
a noticeable change. Stone is not laid so carefully, the cut-
ting of details is coarser and mouldings are heavier; masses
are less finely proportioned and the effects of light and shade
are made more definite and striking. The miniature por-
traits on gems and coins show the same characteristics as the
large busts, and the mere fact of putting portraits of con-
temporary rulers on the coinage shows that the relation of the
individual to the state had changed and that, on the one
hand, the desire for personal fame was spreading over the
world a desire which became still more marked in the Ro-
man and Renaissance epochs; while on the other the worship
of rulers, introduced from the Orient, had firmly entrenched
itself. In fact, these Hellenistic portraits are not simple.
While the technique is still Greek, there is something else in
them than the desire of the artist to show the sitter as he ap-
peared to his contemporaries, even in a rightly idealised
manner, they manifest the desire of the sitter to be admired.
The tendencies of the time were all towards exactness of
representation of existing forms, and this was soon attained.
Perhaps it would have been reached even sooner had it not
been for certain interests which held the sculptors partially
to the old-time aims. One such conservative influence is
shown in the work of Silanion, who became famous for his
portraits of persons dead long before his day. Such work, if
it was to satisfy a large public, and this was what it aimed at
and succeeded in doing, had to be of a broad, general and un-
emphasized character, for the nature and appearance of per-
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STUDIES
sons known only by tradition is necessarily more vaguely and
variously observed, less easily and surely grasped, than that
of the living. Hence, if Silanion had made portraits that sug-
gested strongly what seemed to him the most vital charac-
teristic of the person represented, he would probably have
found that many of his contemporaries considered some very
different characteristic the most essential. To please the
many it was needful for his work to embody only those ideas
that were generally accepted. Such work cannot be realistic
in the sense of attracting attention to detailed peculiarities.
Greek portraiture became rapidly more and more pro-
saically realistic. But even in its last stages, when Greek
artists were still employed by Greek patrons, the realism is
generally restrained. The old conventionalism and typifying
of the model is gone, and there is greater frankness in the
rendering of special peculiarities of hair or skin; but the
work is generally quiet and dignified, calm in expression and
reposeful in action. The artist puts before us not the type and
idea suggested by the man, nor, except in special cases, the
man's own desire regarding his appearance, but the real daily
aspect of the man, dressed up not at all, treated in accordance
with the essential rules of sculpture as a fine art.
That there were, however, some artists who amused them-
selves and a thoughtless public with portraits that were vul-
garly realistic- realistic, that is, in the representation of
ugly and unessential details — is shown by what we know of
Demetrius of Alopeke. He is noted solely for his successful
rendering of ugliness. But there was too much cultivated
taste in what remained of the Greek world, and too much vigour
and good sense in the growing Roman world, for such work to

PLATE XLVIII.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
85
become popular. To see realism developing in a strong and
healthy manner, we must turn to Rome where, though the
actual carving was done, with few exceptions probably, by
Greek workers, still the character of the work itself was con-
trolled by Roman ideas (Plate XLVII).
The dry, matter of fact quality of Roman portraiture as
opposed to the more imaginative work of the Greeks, has long
been recognised. Its direct and unadorned presentation of
the human face is noted by the most careless observer and is
to most people pleasing. It makes them feel at ease; they
have the sensation of being with real people; it does not de-
mand of them a mental effort to analyse the appearance
before them in order to understand it. But notwithstanding
the facility with which one derives very definite, and it may
be lasting, impressions from these Roman busts, they are by
no means as simple and artless as they seem at first sight to be.
They are the product of complex influences and a highly de-
veloped art and are as difficult to understand and properly
appreciate as are the earlier Greek ones.
We may illustrate what has been said by glancing a moment
at a portrait of an unknown old man¹ (Plate XLVIII).
This is a superb example of Roman portraiture of the time
of the Republic. It cannot lay claim to any beauty of form
or feature; it is uncompromisingly homely. Nevertheless it
has a certain fascination for the beholder. The sculptor was
a great master. The way in which he has rendered the signs
of old age in the withered neck, the irregular wrinkles of the
brow, and the uneven mouth is magnificent. It is realism of
a perfect kind, for the evidence of the wear and tear of life is
¹In the Brandegee Collection.
86
STUDIES
subdued by and made minor to the splendid and enduring
vigour of the mind and character behind the cheerful old face.
What an old age! The sap may be running slow, the
body may show the blows dealt by life, but the stiff, short
hair is still thick, the head is still held upright and forward.
It is a face of a clean-living, plain-thinking man, one who had
"held both hands before the fires of life," and seems to
scarcely suppress a smile at the thought that any one should
want the portrait of his old face.
Roman art, as a whole, was practical and uninspired, and
far from imaginative. In large measure it served either to
answer some definite practical end or to satisfy (as in the
decoration of palaces) the Roman taste for grandeur and dis-
play. It shows the influence of a less full-hearted and un-
questioning religious inspiration than that which had such
marked effect on the early art of Greece and again in the
Renaissance. The work of all the various branches of art
produced in the Roman territory before the importation of
Greek artists was of the rudest. It was necessary to employ
Etruscans to decorate the temple of the Capitoline Jove and
until the first century before Christ the artistic product of
Rome seems to have been scanty. The energies of the people
were expended in war and colonisation. They were essentially
a commercial race. The existence of their city was derived
from and depended on their control of foreign trade. The
first necessity of such a city was to master the business of
political organisation and not to cultivate the tastes that
minister to affluence and ease. Pride of race and the ac-
quisition of great wealth were results of the transformation
of the small republic into the great empire, and with pride

PLATE XLIX.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
87
and money came luxury, and the arts, with the desire for
portraits.
how
Pliny tells of portraits made of wax, owned by the various
families, which were carried in funeral processions,
these were considered as belonging to the house and in case
of the sale of the latter passed with it to the new owner;
such portraits as these would, like the earlier Egyptian ones,
tend to the purest realism of external appearance. He men-
tions also the muniment rooms filled with records of ancestors.
Stress was laid on the actions of the illustrious dead in order
that the ensuing generations might be stirred to ambitious
effort. Very different is this from the Grecian sinking of the
individual in the state. Roman tombstones exhibit the same
pride in great deeds and the same interest in details. They
are entirely different from the Greek grave monuments. The
Greek gives the name of the deceased, and sometimes a greet-
ing to the living wayfarer who may pass by and note the tomb;
or, sometimes he inscribed a plaintive verse- the expression
of a broken heart but nothing more. How old were the
dead? What had they done? No one now can tell. Their
course was run and the restless curiosity of later ages must
remain unsatisfied. On Roman tombstones all this is very
different. They tell us the age and family of the deceased,
their occupation, what offices they had held and their age
even to days. In the cases where a portrait of the dead person
is added, it is treated in no general and typical way; but the
individual is set before us with unsparing accuracy.
This interest in the events of each individual life led to the
chief difference between Roman and Greek portrait busts.
The Roman thought of the great men of his country as the
88
STUDIES
persons who had done such and such things rather than as the
leaders of such and such policies. Consequently, the Roman
portraits suggest activity and not repose, action and not
thought. The idea embodied in the bust is not of a placid
and meditative but of a positive and active cast. The por-
traitist seems almost always to represent his sitters at the
moment when they were accomplishing the great deed that
brought them fame. The eyes are made expressive by being
distinctly focussed, and this expression is emphasised by the
treatment of the brow, which oftentimes is more or less wrinkled
or contracted in a way that suggests vigorous, passing, mental
action. In many cases the ball of the eye is cut so as to produce
a strong shadow and thus to suggest the pupil. This also
makes the fixed look more intense, but unless the light is
exactly right it is apt to produce an unpleasant appearance.
That an artist should do this shows the desire for dramatic,
restless effects. The treatment of the lips and the part of the
face about the mouth also suggests an expression not typical
of any general trend of thought so much as of some momentary
and strong emotion. Then the way the head is set on the neck
and turns sharply to one side or the other can be understood
only by supposing that the artist represented the sitter as he
appeared when employed on some one active and characteristic
piece of work. There is, for instance, in Corbulo none of the
Greek treatment of the individual as a type, but everything
is done to make more prominent the individualities of the man.
And just as the Pericles is not alone in its class, so too the
Corbulo is matched by many others, such as the Julius Cæsar,
the Augustus, Caracalla or Antoninus Pius (Plate XLIX).
As one looks at these Roman portraits one frequently


PLATE L.

ART OF PORTRAITURE
89
feels that the persons are on the point of moving. But
notwithstanding this quality of life which has led to their
being called realistic, the best of them are no more merely
superficial in their realism than the best Greek busts. Neither
class is vulgarly realistic and imitative solely in the external,
but both depend for their effect on the correct comprehension
and presentation of actual phenomena of form and facial expres-
sion. The different effect they produce is due to the fact that
the Greek desired an expression of the inner man, the man as
he was to himself, while the Roman desired the expression
of the man as he showed himself to others. Putting the case
concisely, and remembering that such conciseness does not
express the completest truth, we may say that one was the
portrait of man as a thinker, the other of man as a doer.
In the foregoing explanation of the nature of Roman por-
traits, no account has been taken of the numerous beautiful
busts of children and women that were carved by the sculptors
of the Eternal City At first sight these seem to contradict
the contention that the almost universal intention of the
Roman sculptor was to make a portrait of a single sharply
defined phase of his sitter's personality. They seem to be
done rather in accordance with Greek taste; but closer study
will reveal that they are not truly Greek, that their real
nature is Roman and their seeming Grecian spirit is an illusion
due to accident and not to intention.
Busts of children or women made to show character in
action could never resemble the Roman busts of men. The
qualities that make the character of men are non-existent, or
at least undeveloped, in the child, and in the woman take an-
other form. The Greek by his generalising and typifying
90
STUDIES
process which brought about the production of placid figures
was led to express chiefly those qualities which produce simi-
lar effects in all faces. The Roman, though searching for
active expression still noted in the child as the most beautiful
and characteristic qualities, softness, roundness and breadth
of modelling, and the dignity of infantine demeanour. Hence
the Roman heads of children have a somewhat Greek look,
but in every part, as for example the hair, where stress can be
laid on accidental and purely individual appearance, this is
done (Plate L). The Greek appearance was inherent in the
object; the most suggestive symbol to express curled or
straight locks was sought, but to carve hair in all its fairness
of strand, in all its waving masses or its fantasticalities of
fashion, was not the aim of the sculptor. In Roman work the
hair is scarcely ever conventionalised in a Grecian manner but
shows the fashion of the day. Usually, the head is not symmet-
rically placed, but is turned to one side or the other, implying
that the child's attention was attracted to some special object.
The same points are to be noted in the portraits of women.
In their faces as in children's the beauty and softness of feature
led to something like a Greek breadth of modelling, but the
hair and the action of the head are purely Roman (Plate LI).
The Florentine portraits show these same characteristics.
Among them also the children and women seem at first glance
to be Grecian or Venetian in character, but, when looked at
more closely, one sees that those features which are not mere
copies of nature but which show artistic intention are not
Venetian, nor Greek, in character, but Roman. Yet another
class of Florentine monuments which are at first sight mis-
leading in the same way are the recumbent statues on tombs.

PLATE LI.
ART OF PORTRAITURE
91
In these the Greek quality of quietness and repose is very
marked and is due to the artist being called upon to represent
faces modelled by the stilling touch of death and no longer to
be thought of as showing active forces. But even in these
figures the intense actuality of feature, the lack of convention-
alising and typifying, is noticeable. In fact there is little
doubt that oftentimes the artist did his work not from sketches
of the living model but from a death mask.
If now we consider from a more general point of view this
art of portraiture and its relationship to times and peoples,
certain things become clear. Portraiture may be due, as in
Egypt, to some religious motive, but this is uncommon.
Where it develops as an art, simply for its æsthetic value,
we note that it becomes a general practice only as ideal
and imaginative work loses ground. While the Greeks never,
in a certain sense, showed much imagination in their sculpture,
it is unquestionable that towards the end of the fifth century
when portraiture becomes prominent, the idealising and
religious works decrease and deteriorate. The same truth
holds good in Italy during the Renaissance, when much more
imagination was shown than in Greece.¹ Portraiture is due to
a family interest in its own members or to a people's interest
in an individual. It is not practised (for artists such as Sila-
nion are not true portraitists) by the artist to please himself.
But whatever may be the interests, private or public, that
call for portraiture, the art becomes common only in times of
centralisation, times when large fortunes, and hence great
1 One instance will suffice to show what I mean by this. Far more pure imagina-
tion is shown in 'the Italian representations of the Creation or the Last Judgment
than in the Greek scenes of the lives of their Gods with which they decorated pedi-
ment and frieze.
92
STUDIES
power, are possessed by individuals. Furthermore, no matter
who may be the persons represented (setting aside women and
children) it is not possible to carve or paint them except in
one of two ways, as an embodiment of thought, or as an
embodiment of action. The former method appealed to
Greeks and Venetians, the latter better pleased the Romans
and Florentines. Both are realistic because both strive to
show in one way or another actually existent forms and ex-
pressions. It depends on each man's natural temperament
which will give him most satisfaction. Other methods are
frequently adopted in the modern struggle for originality,
but it is safe to say that they will exert little influence on the
development of art, for, while they may be clever devices,
while they make certain effective features particularly promi-
nent, they are still unsatisfactory because they produce at
best but a partial likeness. If it be granted that there are but
two great methods of portraiture, there is yet no reason to fear
that dulness will ensue. The interest excited by the indi-
vidual man comes from the character shown.
man.
There are just double as many portraits, potentially, as
there are individuals, and the interest of portraiture lies in
what the artist makes us comprehend of the nature of the
Too often the public is deceived into thinking that
the work of handicraftsmen, with little or no power of reading
and understanding character, is to be judged as true portrait-
Such work may be decorative in chiaroscuro, it may be
pleasant as colour; but the mere drawing of a face, even if
what is called a good likeness is produced, is not portraiture.
It is but the outer husk and dead wrapping hiding the vital
germ within.
ure.
1
II. PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
DIFFERENT as were the lives and works of the two sculptors
whose names are more familiar to us than those of any others,
there were, nevertheless, many circumstances of closely re-
lated character that affected their careers. But apart from
such circumstances the consideration of even those influences
which were absolutely different in the one case and in the
other, exhibits clearly some of the broader laws of the art
practised by them both. In truth, it is the art rather than
the individual style of the sculptors that is worth study, for
the art is a language, the works but the expression of single
ideas; the one is a perpetual and constantly varying power,
the other but separate thoughts expressed.
Naturally the two interests, one that of becoming more
familiar with the products of the "fine intelligence of noble
minds," the other the more abstract one of a more intimate
knowledge of the powers and possibilities of one of the fine
arts, are inextricably combined. The study of the two sculp-
tors mentioned is particularly interesting owing to the ever-
increasing production of sculpture in our own day; and owing
to various conditions in modern life, there is a close relation-
ship in many important matters between us and these two
masters of days long past. Therefore, whatever can be cer-
tainly learned about them will help us to appreciate more
truly the work and workers of to-day and to-morrow. Noth-
93
94
STUDIES
ing can help more to attain this appreciation and sympathy
than the study of the great workers of past ages, even when
they may to a casual glance seem to be of somewhat remote
interest.
The work of men such as Pheidias and Michael Angelo can-
not be considered by any serious student as in fact remote
from our time and interests. The study of the Past, partic-
ularly that part filled by Greece, becomes every day more
and more general and the influence of the Renaissance in
Italy upon modern thought and work is seen on every hand;
here we come to the first noteworthy fact regarding these two
sculptors. It is not going too far to say that all the best
Greek sculpture, that is to say, what was produced during the
latter half of the fifth century before Christ and the fourth
century, was strongly influenced by Pheidias and that his
influence shows itself intermittently until the end of the ancient
world.
It would of course be too much to claim Pheidias as the
originator of all the qualities in sculpture which are apt, nowa-
days, to be named Pheidian, but as the master who most ade-
quately expressed the ideals held in his time so far as sculpture
allowed of their expression, he may be used as the type; and
among the varied interests which Michael Angelo and the
other students of the Renaissance found in Greek work were
several that may properly be called Pheidian.
This influence of Greek work on the Renaissance can hardly
be over estimated. It shows itself in many ways and with
varying force, sometimes producing direct imitation of
ancient works, then again becoming manifest in new work
done with the intention of reviving the spirit of the ancient
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
95
world. Michael Angelo did not fall under the spell as com-
pletely as many of his less vigorously original contem-
poraries, but it was no more to be entirely avoided by him
than one of the laws of nature. Thus with the work of
the Greeks directly affecting us to-day in a very similar way
to that in which it affected the Italians in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, and with the work of the later period, deeply
tinctured with the Grecian dye, also influencing us, it becomes
deeply interesting to find in what the greatest artists of the
two periods were alike and wherein they differed one from
the other.
The influence of Pheidias on the art of his race was not so
much that of the originator or inventor as it was that of the
poet, who gathering the various and unconnected beauties
that are felt by all, though less keenly than by him, binds
them together by the indefinable power of his genius and gives
back to the admiring world not separate things of beauty but
a standard of the beautiful and perfect. And this power of
genius deals with such finenesses, is so subtle, that oftentimes
it is almost beyond the power of words to make clear the man-
ner of its working. As the sensitiveness of the photographic
plate is greater than that of the eye, so the trained and per-
ceptive eye notes much that can only with difficulty be ex-
pressed by words. The genius is felt, it thrills and vivifies
the observer, but it cannot be expounded like a problem in
mathematics.
For this reason, we must believe, the few great writers on
these matters are oftentimes scoffed at by persons whose eyes
have not been trained to see nor their hearts to understand.
Not that the scoffers can be blamed for this unhappy sterility
96
STUDIES
of their powers, for in most cases the circumstances of life
have not been of that fortunate kind which would enable them
to acquire the finer faculties. They are only to be blamed
in so far as either through envy or stupidity they refuse to
believe that others may be endowed with power which is
lacking to them power dependent upon long and arduous
training. It is a curious but familiar phenomenon that the
person who will not hesitate an instant to admit that the
trained rider or sportsman or oarsman can ride, shoot or row
better than he can, will energetically claim for himself as fine-
seeing an eye, or a mind as keenly interpretative, as the prac-
tised artist or the scholar. That is, he asserts that the exer-
cises of the body need training, but those of eye and brain
do not, a theory manifestly absurd.
The genius of Pheidias is so ultimate in its fineness that it
needs long training before it can be properly appreciated. If
this is doubted, one has but to consider the fact, that among all
the numerous references to him and his work which are pre-
served for us in ancient writers, not one mentions him, as his
elder contemporaries Myron, Pythagoras, Kalamis or many
others are mentioned, as having been the first to institute any
particular detail of carving. No new treatment of the hair,
no new way of representing the body, no special scheme of
proportion are attributed to him, and yet the absolute con-
sensus of opinion was that he was the unrivalled master of
them all. Fashions changed, and a new one, that of making
collections, arose, which demanded the satisfaction of indi-
vidual tastes, but Pheidias's fame knew no eclipse.
Besides this subtle quality in his genius, this weaving of the
various beautiful threads spun by others into one consummate

PLATE LII.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
97
stuff, there are other qualities that render his work diffi-
cult to appreciate. One is that the ideals both of religion and
of life were very different from those of to-day, so that we have
to lay aside all preconceived notions and at first regard him as
children who wonder but do not understand. This is the
hardest task the student ever has to master, to free himself
from the bonds of the conventions, beliefs and circumstances
common to his own day and study the work of another time
with (so far as he can accomplish it) an understanding sym-
pathy with the conventions, beliefs and circumstances be-
longing to those other days. Still a further difficulty lies
in the fact that there does not exist in the world one single
work of which we can say this is truly and completely by
Pheidias. The marble figures from the Parthenon show his
quality in many respects clearly but these we know were
worked upon by assistants. Other works by him exist in
copies, but for the most part these copies can be shown to be
bad and should be used as evidence only with the utmost
Yet, notwithstanding these difficulties, the image that
we have of him is, it can scarcely be doubted, clearly defined
in the main outlines.
care.
How different is all this in the case of Michael Angelo !
Here our embarrassment is of a character diametrically op-
posed and comes from the fact that we are so burdened with
details about his life and work that the really important
matters are partially obscured by trivialities. Contempo-
raries and fellow-workmen wrote his life; his letters and poems
have been preserved; documents of all sorts regarding his
works exist, and the works themselves are where they can be
easily seen.
H
98
STUDIES
Beyond all these aids to our knowledge of the man we
have, again, the more vital one that the age in which he lived
is almost as well understood as our own, and many of the
greater currents of thought and action were but little different
to those of the present time. Unlike the Pheidian time, but
like to-day, his was not a period when governments deeply
believed in the protection of their Gods nor one in which the
individual was scarcely considered except as a detail of the
state, nor when portrait statues were almost unknown. Con-
quest for the love of gain, and commonwealths subdued to
one will, were the rule. The truly Greek period in the develop-
ment of Italy, the time of the blossoming of Venice, of Siena,
of Florence had given way to the Alexandrian epoch. Though
the idea that the will of the masses should govern the state
was fortunately not yet formulated, the development of in-
dividualism was well under way, and instead of men governing
their lives by general ideals they all sought to raise themselves
on the shoulders of their less fortunate brothers to enjoy a
little while the glory of a special and peculiar fame. Hence
called as he was to lend his power to the satisfaction of such
desires as these, Michael Angelo's work was in many cases,
in those, that is, where he was working for a master other
than his own instinct, tinged with a character utterly out of
accord with that of Pheidias, and yet curiously enough even
in these works there are signs of a strong undercurrent of
feeling which would have bound him and Pheidias together as
the most sympathetic friends, thus showing that at bottom
art is not governed by circumstance of time or place.
There were however certain very important aspects in which
life as Michael Angelo saw it in Italy, and particularly in
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
99
Then too the habits
Under very different
Florence, was curiously similar to what it was in Athens in the
fifth century B.C. The climate and general appearance of the
two countries is even now not unlike, and it must have been
much less so in the time when the hills of Greece were so forest-
grown that Pan and the nymphs could really live in comfort
there, and before modern improvements had eradicated many
of the individual peculiarities of Italy.
of the cultivated classes were similar.
forms the principles of education seem to have been the same.
The schooling shown in Castiglione's Cortegiano is like that
given the Grecian youth. It was an education which com-
prised, both in Greece and in Italy, music, drawing, a knowledge
of the thought and actions of past generations and a mastery
of all those exercises that conduced to self-defence or to the
more perfect development of the body. Similar training
naturally taught the men of these two worlds to see life in
very similar ways, and although the teachings of the Catholic
Church were very different from those of the Greek religion in
regard to the relations between men and women, yet life and
instinct were stronger than the holy teachings, and in this
point too the simplicity and naturalness of the Greek found
its counterpart in Italy.
It is easy to see that the power exerted by these various
influences on the art of sculpture was very great, more so even
than on the sister art of painting, for it is on the realisation
of what constitutes a fine body, on the equal simplicity of
treatment of the woman's form and the man's, and the knowl-
edge of what ideas can be best interpreted in terms of form,
that the art of sculpture depends. Art is but the translation
of emotion, and each particular art has a particular way of
Jor M
100
STUDIES
accomplishing the translation; and in this, painting and sculp-
ture are more closely connected than any two other arts, so
much so that sculptors in the two greatest periods the
Greek and the Renaissance rarely considered their work as
finished until the power of colour had been used to heighten
the effect, and often practised the two arts coincidently. But
during these two periods the limits imposed by the materials of
the various arts were clearly recognised and closely adhered
to, and in the best sculpture of the Renaissance there is no
more attempt to represent landscape or other purely colour
effects than in the Parthenon. Sometimes, however, as in
the drapery of the Moses or the modelling of the Pietà in St.
Peter's, Michael Angelo does seem to overstep the limits of
sculpture and to seek for effects which could be more simply
and much more intelligibly given in painting than in stone;
effects that need the manifold devices of light and shade and
colour which are at the disposal of the painter rather than the
sculptor.
This is, however, a rare weakness in the works of Michael
Angelo, and one that apparently never entered those of Pheid-
ias. One reason for this is that the art of painting was more
completely comprehended in Italy than in Greece, and the
Italian artists, more commonly than the Grecian, practised
both arts. Hence, great painter as well as great sculptor,
endowed with a readiness of hand, such as scarcely any other
artist ever had, to reproduce whatever his mind imaged, it
is no wonder that Michael Angelo at times went beyond the
bounds of one art and seemed magically to interfuse the beau-
ties of both of them. It would have been a greater wonder
had he not done so. It was not a sign of his weakness so much

