Besides the written testimony referred to, the state of art can be gathered from the vases, bronzes, mosaics, paintings on stone, and mural decorations which have come down to us. These were chiefly the work of Greek journeymen, and though there is much that is excellent in these productions, their period of decadence very soon set in. |Antiques for tourists.| It is a gauge of the art knowledge of to-day to watch the gullible English and Americans purchasing third-rate copies of the works of Greek journeymen house-decorators, and taking them home and hoarding them as works of art,—works which were only valuable in their own time, in connection with the life and architecture then existing, but which at the present day are interesting merely from an historical point of view, for no really artistic mind can possibly find satisfaction in such work for its own sake. Did these uncultured buyers but reflect and study for a while the natural beauties around them, they would soon see the error of their ways.
In their conclusion on Græco-Roman art Woltmann and Woermann say that they “have no doubt that Greek painting had at last fully acquired the power to produce adequate semblances of living fact and nature,” which could not be said of any painting up to that time. Here then we have traced a quick development of Greek painting, and an almost equally quick decline, and all through we find the never-failing truth,—that so long as nature was the standard, and all efforts were directed towards interpreting her faithfully, so long did the national art grow and improve till it culminated in the statues of Pheidias and the paintings of Apelles; but that directly nature was neglected, as it was in the time of Theon, art degenerated, till at last it fell, as we shall see, into the meaningless work of the early Christian artists. |Art criticism.|We find even thus early that the pedantic writer who knows nothing of practical art had begun to fill the world with his mysterious nonsense. |Rhetoricians.| Such were the rhetoricians of the empire who describe works “purely anonymous, indeed in many cases it is clear that the picture has been invented by the man of letters, as a peg whereon to hang his eloquence.”
It cannot be too often repeated that technical criticism is not authoritative unless made by masters of the several arts.
Let us now proceed to the British Museum, and look at the best specimens of Greek and Græco-Roman sculpture as exhibited there.
Taking for examination the specimens nearest at hand; we refer to those to be seen in the gallery leading out of the entrance-hall of the British Museum. |Nero’s bust.| The busts which strike us most forcibly are those of Nero, Trajan, Publius Hevius Pertinax, Cordianus Africanus, Caracalla, Commodus, and Julius Cæsar. The bust of Nero (No. 11) strikes one by the simplicity and breadth of its treatment, combined as these qualities are with the expression of great strength and energy. The sculptor has evidently gone at his work with a thorough knowledge of the technique, and hewn the statue straight from the marble, a custom, by the way, followed by only one modern sculptor, namely, J. Havard Thomas. Look at the broad treatment of the chin and neck of this bust of Nero. Nowadays one rarely meets with even living awe-inspiring men, but that marble carries with it such force, that, all cold and stony as it is, it creates in you a feeling of respect and awe. It should be studied from various distances and coigns of vantage, and if well studied it can surely never be forgotten. It gives the head of a domineering, cruel, sensual, yet strong man. |Trajan’s bust.| In the bust of Trajan (No. 15), we have the same powerful technique employed this time in rendering the animal strength of a powerful man. With his low forehead, small head, and splendid neck, the embodiment of strength, Trajan looks down on us somewhat scornfully. |Bust of Publius Pertinax.| Then, too, No. 35, the bust of Publius Hevius Pertinax, is no mask, but a face with a brain behind it. You feel this man might speak, and if he did, what he had to say would be worth listening to. Perhaps for grip of the impression of life this is the best of all these busts. Compare it with the mask (it can be called nothing else) on the shelf above it, and you will see the difference. |Busts of Cordianus and Caracalla.| The portrait busts of Cordianus Africanus (No. 39) and Caracalla are also marvellous for life-like expression. Look well at the cropped head and beard of Cordianus from a little distance, and see how true and life-like the impression is; then go up close and see how the hair of the beard is rendered. It is done by chipping out little wedges of the marble. Here is a very good example of the distinction between what is called realism and naturalism or impressionism, for the two last we hold to be synonymous, though for lucidity we have defined them differently. If all the detail of that beard had been rendered, every hair or curl correctly cut to represent a hair or curl, and this is what the modern Italian sculptor would have done, we should have had realism and bad work. This should be borne in mind in portrait photography, that the essence, the true impression, is what is required; the fundamental is all that counts; the rest is small, niggling, contemptible.
Let us turn to No. 33,—the sensual face of Commodus,—he re-lives in the marble. |Bust of Homer.| Another very notable bust is that of Homer (No. 117), in the corner of the gallery at right angles to that we are leaving. Look how truly the impression is rendered of the withered old literary man; how the story of his long life is stamped on his face, the unmistakable look of the studious, contemplative man.