PLATE LIII.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
101
as of his strength, of the inability of any one art to satisfy
the artist's desire and ideal. In this greater complexity,
which shows at times in the detail of his work, Michael Angelo
differed from Pheidias, but, almost invariably, the two artists,
while differing in their feeling for line, or gesture, or substance,
treat the human figure and its accessories in the same way.
In both one sees a distinct and necessary dwelling on the
nude.
Where the human figure is chosen as the object of a work
of art, there are but two chief means by which to represent
the emotions it contains, one the expression of the face, one the
action of the body as a whole. It is in the representation of
the face, the most palpable index of the emotions, that paint-
ing, with its power over almost infinitesimal lights and shades,
finds fullest scope for its power, while it is in the greater lines
of the frame and the larger gestures that sculpture satisfies
herself. So it is that in the sculptural work of both Michael
Angelo and Pheidias one finds drapery treated not, as was
distinctly the case in the statues of Praxiteles, for its own
special beauty apart from the whole work, but as a means of
emphasising the beauty of the body whose details it hid.
Look at the group of three women from the western pedi-
ment of the Parthenon, or the Lemnian Athena, or the Carya-
tids of the Erechtheum (Plate LII) — for these are utterly
Pheidian in character even if not by the master himself - or
the figures on the frieze of the Parthenon (Plate LVII) or the
Hegeso relief. In all these the drapery ripples over the
shoulders and breasts, breaking in great falls around the waist
and legs to disappear and fade away in little curling waves
around the feet, not hiding the soft details of the figure
102
STUDIES
underneath but serving rather as a frame to emphasise the
beauties and set them in true relation to the surroundings.
That there was any ethical need of hiding the figure would
have seemed the height of absurdity to the Greek or the
Italian. Out of the dark it comes and back to the dark it
goes in this Adamite condition, so why should the artist not
use it so if it serves his purpose ?
Thus it has been used in all times when there was a vital
art, and such times have been distinguished for greater sanity
of thought and health of body than when art was governed
by medieval fanaticisms. Michael Angelo's figures are as
distinguished for this quality as are those shaped by the
Grecian chisel. His feeling for the value of the nude is so
strong that he can hardly suffer the drapery at all. The
Moses, the Madonnas, the Medici Princes are to all intents
in large measure undraped. Considered as draped figures
they distinctly lack the temperance and quiet nobility of the
Greek figures, for the reason that although his feeling towards
the relation of draped and nude parts is the same, Michael
Angelo does not attain his end in as consummate a way. He
makes too sharp a distinction between the parts that are
really draped, the parts that are but seem not to be, and the
nude. But in one point of this same nature the two artists
are completely alike. They both regarded the human figure
from the purely artistic point of view as a means to suggest
certain ideas. The religious meaning, the question as to its
sanctity or unhallowedness, no more occurred to them than to
question the advisability of warming themselves before the
fire when they were cold because there were fires in Hell.
They were completely natural.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
103
In regard to the lack of complexity and to the greater re-
pose, it may be admitted that Pheidias has the advantage over
Michael Angelo whose works, true index as they are of his
character, suffered from the time in which he lived his
character suffered and hence his work. His was a time of
scepticism and hence of worry. The tranquillity that marked
the Greek mind was rarely found in his day. Aretino was
planting the destructive roots of modern journalism, and ex-
cept, in a way marked by strong affectation, at certain courts,
one would have had to go far to find Platonic Symposia or
Olympic gatherings. The cloudy brow of Michael Angelo
himself as well as of many of his figures is a sign how the per-
plexity of the times preyed upon the sculptor and in turn
affected not only the chief motive of many of his works but
also their very details.
was
And, if we admit the truth, this worry and perturbation is
more natural to us than is the Greek grace and calm which, to
those who do not understand the time, seems unnatural and
forced. It was not so, however. The Greek was never
forced, but though he felt intensely, he considered that the
possession and exercise of control over emotion was as much
to be desired as the power which found expression in beating
back barbarian hordes. The tenderness of Greek friendships
is proverbial, but the whole tone of Greek tragedy is of passion
held in check, carried in the heart rather than worn on
the face. Slaves and servants gave way to noisy grief, but
not their masters. A Greek of the Periclean age could scarcely
have understood the worn, wearied, soul-troubled look of the
Pensieroso. It was not that the Greek was unimpassioned,
but he never let his passions govern him. He guided them as
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STUDIES
a rider guides a restive horse — as the youths on the Parthenon
guide theirs calming and soothing them lest the animal
become the master and break away from the chosen path.
This difference in the character of the two races was due
largely to religion, which had the most marked effect on the
work produced in the two countries. One is apt to think,
when one sees the limitless mass of churches, decorated by
painter and sculptor, in Italy, and the unending array of lesser
works of distinctly religious intent, that no art could be more
religious than that of Italy. But just as in the conduct of
individuals it is the spirit rather than the form of action that
is the true index to their character, so in art it is the feeling
the work shows, and not merely its outer form, which indicates
its true nature and value. Now not merely in the number of
religious works was Greece in the Periclean days as distin-
guished as ever Italy was, but she was far more noteworthy,
in that her religion was a much more vital impulse than that
of Italy. This is certainly true of the Periclean as opposed
to the Medicean age.
In the light of present knowledge the circumstances that led
to these conditions are discernible. Like every innocent race
the Greeks had a firm belief in the Gods, beings developed in
their minds by very varied influences, and for the most part not
of a character to serve as guides to ideal conduct after the
race had once gained the capacity for using its mind in a logi-
cal way. One or two of these beings were, however, as noble
as any such conceptions at any time. This power to use the
mind rationally was not yet a national possession when Pheid-
ias grew up. It was just becoming so. The development of
the mind, the strength of it, was there, but for a few decades
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
105
circumstances turned the thoughts of the people away from
philosophic consideration to more ecstatic modes in which old
conceptions were clung to with passionate fondness and made
more beautiful, but a change of belief was the work of a fol-
lowing generation.
These circumstances were chiefly a consequence of the
Persian Wars. Greece was threatened with destruction.
Athens was harried, and the glories of the Acropolis were
razed to the ground. Phoenix-like they disappeared in fire to
have an image of themselves more splendid in its youth and
vigour rise as a light to all the world. But though the bar-
barian had for a moment seemed master of the situation, the
Greeks had, with the active help of the Gods, been the final
victors and it was in the service of thanks to their divine
helpers that Pheidias found his chief employment. It was
only in the very early years of the Renaissance that the Ital-
ians experienced any such miracles as those which Pheidias's
elder contemporaries had known as, for instance, at the
battle of Ravenna — and the effect on them then was much the
same as it had been on the Greeks. It was the actual
It was the actual presence
of the Gods at critical moments that stirred the Greeks.
In
Athens Athena's snake led them to safety, at Salamis the
Aiakidoi inspired the heroes with their battlecry, and Pan
himself urged the weary messenger over the mountain passes.
The Greeks no more doubted that their victory was due to
assistance lent them by the Gods than that there had been a
war. One event was as real to them as the other, so it was
natural for them, as soon as their hearths were once more lit,
to render thanks to their Divinities by raising images of them
on all sides, that they might never forget them, and by building
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STUDIES
for the houses of their Gods as beautiful temples as could by
any possible means be made.
We may frankly concede that the grandeur of this work,
the generousness of it, can only be understood when one fully
grasps the fact that a Greek temple was, what the Christian's
is not, the house of the Lord. In it but few and most private
services were performed, -no processions, no crowds of more or
less attentive worshippers, no expounding of the word, nothing
whatever of that sort. The temple was the sacred dwelling
place of the deity, and the curious no more thought of entering
it than of opening uninvited their fellow-citizen's door. It
was a free gift to the God and not to be thought of as a source
of satisfaction to the builders except in the same way as it
pleases a lover to have his mistress accept some gift at his
hands. This feeling is repeated frequently in Pindar and in
other poets inspired by the 'golden muse.' So it was that,
flushed with the excitement of a great cause nobly won, the
Greeks turned the full force of their keen, glad energy to
works that showed their own greatness by manifesting with
the sharpness of full understanding the form of their ideals.
In our day, animated by so different interests and ambitions,
it is hard to sympathise with this natural idealistic work done
in Athens, and it is perhaps even harder to understand why it
was that Pheidias and the other artists were not called on to
erect portrait statues of the great leaders of the war as were
the artists of the Renaissance. There is mention of a statue
to Miltiades, and this is all. The reason becomes clear im-
mediately we consider well what were the fundamental prin-
ciples of conduct as taught by the poets, who were in those
days in large measure the formulators of public opinion. Pin-

PLATE LIV.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
107
dar is as clear-spoken about this as need be, and he but repeats
what one finds in the fragments that are preserved of Solon's
writings and of other earlier writers. He tells us that what is
natural is best and that the deed done without the deity is
best left unspoken (Olym. IX), and again (Nem. I) that
each of us has his special power and we must earnestly en-
deavour according as Nature shows the way. This is to be
the moral of our action, while that of our thought is that man
is as nothing (Nem. VI), ephemeral creature naught knowing
what he is or what he may be, nothing but a mirage-dream
(Pyth. VIII).
Under the spell of such stern teaching as this it is no won-
der that Pheidias was not employed, as was Michael Angelo,
in depicting for an inquiring posterity the outer husk of the
protagonist of his day. Nor was it merely when he was called
on to decorate Athens with his accomplished powers that
Pheidias found guiding principles of this stern sort, but even
in his other great work, the Olympian Zeus, he was governed
in the same way. By the Greek, victory in the games was no
more to be aspired to without the help of the Gods than was
victory in battle, and it was not praise for the winner but grati-
tude to the Gods that was mete when Nike laid the 'golden
crown' upon the athlete's brow. For it is the Gods who, as
Pindar sings, guard the deep-breasted plain of Sparta and
grant success in the great games. Fame is to be sought
but it is to be the fame of honourable deeds (Pyth. VIII),
but even this is of less value than happiness and only he who
has won both has attained the acme of bliss (Pyth. I).
Such men are almost unknown, for the soul of honour is
tarnished by lust of gain (Nem. IX). Thus were the athletes
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STUDIES
in that "age of heroic prize-men" taught that physical power
was of value, but only as it was a stepping-stone to moral
purity. No portraits of such youths as these unless the Gods
marked them as their own with the triple crown. The deep-
delved researches of epigraphist and excavator show us how
rare was that event.
Called upon to embody for the chosen youth of Greece
their idea and image of the guardian deity who meted out
unquestioned justice to their strife, Pheidias had to depict
as it were a masculine counterpart to the Goddess who made
Athens her own. That he was as successful in the one task
as in the other is instantly apparent to one who notes the
quality of the praise bestowed upon his work by the highly
trained critics of the classic period. None speak of his figures
as they do of Myron's, for instance, as deceiving the beholder
by their realism. There is no question as to the mastery over
the material as with Kalamis and Pythagoras, no sugges-
tion of conventionalism as with Polykleitos, none of overre-
finement as with Praxiteles, but all agree that his works
were such nobly adequate representations of the divine beings
that they added a new glory to the religion of which they were
the perfected expression.
Still another noteworthy peculiarity of this religion in its
effect on his work remains to be mentioned. Both he and
Michael Angelo had at different times now mere mortals, now
deities, to represent. In the case of the Attic master this led
to a greater unity of performance than was possible with the
Florentine. Between the dwellers on Olympus and those on
the broad-bosomed Earth there was to Pheidias's mind only a
difference in degree, whereas to the believer in the Roman
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
109
doctrines there was no real similarity between the heavenly
hosts and the inhabitants of this vale of tears; and where such
was suggested, it was so as a symbol, not as a representation.
To the Greek the Gods were merely his grander, nobler, more
powerful brethren, blessed with the same virtues and troubled
by similar faults, differing principally from the dwellers on
earth by usually escaping the results due to giving way to
passion. Even they were not blessed with absolute immunity
and freedom of action. Zeus himself was subject to Fate,
but in the main the Gods, at least in their outward form, were
but more beautiful men and women. Hence when called
upon to carve the most noble being whom he could imagine,
and equally when carving ideal youths and maidens on the
Parthenon, he could only carve the same forms he saw about
him every day idealised by his imagination. Whichever
branch of his art he followed trained him for the other.
That such conditions and beliefs as these were very different
from those under which Michael Angelo had to work needs
no elaborate exposition. How different they were in their
effect on the art of Pheidias and the happiness of the period
for such an artist becomes clearer the more one studies. There
is still another point to consider, however, what might be
called a more practical one than the influences of religion, and
in this regard, too, Pheidias was the more favoured. I refer
to the political conditions of the time, and the relations of
Pheidias to his employers.
The lack of original documents makes it impossible for us
to follow the course led by Pheidias from its fortunate rise to
its unhappy close, but that in most ways he was much to be
envied by Michael Angelo cannot be questioned. Athens
110
STUDIES
was at the height of her prosperity; freed from foreign or
internal foes, she was at liberty.to pursue her ends as occasion
demanded or as consideration showed was best. It was a
time of thanksgiving and hope. No such condition of govern-
ment as this was known to Michael Angelo, nor did his country
have the advantage of being led by as high-minded a states-
man, and probably as wise a one, as ever lived. So long as
Pericles was leader of the state, Pheidias was his friend and
helper. Here was no worry for the artist, no change of mas-
ter, no blighting of cherished hopes, all which ills were suf-
fered by Michael Angelo; on the contrary, existence in the
midst of a most highly cultivated community - a community
moved by a common search after ideal ends, a community
which must have been a constant inspiration to the sculptor
to equal the expectations it had of him. With the rise of
mob rule brought on by the momentary successes won by
certain demagogues came the downfall of Pericles and in his
train Pheidias. But his great work was finished then. He
had nothing to fear when he laid aside his chisel, and fortu-
nately he was not left long to mourn the fast vanishing nobility
of his city and race. The time of calm self-confidence had
passed and the time of trouble was threatening. Only a
short time elapsed before the tide of disaster engulfed the
whole country, and if we would seek a counterpart to the
worn and restless spirit that sometimes appears in Michael
Angelo's work, we can find it in the later Greek masters -
even Praxiteles shows traces of it. But it is not mere like-
nesses we are in search of, so much as explanations and the
clarification of certain phenomena of art.
-
The effect of these conditions of life and thought on Pheidias
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
111
was more strong than on other sculptors of the time because the
greater sensitiveness and impressibility of his nature rendered
him a more encompassing recipient for ideas and feelings
than most of his contemporaries. But the qualities that show
in his work with especial sharpness are found diffused through-
out all the work of the period, and there is one very noticeable
characteristic of this work which distinguishes it markedly
from the work produced by Michael Angelo's fellow-workmen.
It is the emphasis laid on youth. Donatello, Verrocchio,
Desiderio and many others often represented youthful figures;
but the representation of youth and early manhood could
scarcely be said to distinguish the work of the Florentine from
other epochs, yet this is exactly what can be said of the prod-
uct of the early Greek and particularly the Attic School.
Look at the statues of youths and maidens, the never-fading
ghosts of past days, which the Attic chisel carved and the
Attic soil has preserved for us. Look at the young Apollos
and their not less glorious brethren, the athletes. Look at the
guardians above the temple porches -incarnations of youth-
ful vigour even when the bearded head or matronly form give
sign of elder years. Look at the vases "with brede of marble
men and maidens overwrought." Finally look well at the
statues of God and Goddess - even these have youth eternal
moulded in their full, strong figures.
And it is pleasant to reflect that it is not the sculptor's
art alone which found satisfaction in thus dwelling on the
most beautiful forms of human life, but the painters and
the poets too immortalise the entrancing splendours of the
youthful form. Greek art of this time presents us with the
indubitable evidence of a belief, rooted deep as life itself,
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STUDIES
that the everlasting joy of completest beauty was to be found
in the well-conditioned body of youth or maiden. What a
degradation the ascetic interpretation of the Holy Writ
brought in the art of the Renaissance! Many youthful
figures do we find there, but they were chosen as much for the
sake of the quaintness of extremely youthful forms as for the
beauty inherent in vigorous development. The place of the
fine-drawn, well-groomed figures of the Greek youths and
maidens is taken by jolly, pot-bellied babies. Over the altars
and among the graves they scramble, and up the marble
columns, to launch themselves, heedless as screaming swal-
lows, over the groined ceiling. From North to South and
across Italy from Sea to Sea this breed of fascinating babies
spread their father the Church, their mother the great
human heart of the Italian race. And then, dulling the
pleasant impression that such figures make upon the mind,
we are met on all sides by haggard figures of men and women
expressive only of a bitter ardour to seek salvation by pain.
The wanness of Botticelli, the pain and trouble of Michael
Angelo, the mere ordinarily healthy look of Ghirlandaio, these
are what take the place of the deep-breasted, broad-shouldered,
strong-pulsed, magnificent Greeks - some repetition among
these latter, 'tis true, but marvellous in their vigour and con-
stancy and impulsiveness. Or what poets can the Medicean
time show who sing of ideals and principles in the same full-
throated, calm, incisive way as Pindar or Sophocles sang
them? We have instead a scornful wrath or playful fancy.
The deity is no longer friendly but terrible, and dainty mis-
tresses usurp the place of the God-compelling Aphrodite.
The momentary, not the eternal, is the interest of the day.

PLATE LV.

PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
113
Some there were, Greek in spirit and in deed: Dante in
part of his later work, so far as a Catholic could be. The Vita
Nuova in its heart-broken passion, the Convito in its com-
plexity, are purely Italian, but passages of the Divine Comedy
and the Letters might be the work of one of the Attic drama-
tists, so intense are they, so cool, so assertive of the power of
right over wrong. But an artist much more Greek than Dante
and one who is often, but very mistakenly, thought to resemble
Michael Angelo, was Tintoretto. His was a Greek sense of
form, his was a Greek sense of beauty, and his was a com-
pletely and absolutely Greek sense of what constituted true
portraiture. There were others too of this group, but they
are rare and far between; men who seem to have been born
two thousand years too late, or else just in time to save the
world from a worship of what was mentally warped and
physically unsound.
When one considers that the art of sculpture has found
its chief employment in the service of religion, it becomes
plain why living among a people whose religion led to asceti-
cism, even though the age was largely sceptical, Michael Angelo
should impress his work with a feeling quite opposed to that
found in the works of Pheidias. Scepticism there was in
ancient Greece too, but not strong enough to free Pheidias
entirely from the bonds of the religion to which he was from
infancy accustomed. Furthermore, a scepticism that found
much fuel for its flames in the misconduct of the Vicar of Christ
and his less powerful imitators would have a very dissimilar
effect on the mind from that which was based on true mental
development. The one was the natural sloughing of the
skin, the other the amputation of a diseased member.
I
114
STUDIES
The conditions at Rome had more effect on the formation
of character in those days than anything else, and they can-
not have seemed much less rotten to Michael Angelo than
to Hildebrand five hundred years earlier. The feeling that
Christ was essentially the man of sorrows, which affected the
early artists, had passed from men's minds, and in regard to
his comeliness there was nothing to prevent an artist working
in a Greek spirit; but employed though Michael Angelo
was by the Popes, they used him by no means always on re-
ligious work.
And Michael Angelo also suffered, as Pheidias did not, from
having many masters. These were causes to destroy any
Pheidian-like unity in Michael Angelo's work, but causes
much more potent to work him injury were the characters of
the men for whom he worked, prince as well as Pope. It
was, doubtless, in many respects fortunate for a young artist
to have the freedom of the court of Lorenzo de' Medici, but
while Lorenzo might help such a man as Michael Angelo at
the beginning of his career, he was hardly the man to inspire
his more mature years. At any rate he died while Michael
Angelo was still young, and thenceforth the latter worked for
men with whom he can have had but little sympathy. Men of
great energy they were, but with the exception of Alexander
VI, in the main corrupt or stupid. To work for such men
under any circumstances must have been trying, but when
one thinks of their refusal to allow Michael Angelo to work as
he saw fit, one does not wonder that at times he was nervously
irritable.
Obviously such a life would have been trying to a man of
more ordinary clay than Michael Angelo, but to him, endowed,
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
115
as he was, with enormous powers of mental application and
sensitive as only poets are, it must at times have been little
less than torture. He knew that the golden age of his country
had passed. He saw Florence humbled and Rome sacked.
The statesmen were men of mean ambition and the clergy
men of lax morals. Nothing could stop the degeneration.
Political reformers and saintly enthusiasts had matched them-
selves against the ever-increasing debasement of Italy, and one
after another they had all been overcome. From the days of
the doubtful reforms of Crescentius or Cola da Rienzi through
the period of the passionate recalling of Christ by Francis of
Assisi to the time of bitter invective of Savonarola, reformers
had given their lives in the attempt to save their beloved
Italy from the error of her ways, and all had failed. It was
not a time for hope but for sorrow, and it needed a firm belief
in the Divine Word to save one from despair
discontent.
or at least
It is from his sonnets and letters rather than from his sculp-
ture that we can obtain a view of Michael Angelo's thoughts
and feelings. Not that the latter does not show certain moods
of the artist very clearly, but, as in the Pietà, it is more ideal
than personal, more the expression of dreams than of his
actual experience. In the sonnets, on the other hand, he gives
vent to his own innermost feelings. In them we find frequent
expression of deep despair, but bitterly as he grieved for the
death of Savonarola, there is no evidence that he thereat lost
faith in humanity. It may well have been his admiration of
Vittoria Colonna that saved him from misanthropy. As his
intercourse with her was undoubtedly the purest joy and her
death the keenest sorrow of his later years, so there may have
116
STUDIES
been some similarly sweetening influence during the summer
of his life. The knowledge of his career that we possess is
great, but it does not tell us this. It is for our purposes,
perhaps for all, better that this should be so. At least it
makes it easier to compare him with Pheidias, of whose life
we have no such details whatever.
Such were some of the general conditions affecting the point
of view of these two men. The effect they had on particular
work becomes evident with the study of the separate monu-
ments. One point is, to begin with, very noticeable. It is
that of the eight works by Pheidias mentioned distinctly
by ancient writers seven are representations of deities, and
the eighth of an ideal being. There can be no question that
he made other works, but that these alone were preserved by
tradition certainly affords safe grounds for the deduction that
his genius was most congenially employed and most fully
displayed in such work. In the case of Michael Angelo, while
we know of work like the statue of Julius or the Battle Cartoon
(not to mention his youthful efforts) that have nothing to do
with religion, yet his mind also turned to religious subjects
and his greatest works are entirely of this character.
Curiously enough it is when employed on subjects drawn
from the ancient world that Michael Angelo is most unlike
the great Greek. His Pietà, the Madonna of Bruges (Plate
LIII) and Victor (Plate LIV) are more Pheidian than his
Bacchus (National Museum, Florence; Plate LV) or his Eros
(South Kensington Museum; Plate LVI). These are Greek
of a kind, but they are Alexandrian rather than Pheidian.
They are as foreign to any conceptions of the fifth century as
they are to those of the Catholic Church. The drunken,
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
117
tottering Bacchus is as different from the early conception of
the God, who was thought of almost more as the sunshine
that makes the grape than as the juice itself, as the shrinking
and self-conscious Venus of the Capitol is from the Venus of
Cnidos. In his sensuality the Bacchus is un-Pheidian and in
the humour introduced in the group by the presence of his
companion he is equally so. Humour was not lacking to
the Athenian, as the drama shows, but the fields of sculpture
and painting were not considered the proper place for its
display.
In still another point is the statue of Bacchus comparable not
to the early but to the late Greek work, and that is in the realism
of the modelling and the action of the figure. Such modelling
bears no relation to the broad treatment of Pheidias. The
latter shows no such morbidezza, nor would he have dwelt on
the repulsive unsteadiness of the pose. Whoever it was that
carved the famous Borghese Anacreon, and it was some con-
temporary of Pheidias, shows us how the earlier Greek artist
felt towards drunkenness. The figure is under the influence
of his much-sung God Dionysos, but he is shown in attitude of
mental ecstasy not of physical uncontrol. What stamps the
Bacchus and the Eros (and much of his other work) as non-
Greek is a lack not exactly of beauty, but of delicacy and re-
finement, of charm. But each of these characteristics that
differentiates Michael Angelo's work from that of the Greek
stamps it as a work of the Renaissance. The pleasure in
technical excellence, the realism and the representation of
unpleasantness are all qualities that recur over and over again
in the work of this vigorous, capable, unflinching, unbelieving
period.
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STUDIES
Similar un-Pheidian qualities show in the figure of Eros in
London, which if not by Michael Angelo, is at least made en-
tirely in his spirit. The same realism of modelling is seen in
the treatment of the head and face, the same choice of an
action inexpressive of the deepest meaning of the figure. It
is still less Pheidian in the vividness and intentness of the
action and expression which are not explained by the figure
itself, but the meaning of which is left to the imagination of the
beholder to discover. Dramatic quality of this sort is rarely
found in Pheidian work. The statues carved in that time
were self-explanatory. Single figures were often represented
as intent or as full of movement as the Eros, but their action
is not motived by something outside themselves. Hence
they do not puzzle the beholder. The Anacreon, the Dis-
cobolus need no explanation, but Michael Angelo's Eros needs
to be grouped (at least in imagination) with some other figure
before it can be understood. It is like Myron's Marsyas,
splendid and suggestive but incomplete.¹ Separate figures
of the Parthenon pediments are as dramatic as the Eros, but
then they form part of a group and as such their meaning was
perfectly clear.
An instance is found in one of the group of Gods on the
eastern end of the frieze of the Parthenon (Plate LVII). The
figure is commonly called Ares. He is seated forward on his
throne, and holds one raised knee between his clasped hands.
Such an attitude, so lacking in grandeur, so suggestive of rest-
lessness, is well suited to the fiery God of Battles and shows
how free and ungoverned by conventions Pheidias could be.
¹ The recent discovery of a life-size marble copy of the Athena of the Marsyas
group has made Myron's character much clearer than before. See Pollak in the
Jahresheften des Oesterreichischen Archaeologischen Institutes, 1909, p. 154.

PLATE LVI.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
119
The group as a whole is a perfect expression of the power of
the master, to be simple as a child in this treatment of the
Olympians and yet never to fail to produce work of supreme
beauty.
This simplicity one notices in all Pheidian work, separat-
ing it sharply from the later work in Greece and from most
of the work in Italy, particularly from that of Michael Angelo.
Pheidias is not in the least affected, but at the same time he is
not actualistic. Of the hundreds of figures in the full round
and in relief that decorated the Parthenon there is not one, nor
even a group, that does not seem absolutely and utterly simple
and real. And yet there is not one of them which close study
does not reveal to be a marvellous composite of actions and
forms and draperies and expressions which all bear the stamp
of idealisation (Plate LVIII). The effect of perfection that the
work conveys is due perhaps to Pheidias not having tried to
idealise in any vague or artificial way, but to his combining an
absolute dependence on Nature for his models with a capacity
of seeing, and solely representing, their essential beauties. So
while his figures are ideal in the sense that they are more
perfect than average mortals, yet they do not seem unap-
proachable and unaccountable.
Now this, we may freely grant, cannot be said of Michael
Angelo's work. His figures are simple, yet it is not the sim-
plicity of Nature but of Art. A passing glance may find them
equal to the Pheidian works, but a more careful study shows
that though true to Nature and possible in action, they are,
in respect to both body and attitude, improbable. They are
composed, and hence in a way untrue. The Pheidian beings
seem those of the Golden Age-perfect and unconcerned;
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STUDIES
while the others oftentimes seem interested in their own
perfection and desirous that it should be admired. One knows
enough of Michael Angelo to know that though self-conscious,
such thoughts were far from his mind and if, as I think, they
are to be seen in his work, it only shows that the time was
stronger than the man, for he lived in a period when affecta-
tion was not uncommon. The grandeur of the Greek figures,
as manifest in figurines as in colossal works, is due to the
beauty dependent on a mental poise; that of the Florentine
figures is due to their size and suggestion of physical strength
and to their facial and bodily expression that imply the capac-
ity of untold depths of passion quite as physical a con-
sideration as that of size.
Of course it may be said that the Eros is merely a study of
the human frame in a rather complicated position, but even so,
my contention that the figure is un-Pheidian still remains
true.
The strength of the action exhibited by this figure of Eros,
the tremendous play of muscle while at the same time the
figure is thought of not as in motion but as at rest, is what one
finds in very many figures painted and carved by Michael
Angelo and forms one of the most distinctive characteristics
of his work. It shows in the Slaves, in the Medici figures,
in some of the sacred groups, in lesser measure but yet dis-
tinctly in the David and Moses, and as clearly as possible in
the paintings of the Sistine Chapel. It is due to this in large
degree that these works are so well known, for they strike the
eye of the casual and impatient sightseer and they are re-
membered with much greater vividness than work of a quieter
and less excited character. In the hands of a genius like
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
121
Michael Angelo such treatment of the human figure, and the
choice of such positions, seem natural and give no sense of
exaggeration or restlessness.
It is commonly held that genius is limited by no law, and in
so far as is meant thereby to imply that no bounds can be set
to the concepts of great minds, this is true; in the attempt to
express such concepts to others, however, the genius equally
with less endowed mortals must be limited by the laws that
govern the material in which he seeks to find expression.
The penetration of a Sophocles or a Shakespeare into the
mysteries of life can have no measure set to it, but when they
tell us their thoughts, their words are bound by the laws of
verse. No final explanation can be given for the teeming
imagination of Michael Angelo, but some of his works may
be criticised for not conforming to the laws of space or
material that govern the arts of painting and sculpture. He
sometimes shows a lack of taste.
Genius shows in every touch of Michael Angelo's hand,
whether with brush or chisel, but at times his work is un-
satisfactory owing to its exaggeration. No admiration is too
great for specific qualities in everything he did, but it is clear
that the conception of beauty was not held by him as essen-
tial. To Pheidias, on the other hand, it was of primal im-
portance.
A comparison of the Parthenon pediments with the ceiling
of the Sistine Chapel may make clear my meaning. This
is not the place for fine analysis of either composition. Suf-
fice it to say that in each case the space has been filled by the
decoration with a perfection and adequacy that has never
been again approached, but I think it will be generally ad-
122
STUDIES
mitted that the chief impression of the pediments, shattered
though they are, is of beauty, while that of the ceiling is of
power. Michael Angelo tried at times to express in paint and
stone what cannot be clearly expressed in those substances.
This was what I have referred to as lack of taste. His Last
Judgment is a striking case in point. He attempted in that
work to do what Milton or Dante succeeded in doing better
with more suitable means. Even the Chief Actor in the scene
lacked the quality of grandeur which Michael Angelo seems
usually to have found no difficulty in suggesting. It is per-
haps because he felt the inadequacy of stone or paint for the
full expression of his ideas that he left so many works uncom-
pleted.
Michael Angelo's figures of Night and Dawn and certain
figures in the Sistine Chapel may be criticised for the exag-
geration of their pose, though how extraordinarily successful
they are can be seen by comparing them with similar figures
by Vasari or other imitators of the master, which invariably
appear to be insecure and in danger of falling. The difference
in the kind of imitators who followed Pheidias, and those who
succeeded Michael Angelo, shows well one difference in their
genius and the effect on art in general that the two men had.
Both men had numerous pupils and followers, but in the
earlier time such men served to keep Greek sculpture at its
highest level, in the later they brought on a rapid degradation
of the art in Italy. The reason for this different result is
plain. Just as most people now see nothing in Michael
Angelo's work but strongly modelled figures and vigorous
poses, not knowing enough of his life to comprehend what
were the thoughts he desired to express, so the artists in his
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
123
own day thought the magnificence of his work lay in its
exterior form. Imitating this they succeeded in producing
only figures with unnaturally protuberant muscles placed in
uncomfortably contorted positions. Vasari and Bandinelli
are two instances in point. The painted figures of the former
are as foolish in their assertion of would-be grandeur as is
possible to conceive, and there are few things uglier or coarser
than the group of Hercules and Cacus by the latter.
In Michael Angelo this insistence on the muscular develop-
ment of figures is an accident perhaps due to his delight (a
pure Greek delight) in mere physical strength, such as he
himself possessed, but it is not the most telling characteristic
of his work. The truly essential part of his work is the thought
which his figures embody. His followers, being men of little
originality, as is shown by their trying to assume his pecul-
iarities, naturally succeeded not in making work like his, but
work which in reality serves to show their dissimilarity to
their master. It was unfortunate, also, that the very quali-
ties which attracted them were of a nature that if misunder-
stood lead to a more rapid debasement of art and life than
almost any other, for a love of mere physical strength is a
love of what allies one to the beasts of the field. Their work
unites them not so much to Michael Angelo as to the maker
of what (with the exception of the Laocoon) is probably the
ugliest and most brutal work preserved to us from antiquity
the Farnese Hercules.
All this was very different in the case of Pheidias and his
school. In his work there was nothing superficial to catch
the eye, no peculiarity except the perfection and beauty that
one feels instantly and yet cannot, without much care,
124
STUDIES
explain on what it depends. What was there then for other
artists to do if they felt his was perfect sculpture and they de-
sired to work towards it? His figures were calm and stately.
His greatness lay in his conception of the being he was called
upon to represent — in his point of view, that is. This showed
itself not in a technical skill superior to that of his fellow-
workers, for the artists then as in the Renaissance were in the
main equally skilful, but in a mass of infinitesimal details
which not so much by themselves separately as by their com-
bination gave his work its everlasting charm. It would not
have taken a quick-witted Greek long to realise that to pro-
duce Pheidian works he must look at life in a Pheidian way,
and the more successful his imitations the more calm, re-
strained and careful would they be. This Pheidian point of
view was such that his followers were turned toward spiritual
repose as the source of inspiration for their works rather than
toward restless activity.
The complexity of the attitudes of Michael Angelo's figures
is scarcely more noticeable than the multiplicity of the sub-
jects he was called upon to produce. Life was more compli-
cated in his day than in that of Pheidias, and there were more
varied demands made upon the artist than in the ancient
times. While Pheidias, so far as we know, had to make works
solely for the state or for some public purpose, Michael Angelo
was forced to gratify the whim of various powerful employers.
Oftentimes such work, as for instance the Sistine Chapel, was
of public character, but more often it was not, so that in place
of striving to embody the ideals of the state whose greatest
artist he was, he had to bend and mould his genius to satisfy
the personal ambitions of his masters. The story of the

PLATE LVII.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
125
Julian tomb illustrates this sad and thwarted part of his
career. Not only was he prevented from carrying out work
already undertaken in the way which he considered best, but
also he was forced to do that for which he felt himself unpre-
pared by previous training and unfitted by lack of interest
in the subject.
That this was his mood at the time when, notwithstanding
his arguments, Pope Julius II compelled him, in 1508, to begin
the work in the Sistine Chapel, is known. If, when working
against his will, he produced the most wonderful bit of deco-
rative and architectural painting the world knows, one can
but wonder what limit his talent would have reached had he
ever carried to completion any of his great sculptural under-
takings. Just as his capacity for mingling in his figures deep
thought and powerful action shows not a greater but rather
a more varied genius than that of Pheidias, so his capacities
as painter, as architect, as engineer show that circumstances
led him to much greater variety of activity than probably
any ancient artist ever experienced. Not that this varied
activity must needs imply the possession of greater powers.
It implies merely the capacity of using an intellect highly
trained in one way for the accomplishment of purposes of
more than one kind. That is, it implies the possession by the
artist of adaptability and of common sense in its finest form,
and the possession of these qualities was not a rare charac-
teristic in the Renaissance. Men of all kinds showed it, but
it is most marked when it appears as part of the mental outfit
of painters and of sculptors, men who too often adopt a pose
of what they consider simplicity and lack of knowledge of the
world, as though ignorance were the stepping-stone to great
126
STUDIES
art. This was not the condition of things in the Renaissance,
nor, so far as the little evidence we have allows us to judge, in
Greece. It created no surprise when Van Eyck and Rubens
were considered as proper persons to be entrusted with affairs
of state, nor when the military protection of his city was put
into the hands of Michael Angelo, nor when Leonardo laid out
the irrigation system of Lombardy. Life is more complicated
now and in many lines work has to be more specialised — but
this is no reason why artists should be stupid.
The fact that the talents required for painting and sculpture
are not incompatible is clearly shown by Michael Angelo's
works. The most common criticism passed on them, and one
that is in part true, is that his sculptures are at times too pic-
torial while at others his paintings are too sculptural. Certain
it is that parts of the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel look, at
first sight, more like sculptured figures than like painted
decorations. Michael Angelo was unquestionably aware of
this, and the effect was intentionally sought by him. To state
as a rule of art that work on the flat should always look flat
is a mistake. There is no law of optics or of architecture
which demands this.
The application of the laws of art must depend on the
individual practitioner.¹ In treating the figures in the Sistine
Chapel in a sculpturesque way Michael Angelo produced
a work more like the Parthenon in the perfection with which
the decoration is adapted to its position than is elsewhere to
¹ The modern theory that wall paintings should be flat, that they should not give
the impression of an opening beyond the wall they are on, is contradicted by all the
practice of the Renaissance. Lippi, Gozzoli, Leonardo, Raphael, Michael Angelo,
Veronese, Correggio, to recall but a few, all used wall painting as a means of sug-
gesting larger dimensions and more ample space than the rooms they decorated
actually afforded.

PLATE LVIII.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
127
be seen. He has used painting, that is to say, in much of his
design to suggest sculpture, which is the richer and more
suitable adjunct to most parts of architecture,¹ and thereby
produced a complex architectural work instead of producing
merely a painting which, like many of those in Venice, might
equally well be placed anywhere else.
A comparison will make the point plain. Take most mod-
ern decoration of a similar sort and how infinitely feeble and
accidental it seems! Look at the decorations of the Pantheon
in Paris, of the Boston Public Library, and the difference may
be seen.
Great painting one may see there, but not great
decoration of architectural works; and ceiling or wall paint-
ings are nothing else. Any one of these paintings taken from
its present position would look equally well on any other wall
large enough to hold it, or in any gallery, and would also have
equal meaning there. Not so Michael Angelo's work. As
a whole it could be put nowhere except where it is, and if cut
in pieces each bit would cry out in its solitude and demand the
juxtaposition of the other parts. The work is as perfect a
finishing of the Chapel as though it were some natural growth.
This is equally true of the sculptures of the Parthenon. How
inconsequent and unmeaning they look when taken from their
natural place is shown in the British Museum by the Athe-
næum Club and Hyde Park Gate in London.
Michael Angelo's other paintings also have a sculpturesque
look. This is partly due to the fact that the foreground,
where atmosphere has little effect, is more studied than the
background. To him as to Pheidias the human figure was
1 To illustrate by an example: the low relief work of the Tempietto at Rimini
is a more perfect form of decoration (partly because of its permanency) than
painting would have been.
128
STUDIES
of the deepest interest, but its natural surroundings of little
or none, so the figures are drawn with a distinctness and
illumined with an intensity of light which make them look
more solid and material than many a painter's work. It
does not mean that Michael Angelo failed to understand the
function of painting as a Fine Art. The true function of art
is the presentation of the ideal and this is done by the transla-
tion of emotion. This translation of emotion, when accom-
plished with the motive of giving pleasure by pleasing the
senses or elevating the mind, produces the noblest art, for this
search for pleasure is in healthy minds but the search for
beauty, and beauty is the suggestion of the ideal. This being
the general function of Art each one of the Fine Arts follows in
ways individual to itself the search after beauty in the trans-
lation of emotion. Music is the most subtle and architecture
is the most general of the arts, and poetry the most commonly
understood, while painting and sculpture, the terms of which
are hardest to define, are the most closely related. As an art
architecture is an expression of man as a social animal. Paint-
ing and sculpture are its proper adjuncts. Painting ought
to be merely the representation by colour of three dimensional
spaces in two dimensions, while sculpture should attempt
nothing but the rendering of forms in full or partial relief.
Each art per se has special powers, but when used as a detail
of work of another kind, its peculiarities must then be sup-
pressed till it is in accord with the work of which it is a portion
or detail.
Now this is exactly what Michael Angelo accomplished. It
is natural for painting, since it cannot represent figures in the
round, to lay most emphasis on the face, but when it is used
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
129
to ornament the separate parts of an architectural work, it
must generalise its own peculiarities and use them to enrich
the architectural scheme. For in so far as painting thus used
impresses the beholder with its excellence as painting, by just
so far has the architecture become a frame for the painting
and the painting failed to be a glory added to the architecture.
Michael Angelo was a great enough genius to be able to use
painting perfectly as an additional splendour to his architec-
ture.
You do not think of the figures or pictures on the Sistine
ceiling as separate works — in large measure the composition
is such that you cannot - so much as the finishing ornament
of the Chapel. This is because the artist did not put the
greatest amount of expression into the faces, it permeates
equally the whole body. Thus these grand creatures look like
sculpture, which is in fact, as more similar in its permanence
to architecture, the noblest means of decorating a building.
Ceilings cannot, it is true, be covered with carved figures, and
great care should be chosen in the scenes depicted on them, for
they do not offer a suitable position in which to hang pictures
that are primarily conceived as pictures. This was a common
mistake of the Venetians, who covered the ceilings of the Ducal
Palace, Santa Maria del' Orto and countless other buildings
with elaborate paintings of subjects that have no architec-
tural significance and cannot be thought of as scenes taking
place in the heavens. They are in fact large easel pictures
and as such would be better seen if hung upright on the wall
than in their present position.
In the Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo showed his complete
understanding of painting as an ornament and finish to ar-
K
}
130
STUDIES
chitecture, and in his easel paintings he manifests, if not as
complex effects as some painters, at least as full a knowledge
of what constitutes painting, from its roots of drawing and
composition to the full blossom of colour and expression.
Perhaps the most marked peculiarity of his paintings is the
lack of complex backgrounds of any sort, whether of land-
scape, or drapery, or architecture. This again allies him to
the Greeks, not to those of any one age in especial, but to all,
for the most marked difference (leaving the less important
matters of medium and technique aside) between their paint-
ings and those of modern times is, that they did not consider
backgrounds as a part to be treated with much elaboration
or care.
The Greek painter, we know, presented his scene with only
enough suggestion of the surroundings in which the figures
stood for the beholder to understand the general character of
the spot where the action was taking place. He lavished his
care on the figures, and did nothing to distract the full atten-
tion of the beholder from them. Michael Angelo did the same.
In so far as he rivets your whole attention to the figures on
the canvas, his painting is sculpturesque, but this word cannot
be applied to his work in the sense that he was ignorant of
the principles of painting as an art of expression. That in
his painting as in his sculpture he tended to overstep what are
generally considered the proper limits of the art is true, but
this was due rather to great knowledge than to any imperfect
understanding. At such times he was striking out into the
unknown realms of discovery and searching for new possibili-
ties for the arts of which he was the most accomplished master
of the time.

PLATE LIX.
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
131
I have tried to show how the general beliefs and ideals of
the people among whom they lived would have tended to dif-
ferentiate these two artists one from the other in certain ways
and to ally them in certain others. But different or similar,
can it be said of either: this one is the greater? I think not,
even though one recognises that Michael Angelo certainly
gave more varied expression to his genius. Neither of them
shows a more complete understanding of the arts, or embodies
a fuller realisation of the ideal in his figures, than the other.
Take for example Pheidias's statues of Athena and Michael
Angelo's of the Madonna. No artist could express all each
of these beings suggests in one figure, but it would be a hard task
to find anything that they did not show in one or the other
of their several presentations. We know with considerable
accuracy what was the grandeur of the Athena Parthenos, the
guardian of her chosen people, and we also know the divine
rage felt by Athena the warrior Goddess driving Poseidon
from the sacred citadel; and finally we know by literary and
probably by ocular evidence with what consummate grace
Pheidias represented Athena the ideal of Attic maidenhood.
There are many other statues of the Goddess by other artists
and from other periods but none I believe that add to the
realisation these three give us of what Athena was to the
Athenians.
In the same way Michael Angelo shows us the feeling of
his time towards the Virgin. In the figure at Bruges we see
the youthful figure - the Virgin of the Visitation. In the
partially finished group in Florence there is more trouble in
the face, the feeling expressed in the words "behold, thy
father and I have sought thee sorrowing" and "they under-
132
STUDIES
stood not the saying that he spake unto them" (Plate LIX).
In the Pietà in St. Peter's her heart is numb with grief- the
flood of sorrow that has whelmed her is
"Such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound or foam,
When that which draws from out the boundless deep
Turns again home."
Her figure as shown us by other lesser men seems trivial or
incomplete when these are remembered.
If one considers the larger undertakings of the two men,
the Parthenon and the Sistine Chapel, one cannot say that
either surpasses the other, though one can say with absolute
security that neither has ever been approached. In these
works they show themselves the masters of all craftsmen.
Note the way in which the composition of the Parthenon
groups suits the long, low triangular space in which they are
placed, each group, taken as a whole, being made up of nu-
merous lesser groups which are quite perfect by themselves and
so interwoven by means of upraised arms or turned bodies or
bits of floating drapery, that it is only after careful observa-
tion that one sees how the artist made various parts unite
into one perfect whole. It is the acme of architectural sculp-
ture. It seems simple, but one searches in vain among the
pediment groups that have been made since for one that can
approach it even distantly in merit. It is this same inter-
twining of simple, unforced separate parts into one grand,
living completeness that marks out the ceiling of the Sistine
Chapel as a thing apart and unequalled.
To compare the more private, perhaps more personal works,
of the two men is impossible, for the reason that nothing of
PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO
133
this sort made by Pheidias has been preserved for us. There
are a few such by Michael Angelo, some from his earliest years,
as the Battle of the Centaurs, others like the David or perhaps
the Eros. From these we get a suggestion regarding the ideas
which Michael Angelo thought were to be expressed by sculp-
ture. The bas-relief showing the Battle of the Centaurs can,
however, scarcely be taken into consideration, for it is a work
of his mere boyhood and shows little except unusual power
for a youth and an interest, which apparently did not last,
in subjects drawn from ancient art. The man's unconven-
tional and powerful nature is shown by the fact that in his
mature years he did not ever, as most contemporary painters
and sculptors did, try to copy the antique in any way. His
own mind was too active for him to adopt either the subjects
or modes of other men's work. So, too, in the case of Pheidias,
his work does not suggest that of any predecessor, but in later
periods of Greek sculpture the figures which hark back in
some way to Pheidian originals are innumerable.
In the David, in the figures in the Medici Chapel and those
for the Julian tomb one sees the same strained look: physi-
cal calm and great strength combined with a marked expres-
sion of mental restlessness and trouble, undoubtedly signifi-
cant of Michael Angelo's own feeling of weariness and
of the 'powerful trouble' that beset the world. Pheidias
came just at the acme of a great period. Michael Angelo, on
the other hand, felt that the light in the sky was that of the
waning day, not of the sunrise. His figures are sad; those by
Pheidias are quiet and peaceful. Society and the artist were
in harmony in the case of the Greek; they were not in accord
in the case of the Florentine.
134
STUDIES
Every point we study brings us to the same conclusion, that
while each of these men was the supreme master of his time
and of incomparable capacity, Pheidias had less to struggle
against than Michael Angelo; and through being able to carry
out his ideas unhampered, he had a better effect on his fol-
lowers than Michael Angelo, whose works are in the main
monuments of thwarted purpose. Each sought unceasingly
to embody in his work ideals of beauty beyond the influence
of contemporary events. In the one case this was possible,
in the other not. To the Greek, contemporaneity was nothing,
to the Italian, it was all. Where Pheidias was called on to
decorate the chief public building of Athens with scenes of
war which were known only by popular tradition and which
were instinct with poetry, Michael Angelo had to depict a
battle that was a mere incident of border warfare. Each of
these men, however, enriched the world with works that are
unsurpassed, and similar work will never again be accom-
plished.
With the passing of the Greek world passed the ideals
that inspired Pheidias. Others came and faded away again
with Michael Angelo. Their works are immortal in the sense
that in their kind they cannot be superseded. But the arts
themselves are not immortal, for this would mean that they
could not advance and develop. It is in this
It is in this power of growth
and change and adaptation that art is allied to science, and we
turn to the most recent exponent of either with the incom-
mensurable hope that he may have found the master key to
beautiful new worlds.
III. A HEAD OF ATHENA FROM CYRENE
In the first, and, as it was destined to be, the last report
on the excavations by the Archæological Institute of America
at Cyrene,' I published a marble head of Athena which we found
a few inches below the surface on the top of the Acropolis.
The spot where it was found afforded no clew to its origin.
It came to light in a small room constructed probably in the
later Ptolemaic times, and had obviously fallen and been lost
to sight, by one of those inexplicable accidents familiar to all
excavators, on the spot where our picks discovered it. No
temple stood near; no trace of pedestal could be found and
no other fragment of marble came from the torn covering
of protecting earth to help answer the eager questioning
the quiet face aroused. Except for a flake off the hair, the
tip of the helmet projecting over the brow, the edge of one
ear and the point of the nose, the marble was as fresh as the
day the figure was first unveiled to the worshipping multitude.
(Plates LX, LXI.)
The perfect head alone is left us to solve the riddles the ar-
chæologist and artist may ask. Doubtless when in the on-
coming years the Italians have the satisfaction of finishing
the work which we inaugurated and made possible, further
discoveries will dispel whatever doubts now harass our minds,
1 In the Bulletin of the Archaeological Institute of America, Vol. II (1910-11),
Plates 47 and 79, and p. 162.
135
136
STUDIES
and students, forgetful of the time and circumstances under
which we wrought, will wonder why we hesitated, why we did.
not see, why the closed lips did not speak to us with as clear
a note as to them. Doubtless, but still it seems likely that
many years must elapse before others will be able to finish
our work, and in the meantime it is well to bring this lovely
bit of sculptor's art more adequately to the attention of stu-
dents than seemed wise before the hope of continuing the
excavation was blighted by the careless hand of war.
Before studying the special characteristics of this head of
Athena and showing how, notwithstanding the very numerous
representations of the warrior Goddess which we possess, it is
entirely individual and unlike any other, we may do well to
recall certain facts regarding Cyrene as a centre of Greek life
and thought, facts that are not open to question, being proved
by historical and other positive evidence. The accounts
given by the ancient historians and poets of the foundation
and rapid rise to wealth of Cyrene were sufficient to make us
certain that the archæologist's spade would find in plenty
those beautiful monuments of a long-since vanished spirit
which make the work of the excavator on Greek soil so en-
trancing and satisfying.
Even at inaccessible Cyrene, however, we were not the
first. In the early sixties of the last century, Smith and
Porcher, two fine examples of men of English breadth of
view combined with well-trained and persistent capacity,
had brought to light a considerable number of bits of sculp-
ture which showed clearly that Cyrene, like every other
Greek city, had once been a kindly nurse to artists. True
though it be that these broken fragments now sheltered in the