Pass we now to the next gallery, and stop at the wonderfully fine torso, No. 172. |Torso, and boy and thorn.| Look well at this beautiful work, so feelingly, sympathetically, and simply treated by the sculptor. You can almost see the light glance as the muscles glide beneath the skin. This is a marvellous natural work, as is also the boy pulling out a thorn from his foot. |Young satyr.|The young satyr (No. 184) is also a wonderfully fine piece of sculpture, and well worth close study. The student will have ample opportunity for studying, side by side, in this gallery, bad stone cutting and fine sculpture, for many of the fine marbles have been barbarously restored. As an example, we cite the lifeless, stony arms of No. 188, which compare with the rest of the figure, look at the india-rubber finger of the right hand, and you will understand what bad work is, if you did not know it already. |Apotheosis of Homer.| Before leaving this gallery let the reader look at No. 159, the Apotheosis of Homer. Now, as can be imagined, this is the delight of the pedantic critic, and more ignorant rhapsodies have been written on this work than perhaps on any other piece of sculpture. Of course, as any candid and competent observer will see, this is, as a work of art, very poor, and hardly worth talking about, except as a warning. In passing into the gallery where are the remains of the Parthenon frieze, notice an archaic nude torso which stands on the left, and see how the artist was feeling his way to nature. |Parthenon frieze.| All portions of the Parthenon frieze should be most carefully studied. The animals in 60 and 61 are fairly true, as in fact is the whole work. |Muybridge and his cantering horse.| It was on seeing one of Muybridge’s photographs of a man cantering on a bare-backed horse, that a sculptor remarked to us, “I wonder if the Greeks knew of photography.” And yet critics and feeble artists call this work ideal, and declare they discover imaginary groupings according to geometrical laws, and heaven knows what; all of which the best sculptors deny. |Horse of Selene.| The student must now look at the “Horse of Selene,” one of the most marvellous pieces of work ever done by man. It was a long time before we could see the full beauty and truthfulness of impression of this great work, and the reason was due to a simple physical fact. We stood too near to it. To see it well you should stand about twenty or thirty feet off, and out of the grey background you will see the marble horse tossing its living head, and you will be spell-bound. Having observed the truthfulness of impression, go to it close up, and note the wonderful truth with which the bony structure of the skull is suggested beneath the skin. We can say no more than that it is a true impression taken direct from nature, for in no other way could it have been obtained. Nothing ideal about it at all, simply naturalism.
Much nonsense has been written, too, about “idealism” in Greek coins. |Greek coins.| To us they seem simply impressions taken from busts or other works; but to make assurance doubly sure, we have taken the opinion of two of the very best modern sculptors, who are, we venture to prophesy, going to show us as good work as any done by the Greeks, and in many ways even better work.[4] Well, their opinion as to “idealism” in Greek sculpture is emphatically that it existed not. They say that the Greeks were naturalistic, the study of nature was the mainspring of their art, and the truthful expression of the poetry of nature their sole end and aim. That they attained this end in many ways we know, and in certain ways they will never be surpassed, but in other directions their work will one day appear childish.
4. All old work is to be surpassed, and that in the fundamental matter of movement. This advance is entirely due to Photography.
We do not attempt to give a detailed technical criticism of sculpture as executed by the Greeks, for, as we have said before, none but a first-rate sculptor can do that; and as there are not half a dozen such in England, and as they have quite enough work to do at present, we fear the public will have to wait some time for such criticism. In the meantime those interested in the subject cannot do better than study the works mentioned, and let them leave all others alone; let them spend days in studying those pointed out, and they will soon find themselves able to distinguish good work from bad. |Gibson gallery.| Then, if they want a good shock, let them walk into the Gibson Gallery at Burlington House, for there they will see nothing but bad work.
There is one point to be borne in mind when we look at the surpassing beauty of the Greek statues, and that is the natural beauty of the Greek race, and the number of excellent models the Greek sculptors had before them to choose from. |Taine.| Taine, in his charming but atechnical volume on “La Philosophie de l’art Grec,” goes as thoroughly into this question as a historian and philosopher can enter into the life of the past, and into art questions, which in our opinion is to a very limited extent. Nevertheless, his book is full of suggestions, and if our sculptors do not to-day equal in beauty the antiques, the cause, in our opinion, lies in the lack of perfect models, for the best technical work of to-day we think is superior to that of the Greeks. We have seen impressionistic renderings of nature by some modern sculptors which we think more natural in all points than anything of the kind to be found in Greek sculpture.
Like the Greeks have the leading men of the modern French school adhered to nature,—a school in our mind more akin to the Greek school at its best than any other, and for the simple reason that it is more loyal to nature than any art has been since the time of Apelles. |Horizon-line.| As an example of the kinship between the two schools we quote Woltmann and Woermann, who tell us the Greeks “placed their horizon abnormally high according to our ideas; and distributed the various objects over an ample space in clear and equable light.” Now modern painters have happily discarded all laws for the position of the horizon-line, and common sense shows that the height of the horizon naturally depends on how much foreground is included in the picture. The angle included by the eye vertically as well as horizontally varies with the distance of the object from us, and the only law therefore is to include in the picture as much as is included by the eye; and this of course varies with the position of the motif or chief point of interest. |Millet.| Millet has a good many high horizons, and we feel they are normal not abnormal. On this point therefore we think the Greeks were very advanced.