PLATE LX.
CYRENE ATHENA
137
British Museum were, with the exception of a magnificent
bronze head, of second-rate quality, still they dispelled all
doubt regarding one very important point; that is, they showed
that at Cyrene itself there were large numbers of sculptors
whose technical skill was of a high order. That there were
numerous sculptors was proved by the fact that the works
found by Smith and Porcher embraced a long stretch of
years.
At first sight this fact may appear little noteworthy, and
its bearing on our Athena head may not be perceived. It
takes on a fresh aspect, however, when we realise that there
is no marble to be found within hundreds of miles of Cy-
rene, and, in consequence, the stone must have been im-
ported to the city. It might be suggested that not the
marble but the finished carvings were imported, as we know
from literary evidence was sometimes done in other parts of
the Greek world. Had the English and ourselves found only
one or two examples of supreme merit, this theory might be
tenable. No one, however, will attempt to uphold it in the
face of the numerous busts, statues, bas-reliefs, grave monu-
ments and inscriptions, many of which are of very little
importance, which were dug up by the Englishmen and our-
selves. Portrait busts alone show that Cyrene had her own
sculptors who, even though they lacked the advantage their
confrères of many Greek cities had in near-by quarries, man-
aged to overcome the difficulties Nature put in their way and
struggled to a mastery of their chosen art. The bearing of
this on the Athena will become manifest as we go further into
the study of the subject.
If only another Pausanias, one might suggest, had gone sight-
138
STUDIES
seeing and note-taking along the surprising shores of Libya,
our work of interpretation had been far simpler. But though
we are not helped by such written evidence, we can still dis-
cover the essential qualities and meanings of these sculptures,
and the diggers who in years to come drive our trenches deeper
into the ground will find nothing more unexpected than the
Athena, for she is the drifted seaweed that proves the still
invisible land. In fact, I for one am glad we have no Pau-
sanias to dull the edge of our wits with his bald and often
erroneous statements. He has helped much in making it
possible to draw up chronological tables and schedules of
all sorts regarding the development of Greek sculpture,
yet had he never written, the true understanding of the art,
the comprehension of the forces that moulded it from the
days of its early promising effort through its bloom of unchal-
lenged perfection on to its phosphorescent decay, would have
been not less full and possibly even more intelligent than it
is to-day. Pausanias and others of his kind have handed
down many names which mean, in truth, no more to us than
the titles "master this" or "master that" of the medieval
German school of painting. Such facts and data are of
infinitely little importance. Even without them the razor-
sharp critical powers of a Heinrich Brunn or an Adolf Furt-
waengler (before he gave up his energy to acrimonious and
petty dispute) were not to be denied and without any fictitious
aid of names would have interpreted Greek art to us. That
there are always blind souls who, when they see the Hermes
of Praxiteles, think it Roman, and consider the Maiden of
Anzio a work of the time of the Antonines, and who find other
blind souls to follow them, does not delay the Brunns and
CYRENE ATHENA
139
Furtwaenglers when they make their rare appearance in the
world of scholarship.
Thus with no help or suggestion derived from information
given us by ancient travellers we start on our study of the
Athena with the knowledge that the technique of the art
of sculpture was so well understood, and the practice of it
so common, at Cyrene, that we need not, unless forced by in-
ternal evidence, look elsewhere for the nameless sculptor who
carved this masterpiece. The result will show that all the
internal evidence is in favour of its Cyrenean origin.
Since, then, sculpture was at Cyrene, as everywhere else
in the Greek world, one of the common modes of expression,
it remains for us to study the influences to which it was
subjected. We meet here the strange phenomenon that the
millennial-old civilisation of Egypt exerted apparently no in-
fluence whatever on the young Greek town to the west. That
towards the end of the latter's career, when she had fallen
under Ptolemaic control, she should be unaffected by Egyptian
thought is not surprising, for Egypt herself had at that time
submitted to the spell of Greece, and the true Egyptian art
must have seemed to the fellahin who then cultivated the
Nile valley almost as strange as it does to us. If, however,
the often-expressed theory, supposed to be borne out by
certain statues found on the Acropolis of Athens and else-
where, that the archaic sculptors of the Greek mainland were
more or less governed by Egyptian ideals, be true, then it is
odd that even the most archaic art of Cyrene, represented by
statuettes of the sixth century B.C., does not exhibit a similar
tendency. But this belief in the Egyptian influence on the
artists of Greece is based, it seems to me, on unsound evidence.
140
STUDIES
There are obviously two, and only two, chief points to con-
sider, if one would fully understand a work of art. One is its
outer form, the other what it is trying to express; for even the
childish and misdirected efforts of the "Futurists" are an
endeavour to express something-how futile these efforts
are is shown by the fact that were it not for the titles given
the works by the Futurists themselves no one, no matter how
capable an artist or how mystical a dreamer, could possibly
guess what they were intended to represent. The works
show an even greater confusion of mind than that of Father
Castel who in the early part of the eighteenth century at-
tempted to make instruments which he called clavecin des
couleurs and clavecin des odeurs, instruments intended to pro-
duce by means of changing colours and perfumes the same
effects as music.
Now one thing in very truth Greek art never was, either
in poetry, sculpture, painting, or in any other form: it
was never confused, but had always perfect lucidity. In
sculpture, for instance, the composition of the groups and
figures, though often displaying an intricacy almost as great
as that of a knot by Leonardo, is never anything but clear
to the trained eye. To understand the value of this quality
one need only look at the work of Rodin, which, no matter
what elements of greatness it may be thought to have, cer-
tainly has not one slightest atom of Greek quality. Besides
the evil of confusion another failure sculpture may show is the
stagnation of formalism. This is one of the most noticeable
features of Egyptian art. Notwithstanding the wonderful
technical dexterity of the workers in that land, hieratic in-
fluences were too strong for them and their natural impulses
CYRENE ATHENA
141
were shackled by the bonds of dogma. This blight, too, the
Greeks avoided. What then is the ground for maintaining that
their early art was influenced by Egypt? That the early sculp-
tors may have learnt many technical processes from Egyptians
I would neither deny nor affirm. They may even have had
Egyptian teachers, just as later the Romans had Grecian ones,
but that does not mean that Greek art was of necessity
moulded in accordance with Egyptian feelings and ideals.
True it is that there are certain Greek statues which re-
semble in pose and stiffness certain Egyptian statues, but there
is a fundamental difference between the two groups. The
pose is an accident and can be duplicated in work from other
parts of the world. The fundamental difference is that the
stiffness of the Greek work does not represent the formalism
of Egypt, but it is due to the awkwardness of inexperience.
Take, for instance, the "Aunts" found on the Athenian
Acropolis. They are by an unpractised, stiff hand and in that
sense they are formal; but they are far more, delightfully
spontaneous. Such work would have been inconceivable to
an Egyptian and would have seemed to him irreligious and
indecent. It is not to be thought that Greek art even in its
period of fullest bloom was not formal; it was. It was the
wonderful talent of the Greek clearly to understand the laws
proper to the various arts, but he was always spontaneous and
original, and his work exhibits formality but not formalism.
These qualities are seen in the earliest work found at Cy-
rene, the terra-cottas already mentioned. That they should
be so manifested is but another proof of the amazing force and
individuality of the Greek mind. Any other race would almost
surely have felt the influence of Egypt. Her territory joined
142
STUDIES
that of Cyrene on the eastern border and the land between
the city and the Nile offered no barriers of mountains or
desert to hinder easy and comparatively rapid communication,
yet the outer form and inner content of these early Cyrenean
figures is completely and unmistakably Greek. That traders
passed back and forth from one region to the other cannot
be doubted. Caravans plodded their slow way from the
sacred fountain to the mysterious river, coastwise boats skirted
the inhospitable shore even as they do to-day. The Greek,
then as now the costermonger of the Mediterranean, made
his money, but he kept his individuality. Throughout the
centuries, until at last spiritual aloofness was trampled down
by a ruder and more powerful race, at Cyrene as completely
as at Athens, the Greek maintained his own standards and
beliefs. As the clumsy terra-cottas, wrought not very long
after the first settlers were guided to the spring which made
a great city possible, show this, so also does the Athena.
Individual she is, and unique, but she is pure Greek. The
reasons for some part of her individuality will become clear
as we study her still further.
We see, then, that the Athena is a work expressing with un-
veiled distinctness the Greek spirit, and also that there is no
reason to suppose that the sculptor was other than Cyrenean;
it remains to find out at what date the figure was carved.
Often a mere fragment like this exhibits some detail that
makes it easy to fix the date of its origin with considerable
accuracy. In this case the question is complicated by both
technical points and general considerations. Had this head
been found in Greece itself or in any part of the Greek por-
tion of Asia Minor, the history of which is well known and the
CYRENE ATHENA
143
art of which has been laid bare by the archæologist, we should
have various well-established criteria by which to test and
estimate the head. But the definite historical records of
Cyrene are very scanty, and though what is probably in gen-
eral a fairly accurate idea of the development of the city can
be built up from the verses of poets, the accounts of historians
and other sources of various kinds, still there is little to help
us date a single work of art. There is, however, no reason
to suppose that the deeper currents which gave the course
to the life of Cyrene were very different from those which
guided the life of other colonies. Pindar's odes alone would
serve to show that the African city was in pretty constant
relation with the mother country. Hence it is safe to assume
that the arts developed in Cyrene very much as they did
elsewhere in the Greek world.
At the present time surely enough is known of the
various parts of that world to make us realise that all advance
did not spring from Greece herself. Though the Greek spirit
was bound to express itself in similar forms wherever Greeks
settled, still sometimes one region, sometimes another, was
in the lead. Hence any chronological scale as applied to art
must be elastic, and one must not give way to the temptation
to judge every new find by the standards set by the artists
of Greece herself. Provincialism and archaism often take
similar external forms. So, too, it is a general law that col-
onies develop more rapidly than the country from which
they spring. A rapid development may be brought about
also by geographical and climatic conditions in places which,
at first sight, do not appear to be conducive to the advance-
ment of art.
144
STUDIES
In years to come it will be proved beyond a doubt, I believe,
that Cyrene was such a place. Her distance from the regions
in which we are accustomed to think of the Greeks as working
out their destiny saved her from the wastage of those wars
which it is hard to regret because they have given us immortal
pictures of Greek courage and devotion. What her relations
with the native powers were we do not yet know, but had
they led to any such struggles as made the pride of Athens
and the other cities of the mother country, surely some echo
would have reached our ears. So we may think of Cyrene
as waxing fat from the moment when the 'first settlers, after
their long wanderings to find a habitable spot, climbed the
rocky hillsides and quenched their thirst at the spring which
with its bright arms still holds a small settlement. It is for
these general considerations of easy colonial growth, and free-
dom from external distractions, that I think the Athena can
be safely dated rather earlier than we should be tempted to
date her had she been found, let us say, in Athens or Sparta.
The technical point which I mentioned as making it diffi-
cult to date the head, is the helmet. It is of the Corinthian
type, but there is nothing in its general shape or details of
form by which a date can be fixed. Furthermore, it covers
the head so completely that only a few waving locks of hair
over each ear and the heavy braid resting on the nape of the
neck are visible. This concealment of the hair takes away in
large measure one of the most helpful methods of dating
statuary.
In the case of female figures, nevertheless, the treatment of the
hair is less helpful, perhaps, than in statues of the rougher sex
because in the former the more severe and orderly dressing

PLATE LXI.
CYRENE ATHENA
145
of the bound locks gave less chance for individuality of treat-
ment than did the crisp and wind-tossed curls of youths and
men; still, even in the women's figures the hair very often
betrays the date of the sculptor. Few though the tresses
are which escape the stern covering of Athena's helmet, they
are sufficient to help us in our elusive pursuit. The general
method in which the hair is arranged, parted over the brow
and drawn closely back above the ears to a knot or short
doubled up braid at the back, is one that suffered but little
change during several centuries. In the archaic time the
locks fell more loosely behind, while in the fourth century
they were more knotted, but these slight variations occur now
and again throughout the whole period of great Greek art
and were due more to individual fancy of artist or model than
to the stifling rules of fashion.
But though we must finally conclude that the mode of wear-
ing the hair does not assist us, as the cut of the dress most
certainly would have done had we been fortunate enough to
find the body of the statue, still the tresses between the temple
and the ear have a quality of their own which points to a defi-
nite time. They suggest the loose waving form of life with
noteworthy success. The sculptor belonged to a period when
the special nature of marble was thoroughly understood.
The period had passed when bronze and marble were treated
in almost identical fashion, and the time had come when sculp-
tors could manage various materials with complete under-
standing and were enabled to reproduce surfaces or substances
in the way best suited to malleable metal or to friable
stone.
The most perfect example of this understanding of sub-
L
146
STUDIES
stance which we possess, and one that has never been sur-
passed, is the head of Hermes by Praxiteles made in the first
half of the fourth century before Christ. The hair of the
Athena is handled in much the same way. The locks and
strands are not sharply outlined and separated one from an-
other but flow from brow to neck in subtly broken masses
among which the light plays in and out as softly as in nature.
This naturalistic treatment became common after it had once
been arrived at, but the tendency after the end of the fourth
century was to try for purer realism. This could not be
attained by greater skill in modelling and carving but only
by polishing or engraving the surface. The Athena exhibits
neither of these signs of decadence but the surface still shows
that lovely dusty softness which is characteristic of the best
work of the late fifth and early fourth centuries, a softness
which would not have been imperceptible and lacking in
effect even when the figure was tinted with colour, as, probably,
all Greek sculpture was.
It is not only the hair which suggests the date of the early
fourth century as the time when the Athena was made. The
broad chin, projecting well away from the neck, a chin that
would be heavy, were it not for the exquisiteness of its out-
line, which seems to have the living force of a coiled steel
spring, is such as was common in the fifth and early fourth
centuries. So, too, are the broad set, wide opened eyes over-
hung by the long low curve of the brow. Not a sign in these
of the sentimentally dreaming eyes with their melting lower
lids which we associate with the work of the imitators and
followers of Praxiteles; not a trace of the furrowed brow and
the eye gleaming, like a live coal, from the deep shadowed
CYRENE ATHENA
147
socket such as we see in the work of Scopas and the superb
masters of Pergamon.
In discussing such a fragment as this Athena it cannot be too
clearly remembered that the sculptor, like the poet, does but
express his own day, and if Praxiteles was delicate and senti-
mental or Scopas forceful and passionate, it was because
these were characteristic qualities of their periods. These
are, furthermore, exactly the qualities one would expect at
a time when old standards were beginning to be doubted and
the future offered nothing so substantial to take their place.
The same phenomenon is seen in the seventeenth century
of our era. In both periods thoughtful people either clung to
a sentimental repetition of old ideas which no longer had life-
giving and creative force, but were loved and dwelt on for
the sake of old association, or else they were driven to a pas-
sionate striving after new and dimly seen hopes and ideals.
Sentimental dreaming took the place of good hope and as-
surance while mystical passion took that of intelligent piety.
In the face of the Athena there is seen no sign of a troubled
spirit, she is calm and steadfast with the strength of perfect
self-poise, which could hardly be, were she sprung from a later
time than the early fourth century.
It has been insisted that there is in this head no trace
of sentimentality, and it may be thought that I have failed to
notice, or to give due weight to, the curious pose, drooping
over slightly to one side. This is one of the most noticeable
points about the head, but, to my mind, it expresses a feeling
common in the fifth and early fourth centuries and is not
motived in the slightest degree by the later sentimentality.
In the old man seated on the ground in the Olympia pedi-
148
STUDIES
ment, in the Mourning Athena at Athens, in most of the grave
steles of the late fifth and early fourth centuries, in the por-
trait bust of Pericles, is to be seen, in the pose and expression
of the figures, the expression of a deep sentiment of combined
gravity and tenderness. Again and again this sentiment is
expressed by the great dramatists in words that ring down
the centuries like distant bells. It is the recognition of
suffering and sorrow but also of the self-control that meets
them undismayed. When the Greeks lost their faith, at the
same time they lost this control. In the Demeter of Cnidos
and the portrait of Mausolus there are unmistakable signs
of lack of control, — in the former the startled pose, and in the
latter the look of distress plainly visible in the fine and vig-
orous face. The Athena resembles the Pericles and the grave
steles in this respect. The head leans over as though bent by
the wind (a position which emphasises the exquisite shape of
the neck), but in the steady, quiet eyes and in the sensitive
closed lips one sees plainly that simple directness that dis-
tinguished the Greeks of the period to which I attribute this
head, from all the other peoples who have inhabited this
earth.
I have just mentioned the mouth of the figure, and this is
the feature to which I referred before as showing, possibly,
the effect of local circumstance on the sculptor. It is a very
noticeable mouth; large with unusually full and richly mod-
elled lips — lips that could send the battle cry echoing across
the scarred and rock-strewn hills or could whisper like the
brook beneath the rosy-plumed oleanders. In shape it is
by no means a typical Greek mouth, but has a trace of the
fuller form common to the Libyans with whom the Cyreneans
CYRENE ATHENA
149
were in constant and close intercourse. While it is true that
history fails to note a single case of an individual of pure
black blood accomplishing anything of note except in a mili-
tary way, such do often possess great beauty of form and
feature, and this fact has been seized upon by the sculptor
of the Athena. With great skill he has softened the some-
what savage shape and given it the lines that are consequent
upon a higher civilization.
We have come now to the end of our study of this bit of
sculpture. It could be compared indefinitely with other
heads, and the similarities or differences could be pointed out.
Little would result, however, from such comparisons. What
is needed is more sculpture from the same region with which
to study the Athena. But till this is forthcoming, we are left
to the general conclusions derived from this single example.
These conclusions are that the Athena was carved by some as
yet unknown artist at Cyrene in the first half of the fourth
century B.C. and that the work differs from the Greek work we
are accustomed to in showing local characteristics both in
special features and in method. This may seem to be of small
importance and the head to be unworthy so elaborate a dis-
cussion; such would be the case were we to think of it merely
as an archæological remnant of a forgotten city and time.
But this head is more than a mere bit of flotsam. It is not
a dead and meaningless fragment, but has still the suggestive
and creative power of any true work of art. This vitality
and artistic veracity are shown by the extreme clearness with
which it illustrates two of the fundamental characteristics
of the Greek genius - humanism and directness.
The simplicity and directness of the Greek showed itself
150
STUDIES
in all he did or made. He never attributed human emotions
to nature and never bound himself with dogmatic conven-
tions. For these reasons he was never sentimental and never
dry or false. He saw ugliness, moral as well as material, in
the world around him, but recognising that it in no way added
to happiness, he did not wallow in it and proclaim himself a
"realist." When he came to consider religion he was straight-
forward in his treatment of the Gods as he was with himself.
They were but a superior race born from the same great mother
Earth (Pindar, Nem. VI. 1). Athena, the Goddess, is but a
woman and nothing more. He saw beautiful women in the
cities where he dwelt and in form of their physical perfection
he represented the bright-eyed Goddess. He sought no im-
aginary qualities, he attempted to express no hazy, mystical
dreams but finding beauty in mankind, he was satisfied to re-
produce it so well as might be.
Ordinary everyday life was the chief interest of the thought-
ful Greek. He had the same circumstances of existence around
him as we have to-day, and knew just as much of the origin
or the end of it all. Life, death and the passing show of time
were his schoolmasters as they are ours, and from them he
learnt humanism. He thought of the world not as a blind acci-
dent nor as a mystical promise but merely as the setting for
man and hence the conduct of life became his chief interest.
The Greek sought for all means whereby he might avoid the
pitfalls of youth, secure the comforts of well-rounded growth
and minimise the weaknesses and griefs of old age. To
attain this ideal certain things were seen to be necessary,
and from Solon, who considered that the man was happy
who had health, good fortune, good looks and children, to
છે.
CYRENE ATHENA
151
Aristotle, who (Rhet. 1360 b, 14) gave the same definition in a
more amplified form, the ideal did not alter. Even to-day
there is but one part of this that seems strange to us. That
is the stress laid on personal beauty. Good fortune, health,
wisdom, children and particularly wealth go to form the
general ideal of the modern world, but there can be only few
who would admit that the desire for physical beauty was part
and parcel of their ideal. The Greek on the other hand
frankly desired it almost more than anything else and showed
his perfectly simple and entirely pleasant belief in its value
by his games and by many a story which he told as illustrative
of enduring truths. One of these tales has a bearing on the
Athena of Cyrene. It is that of Peisistratus, who in order to
become ruler of Athens came there accompanied by a beauti-
ful woman in regard to whom he told the credulous citizens
that she was the Goddess Athena herself.
Thus we see that it is due to no mere partiality for the pleas-
ing form on the part of the unknown sculptor that this head
from Cyrene is beautiful, but because his brain and hand were
guided by ideals that were second nature to him. As we grow
familiar with the head, the loveliness of every feature, the sharp
insistence on sweet feminine beauty make one wish destruction
might fall on the vague and dreamy and contorted realisms with
which many of the modern artists would attract our attention.
The calm and steadfast eyes look at us across the centuries
and question our mysticism. The straightforward, imme-
diate, perfect humanity gives us pause in our mad search for
novelty, and should we conclude that this is perfect art, though
we may lose the sympathy of our contemporaries, we shall
win the companionship of those whose laurels are immortal.
GIORGIONE
Although in the following Study of Giorgione I express certain conclusions
which seem to me certain, it is nevertheless probable that there will never be
absolute agreement about his works. The indubitable facts concerning him are
so very few that no two critics can be expected to see the matter eye to eye. I
disagree in many points with the pathbreakers Morelli and Berenson, but it
should not be forgotten that the knowledge of such men gives an added keenness
to the innate powers of perception of those who come after them. Their torch
lights ours, and so the path is pursued.
The publication of Justi's valuable work on Giorgione (Berlin, 1908), in
which all the pictures still in existence that have bearing on Giorgione are re-
produced, makes full illustration of this Study quite unnecessary.
I. PAINTINGS ATTRIBUTED TO GIORGIONE
A GREAT upheaval and destruction of old traditions has
taken place of late years in regard to paintings, and while
much truth has been brought to light, a great deal of fancy
has been given the semblance of veracity. The name of
Morelli is familiar to all who take a serious interest in the
paintings of the Italian schools, and though he was not the
first to practise what not inaptly has been dubbed the 'toe-
nail' method of criticism, yet his writings are more volumi-
nous than those of other authors, and exemplify this method
of criticism more completely, so that he may be taken as the
protagonist of the school. It was the development of photog-
raphy, and the vast increase in the number of pictures of
which photographs could be procured, which gave rise to the
Morellian school. The writers of earlier days who could not
have before them on their tables, or carry with them to the
galleries, a large quantity of reproductions of the works of
any one master, were in a large measure prevented from study-
ing the comparative likenesses or dissimilarities of such pic-
tures.
But, as was natural, with this intensive study of photo-
graphs has come about a microscopic method of looking at
pictures which often disregards the larger and more unques-
tionable qualities, and satisfies itself with tricks of drawing and
the painting of details. It is as though instead of considering
155
156
STUDIES
the structure and content of a book, one should measure
the lines and number the punctuation points. It is within
the realm of possibility that the day has passed for treatises
based on such thorough study and acute perception of the
qualities expressed by the Italian painters as were written
by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, or such magnificently imagina-
tive and poetic interpretations as the enduring verities first
enunciated by Ruskin.
Not that these men did not make mistakes. Had they
never done so we should not be able to give a true valuation
to their work. Stupidity is not demonstrated by the making
of blunders but by the spirit that animates the person at the
moment of their commission. Ruskin, to illustrate by means
of the brightest example, realised that paintings are expres-
sions of thought just as much as are printed books, and that
they are to be read and understood not by adding the vowels
together in one heap and the consonants in another, but in
their entirety.
Morelli and his followers, on the other hand, are obviously
in large measure satisfied by an analysis of external forms and
if they discover that each of two pictures presents the same
number of curved and straight lines, no further proof is needed
to satisfy them that the same author is responsible for both
works. It is true that details of style must be studied and
were often neglected by the earlier critics, but the famous proof
of the identity of Moses and Melchisedek - "you take off
the -oses and add the -elchisedek" - will never satisfy many
people. Morelli forgot that it requires no special perception
to discover that Botticelli gave his figures square nails on
their toes and fingers, or that the knuckles of Rosselli's figures
GIORGIONE
157
are apt to be swollen. But it is exactly this kind of obser-
vation which copyists possess. By the observation of such
points one is able to say only that such and such a work is
externally like the works of this or that artist, but that it is
by him depends on quite other proofs.
One or two examples will show the fallacy of such a method
of argument. There is in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts
a picture representing the Virgin and Child with St. John.
The name of Botticelli is on the frame. So far as finger nails
or shape of nostril or locks of hair or position of fingers go
(and all these details are peculiarly treated by Botticelli), the
work might be considered to be by him. It is, however,
certain that Botticelli was not the painter of the panel.
Among several circumstances that demonstrate this, such as
the method of painting employed by the artist, there is one
that has to do with the spirit of the work, and which in itself
is sufficient proof: I refer to the figure of St. John. We have
enough works by Botticelli, the authenticity of which is es-
tablished beyond all question, to know that he could never at
any period of his career have represented this character with
a simper that reminds one of Francia's sentimental figures.
The picture is by a feeble imitator of the master. The works
of Botticelli and his imitators offer, because of the very marked
peculiarities of the master, extremely good examples to show
what mistakes arise by relying too exclusively on the Morel-
lian method, and in both public and private collections are
many pictures showing the mannerisms of the Florentine but
which are certainly not by him. Take another master,
1
¹ Mr. Berenson has done much to correct the attributions in his studies on the
artist he calls, since his real name is unknown, the Amico di Sandro. Berenson's
amico was, I believe, several amici.
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STUDIES
Leonardo. There has lately gone to America¹ a panel rep-
resenting the head of a woman. It was left by Morelli when
he died to Donna Laura Minghetti. To the followers of
Morelli, the picture seemed for a long time genuine enough,
but when the style of the headdress, the tone of the colour
and character of the painting, and lastly the position of the
head on the panel itself, had been studied, it became evident
that the painting was a modern forgery, and this was further
proved when an attempt was made to clean the panel.
These illustrations are sufficient to show that the final
judgment of a picture should be based on more than its tech-
nical peculiarities. The observation of these is good to begin
with, but it does not suffice. That even Morelli himself
instinctively felt the weakness of his method is shown in a
most humorous way in his description of his "discovery" of
the author of a portrait of a woman in the Borghese Gallery.
He tells us how before he looked at this canvas with
kritischem Auge he had first thought it to be by Dosso Dossi
and then by Sebastiano Luciani. The rest is too naïve to trans-
late, it must be given verbatim. "Eines Tages jedoch, als ich
wieder fragend und entzückt vor dem mysteriösen Bilde stand,
begegnete mein eigener Geist dem des Künstlers, welcher aus
diesen weiblichen Zügen heraussah und siehe da, in der ge-
genseitigen Berührung zündete es plötzlich wie ein Funken
und ich rief in meiner Freude aus: Nur du, mein Freund,
Giorgione kannst es sein, und das Bild antwortete: Ja, ich
bin's"; and then follows analysis and dissection of the
portrait.
The still small voice of his soul having interpreted the riddle
¹ In the gallery of Mr. Davis, in Newport, R.I.
GIORGIONE
159
of the picture he then saw that the eye, the expression, the
mouth were such as only Giorgione could paint. In a critical
case like this Morelli had to look first to something other than
anatomical or sartorial shapes. Unfortunately, in this par-
ticular case, he has convinced but few students by this sudden
and mysterious interpretation of the picture, and only his
most ardent apostles see in the ill-drawn portrait anything
but a feeble imitation of certain of the less subtle qualities of
the great Venetian.
Morelli made, however, other discoveries in regard to
Giorgione of greater import than this; but before taking them
up in detail it will be worth while to fix clearly in our minds
what we know about the Venetian's work from contemporary
or approximately contemporary writers. Vasari and Ridolfi
do not, indeed, fail to give the name of Giorgione to many a
picture that had never felt the artist's brush, but they saw
many a picture that has since disappeared and what they tell
us is the basis of all modern criticism of this most poetic of
all the Venetians. I believe it can be shown that much which
the earlier writers said of him, and which has since been for-
gotten or unwisely disregarded, is true.
I will say nothing of the life that Giorgio Barbarelli Gior-
gione, Zorzone as his comrade Venetians called him, led.
That has little to do with us. I wish merely to show which
pictures now labelled with his name may in my opinion be
confidently accepted as his, and which ones we are justified
in taking from him. In his early days he painted, says
Vasari, in the second edition of the "Lives":
1. Many pictures of the Virgin.
2. David, armed and with long hair, holding the head of Goliath.
3. Warrior with a red cap, a fur cloak and a silk jacket.
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STUDIES
4. Child.
(2, 3, and 4 were owned by the Patriarch of Aquileia.)
5. Portrait of Giovanni Borgherini and his master.
6. Head of a warrior, owned by Anton de' Nobili in Florence.
7. Portrait of Consalvo Ferrante.
8. Portrait of the Doge Leonardo Loredano.
9. Many other portraits.
10. Frescoes on the Ca Soranzo in Venice - one representing a figure of
Spring.
11. Frescoes on the front of the Fondaco de' Tedeschi
were apparently fantastical or allegorical.
12. Christ carrying the cross, in the church of San Rocco.
the scenes
13. A nude figure to show that by means of reflections painting is able
to show all parts of a thing at once.
14. Portrait of Catharine, Queen of Cyprus.
15. Portrait of one of the Fugger family.
This list suffices to show that Vasari's knowledge of Gior-
gione's work was slight and we can prove furthermore it was
also imperfect. This is disheartening enough, but a still greater
disappointment comes from the fact that of this list of fifteen
numbers (including of course many more than fifteen pictures)
there are but five of which either the originals or copies are
preserved to-day. These five are Nos. 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, and
15. Numbers 5 and 15 are certainly not by Giorgione. The
former is not improbably the picture in Berlin (No. 152) of
which a replica is in the Louvre (No. 1156), both pictures attrib-
uted merely to the Venetian school, and the latter hangs in the
Munich Gallery (No. 1107) under the name of Cariani.¹ No. 2
is usually thought to be the picture in Vienna, but Justi (Geor-
gione, p. 182) shows that it may be a picture in Brunswick.2
¹ An inscription of the seventeenth century on the back of this picture reads:
Giorgon De Castel Franco, F. Maestro De Titiano. The picture was engraved by
Wenzel Hollar in 1650, as the portrait of Buffalmacco by Giorgione.
2 The picture in Brunswick, a poor replica of which is in Buda-Pesth, is, or is
derived from, a picture engraved by Hollar in 1650 and called by him a "portrait
of Giorgione by himself." This is possible, but the picture is a mere wreck. See
Justi, loc. cit.
GIORGIONE
161
Ridolfi gives a much longer list of Giorgione's works:
16. Madonna enthroned, in the church of San Liberale in Castelfranco.
Portraits.
17. The dead Christ held by angels, at Treviso.
18. Frescoes on Giorgione's own house in Venice. Figures and fantasies.
Frescoes on the Ca Soranzo (same as No. 10). Destroyed all but
a woman with flowers in her hand and Vulcan who whips Cupid.
19. Fables from Ovid; among them Apollo and Daphne, and Zeus as a
bull with Europa on his back. These showed strong landscape
feeling. Gigantomachia. Deucalion and Pyrrha. Apollo and
the Python. Apollo and Daphne. Io. Phaethon. Pyrrhus and
Phlegon. Eos. Diana and Callisto. Mercury stealing Apollo's
herds. Jove and Europa. Cadmus and serpents' teeth. Actæon.
Venus and Mars caught by Vulcan. Niobe. Jove and Mercury
at the house of Baucis. Ariadne. Alcides. Achelous. Deian-
eira. Loves of Apollo and Hyacinth. Venus and Adonis. Those
owned by Sig. Vidman were: birth of Adonis, Adonis and Venus,
Adonis's death.
Portraits (cf. No. 9): Agostino Barbarigo, Catharine Cornaro
(perhaps the same as No. 14), Consalvo Ferrante.
20. Frescoes on the Ca Grimani alla Servisa (Nude woman of beautiful
form); on a house on the Campo di Santo Stefano, near S. M.
Giubenico (Bacchus, Venus and Mars, half figures, grotesques
and putti); and on the Fondaco de' Tedeschi (same as No. 11),
trofei, nudes, heads, allegorical figures measuring the world.
Man on horseback.
21. A concert (now in the Pitti).
22. Allegory of human life in Casa Cassinelli, Genoa (Nurse holding
crying child, and a knight; Youth disputing with Philosophers,
and an old man).
23. Celius Plotius attacked by Claudius.
24. Family group un vecchio in atto di castrare un gatto.
25. Naked woman and shepherd. She smiles at him as he plays his pipe.
26. David, a knight and a soldier, owned by And. Vendramin.
27. Naked Venus "ignuda dormiente, — è in Casa Marcella è a piedi
è Cupido con augellino in mano.”
28. Woman dressed as a gipsy, in house of Gio. Batt. Sanuto.
29. Saul holding by the hair the head of Goliath brought to him by
David. Owned by the Signori Leoni di San Lorenzo.
30. Judgment of Paris, owned by the Signori Leoni di San Lorenzo.
31. Judgment of Solomon, in Casa Grimana di Santo Ermacora; the
figure of the executioner unfinished. (Now at Kingston Lacy,
England.)
32. Virgin, St. Jerome and other figures, owned by Signor Gussoni.
M
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STUDIES
33. Warrior, owned by Signor Ruzzini.
34. Knight with black armour, owned by Signori Contarini da S.
Samuello.
35. Half figure of St. Jerome reading, owned by Signori Malipieri.
36. Portraits of Luigi Crasso, seated, with spectacles in his hand. Owned
by Nicolo Crasso.
37. Story of Psyche. Twelve pictures.
38. St. Sebastian, in the Chiesa della Annunciata, Cremona.
39. St. Sebastian, — three-quarter length, owned by Prince Aldobran-
dini.
40. David, owned by Prince Borghese.
41. A youth with a curious fur cloak, owned by Signori Muselli in
Verona.
42. Christ led to Calvary, with Mary and the virgin Veronica, figures
half life size.
43. Head of Polyphemus.
44. Portraits of women with strange ornaments and feathers in their
hair.
David with long hair, dressed in a corselet and with the left hand in
the hair of the head of Goliath (same as No. 2). This was a
portrait of himself.
45. A general.
46. Youth with soft hair and armed.
Portrait of one of the Fuggers (same as No. 15).
47. A nude figure with a green cloth over his knees and armour beside
him, owned by Van Veert in Antwerp.
48. 'Some say that he began' the picture of Pope Alexander III and
Frederick I in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio in Venice.
This list is disappointing in the same way as the previous
one, but, nevertheless, several of the numbers may be added
to the list of pictures which are preserved. Besides those
already noted in Vasari's list Nos. 16, 17, 19 (?), 21, 23,
26, 27, 30, 31, 38, 40, exist in one form or another, but
Nos. 17, 21, 23, 38 and 40, though still preserved, are not by
Giorgione. No. 17 has nothing whatever to do with Gior-
gione, and is attributed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle to Por-
denone. Whether this is by him is more than doubtful; I
will speak of it in detail and also of 21 later. No. 23, called
The Bravo, is in Vienna and is perhaps by Cariani; 30 is

PLATE LXII.
GIORGIONE
163
probably by Campagnola and is known by copies.¹ No. 38 is in
the Brera and is by Dosso Dossi, who was also the painter of
40, which is still in the Borghese Gallery. No. 48 was probably
the same picture as that mentioned in the Venetian archives
under date of August 14, 1507, and was probably destroyed in
the fire of 1575.2
Another author from whom we are able to gather more and
important information, is Marc Antonio Michiel, more com-
monly known as the Anonimo Morelli. Among the pictures
which he saw in Venice and neighbouring towns were several
attributed to Giorgione:
49. Head of a boy holding an arrow. Owned by Ant. Pasqualino, who
obtained it from Zuanne Ram.
50. Head of San Giacomo holding a pilgrim's staff. Owned by Ant.
Pasqualino.
The Anonimo states that this was either by Giorgione or by one of
his pupils and that it was copied from the Christ in the Church of
San Rocco.
51. St. Jerome, nude, seated in a desert place in the moonlight; "copied
from a work by Giorgione." Owned by And. Odoni.
Taddeo Contarino.
52. Three Philosophers. Owned by
53. Hell, with Æneas and Anchises. Owned by Taddeo Contarino.
54. Landscape with the birth of Paris. "One of his early works."
55. Portrait of Geronimo Marcello, armed, the body turned away
from, and the head towards, the spectator. Owned by Geronimo
Marcello.
Nude Venus, sleeping in the open air. "The landscape and the
Cupid were finished by Titian." Owned by Geronimo Marcello
(same as No. 27).
58. St. Jerome reading. Half figure (same as No. 35?). Owned by
Geronimo Marcello.
59. Soldier armed, but without a helmet. Half figure. Owned by
Zuanantonio Venier.
60. Head of a shepherd. In his hand a fruit.
Head of boy. In his hand an arrow.
(same as No. 49).
Owned by Zuanne Ram.
Owned by Zuanne Ram
1 Larpent, "Le jugement de Paris attribué au Giorgione," Christiania, 1885.
2 See Gronau, Repertorium für Kunstwissenchaft, 1908, p. 405. His comment
on p. 407 seems to me an error.
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STUDIES
61. Stormy landscape with a gipsy and a soldier. Owned by Gabriel
Vendramin.
62. Dead Christ and an angel holding him above the tomb. Finished
by Titian. Owned by Gabriel Vendramin.
63. Nude figure in a landscape. Pen drawing. Owned by Michiel
Contarini.
64. Finished picture of No. 63. Owned by Michiel himself.
65. Portrait of Giorgione's father.
Owned by Piero Servio.
Of this list, the particular value of which lies in the fact that
it was made by one whose early years were probably contem-
porary with the close of Giorgione's life, Nos. 52, 54, 61 and
perhaps 62¹ are still (either the originals or copies) in exist-
ence. No. 59 suggests a picture in the Colonna Gallery in
Rome which has much Giorgionesque feeling, but is in a ruined
condition.
Still another writer who mentions several pictures by the
master is Giacomo Barri. I quote the passages from the Eng-
lish translation of his book: 2
Page 106. Castelfranco. "Here is an admirable Picture of the Blessed
Virgin with her Son, the work of Giorgione. There are likewise divers
Palaces near adjacent where you will find works of the same Giorgone as
also of Paulo Veronese." (Same as No. 16.)
Venice, page 52. "And upon a front of a House near the house of the
Pisani, and the Palace of the Flangini, in S. Maria Gibenigo, there are
painted by the hand of Giogone, many Freezes in Chiaro Scuro, in Yellow,
Red, and Green, with rare fancies of Boys, in the middle of which are four
Half-figures, viz., A Bacchus, a Venus, a Mars, and a Mercury, coloured
after the usual manner of the Author." (There is a note added to the
words "the usual manner" which reads: "Which was not to paint in
above two or three colours.") (Cf. No. 20.)
Page 56. The 'Fontico de Todeseti' is mentioned. (Same as No. 11.)
Page 56. "In the field or place before S. Pauls you plainly see upon the
Front of the House of Soranzo several Figures of Giorgone, most beautiful
things." (Same as No. 10.)
Page 67. "The albergo of the said school [School of St. Marks]. As
you enter, the first square on your left hand is by Giorgone."
1 Cf. p. 52 f.
2 The Painter's Voyage of Italy. Englished by W. Lodge. Written originally in
Italian by Giacomo Barri, 1679.
GIORGIONE
165
Page 84. "The Church of the Hospital of the Incurabili.”
66
And over a
side Door of the Church you may observe a little Square of our Saviour
carrying the Cross and an Executioner drawing him along, by the hand of
Giorgone." (Same as No. 12.)
Treviso, page 97. "The Mountain of Piety in the aforesaid City." "Here
they preserve a Christ with a little Angel, a most singular work, by the
hand of Giorgone." (Same as No. 17.)
Cremona, page 114.
"Here is a picture of S. Sebastian and two Angels
by the hand of Giorgone." (Same as No. 38.)
67. Parma, page 126. In the Palace of the Fontana. "There is also the
picture of Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, a Painter, the work of Giorgone."
Only two pictures (66, 67) not mentioned by the other
authors are given in this list, and one of these, the portrait of
Sebastiano del Piombo, has, I believe, been lost sight of. The
picture that was in the School of St. Marks now hangs in the
Academia in Venice. It represents the story of the calming
of a storm by the saints Nicholas, George and Mark. Some
students consider this picture to be a work by Giorgione much
repainted by Palma or Paris Bordone. Others, with whom I
agree, fail to see in this ugly work the slightest suggestion of
Giorgione.
These then are the chief early sources for our knowledge
of the subjects painted by Giorgione. If the list of his works
seems small, it must be remembered that the painter was only
some thirty-three years old when he died. The inaccuracy of
the attributions made by these writers shows how careful one
must be in dealing with the information they give us, and sug-
gests the reflection that probably they were as careless in
failing to speak of works that were certainly by the master
as they were in mentioning others which unquestionably were
not by him. All new attributions must, however, be based on
a comparison with the few works which unbroken tradition
and common consent give to Giorgione, and not with those
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STUDIES
about which trained opinion differs. Individual judgment as
to the likeness one picture bears to another is very different
from convincing proof. Before criticising individual works
we must consider the basis for discussion that the lists present.
Of the sixty-seven different items mentioned, the following
are known to us.¹ 1 (?), 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, 15, 16, 17, 19 (?),
21 (?), 23, 26 (?), 27, 29 (?), 30, 31, 38, 40 (?), 42 (?), 52, 54,
61, 62 (?), 66. Of these only 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, 16, 21 (?), 22 (?),
26 (?), 27, 31, 52, 54, 61, 62 (?) need be considered as being
related in any close way to Giorgione. The claims of Cariani,
Licinio, Della Vecchia, and the host of other, generally feeble,
imitators of Giorgione to the other pictures may be studied
in Crowe and Cavalcaselle, or later works. Even some of the
works included in the small list just given are not accepted as
genuine by all the critics, but a few there are the authenticity
of which could only be questioned by bringing much more
serious evidence against them than I have ever seen adduced.
These rare, choice works are:
2. David, armed, holding the head of Goliath. Now in Vienna. This
is not the original, but, as noted by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, a
late copy. I own another copy, on panel, which shows the lower
part of the picture better than the Vienna copy.
11. Frescoes on the Fondaco dei Tedeschi. Preserved, except a frag-
ment only, in Zanetti's engravings.
12. Christ carrying the Cross, in the Church of San Rocco, Venice.
16. Madonna enthroned, in the Church of San Liberale in Castelfranco.
27. Naked Venus, asleep, in Dresden. Some critics still hesitate to
accept Morelli's attribution of this canvas to Giorgione, but the
greater number have, I believe, given a ready assent.
31. The Judgment of Solomon. Now at Kingston Lacy (Plate LXII).
This, the Castelfranco Madonna, and the Three Philosophers, are in
certain ways the most important works of the painter now existing.
1 I put a question mark after those which by general consent are no longer
attributed to Giorgione, and those which I doubt and shall discuss in the following
pages.
GIORGIONE
167
52. Three Philosophers. In Vienna (Plate LXVI).
54. Landscape with the Birth of Paris. A fragment of a poor copy of
this is preserved in Buda-Pesth. An engraving by T. van Kessel
from a copy of the picture by Teniers shows what the whole
composition was.
61. Stormy landscape, with a gypsy and a soldier. In the Palazzo
Giovanelli, Venice (Plate LXV).
To these nine unquestioned works by Giorgione are to be
added others that have no early literary evidence to bear
out their claims to a Giorgionesque origin, but which unbroken
tradition resisting even the assaults of modern criticism has
assigned to this category. Such are:
The Judgment of Solomon, in the Uffizi.
The Fire-test of Moses, in the Uffizi.
Knight of Malta, in the Uffizi.
Head of Christ carrying the Cross, formerly in the Palazzo Loschi Vi-
cenza, and now in Mrs. Gardner's Collection in Boston (Plate LXVII).
Study for the figure of San Liberale, in the Castelfranco picture, in the
National Gallery, London.
So far as the giving of any certain knowledge of Giorgione's
technique is concerned, the first three of these pictures are very
disappointing, for all of them have been so thoroughly re-
painted that the original work is much injured. While most
critics follow the tradition and believe Giorgione to have been
the painter of these pictures, there are those who do not hold
this opinion. For instance, Dr. Bode, one of the keenest
judges of pictures, does not think the Judgment of Solomon,
and the Trial of Moses, to be by him.¹ Others there are who
think that the judgment passed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle on
the Knight of Malta is very sound and satisfactory. They
¹ It is noteworthy that the backs of these two panels have patterns painted on
them showing that the pictures once formed part of some piece of furniture, and
it was in decorating such objects that much of Giorgione's time, according to
Ridolfi, was employed. For Bode's remarks cf. Burchardt's Cicerone, Vol. II, 913.
168
STUDIES
وو
say: "Giorgione's work was altered by later retouching, or
the painter is a skilful imitator of Giorgione's manner.'
Personally, I believe all these to be by him.
Taking now these fragments of written evidence and of
tradition, let us see what the modern writers of most repute
have considered to be examples of Giorgione's work. To
begin with Crowe and Cavalcaselle, they give as true Gior-
giones the following:
The Fondaco de' Tedeschi.
The Christ in San Rocco.
The Judgment of Solomon at Kingston Lacy.
The Chaldæan Sages (the Three Philosophers).
The Family of Giorgione (the picture in the Giovanelli Palace).
The Castelfranco Madonna.
The David in Vienna, of which they say "this is a late copy, perhaps
after the original noted by Vasari."
Of the traditional pictures they consider as the master's work:
The Judgment of Solomon, in the Uffizi.
The Trial of Moses, in the Uffizi.
The Knight of Malta (?), in the Uffizi.
They add:
The Shepherd's Offering in the Beaumont (now Lord Allandale's) Collec-
tion, London.
The Adoration of the Magi, in the National Gallery, London; formerly
owned by Sir William Miles, of Leigh Court.
These last two pictures are much less well known than the
others. I shall endeavour to show that the later attributions
of them to Catena or others are based on a mistaken idea of
Giorgione's style (not to mention Catena's), and that Crowe
and Cavalcaselle were perfectly right in their estimate of them.
Other pictures which are often thought of in connection with
Giorgione and which they, quite rightly I believe, refused to
acknowledge, are:

PLATE LXIII.
GIORGIONE
169
The Concert, in the Pitti.
The Fête Champêtre, in the Louvre.
Madonna and Saints, in the Louvre.
Nymph and Satyr, in the Pitti.
The Head of a Boy, at Hampton Court.
The Madonna and Child with St. Brigida, in Madrid.
To take more modern writers, we find a very different list
of works attributed to Giorgione by Morelli.¹ It consists of
the following:
The Trial of Moses.
The Judgment of Solomon.2
The Christ bearing the Cross.
The Madonna of Castelfranco.
The Gypsy and the Soldier (Giovanelli Palace).
* The Madonna and Child with Sts. Antony and Roch. (Madrid.)
The Knight of Malta.
† * Daphne and Apollo. This is in the Seminario of Sta Maria della
Salute in Venice. Crowe and Cavalcaselle (II. 165) attribute it to
Andrea Schiavone, and with their opinion I agree.
* The Three Ages of Man, in the Uffizi, ascribed usually to Lotto.
The Concert, in the Louvre. (Same as Crowe and Cavalcaselle's Fête
Champêtre.)
The Fragment of the Birth of Paris, in the Esterhazy Gallery, Buda-Pesth.
* Portrait of a Man, in the Esterhazy Gallery.
* Portrait of a Woman, in the Borghese Gallery, Rome.
† Nymph and Satyr, in the Pitti.
† Portrait of a Youth, in Berlin.
† Head of a Boy, in Hampton Court.
Three Philosophers, in Vienna.
* Venus in Dresden.
† Allegory, in Dresden.
† Judith, in St. Petersburg.
These Morelli considers copies
of Giorgione's work.
The pictures I have marked with an asterisk are those which
Morelli was the first to claim with insistence for Giorgione,
1 Die Galerien zu München und Dresden (Leipzig, 1891), p. 270 f.
2 Morelli adds the following note: "Weder die Herren Crowe und Cavalcaselli,
noch Herr Director W. Bode lassen diese zwei Bildchen alz Werke des Giorgione
gelten, sondern sehen dieselben als Schülerarbeiten an.” So far as Crowe and
Cavalcaselle are concerned, this statement is an error, as one can easily see by read-
ing what they say on pp. 128-9 of the second volume of their History of Painting
in North Italy.
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STUDIES
and with the exception of the Venus not one of these attribu-
tions has been generally accepted. Those marked with a dagger
are attributions of older or younger date. About all of them,
certain doubts, and about most of them doubts of very seri-
ous nature, must be dispelled, before the attribution can be
accepted.
The two points most noticeable in Morelli's list are the
differences in the style of the pictures included and the ab-
sence of others. It would be difficult to combine works more
dissimilar than the Berlin portrait of a youth and the portrait
of a woman in the Borghese, and even if one grants that an
artist working at the time when Giorgione flourished was sub-
jected to influences so strong and varied that the character
of his work altered from time to time, it can only be explained
by a miracle that the same man painted the Castelfranco
Madonna and the Daphne and Apollo. Even the last dashing
works of the century-old Titian differ hardly more from his
calmer earlier canvases than do these two pictures, which
Morelli would have us believe were painted by a man who died
at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three. This curious, one may
not unfairly say erratic, combination of Morelli may perhaps
be explained by supposing, as is true in other parts of his work,
that he was so taken up with the similarity of certain details
that he forgot to study the larger and more telling char-
acteristics of the pictures. But what explanation is there
of his strange silence regarding the Benson¹ and Beaumont
pictures, the Judgment of Solomon at Kingston Lacy, the
Vienna David, and the Christ bearing the Cross in San
Rocco ?
¹ I have not yet mentioned this picture, but shall speak of it in detail later.
GIORGIONE
171
A later and slightly different form of the Morelli list is given
by Berenson.¹ It is as follows:
Berlin, Portrait of a Man.
Buda-Pesth, Portrait of a Man.
Castelfranco, Duomo, Madonna with Sts. Francis and Liberale.
Dresden, Sleeping Venus.
Florence, Uffizi, Trial of Moses; Knight of Malta; Judgment of Solomon.
Hampton Court, Shepherd with Pipe.
Madrid, Madonna with Sts. Roch and Antony of Padua.
Paris, Fête Champêtre.
Rome, Villa Borghese, Portrait of a Lady.
St. Petersburg, Judith (?).
Venice, Academy, Storm calmed by St. Mark. Finished in small part
by P. Bordone. (In the edition of 1894, Berenson attributed this to
P. Bordone, saying that perhaps it was begun by Giorgione.)
Venice, Seminario, Apollo and Daphne; Giovanelli, Gypsy and Soldier;
S. Rocco, Christ bearing Cross.
Vicenza, Casa Loschi, Christ bearing Cross. (Now in the Gardner
Collection, Boston.)
Vienna, Evander showing Æneas the Site of Rome. (Often called the
Three Philosophers.)
In an article 2 published since the appearance of his book,
Berenson has added to the above list several pictures which he
considers to be copies of Giorgiones. They are:
Bergamo, Orpheus and Eurydice. The copy made by Cariani.
Buda-Pesth, Two men walking. Fragment. (This is what Morelli
calls the Birth of Paris.)
Milan, Portrait of a lady, belonging to Signor Crespi.
St. Petersburg, Judith.
London, Portrait of a man formerly belonging to Mr. Doetsch; now
owned by Colonel Kemp.
1 The Venetian Painters of the Renaissance, p. 107.
2 Gazette des Beaux Arts, October, 1897.
II. THE TRUE GIORGIONE
A superficial study of the lists which have been given suf-
fices to show that the various critics have very different
standards by which to judge Giorgione and his works. I
much doubt whether entire order can be brought out of the
chaos that now rules, but a sounder basis for future study
can be derived from a combination of the best points of the
work of these very differently endowed critics than any one
of them by himself offers.
So far as Crowe and Cavalcaselle go, they are, I believe,
entirely right. Among the twelve pictures which they un-
hesitatingly ascribe to Giorgione, only three have been ques-
tioned by any one. These three are, the Judgment of Solomon,
at Kingston Lacy, the Epiphany, in the National Gallery, and
the Beaumont Shepherd's Offering.
Offering. The only possible
explanation of the fact that Morelli does not mention the
picture at Kingston Lacy is that he did not see it.¹ It is one
¹ Berenson in the first edition of his little book on Venetian Painting did not
mention it either, but in the third edition he passes it by with these words: "The
scarcely less famous picture belonging to Mr. Banks is by the hand which painted
the Christ and Adulteress, of the Glasgow Corporation Gallery, and that hand
is Giovanni Cariani's. To repeat, I would have preferred to publish opinions so
divergent from those usually received, in a form adequate to the importance of
the theme; but I console myself with the belief that the merest indication suffices
the competent. As for the others - Procul o procul este, profani."
Such statements can only be excused by supposing the writer to have been pressed
for time. Unless they are of sufficient importance for the author to make them in-
telligible, they are not entitled to our consideration. No critic is justified in making
an arbitrary statement which he will not take the pains to make clear.
172
GIORGIONE
173
of those works that in every touch show the author. Even
if we did not have Ridolfi's evidence for the existence of such
a work, it is difficult to understand how hesitation could arise
in the mind of any one undisturbed by theories as to the author
of the picture. The figure of the executioner is, as Ridolfi
says, unfinished. So, too, is practically the whole picture
(Plate LXII).
What strikes one at first sight is the similarity to Bellini's
work at the same time that one realises a development of
dramatic power greater than he ever attained. The fine
restraint of composition is his, the serious and painstaking
technique is his, but the dramatic energy displayed in the
action of the several figures is a step beyond anything which
Bellini ever accomplished. And the few undoubted works
show that Giorgione was great enough to compose with the
same grandeur, and work with a similar perfection to Bellini,
and yet give more dramatic intensity to his figures. But if
any one is blind to the spirit that permeates this wonderful
bit of poetry, let him study the details. The head of the
youth standing upright on Solomon's right hand is most
closely allied to that of the seated figure in the Three Phi-
losophers. The old man on the left of Solomon is in his turn
very similar to the oldest of the Three Philosophers. Com-
pare the hand of the second figure from the right with the left
hand of the last-mentioned Philosopher: it is the same.
The tight drawn hair of the women is the same as that of
the Castelfranco Madonna and the Gypsy in the Giovanelli
Palace picture. The strong, broad, full-toed, carefully drawn
feet are what we see in the Three Philosophers, and the St.
Francis of the Castelfranco picture. The full-lipped, small,
174
STUDIES
!
quietly closed but expressive mouths of the figures are such as
distinguish Giorgione's other unquestioned works and show a
master's touch. The draperies massed in grand, simple style,
broken only by folds that truly show the quality of the stuff or
its arrangement that are not merely put in out of pure fancy
-are like those that characterise the Castelfranco Madonna
and the Three Philosophers. There is no refuting the judg-
ment passed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle. This is a true
Giorgione and in certain ways the finest of them all.
I have refrained from comparing it with the Dresden Venus
for the reason that this discovery of Morelli's has been, though
I believe on insufficient grounds, disputed, and some critics
question whether the Venus is not a work of Titian. The
evidence with which Morelli maintained the Giorgionesque
origin of the work is very convincing, but there is a quality
of the work upon which he did not lay sufficient stress. I
refer to the lack of sensuousness in the figure. It is the lack
of this mundane quality, the abstractness of the figure, that
renders it ideal, which allies this work with the finest Greek
sculpture, with figures of the Periclean epoch. The nude
female figure is thought of not from a sexual standpoint, but
from that of pure beauty of form. To represent such feeling
was unlike Titian even in the most earnestly ideal of his youth-
ful days. His work in almost every case has a glow of passion;
Giorgione's, on the contrary, suggests loveliness that deserves
the deepest admiration, but does not suggest actual human
life and action. The two ideals are the poles asunder.
Titian's is that of the man, Giorgione's that of the woman. As
Coleridge said, "Man loves the woman, but woman loves the
love of the man," and when one looks at Titian's Venuses or

PLATE LXIV.
GIORGIONE
175
his other female figures, one is inevitably more vigorously
self-conscious and one's attention is more indissolubly bound
to the body than when one's eyes rest on the statuesque
beauties of the Castelfranco painter's imaginings.
The method by which these effects are depicted is unmistak-
able and clear. In Titian's figures of nude women the glance
of the eye is often distinctly and sharply focussed in the eye
of the beholder, and the action of the figure is motived by the
presence of the beholder. The painted image is the corollary
of the being that looks upon her. It is not so in Giorgione's
work. His Venus is self-contained, self-centred and thought-
less of the outer world. The eyes (cf. the Giovanelli picture)
do not strongly draw yours to themselves, and the action does
not imply a realisation of the presence of any interested gazer.
For exactly these reasons, plain simple reasons, but of deepest
import, the Venus of Praxiteles is of inestimably greater
worth than that later impersonation of female vigour and
physical delight, the Venus de' Medici. And in similar man-
ner Giorgione proves himself a man and an artist who at-
tained to the adequate presentation of an ideal of beauty of
the female figure far more elevated and uplifting than that
held by his more famous contemporary Titian. The Venus
may, as Morelli said, be safely considered as a true Giorgione.
The case is not so clear, though I believe it is not less un-
questionable, when we consider the Epiphany¹of the National
Gallery (Plate LXIII). The criticism passed by Crowe and
Cavalcaselle on this picture and the Shepherd's Offering in
the Beaumont Collection is, so far as it goes, sound. They
¹ This picture was formerly called a Bellini. It comes from the collection of
Sir William Miles of Leigh Court. See Redford, Art Sales, I, pp. 364–5.
176
STUDIES
say of these pictures "that the style coincides with that which
historians attribute to Giorgione; that most of the charac-
teristics which predominate recur in canvases registered by
the oldest authorities as those of Barbarelli; and that the
landscapes in every case resemble each other and recall the
country of Castelfranco." There is much more proof, how-
ever, that can be adduced to show that only Giorgione could
have painted these works. But first the attribution of them
both to Catena must be shown to be groundless.
1
A word, however, in regard to logical reasoning about pic-
tures, the lack of which constitutes a great weakness in Morelli
and some of his followers, may perhaps be deemed not inap-
propriate here. Circumstantial evidence is at best only par-
tially conclusive. Morelli did some brilliant work by its
means in correcting the names under which many pictures
had masqueraded. Such work must, it is self-evident, be
founded on the signed works of the masters or on works whose
authorship is proved by literary evidence of the strongest
character. But he and his followers seem to forget that others
may refuse adherence to the belief in one or more of these
attributions and yet not be utterly foolish. Many minds are
convinced by evidence which to other equally capable and
well-trained intelligences does not carry the force of convic-
tion, or may even seem to be based on a misapprehension of
fundamental facts. Grant, however, that a given attribution
of an unsigned work seems reasonable, still there are in most
such cases parts of it that are to a certain extent dissimilar
to the certified works of the master to whom it is attributed
otherwise it would never have been falsely named.
¹ Berenson, Venetian Painters of the Renaissance.
GIORGIONE
177
Were this not true, how had doubt ever arisen in men's
minds as to who wrote the Rhesus, or when the Apollo
Belvedere was made? Suppose now that in studying a pic-
ture and attributing it to an artist one finds a second or a
third or a fourth picture that seems to be by the same painter.
One sees that each has certain points in common with the
signed works and others common only to the unsigned work
which was the first of our new attributions. To deduce from
the similarity which any two of the unsigned works bear to each
other in their differences from the signed works of the author
to whom it is desired to attribute them, that they must be by
this author, is an absolutely illogical and unreasonable method
of argument. One can 'prove' anything in this way, which
could without difficulty enable one to show that the Two
Loves of the Borghese Gallery was painted by Perugino.
All that is needed is a sufficiently large list of works each dif-
fering slightly from Perugino's true masterpieces. It is but
another form of the old game of turning one word into another
by adding and subtracting syllables. Thus one turns drama
into odious: drama, melodrama, melodious, odious.
Unfortunately Morelli did not realise the weakness of this
system. Had he done so, he would never have attributed to
Catena the Epiphany of the National Gallery, and his fol-
lowers would not consider the same artist as the painter of
the Benson Holy Family and the Beaumont Shepherd's
Offering.¹ I do not mean to imply that he would have con-
1 See Archivio Storico dell' Arte, 1895, I, p. 77. In this passage the writer (Miss
Ffoulkes) speaking of an exhibition in London mentions the Benson picture and the
Epiphany. She thinks them by neither Giorgione, nor Catena, but offers no sug-
gestion as to the painter except that there is another picture by him in the Venice
Accademia attributed (wrongly) to Cordegliaghi.
N
178
STUDIES
sidered Giorgione as their author, but it is only by strained
and extravagant reasoning that they can be claimed for Ca-
tena. They bear no resemblance in either composition, colour
or idea to any of the unquestioned works by this second-rate
pupil of Bellini, the imitator, par excellence, of the work of his
greater contemporaries.
So far as a careful analysis enables one to make out from the
context of the whole passage in which Morelli speaks of these
works,¹ he seems to have convinced himself that Catena was
the painter of the Epiphany because of the similarities that
exist between it and the Knight adoring the Infant Christ
and the St. Jerome in his Study in the same Gallery. The
first thing to notice is that the likeness which the Epiphany
bears to the St. Jerome is almost entirely imaginary. The
chief difference between the two works is that the Epiphany
is not only painted in a very different manner technically,
but it is much less laboured. It shows vastly greater facility
of draughtsmanship; the execution is very much more easy;
the colour is fuller and purer; the chiaroscuro is more varied,
and, finally, it is much more imaginatively conceived. It gives
one, in fact, the impression of being by a master, whereas the St.
Jerome seems nothing more either in imagination or in tech-
nique than the work of a careful, serious, arid-minded student.
The St. Jerome in fact may well be by Catena, for these are
the qualities with which we know he was endowed. The simi-
larity between the Epiphany and the Knight adoring the
Infant Christ is greater, but still not very great.2 But here
¹ Die Galerie zu Dresden, p. 266 f.
2 It is noteworthy that Morelli claimed (as is shown by the + with which the
attribution is marked) to be the first to show that this picture of the Knight
was by Catena. Crowe and Cavalcaselle had already written of the picture as by
GIORGIONE
179
too we must remember that the attribution of the Knight
to Catena is based not so much even on good circumstantial
evidence as on the fairly unanimous belief among those capa-
ble of judging what certain phases of Catena's changing style
probably resembled. But the points wherein the Epiphany
surpassed the St. Jerome are just those in which it shows
greater mastery than is exhibited in the Knight. The same
stiffness and awkwardness of drawing mark the Knight as
by an artist of much less capacity than him of the Epiphany.
So too does the clumsy, empty composition. The small-
featured faces, the lack of appearance of real substance in the
bodies, the dull and uninteresting chiaroscuro, the laboured
technique are characteristic of Catena, but not one of them
shows in the Epiphany. Catena may well have painted
the beast like a hobby horse which the Knight's page holds,
but it was an abler hand than his which drew the horses from
which the Magi have dismounted. The crinkly, crushed
draperies in the Knight are similar to Catena's work, but
there is nothing like them in the Epiphany, where the glow-
ing coloured garments are cast in simpler and grander and
at the same time more natural lines. Can any one really
imagine that the same man painted the dull, hard, conven-
Catena. Considerable care must be exercised in the use of Morelli's writings to
distinguish between his true discoveries (which were many) and his agreements
with earlier authorities. It may be that these agreements were based on his own
private study, but there is a great difference between the result of one's study lead-
ing to our giving assent to what others have perceived before us and our discovery
of what had never been imagined by our predecessors. Pereant qui ante nos nostra
dixerint, but still honesty and justice are of greater value than fame. Nor does
a pleasant temper show in the implied sarcasm of Morelli's words about this picture
which he calls a "herrliches Werk des Catena, obwohl es im Galeriekatalog noch
immerfort blos der Schule des Giambellino zugethielt wird (+)." It is surely not
so very inaccurate to describe a work by Catena as of the 'Schule des Giambellino.'
180
STUDIES
tional head of St. Joseph in the Knight and the much more
thoughtful and original face of the same figure in the Epiph-
any? or how can any one believe that the same artist
designed heads of such different shape, eyes and noses and
mouths so unlike in the one and the other work; hands in
the Knight so like turtles' feet, and so vigorous and human
in the Epiphany? It is surely improbable, and Crowe and
Cavalcaselle were right when they recognised a great differ-
ence between the two works and saw in the smaller, richer
one the hand of Giorgione. The reasoner who is calm and
unpolemically minded must agree with them.
The next picture for us to consider is the Beaumont Shep-
herd's Offering which Crowe and Cavalcaselle give to Gior-
gione, but which is by Berenson and others considered a
Catena.¹ If the Epiphany were a Catena, then the Shep-
herd's Offering would be also, for not only the treatment and
colour as a whole, but the details, more particularly the group
of the Holy Family, is distinctly alike in both. The same
reasons that show that it is impossible that Catena ever
painted the Epiphany apply with even greater force to the
Shepherd's Offering.
Offering. Both pictures are utterly unlike Ca-
tena's work in all essential points, all those, that is to say,
which are the expression of character. Certain Giorgionesque
qualities show more strongly in the Shepherd's Offering than
in the smaller work. I will not analyse the details of form,
substantiality of masses and richness of colour, for every un-
prejudiced eye will see that they are the same in each of these
¹ A copy of this picture hangs in the Vienna Gallery and I was told by the Director
in 1901 that he considered it the original; but this seems to me impossible, for
it is much less good in every way than the Beaumont picture. A drawing of a por-
tion of it is at Windsor.

ASWADADACACIONADADA
李福
​YOYOYO JOYO YOYOYOYOY ONLY ANDY ON WOWOWOWEN
PLATE LXV.
GIORGIONE
181
two works as they are in the unquestioned works by Giorgione.
But there is a quality more difficult to analyse and to express
in fixed terms, that stamps the Shepherd's Offering not only
as a work by Giorgione, but as a very characteristic expression
of his genius. I refer to the impression given by the quietness
of the scene, by the slight vagueness of it all, and to the colour
and chiaroscuro that remind one of an evening landscape
(Plate LXIV). All these points taken together make the
scene seem mysterious and dreamlike.
Now, clearly enough, this romantic quality occurs to a greater
or less extent in all the unquestioned Giorgiones. It is the
deep religious ardour of Bellini turned to a broader field. It is
the sharp focussed passion of Titian transmuted into an abid-
ing love for all things beautiful. In the Giovanelli Landscape
(Plate LXV) you see it in the strange combination of soldier
and nude woman under the lightning-riven skies and the trees
heavy and white with the storm. In the Three Philosophers
you see it in the contrast of the three men of different ages
and the quiet forest where they sit with the city in the dis-
tance that seems to be asleep (Plate LXVI). In the Virgin
of Castelfranco you see it in the throne placed in the open
meadows peopled by visionlike figures, in the deeply impres-
sive silence and contrast of the monk and warrior, and in the
still blue sea lapping the templed shores beyond. You see
it in the Venus,— not any one woman so much as the presenta-
tion of everlasting feminine beauty sleeping under the open
sky across which roll great summer clouds rising from the
distant sea. It is present almost invariably in his work and
forms the chief richness of the Beaumont picture, in which the
strangely silent group under the trees, the empty shepherd's
182
STUDIES
hut beyond and the deep distance of rolling, castelled hills
and meadows, golden in the light of the low sun, is like a vision
that one sees in those rare moments when one's eyes pierce
the husk of this world and we seem for one treasured instant
to have passed the borders and be wandering in El Dorado.
In none of Catena's authentic works does he attain to such
a height of imaginative presentation of daily phenomena.
He could appreciate it, as is shown by his attempt in the
Knight to paint in the manner of Giorgione, but that pic-
ture alone would be sufficient to show his incapacity to attain
the goal at which he aimed. Nor is this feeling which we
derive from Giorgione's works imaginary and based on pre-
conceived ideas. It is distinctly due to certain indubitable
facts. No one questions the mystery and inexpressible beauty
of the light of early dawn or evening, and it is this rather
than the full, hard, mid-day glare that is the light of all Gior-
gione's pictures. Nor is there doubt of the impressiveness of
gloom, be it of forest or of storm, and such mystery as this was
dear to the hill-born artist. Nor, further, can one hesitate to
admit the visionary, mirage-like appearance of vigorous action
that takes place in silence and of which the anatomical details
are suppressed. Such is the action of Giorgione's figures.
They are plainly deeply interested in the scene of which they
form part, but their faces (even in the Judgment of Solomon
at Kingston Lacy) show their interest rather by the eyes than
by the lips. They look, but do not speak. Like Greek Gods
they act, but with terrible great silence.
And so, too, though the bodies of his figures are full of life and
action, yet they rarely show the tense and emphasised muscles
appropriate to such action, but appear rather, having acted,
GIORGIONE
183
to be now at rest. A similar peculiarity is to be observed in
the draperies which, just as I have tried to show in regard to
the figure of the Venus, are of the same nature as the best
Greek work. They are completely motived, that is, by the
bodies beneath them. They are a positive component part
of the figure, not merely an accidental addition, and they
rest and move with it. Thus, as the bodies seem to be resting
after motion, so the draperies seem to be also. They show
none of the little, trifling, momentary folds that express
actual motion, but merely those larger, more essential lines
and masses that are truly expressive of the vitality and move-
ment of the figures, whose beauty they enhance, so far as
such life and activity can be expressed by woven stuffs.
Let us turn now to Catena, his Sta. Caterina, or his Virgin
Enthroned, in Venice, and we see draperies that are in large
measure as merely studio studies of cloth as any to which
Albert Dürer ever attached hands and feet and a head and
called it a human being. The folds do not carry out the action
of the figure, but crinkle and ripple and break in meaningless
profusion from shoulder to ankle. Giorgione was a richly
imaginative, deeply thoughtful genius, and such a personality
as this is indelibly stamped in the Epiphany, the Shep-
herd's Offering, and the Benson Holy Family. Catena was
a fashionable plagiarist and moderately successful imitator
of the manner of his master Bellini and of his great contem-
poraries; such a character as his is completely foreign to the
spirit of these three pictures.
The Holy Family,' one of the many treasures of Mr.
¹ Parts of Mr. Benson's picture have suffered from repainting. This is especially
true of the landscape, which seems to have lost its original form.
184
STUDIES
Benson's collection, is also given by Berenson, and by others,
to Catena. The Virgin and Joseph are, as one sees at first
sight, the same figures as in the two preceding works. I will
not unfold the argument again. The picture is to be attrib-
uted to Giorgione for the same reasons that show the two
other pictures to be his. One proof may be added to those
adduced before, and this is the pebbly surface of the ground.
The same treatment is to be seen in the Judgment of Solo-
mon, and the Trial of Moses, in the Uffizi, in the Three
Philosophers, in the Giovanelli Landscape; and in this
last picture the painting of the brick work below the column
is the same as that of the building beside which the Holy
Family are seated in Mr. Benson's picture. Catena could
as easily have painted Bellini's Loredano as this head of St.
Joseph, as fine a head in its grandeur of mould and simple
earnestness of expression as was ever given to this too often
maligned Saint. It is a Giorgione, and a fine one.
The picture of Christ carrying the Cross in the Church
of San Rocco in Venice is by Morelli' said to be "gewiss ein
ganz frühes Werk" of Titian. Considering that he does not
give a single proof of this assertion, we may be forgiven if
we fail to see the Gewissheit of the attribution. It is true
that Vasari was not sure whether Giorgione or Titian was the
author, but tradition, as can be traced by guide books, certainly
leads us to consider the former as the author.
of the picture is such that it gives one no help
problem, but so far as the drawing of details
The condition
in solving the
goes we meet
no contradiction of the traditional authorship. The shape of
the head of the Christ and the drawing of the eyes and brow
1 Die Galerie zu Dresden, p. 297, n.
GIORGIONE
185
are met with in the certain works. In believing this ruined
picture to be by our master, I am following the opinion held
by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, and in more recent days by
Berenson.
The difficulties that are met in trying to discover a decisive
proof of the origin of the Knight of Malta are similar to
those which confuse the argument about the 'Christ' of
San Rocco. The picture has been so maltreated that there is
little left to study but the shadow of the original. A mag-
nificent original it must have been, one of those rare works,
commoner in Venice than elsewhere, that truly make the
corporal substance conform to the nature of the hidden soul,
so that one thinks not so much of the person shown to us as of
his manner of thought and life. There is much about the
portrait that makes its attribution to any one but Giorgione
next to impossible, and nothing, I believe, that throws any
doubt in the way of our considering him the author. He was
capable of such a portrait, and in its earlier days it was un-
questionably worthy of him. This is, of course, the usual
opinion, though Crowe and Cavalcaselle felt that the repaint-
ing had so altered the work as to destroy its character.
The Head of Christ bearing the Cross, formerly in Vi-
cenza, and now, fortunately for our country, in Boston, is
another of the works the authorship of which cannot be ab-
solutely proved, but of which the character is so marked that
there is little or no diversity of opinion about it. It is one
1 The inaccurate copy in the Rovigo Gallery is a wretched daub that is not
worth preserving. There are other poor replicas of the picture; one owned by Count
Lanckoronski in Vienna is considered by Venturi to be the original. The other
picture in the Rovigo Gallery (No. 11), sometimes spoken of in the same breath
with Giorgione's name, is equally worthless. It is nothing but a wretched copy of
the head of the Vienna David.
186
STUDIES
of the pictures that Crowe and Cavalcaselle thought worthy
of Giorgione, and which since their day Morelli and others
have not hesitated to regard as his. Still strongly tinged with
the influence of Bellini, it contains the promise of a freer,
broader treatment of religious subjects than even Bellini had
attained, and shows us unquestionably the young Giorgione.
The hand and eye of Bellini guide him as he works, but his
own genius cannot be utterly suppressed, and he adds to his
master's style something that marks the picture, when it
leaves his easel, as the true expression of a great genius and not
as that of a merely facile and unoriginal pupil (Plate LXVII).
Closely connected with the Madonna of Castelfranco is
the study for the figure of San Liberale in the National
Gallery. It is true that such studies by the fifteenth-cen-
tury Italian masters are extremely uncommon, but the differ-
ences between this study and the large picture are such as we
can hardly imagine being introduced by a copyist, and the
painting, considered solely from the technical point of view,
is so masterly that we are, I believe, justified in considering
the figure as the product of Giorgione's brush.
Of the six pictures (Pitti, Concert, and Nymph with
Satyr; Louvre, Fête Champêtre, and Madonna and
Saints; Hampton Court, Shepherd; Madrid, Madonna
with Sta. Brigida) which, though traditionally ascribed to
Giorgione, Crowe and Cavalcaselle refused to consider as
his, the Madonna and Sta. Brigida and the Madonna and
Saints in the Louvre are now less often thought of in connec-
tion with his name.¹
1 The picture in Madrid is by Titian; the one in the Louvre is said by Crowe and
Cavalcaselle to be by Pellegrino da San Daniele, while Berenson attributes it to
Cariani.

PLATE LXVI.
GIORGIONE
187
1
Of the Madonna and Saints in the Louvre it is interesting
to note that even a century ago there were those who judged
the work at its true value. It is of this work, I believe, that
J. B. P. Lebrun ¹ says: (p. 71) "Attribué au Giorgion. Un
Concert de figures vues à mi-crops et de grandeur naturelle,
très-mauvais ouvrage dans le genre de cette école, d'environ
4 pieds et demi de hauteur, sur 6 de largeur, sur toile. Je
tairai ce qu'en dit Lalande. Vient de Milan, bibliothèque
Ambrosienne.'
Concerning the four other pictures there is considerable
diversity of opinion. The Head of a Boy at Hampton Court
is thought by Morelli to be an original Giorgione, but as the
light was bad when he saw the work, he is not sure. Berenson,
however, does not doubt the genuineness of the picture. Con-
sidering the fact that the head is a copy of the Vienna David,
we may very seriously question whether it is by Giorgione.
One can scarcely suppose that he would have repeated his
pictures and made the head of his David answer for a Shep-
herd. Morelli was right in recognising the Giorgionesque
spirit of the work, but it is only a copy of the head of the
original David, with certain details altered.
The Nymph and Satyr 2 in the Pitti, which used to be
called a Giorgione and which Crowe and Cavalcaselle thought
to be by some imitator of him and of Titian, bears now, I
believe, the name of Dosso Dossi. Morelli considered it a
youthful work of Giorgione, though it certainly shows few signs
1 Examen Historique et Critique | Des Tableaux | Exposées Provisoire-
ment | Venant des premier et second envoies de Milan, Crémone, Parme, Plai-
sance, Modène, Cento et Bologne, auquel on a joint le détail de tous les Monumens
des Arts qui sont arrivés d'Italie. - An VIº de la Republique.
2 A good replica is in the Corsini Gallery, Florence.
188
STUDIES
of youth, and the Giorgionesque details which he enumerates
are exactly those which an imitator would easily acquire.
The idea and the energetic freedom of composition are more
like the work of men who came after Giorgione, and the col-
ouring is unlike his. We have no reason to believe that he
ever painted subjects embodying just such trivially sensual
and commonplace ideas, and as there is no marked and char-
acteristic likeness in the figures to any of his known works,
it is safer to consider it the product of a would-be imitator,
such as we know Dosso Dossi to have been.
To decide the question of the Concert in the Pitti is by
no means easy. Crowe and Cavalcaselle felt sure it could not
be by Giorgione, or else that "he did not execute what we are
fond of attributing to him," for it seemed to them more ad-
vanced and to surpass his true works. Morelli, too, did not
regard Giorgione as the author, but the youthful Titian,¹ and
to this Berenson agrees. The interrelation of the complex
sensations expressed in the deeply moved but quiet faces is
certainly more like the work of the painter of the Two Loves
than that of him of the Three Philosophers. The likeness,
too, of the middle figure in the Concert to the Man with the
Glove in the Louvre a likeness found not only in the ex-
pression of the two heads, but also in the wonderfully wrought
modelling of them — is most noticeable. How the same artist
can have accomplished so dull and stupid a face as the one to
the left is a question only to be answered by the vandals who
have repainted and thereby ruined this very splendid work.
It certainly does remind one of Giorgione, but so does the
Two Loves. Titian we know well was, in his early days,
1 Die Galerie zu Dresden, p. 276.
GIORGIONE
189
much influenced by his fellow-worker, but we know also that
he became the more accomplished artist of the two and at-
tained a power of technique and of representation of facial
expression beyond that of his too early dead contemporary.
As just such an artist is shown us in the Concert, one can but
agree with Morelli in regarding it as the work of Titian
one of his finest, for he rarely reached such mastery of subtle
expression as shown in the central figure.
as
I come now to the discussion of a picture so well known
that I feel scarcely justified in doing more than simply express
my opinion of it, but the picture is so important that I must
be excused for arguing about it in close detail. It is the
Fête Champêtre in the Louvre; a picture which almost
every one unhesitatingly attributes to Giorgione, but which I
cannot believe to be by him and think can have been painted
only some years after his death. As in regard to other true or
false Giorgiones, the opinion held by Crowe and Cavalcaselle
is worthy of more attention than later writers have seen fit
to give it. What the former say about the picture is this:
"We cannot say that Giorgione would not have painted such
a scene; but, as far as we know, he would have treated it with
more nobleness of sentiment, without defects of form or neg-
lect of nature's finenesses, without the pasty surface and
sombre glow of tone which here is all pervading: he would
have given more brightness and variety to his landscape."
They were surely not far wrong when they suggested some
imitator of Sebastiano del Piombo as the painter. There is
certainly a Giorgionesque quality in the scene, but that only
means that the painter puts before our eyes the varied and
mingled charms of green fields enlivened with the faint mur-
190
STUDIES
1
mur of shepherds tending their distant flocks, of woods and
rivers, and of strong men and lovely women making music
beside a fountain overhung by trees. It used to be the fash-
ion to call every portrait of a dark-eyed man with long abun-
dant locks by Giorgione's name, and those who believed in
such things also thought that he was the only painter of Fêtes
Champêtres.
We may freely concede that Giorgione did do much to intro-
duce and skilfully display a class of subjects that had been
little cared for until this day. But he was not the only artist
to feel the charm of such scenes. Sedate Bellini himself
showed in such a picture as the Bacchanal in Alnwick Castle
that he too felt them, and rapidly they became more and more
common. But in the earlier years of this development such
scenes were generally given on a small scale or else were in-
tended to illustrate, even though in many cases the clue is
lost to us, some more distinct and concisely expressable idea
than mere Arcadian life among the trees. It is not alone the
emptiness of thought that forces us to decide upon some later
author than Giorgione for this work. Forms of details, man-
ner of design and method of painting, all are different from
his certain works.
The first thing that strikes the attention is that the soft,
dull drawing of the figures, and the clumsy, baggy modelling
of the women, is unlike anything found in any of the un-
doubted Giorgiones. Compare the delicate shape and clear
drawing of the figures in the Uffizi panels, or the Venus
or the Gypsy, with these heavy, ill-proportioned, clumsily
2
¹ And still is in some galleries, as Hampton Court.
2 The picture has been much restored, but the faults pointed out here are not due
to the restorer.
•
GIORGIONE
191
posed figures, and then say if you think Giorgione could have
sunk so low. Or, if you will seek proof in fingers and toes,
hands and feet, where in Giorgione's work are such a shapeless
leathery ear, so thick-lipped a mouth, so short-toed and thick
a foot, or such spidery hands to be found? Nowhere. Look
at the landscape. The trees are much more massy and less
flat and feathery, their surface is more broken by flickering
spots of light, they show, in fact, a more advanced stage in
the rendering of the appearance of Nature, than is shown in
Giorgione's work.
It is instructive to notice, too, the way that the grass is
painted in the foreground, the thick mat of it, and the long
bright blades and tufts. Giorgione never reached such real-
ism as that, as you can see by the primitive way in which
he seeks to render the effect in the picture of the Gypsy.
Consider further the treatment of the sunlight as it floats
over the hillsides and glows among the trees. In the Castel-
franco Madonna, in the Three Philosophers, in the Gypsy,
in the Beaumont Shepherd's Offering, large, smooth, un-
broken surfaces of light and shade, seeming almost more
like some woven stuff than rough earth, are contrasted, but
here all is broken, enriched perhaps, but less simple and less
telling.
In and out by the river and over the hill, Nature's wrinkles
are embossed by the soft light, and nowhere is there restful
certainty of sun or shadow. In among the trees behind the
shepherd, the hot, misty light that one sees only in the forest
is radiant with summer colour and seems to murmur with the
voice of the woods. Such effects were unknown to Giorgione,
but they were not unknown to Titian, for he was the first great
192
STUDIES
landscapist, and in the Vierge au Lapin and the other Vir-
gin seated under the trees, which used to hang opposite in
the Long Gallery of the Louvre, we see exactly these technical
peculiarities and these effects of nature done with the sure
stroke of the master. Not only has the author of the Fête
Champêtre followed Titian in these ways, but his thick pasty
colour is taken from him. Not a stroke of this picture dis-
plays original talent, there is not one that resembles Giorgione,
not one that does not betray the skilful imitator of ideas and
manner of other well-known men, chiefly of Titian.
But to make assurance doubly sure, something remains to be
pointed out that even if all the rest could be accommodated
to what we know of Giorgione, would render it incredible that
he should be the author. Morelli and others have noted the
curious similarity between the two musicians and certain
figures in one of Titian's frescoes in Padua. One cannot say
that Titian would not have taken hints from Giorgione, but
he was scarcely the man to need any one's suggestions, espe-
cially if it was in the shape of such commonplace figures as
these. There are those, however, who think he did. But
now let me add that the two women bear the most striking
and unquestionable likeness to the two women in Tintoretto's
(?) Rescue in Dresden, though they have lost the purity of
Tintoretto's figures. Surely no one will maintain that this
at best only fanciful and pretty, but in no way striking, Fête
Champêtre was the source of inspiration to the two greatest
Venetian painters in their days of prime and finished power?
It is impossible. The idea must be given up, and though there
is no denying the charm of the musicians under the trees, let
us cast the scales from our eyes and recognise its complete
GIORGIONE
193
dissimilarity to the work of the Master of Castelfranco, and
that it is merely a perfectly charming pasticcio.
I have now discussed the pictures spoken of by Crowe and
Cavalcaselle, and there are left for us to consider those to
which Morelli first drew marked attention. Such are the
Madonna with Sts. Antony and Roch in Madrid, Daphne and
Apollo in Venice, Three Ages of Man in the Uffizi, Birth of
Paris and Portrait of a Man in Buda-Pesth, Portrait of a
Woman in the Borghese Gallery, Portrait of a Youth in Ber-
lin, Allegory in Dresden, and Judith in St. Petersburg. I
have already spoken of the Venus, Nymph and Satyr, and
the Shepherd at Hampton Court.
The Madonna in Madrid has generally been called by the
name of Pordenone, while Crowe and Cavalcaselle thought it
by Francesco Vecelli. It is certainly not a Giorgione, but a
mere pasticcio like the Fête Champêtre. We cannot be
blamed for asking some more decisive evidence of its Gior-
gionesque origin than Morelli gives before we agree with him.
He satisfies himself with saying "Doch ich muss gestehen,
dass es für mich keine geringe Freude war, bei meinem Be-
suche von Madrid dieses Wunderwerk venetianischer Maler-
kunst sogleich als Schöpfung unsers Giorgione erkannt zu
haben."
1
This, on the surface, is too rapid and absolute a statement
to be admitted without question, and as there are excellent
reasons why Giorgione could not have painted the work, we
may confidently strike it from the list. The composition in
the main is borrowed from the picture at Castelfranco. Gior-
gione was hardly the man to repeat his own works. The
¹ Die Galerie zu Dresden, p. 282. A copy of the picture is at Hampton Court.
0
194
STUDIES
heavy, thick, coarse painting is absolutely different from Gior-
gione's work. The clumsy draperies show none of his fine
feeling. The thick-set figures of the Saints do not exhibit his
elegance and refinement of form. The infant, more like a
Hercules than a Christ, is quite unlike his poetic and dreamy-
looking children. The manner in which the foot of St. Roch
is raised is awkward and unmeaning, while the fat hands, thick
ears and coarse features bear no resemblance to Giorgione's
work. The work is not only crude, it is unintelligent. The
wall behind the Virgin cannot be explained, the chiaroscuro
is harsh, the attitude of St. Anthony, turning as he does from
the main group, is senseless, and the flowers are scattered
about in a childish way. It is based on Giorgione's work, but
must have been painted by an inferior artist many years after
his death.
The Daphne and Apollo in Venice has been injured by re-
painting and by having lost the left-hand end, but one can
easily see that it will take much more than a mere assertion
by Morelli¹ to convince anyone that Giorgione painted it.
Crowe and Cavalcaselle think the painter was probably Andrea
Schiavoni. If it was not Schiavoni, it was someone of an almost
precisely similar nature and talent. The generally loose draw-
ing and painting remind one of him. The bad drawing and per-
spective, the proportions and shapes of the figures (note the
chunky Apollo drawing his bow and the head of the woman in
the middle distance), the clawlike hands and clumsy feet, and
the stupid confusion of scale in which the figures are drawn,
all show without any possibility of question, that neither Gior-
gione nor any other artist of the first rank painted the picture.
1 Die Galerie zu Dresden, p. 282.

PLATE LXVII.
GIORGIONE
195
66
There are in Padua two other cassone pictures representing
the fables of Myrrha and of Erysichthon as told by Ovid in the
Metamorphoses" (VIII fab. 7 and X fab. 9). They are Gior-
gionesque in feeling, but are plainly derived from the wood-
cuts in the 1497 Venice edition of Ovid (Cf. Justi, Giorgione
p. 191 f). It is possible that these are two of the pictures re-
ferred to by Ridolfi (see above, No. 19).
Of the Three Ages it is perhaps sufficient to say that
Morelli's attribution has not found general acceptance.
The Allegory in Dresden in times gone by has been and
by some still is considered, as Morelli thought, a copy of a
work by Giorgione. There is, I believe, no real evidence in
favour of this theory, which seems to me to depend solely on
personal feeling.
The Judith in St. Petersburg, where it goes by the name of
Moretto, presents a more difficult problem. Morelli, though
he seems to have had no doubt that Giorgione was the painter,
was not sure whether the picture was a copy or not. That it
is a copy is Berenson's opinion.¹ The lack of modelling and
the bad drawing of parts are the reasons why Berenson and
others think it a copy, and Berenson finds a trace of copyist's
work in the fact that the head is better done than the rest of
the figure. Personally, I do not recognise this superiority of
the head, and considering the numerous faults which he points
out, I do not understand his last sentence: "En somme, la
Judith de l'Ermitage me parait une bonne copie, mais après
¹ Gazette des Beaux Arts, Oct. 1897, p. 270. Berenson in this suggestive article
has mixed ecstatic and girlish talk inextricably with sound argument. In his
criticism of the Judith he says: "Il faudrait le talent d'un poète de premier ordre
pour exprimer dans la plénitude tout ce qu'on devine dans la Judith de Saint Péters-
bourg." True, but though such sentiments fill the page, they do not have the same
effect on our mind as the picture.
196
STUDIES
tout, ce n'est qu'une copie." If one believes these numerous
faults to be due to the copyist, I should say that they proved it
to be a pretty poor copy. Study of the work itself will, how-
ever, convince anyone that it is not a copy, but the original
picture, and the artist can be no other than Giorgione. The
panel on which it was painted was originally broader on the
right side.¹ The uncertain drawing is what one would expect
to find in an early work. The drapery is not so simple as
usual in its folds, and at first sight the way it is drawn aside,
leaving one leg bare, seems affected. But when one thinks
of the bleeding head on the ground, this action is seen to be
natural and the contrast of nude and draped parts is of the
same unexpected and original character as one sees in the
woman of the Giovanelli picture.
The fragment in Buda-Pesth which Morelli thought was part
of the picture representing the Birth of Paris is, as Berenson
points out in the article already referred to, only a copy, and a
poor one at that. But even poor copies of lost Giorgiones
are works to be carefully cherished.
Morelli also thought he knew of three portraits by Gior-
gione. Of these three (the Woman in the Borghese, the
Man in the Buda-Pesth Gallery, and the Youth in Berlin),
the first two may be seriously questioned. To my eye the
Borghese portrait is by no means so strikingly Giorgionesque
as Morelli considered it. While it is true that a brow here
and a mouth there can be found scattered among the figures
in the true Giorgiones that resemble the features of this woman,
the type of face shows little likeness to Giorgione's work.
Nor does the muddy colour indicate the palette of an artist
¹ See the engraving published by Justi in his Giorgione.
GIORGIONE
197
of more than mediocre ability. Who will look at Giorgione's
masterpieces and then say he thinks the same artist produced
two such shapeless hands holding such a formless swab of
cloth? Have we any reason to think Giorgione had so poor
an understanding of perspective as to be unable to draw cor-
rectly the line of the parting of the hair? Such sloping
shoulders were never natural and the fashion of drawing them
so is not characteristic of Giorgione's work. Could not
Giorgione paint better drapery, or would he ever have been
satisfied with such a shoelace-like ribbon round the waist?
Finally, were such gauze caps known in Giorgione's day? It is
the purest fancy that discovers a shadow of greatness in this
dull work. Drawing, colour, design, all proclaim it the prod-
uct of a commonplace artist. The work is unlike Giorgione's
in every particular except the shape of the brow.
Morelli's judgment about the portrait in Buda-Pesth is a
perfectly sound one. It occurs only in the English transla-
tion and not in the original German.¹ "The picture,” he says,
"has suffered much, and the master is not to be recognised
in the technical qualities of the painting, but the whole feeling
and the conception seem to point to Giorgione. The im-
pression which it made upon me ten years ago was that of a
thoroughly Giorgionesque work, but one executed by a later
hand rather than by the master himself. Competent critics who
have examined the picture in the meantime insist, however, that
it is a true original by Giorgione. I must leave the final deci-
sion of the point to others." Unfortunately it is next to impos-
sible to arrive at final decisions in such matters. For one,
I
1 Italian Painters: Critical Studies of their Works. By Giovanni Morelli. The
Galleries of Munich and Dresden. Translated by C. J. Ffoulkes (London, 1893),
p. 218.
198
STUDIES
believe that Morelli's idea, that the work was executed by a
follower of Giorgione, is borne out by its main character-
istics, particularly by the self-conscious pose of the head, and
by the gesture of the hand—both much like what is found
in portraits by the men of the generation after Giorgione.
1
Then, too, the cold ashen colour is very unlike Giorgione's
palette, but I would not lay great weight on this fact as the
picture has been much repainted. The picture is of further
interest because it shows the fallacy of one of Morelli's most
firm statements. In the Introduction ¹ to his chapters on the
Borghese Gallery he says: "Ich erlaube mir bei dieser Gele-
genheit sogar zu bemerken, dass die den grossen Meistern
eigenthümliche Grundform der Hand und des Ohres nicht nur
auf ihren Bildern, sondern selbst auf den von ihnen nach dem
Leben gemalten Porträts sich vorfindet." With these words
in one's mind one looks at the Buda-Pesth portrait and finds
neither hand, ear, eye, nose or mouth exhibiting the Grund-
form shown in the unquestioned pictures. Morelli was car-
ried away by his theories in this point, for while every one will
readily admit that many cases, especially among the works of
the primitive and early masters, can be found to fit his rule,
yet the numberless exceptions to this rule, particularly among
the fully developed masters, make it quite plain that, at best,
its application requires to be strictly limited.2
The Portrait of a Youth at Berlin is the last of the Morel-
¹ Die Galerien Borghese und Doria-Pamfili in Rom (Leipzig, 1890), p. 99, n. 1.
2 Not only did Morelli weaken his writings by exaggeration — which, however,
was quite natural but in the less excusable way of giving illustrations that are
misleading. The woodcuts which serve to show the Grundform of hands and ears
are only partially exact, and in one case, the Bonifazio ear, a positive caricature.
The process cuts of the paintings are too miserable to consider. This is unfor-
tunately as true of the translations as of the original editions.
•
GIORGIONE
199
lian Giorgiones to be studied. As was too often the case,
Morelli speaks off-hand of this work as "ein glänzendes Por-
trät des Giorgione," as though it was so manifestly by him
that he was absolved from the labour of adducing proof; but
the matter is not so simple. It is surely enough Giorgionesque,
but do the details bear out the general impression so strongly
as to make the attribution beyond all reasonable doubt?
Not one of the master's certain works shows a head like this.
It is sharper and harder than anything of his except the Uffizi
panels, but between these, sharp and hard as they seem to
have been, and the Berlin portrait, there is an important and
essential difference. The figures on the panels are not only
hard, they are stiff; that is, they show one of the chief
characteristics of youthful work.¹ If now the portrait be by
Giorgione, it is self-evidently an early work. That is, there
are among his undoubted works some that show vastly greater
ease than this. But this portrait does not show any stiffness.
The attitude is easy, and the painting, particularly of the
drapery, is distinctly free, one might even say sketchy. The
work shows, perhaps, not so much the characteristics of a
young artist of great power as those of one who has attained
some facility but not the complete and all-round ease of the
greatest masters. Then what do the letters V. V. mean,
painted on the shelf behind which the figure stands?
not possible they are the initial letters of the artist's name?
Is it
1 Nothing shows better the distinction between the work of the Renaissance and
that of to-day than the fact that the careful training to which the earlier artists
were accustomed led them to produce in their youthful and undeveloped period
finished works and sketches that are stiff, whereas nowadays the majority of the
works of young artists show not so much stiffness as laxity. The one developed
from hardness to easy restraint, the other advances from looseness to a mastery
generally much less even.
200
STUDIES
Can they stand for an as yet unknown imitator, another Vin-
centius Venezianus? As Morelli said of the Portrait in Buda-
Pesth, "I must leave the final decision of the point to others"
- others better qualified than myself. Whoever the artist,
the picture is a splendid one, and may well be regarded as
showing the Giorgione point of view in portraiture, which,
however, is a very different matter from being a work by him.
I have already had occasion to refer to an article by
Berenson in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts in which he speaks of
pictures he considers as copies of lost Giorgiones. These are:
The David in Vienna.
The Judith in St. Petersburg.
The Birth of Paris in Buda-Pesth.
Orpheus and Eurydice, a cassone at Bergamo.
Portrait of a Man, formerly in the Doetsch collection.
Portrait of a Lady, belonging to Signor Crespi at Milan.
Of the first three I have already spoken. To maintain his
thesis about the Orpheus and Eurydice, Berenson mentions
only vague sentiments such as "Qui donc, autre que lui, a su
traduire, comme nous le voyons ici, un mythe grec dans
l'esprit de la Renaissance?" We might reply that Bellini,
Titian, Tintoret, to mention merely Venetians, all showed a
rather marked ability to do this very thing, so it was not a
personal peculiarity of Giorgione. "Qui donc, autre que lui,
avait le don de fondre le paysage et les figures dans une aussi
charmante harmonie ?" Again the ability to do this was
possessed by many artists, and so vague a phrase as aussi
charmante proves nothing whatever. Continuing, he finds
many details which betray very certainly the work of Cariani
(an undoubted imitator of Giorgione), and decides that the
work is a copy by Cariani of a lost Giorgione. But when
GIORGIONE
201
much is admittedly unlike Giorgione and everything suits
Cariani, why not consider Cariani the artist? Apparently
because "si nous étions nous-même des artistes très doués,
nous pourrions remplacer chaque détail carianesque par un
détail giorgionesque, emprunté aux œuvres du maître les plus
voisines." This has no force. We might as well "remplacer
chaque détail carianesque par un détail michelangelesque,"
and what would be shown thereby? Nothing.
1
The reasons given for believing the Portrait from the Doetsch
collection ¹ to be a copy of a Giorgione are quite as vague and
undefinable as those for the Orpheus and Eurydice. The
consideration of details is no more convincing than the senti-
ments and fanciful writing that precede. "Si l'auteur de
l'original en question n'était pas Giorgione, ce devrait être
quelque imitateur servile du maître, comme Licinio ou Bec-
caruzzi. Mais ces peintres de second ordre ne pouvaient
qu'imiter et non créer, et le portrait de la collection Doetsch
est bien une création," and yet he has just said that this por-
trait “est le même type que celui du jeune homme de Buda-
Pesth," -the picture mentioned by Morelli. Berenson's
definition of 'création' must differ from that ordinarily em-
ployed; and Licinio at his best was not so uncreative as Beren-
son would have us believe. He gives one, however, further
surprises in asserting that this portrait agrees in all details
with the one in Berlin! Not only the same head and brow,
but "le même sentiment dans la bouche !"
Even were this all so, and I cannot see that it is in the least,
what would be proved? To compare one doubtful work to
another of a similar nature does not, as I have said above,
1
¹ Reproduced in the Burlington Magazine, 1895-6, p. 338.
202
STUDIES
prove the authorship of either. Furthermore, though one
can find strong likenesses to the Berlin head in the true
works by Giorgione, in these same works one cannot find any
likeness whatever to the Doetsch portrait. To compare
this overemphasised portrait, this person who seems half
brigand and half Shylock, to the sad, poetical-looking man
at Buda-Pesth, or to the clean, vigorous, manly youth in
Berlin, is going pretty far, and the limit is plainly over-
stepped in the endeavour to attach to the picture a value it
does not possess by giving to it the name of one of the
greatest artists.
For the painter of the Crespi Portrait of a Lady we shall
do better to look in the direction of Titian than Giorgione.
The owner, Signor Crespi, believes, according to Berenson,
that Titian was the author, and certainly the likeness which
the figure bears to other women by Titian, and the initials
T. V. make it difficult to admit any other origin. Neither
ecstasies nor comparisons serve to show any likeness to Gior-
gione's work.
Of all the portraits attributed to Giorgione the finest by far
is the one owned by the Hon. Edward Wood of Temple New-
Attention was first drawn to this by Cook and his at-
tribution has been accepted by every one. It is a master-
piece of the greatest beauty (Plate LXVIII).
sam.
We have now reviewed the most important criticisms that
have been passed on Giorgione's work; and though it is only too
evident that as yet there is no really sound common standard
by which to govern our judgments, we can come very near to
forming one if we accept the more sober part of the work of
these criticisms and disregard their more extravagant and

31
PLATE LXVIII.
GIORGIONE
203
1
hypothetical attributions. The following list, I venture to
think, embraces works differing much less among themselves in
regard to style than the lists of the critics that I have discussed.
1. Vienna - David (copy).
2. Venice Fondaco dei Tedeschi (fragment still visible, but com-
pare Zanetti's engraving).
3. Venice Chiesa di San Rocco, Christ carrying the Cross (much
damaged).
4. Venice, Giovanelli Palace, Soldier and Woman, known as The
Tempest.
5. Castelfranco, Madonna Enthroned.
6. Dresden, Venus.
7. Kingston Lacy, Judgment of Solomon (unfinished).
8. Vienna, Three Philosophers.
9. Buda-Pesth, Birth of Paris (fragment of a copy).
10. Florence, Uffizi, Judgment of Solomon.
11. Florence, Uffizi, Fire-test of Moses.
12. Florence, Uffizi, Knight of Malta.
13. Boston, Mass., Mrs. Gardner's Collection (formerly Vicenza),
Head of Christ.
14. London, National Gallery, Study for the San Liberale of the
Castelfranco picture.
15. London, National Gallery, Epiphany.
16. London, Mr. Benson, Holy Family.
17. London, Lord Allandale, Shepherd's Offering.
18. Temple Newsam, Hon. Mr. Wood. Portrait of a Man.
19. St. Petersburg, Judith.
20. Berlin, Portrait of a Youth (?).
Excluding the last one as being
as being open to doubt, nine-
teen pictures, two probably copies, remain as our heritage
of this most noble painter's work. With these nineteen in
our mind, it becomes more evident than ever why such
works as the Louvre Concert, the Borghese Lady, or the
1 The reason I have not discussed in detail the list given by Cook in his
book on Giorgione (London, 1904) and in various articles in the Burlington
Magazine (1905-1906) and Gazette des Beaux Arts (1902) is due to no careless
disregard of his work but to the fact that his point of view in regard to Giorgione
and the principles of criticism are so utterly dissimilar to mine that no good would
be gained from pointing out in detail my disagreement with his judgment.
204
STUDIES
Doetsch Man are not to be thought of in connection with
Giorgione's name.
There yet remains something more to be said of Giorgione.
I think that there are still some pictures to be added to this
list. The first to which I desire to call attention is the so-
called Gypsy Madonna in Vienna. This picture is spoken
of by every one as a Titian, but the longer I study it the more
strong becomes my conviction that Giorgione was the artist ;
that it is one of his early works; that it is one of the "many
pictures of the Virgin" of which Vasari speaks. The Gior-
gione spirit seems to me to underlie the whole feeling just as
the Giorgione technique underlies the completed performance,
that is, wherever the repainting allows it to be seen (Plate
LXIX).
Evidently, from the lack of decision of the drawing, the coarse
modelling of the drapery, and the heavy, undetailed landscape
the picture is an early work of the master, be he Titian
or Giorgione. To my mind the likeness between this and
unquestioned early Titians is a superficial one. This picture
shows none of the ease that is a characteristic of even his
early works, nor does it exhibit any of the dramatic quality,
expressed either by the actions or in the faces of the figures,
that is another most noticeable feature of his work. If, on
the other hand, one seeks for similarities to Giorgione's work,
they are most readily found. Details and style coincide
closely with his pictures. The shape of the Virgin's head and
the manner in which the hair is drawn over the brow are
nearly identical with what one sees in the Uffizi panels or
the Castelfranco picture. The sharply marked eyelids, the
richly modelled mouth and long nose, are strongly resemblant

PLATE LXIX.
GIORGIONE
205
to the same features in the Castelfranco Madonna, the Giova-
nelli Gypsy, the Uffizi panels, and the Knight of Malta.
Notice, too, the large hand, the feet of the child with the
strongly developed toes which are just what one finds in Gior-
gione's works. So, also, the landscape with its plumelike trees,
and the slim figure seated on the grass is such as one finds in
many of his works, but not so often in those of Titian. Finally,
and of more importance than separate details, is the fact
that the peaceful spirit of the group, the undramatic, un-
Titianesque quality, is exactly what is most characteristic
of Giorgione. Titian, when he painted the Christ Child,
even in his earliest days, painted a figure more representing
the infant Hercules than the Salvator Mundi. Invariably,
He leaps about in his Mother's arms, and though the small
chubby face may be keenly intelligent, there is hardly ever a
suggestion of the imaginative powers and prophetic instinct
of the Reformer. It is here that Giorgione shows his very
exceptional genius, for he was able to depict a purely human
man child in such wise that were the figures cut from his can-
vases, no one could mistake them for mere ordinary offspring.
Giorgione used none of the affected graces or sentimentali-
ties of Raphael, nor did he depend upon such weirdness as
Leonardo chose; as a result, his figures are as much more
satisfying to the inquiring intellect as a living fountain is
compared with the mirage of the desert. His means are simple.
There is no exaggeration of action, as in the Titian Child,
but all is essentially delicate and infantine. There is no ex-
aggeration of expression, but a slightly dreamy, far-away
look as of powers still unwakened, and one feels, as before no
other representations of the Child, that such as He might
206
STUDIES
attain to even Calvary. Taken in connection with the
agreement of the details, this spiritual similarity of the work
to others that we know are by Giorgione must give him pause
who should think to name Titian as the author.¹
Another picture which, I believe, deserves more attention
than has yet been given it hangs, under the name of Giovanni
Bellini, in the Museo Correr in Venice. The picture repre-
sents the dead Christ, seated on the edge of the tomb, upheld
by three angels. In the background is a landscape, with a
church on the right. It is painted on a panel about four feet
high. The Anonimo Morelli says that in the year 1530 in
the house of Gabriel Vendramin: "El Cristo morto sopra el
sepolcro, con l'Anzolo che el sostenta, fu de man de Zorzi da
Castelfranco, reconzato da Tiziano." The picture in the
Correr Museum represents this same scene, but there are
three angels instead of one. This difference between the
picture and the description need not make us hesitate to con-
sider the question whether Giorgione was the author of the
work, if there are other reasons to render such authorship
possible.
Any one, however, who has used early books such as the
Anonimo knows how very inaccurate the authors often were
and any one who has studied Italian painting knows that to
represent the dead Christ held by only one angel is entirely
contrary to precedent and practice. The present condition
¹ Since writing the above I have been pleased to have Signor Venturi tell me that
he, too, considered the work to be by Giorgione. He does not agree with me about
the Benson, Beaumont and National Gallery Holy Families, but he does not
share the Catena theory of their origin. His full views will unquestionably be pro-
pounded in his forthcoming edition of Vasari's Life of Giorgione. Cook also thinks
this Virgin is by Giorgione. Venturi's views on Giorgione are indicated in the
Galleria Crespi, p. 133 f.
GIORGIONE
207
of the work is such that it is impossible to say whether it was
ever raconzato da Tiziano or not. It is a mere wreck. That
there are distinct resemblances to Bellini's work is not to be
denied, but, if I mistake not, there exist even stronger ones
to that of Giorgione. A slight stiffness in drawing, a certain
archaism in drapery, is just what one would expect to find in
the work of Bellini's pupil. In the modelling and action of
the figures, however, there are evidences of an attempt at
freedom of design such as are rare in Bellini's work. Four
works of Bellini occur at once as criteria for judging the
quality of the one under discussion the Pietà in the Brera,
one in the Mond collection in London, one in Rimini, and one
in the Berlin Gallery.¹ None of these show the slender,
rather unmodelled hands of the Correr picture; none presents
so vivid a picture of Death. In none except the one at Rimini
are the secondary figures really supporting the Christ,
the body does not show, as in the Correr picture, the relaxation
of death, and in the Rimini picture the angels are much more
playfully treated than in the Correr panel. The Bellini pic-
tures are deeply touching, but to me there seems an even
nobler and more moving sentiment in the work which I fain
would attribute to Giorgione, and it is just such a sentiment
as the painter of the Vicenza Christ might have suggested.
The heads of the figures of the dead Christ in the works of
Bellini are without exception represented as asleep. In the
Correr picture one sees more than sleep in the closed eyes and
drawn mouth of the Saviour. There is death — but death,
the tragedy, so combined with a yearning, soul-compelling
¹ I leave out the one with the forged monogram of Albert Dürer in the Correr
Museum, for it is, I believe, by no means sure that Bellini was the painter.
208
STUDIES
sadness, that the face can never be forgotten by whoso once
has seen it, and this is spiritual life. Scarcely any other
artist ever equalled Giorgione, and none certainly ever sur-
passed him, in the power of representing the members of the
Holy Family. There are many fine presentations of Christ
bearing the Cross, but none so imaginative as the Vicenza
picture. For there we see in the sensitive face, the direct
eye, and steady earnest mouth, the signs of completed power
over self, while in the tear drop that sparkles on the cheek
is the sign of suffering that broke the body, whose soul it
could not quell for neither brow nor eye are those of one
who weeps. The Correr painting contains a similar double
suggestion. Two details there are also which bear out the
idea that Giorgione is the author. One is the technique which
so far as can be seen is of the rich, smooth, carefully shaded
kind, peculiar to Giorgione's work. The other is the land-
scape in which the low horizon line and the plumy trees cor-
respond closely to his certain works. Wreck though it be,
and possibly only a copy of the original, it is worth study by
students.1
A smaller, but fortunately much more perfectly preserved,
work hangs in the London Gallery under the name of School
of Giorgione. It represents a bearded man on a throne and
other figures in an open landscape. Whoever, unafraid of find-
ing something unexpected, looks at this picture with critical
eye, will, I think, realise that it is not a school work, but by
the master himself. It is very carefully wrought in design and
¹ Before the earthquake I saw in the Gallery at Messina a picture by Antonello
da Messina the composition of which is practically identical with, and must be the
origin of, the Correr panel. Whether the Messina picture still exists or was de-
stroyed I do not know.
GIORGIONE
209
execution, as a youthful work would be likely to be, and as the
two Florence panels are. The rich clear colours and the bright
sunshine spread over the scene, are such as are found in the
Florence panels, the Kingston Lacy picture, those in Vienna,
and the Virgin of Castelfranco. The landscape is typically
Giorgionesque, closed in as it is in the foreground, and opening
into a middle distance of rich meadows, enlivened here and
there with tall steep-roofed houses. The rich detail and
broad chiaroscuro find their counterpart over and over again
in Giorgione's work; and finally, who but Giorgione ever
presented to our delighted eyes a scene so simple, so dream-
like, so poetic, so defined, and yet so difficult to understand?
It is a dream picture, rendered with the utmost clearness of
vision. It is only the masters who can do this only Gior-
gione and Keats and such rare spirits who can put in terms
for the ordinary plodding mortal to grasp, the evanescent
visions of the mind.
Of very different character is the portrait of a youth in a
large hat in the Vienna Gallery. Crowe and Cavalcaselle
attribute this to Morto da Feltre. It was impossible for me
to see the original when I was in Vienna, but study of an ex-
cellent photograph makes me doubt this attribution. If I
mistake not, the picture might be a copy of a portrait by
Giorgione. The treatment of the landscape is sufficient to
show that Giorgione's hand did not touch the work itself,
but scarcely any other than Giorgione can have originated
this grave sweet face with the steady eyes.
To close this necessarily unsatisfactory part of my subject,
there is the etching by H. van der Borcht which quite pos-
sibly is copied from a lost Giorgione. It represents a woman
P
210
STUDIES
seated upon a dead warrior, and below the figures are the
words Giorgione inv.¹ It seems not unlikely that it pre-
serves for us one of the frescoes long since faded from some
palace wall in Venice. It is but the echo of a voice that is
still, but even as such it means much.
If now my arguments, in the foregoing discussion, are based
upon sound reason rather than upon theory, it results that the
following are the works by which we must judge Giorgione's
genius, and that these must serve as a standard for further
study of his work:
1. Vienna, David (copy).
2. Vienna, Three Philosophers.
3. Vienna, Gypsy Madonna.
4. Vienna, Portrait of a Youth (copy ?).
5. Venice, Fondaco dei Tedeschi. (The engravings can be used in
giving suggestions of Giorgione's methods of composition.)
6. Venice, Chiesa di San Rocco, Christ carrying the Cross.
7. Venice, Giovanelli Palace, Soldier and Woman.
8. Venice, Correr Museum, Pietà (copy ?).
9. Castelfranco, Madonna Enthroned.
10. Dresden, Venus.
11. Kingston Lacy, Judgment of Solomon.
12. Buda Pesth, Birth of Paris (copy).
13. Florence, Uffizi, Judgment of Solomon.
14. Florence, Uffizi, Fire-test of Moses.
15. Florence, Uffizi, Knight of Malta.
16. Boston, Mrs. Gardner, Head of Christ.
17. London, National Gallery, Study for figure of San Liberale.
18. London, National Gallery, Epiphany.
19. London, National Gallery, David and Solomon.
20. London, Mr. Beaumont (Lord Allandale), Shepherd's Offering.
21. London, Mr. Benson, Holy Family.
22. St. Petersburg, Hermitage, Judith.
At first sight it may seem that there is more variety of
style in these pictures than the works of any one artist would
¹ Justi's book contains a reproduction of the engraving. A copy of the engrav-
ing is owned by Mr. C. F. Murray of London.
GIORGIONE
211
show, especially one who died young. There are, however,
certain general considerations to be clearly remembered.
Giorgione was born and grew up in a time of great discovery,
when long-established thoughts and habits
thoughts and habits were rapidly
changing, so that we should commit a serious error were we to
expect him to paint the same subjects, or in the same manner,
as his predecessors. His works would necessarily be different
from theirs. He would naturally show greater variety and,
owing to his youth, his style would not have become fixed.
What is certain is that his contemporaries regarded him with
the greatest admiration, so the best way to fit ourselves to
judge him is to study the life of Venice in his day.
It is not much that is left us of the great man's life work,
but it suffices to show what he was, not only as a painter, but
as a man; and why his influence was so great on his contem-
poraries, and why so long as the human heart stays young his
spirit will continue to call loudly to it. That he was a per-
fect colourist, that is to say, that he understood how to juxta-
pose the rich oriental colours of the Venetian palette in such
wise that each tint emphasised the effect of all the others,
or that as a draughtsman he could adequately portray the
images in his brain, does not explain the effect he has on those
who care for him. These are merely technical qualities that
are not difficult to acquire, and that many a man has pos-
sessed.
It is the spirit of Giorgione's work that makes him what he
is. He spoke in the simplest, broadest way to the deeper
side of our nature. Not so imbued with the ceremonies of
religion as his master Bellini, nor so given over to the full-
blooded joy in the beauties of this world as his comrade Titian,
212
STUDIES
he recognised that fanaticism or sensuality are equally spirit-
ual death, and that the whole and perfect soul must be tem-
pered in the fires of the heart, and cooled in the breezes of
Nature. No such loveable Madonna had been painted as
she of Castelfranco, -no purer presentation exists of the
compelling beauty of the human figure than his Venus. Un-
abashed "he held both hands before the fire of life," not
warming first one and then the other, but with true poetic
feeling combining every beauty that he perceived in one
harmonious song.
Always steadily reaching for the same goal, this even-
poised master did not one day paint such exalted figures as
Bellini's Virgin and Companion Saints in the Frari, and on
another such heathen festivities as the same master's Bac-
chanal. But, as he loved music and pleasant company and
such pleasantnesses of life, so in his painting he shows us grace
and harmony and good breeding. And as these things are
hard to find in our daily course and harder still to fix long
enough to paint their semblance, he fashioned for himself a
world, an Arcadia, where men and women, surrounded by
beautiful Nature, lived together, enjoying a life where there
was both work and play. In all temperate reason they em-
ploy their energies now on problems of deep thought, and now
in the satisfaction of health and natural bodily enjoyment,
and it is just because of the reasonableness of this balance
of mind and body that his pictures seem poetic, dreamlike
and difficult to explain. As Keats, more than any scientist
or idle dreamer, tells how the nightingale entrances the soul,
so Giorgione depicts the Virgin and her Child guarded by
attendant Saints, or adored by kings and slaves, with greater
GIORGIONE
213
persuasiveness than any theologian. But he does this neither
as one diverted only by the pageantry, nor as an historian.
Endowed with a poet's instinct, he saw the deeper meaning of
the scene and depicted those parts that truly illustrate it.
Other artists there have been endowed with this same in-
stinct, but their works do not obtain from us of to-day as full
response as from our forefathers who lived when they were
painted, and this because they do not give visual form to
matters of lasting import, but to those fleeting affairs that
constitute fashion. This is not so of Giorgione. The glory
of his work will never fade, for his appeal is to the spirit of
youth- that spirit which is compounded of a pure and nat-
ural love in all things beautiful, be they physical or spiritual,
natural or divine, and with energy sufficient to urge it forward
to the acquisition of, and the becoming part of, each and all
of these various perfections. Such was Giorgione: neither
utterly pagan, nor completely christian, but absolutely human
in the finest sense, in that his perceptions were clear enough
to see the special value of all things beautiful and his technical
powers adequate to give due expression to that which he
perceived.
1
Alexander, portraits of, 82
allegory of Time and Truth, 13
archæological study of art, 3, 4
INDEX
art as an index of life, 4, 57, 97, 133, 147
function of, 128
Athena, head of, from Cyrene, 135 f.
date of, 142
local work, 149
beauty, Greek love of, 76
Bellini and Giorgione, 173, 181
Bellini, Bacchanal, 190
Berenson, 154, 157, 171, 172
Bernini, an estimate of, 3 f.
architectural work, 40 f.
classes of his work, 14
clay models, 21, 44 f.
contemporary honour for, 6
designs for piazza of St. Peter's, 50 f.
early life of, 15
estimate and characterization of, 42
expression of religion, 22
influence of, 23
multiplicity of sketches, 19
originality of, 20
portraits of, 10 f.
sculptor's models, 21 f., 44 f.
list of, 46
technique of, 18 f.
versatility, 40
Bernini, works of,
Eneas and Anchises, 16
angels, used in architecture, 23 f.
Apollo and Daphne, 7, 17
Baldacchino in St. Peter's, 33
Beata Albertona, 32
Cattedra in St. Peter's, 33
Daniel in the lions' den, 29
David, 16
fountains, 14, 34
Habakkuk, 26
Bernini, works of — Continued
Maria di Magdala, 32, 49
portraits, 14, 35
Bishop Santoni, 37
Costanza Buonavelli, 37
Francis I, 39
Louis XIV, 39
Mons. Francesco Barberini, 39
Mons. Montoya, 37
Paul V, 38
Proserpina, 17
saints, 25
Santa Bibiana, 26
St. Jerome, 27, 47
Saint Theresa, 30, 48
Truth, 13
Borghese pope, patronage of, 15
Borghese warrior, 17
Botticelli, 112, 156
Virgin and child in Boston, 157
Brandegee Collection, 21, 41, 45, 51, 85
Browning, 69
Brunn, H., 138
Bupalos and Athenis, 77
Carracci, 3
Cariani and Giorgione, 160, 166
Catena and Giorgione, 177
draperies of, 183
St. Jerome (National Gallery), 178
Knight adoring Infant Christ, 178,
182
Corbulo, portrait of, 57, 88
Cyrene, sculpture of, 136 f.
Dante, Greek spirit in, 113
Demetrius of Alopeke, 84
Egyptian portraiture, 60
sculpture, 61, 140
emotion controlled in Greece, 103
evolution of art, 4
215
216
INDEX
Farnese Hercules, 123
Florentine portraits, 90
Furtwaengler, A., 138
Futurists, 140
Ghirlandaio, 112
Giorgione, 155 f.
draperies of, 183
life, 159
list of works, 203, 210
Anonimo Morelli, 163
Barri, 164
Berenson, 171
Crowe and Cavalcaselle, 168
Morelli, 169
Ridolfi, 161
Vasari, 159
paintings attributed to, 155 f.
romantic quality of, 181
spirit of his work, 211
the true Giorgione, 172 f.
treatment of landscape, 191
Giorgione, works of,
Birth of Paris (copy, Buda-Pesth),
196
Giorgione, works attributed to,
Allegory (Dresden), 195
Cassone pictures (Padua), 195
Concert (Pitti), 188
Daphne and Apollo (Venice), 194
Fête Champêtre (Louvre), 189
Head of Boy (Hampton Court), 187
Judith (St. Petersburg), 195
Madonna (Madrid), 193
Madonna and Saints (Louvre), 187
Nymph and Satyr (Pitti), 187
Orpheus and Eurydice (Bergamo),
200
Portrait (Berlin), 198
Portrait (Borghese), 196
Portrait (Buda-Pesth), 197
Portrait (from Crespi Collection),
202
Portrait (from Doetsch Collection),
201
Guido, 3
hair as a means of dating sculpture,
144
Hipponax, caricature of, 7y
Christ carrying the Cross (San humanity of the Greek gods, 150
Rocco, Vienna), 184
David and Solomon (National
(National | Kresilas, portrait of Pericles, 58, 75, 78 f,
Gallery), 208
Epiphany (National Gallery), 175
Gypsy Madonna (Vienna), 204
Head of Christ (Gardner Collection,
Boston), 185
Holy Family (Benson), 183 f.
Judgment of Solomon (Kingston
Lacy), 172 f., 182
Knight of Malta (Uffizi), 58, 185
Madonna Enthroned (Castelfranco),
181
Pietà (Venice), 206
Portrait (Temple Newsam), 202
Portrait (Vienna), 209
San Liberale (National Gallery),
186
Shepherd's Offering (Lord Allan-
dale), 180 f.
The Tempest (Venice), 181
Three Philosophers (Vienna), 181
Venus (Dresden), 174, 181
Laocoon, 123
Laws of sculpture, 7
Leonardo, 140, 158
logical reasoning about pictures, 176
Longinus, 46
Lowell on Lincoln, 69
lucidity of Greek sculpture, 140
Lysippus, portraits of Alexander, 82
"Massacre of the Innocents," 73
materials for sculpture, 145
Michael Angelo and Bernini, 16
Michael Angelo, 97 f.
affectation of the period, 119, 120
complexity of his work, 101, 103
feeling for the nude figure, 101
muscles emphasized, 120, 123
period of, 98, 103, 111
pupils of, 122
sonnets and letters, 115
INDEX
217
Michael Angelo, works of,
Bacchus, 116 f.
Battle of the Centaurs, 133
David, 133
Eros, 116, 118, 120
Madonna of Bruges, 116, 131
Moses, 100, 102
Night and Dawn, 122
Pietà in St. Peter's, 100
Sistine Chapel, 121, 125 f., 132
Victor, 116
Morelli on Giorgione, 155 f.
Mourning Athena, 148
Myron's Discobolus, 17
mystical fervour in art, 3
Niobid group, 73
nude figure felt under drapery, 101 f.
Oberammergau, 31
origins of art, 3
Pausanias, 138
Pericles, portrait of, 58, 75, 78 f.
Pheidias and Michael Angelo, 93 f.
Pheidias, age of, 105, 109
and Pericles, 110
influence of, 94 f.
Pheidias, work of,
Athena Parthenos, 131
Lemnian Athena, 101, 131
Parthenon, 3, 132
frieze, 118
pediments, 101, 121
Zeus, 108
photography and art criticism, 155
physical beauty prized by Greeks, 151
portraits of women and children, 89
portraits made for friends, 65
portraiture, art of, 57 f.
commemorative, 60, 64
Egyptian, 60
Florentine, 90
Greek and Roman, 85
in language, 66
in large compositions, 62
in painting and sculpture, 59, 71, 74
motives for, 59
religious, 59
summary, 91
Raphael, Angelo Doni, 58
realism, in sculpture, 75
realism, Greek and Roman, 75
religion and art, 104, 106
Roselli, 156
Roman art, 4
Ruskin, 156
Scipio, so-called bust of, 57
Sheik-el-Beled, 57
Shelley, 66, 68
Silanion, 83
technical peculiarities in paintings,
157 f.
temple, significance of the Greek, 106
Tintoretto, Greek spirit of, 113
Titian, Duke of Norfolk, 58
Triton, 47
"Truth unveiled by Time," 13
Turner's Rizpah, 67
violence in art, 8
wealth and art, 64, 91
youth in Greek art, 111
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