Leaving Greek art, we now come to the art of the early Christians. Woltmann and Woermann tell us that “Early Christian art does not differ in its beginnings from the art of antiquity.... The only perceptible differences are those differences of subject which betoken the fact that art has now to embody a changed order of religious ideas, and even from this point of view the classical connection is but gradually, and at first imperfectly, severed.... At the outset Christianity, as was inevitable from its Jewish origin, had no need for art. In many quarters the aversion to works of material imagery ...—the antagonism to the idolatries of antiquity—remained long unabated. Yet when Christianity, far outstepping the narrow circle of Judaism, had been taken up by classically educated Greeks and Romans, the prejudice against works of art could not continue to be general, nor could Christendom escape the craving for art which is common to civilized mankind. The dislike of images used as objects of worship did not include mere chamber decorations, and while independent sculpture found no footing in the Christian world, or at least was applied only to secular and not to religious uses, painting, on the other hand, found encouragement for purely decorative purposes, in the execution of which a characteristically Christian element began to assert itself by degrees.”
The pure Christian element began to assert itself silently in decorative work in the catacombs, and “these cemeteries are the only places in which we find remains of Christian paintings of earlier date than the close of the fourth century.” These works, however, “constituted no more than a kind of picture writing,” as any one who has seen them can certify. But this symbolism got very mixed with pagan stories, and we get Orpheus in a Phrygian cap, and Hermes carrying a ram, both representing the Good Shepherd. At other times the artists seem to have set themselves to represent a Christ constructed on their knowledge of the attributes ascribed to him, and we get a beardless youth approaching “closely to the kindred types of the classical gods and heroes.” “Mary appears as a Roman matron, generally praying with uplifted hands.” |St. Peter’s statue at Rome.|Peter and Paul “appear as ancient philosophers,” and the well-known bronze statue of St. Peter, in the cathedral dedicated to him at Rome, is no less than a bonâ fide antique statue of a Roman consul. Here we have the same neglect of nature, and the bad work always to be expected from this neglect and from enslaved minds.
The mosaics of Christian art were also handed down from classical antiquity. Though rarely found in the catacombs, this art was being much used above ground for architectural decoration. This art, as Woltmann and Woermann rightly say, was “only a laborious industry, which by fitting together minute coloured blocks produces a copy of a design, which design the workers are bound by. They may proceed mechanically, but not so flimsily and carelessly as the decorative painters.” From about A.D. 450 we are told that church pictures become no longer only decorative, but also instructive. Here then was a wrong use of pictorial art—it is not meant to be symbolic and allegorical, or to teach, but to interpret the poetry of nature.
A new conception of Christ it seems now appeared in the mosaics,—a bearded type,—and this time we get the features of Zeus represented. |The emperors' school.| By means of the mosaics a new impulse was given to art, and in A.D. 375 a school was founded by the Emperors Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian, of which we read, “The schools of art now once more encourage the observance of traditions; strictness of discipline and academical training were the objects kept in view; and the student was taught to work, not independently by study from nature, but according to the precedent of the best classical models.”
At this time art, though lying under the influence of antique traditions, held its own for a longer time in Byzantium, where the decorative style of the early Christians lived on after the iconoclastic schism in the eighth century, and where we read that this ornamental style began to be commonly employed. |Justinian.|After the age of Justinian (which itself has left no creation of art at Rome), many poor and conventional works were executed at Ravenna. We read that for “lack of inner life and significance, amends are attempted to be made by material splendour, brilliancy of costume, and a gold groundwork, which had now become the rule here as well as in Byzantium.” Thus we see the artists became completely lost in confusion since they had left nature, and they knew not what to do, but, like many weak painters of the present day, tried to make their work attractive by meretricious ornaments, and true art there was none. This is carried out to-day to its fullest development by many men of medium talent, who make pictures in far countries, or of popular resorts, or religious subjects, and strive to appeal, and do appeal to an uneducated class, through the subject of their work, which in itself may be a work of the poorest description.
We read that in the year 640, “the superficial and unequal character of mosaic workmanship increased quickly.” |Miniatures.| The miniatures of the early Christians, however, we are told, showed considerable power, but the iconoclastic schism brought all this to an end. |Mohammedans.| “The gibes of the Mohammedans” were the cause of Leo the Third’s edict against image worship in A.D. 726. All the pictures in the East were destroyed by armed bands, and the painters thrown into prison, and so ended Byzantine art. This movement did not affect Italian art.
We have followed Messrs. Woltmann and Woermann closely in their account of the decadence of art from the greatest days of Greek sculpture and painting to the end of the Christian period; but as our object is avowedly only to deal with the best art—that which is good for all time—and to see how far that is naturalistic or otherwise, we shall speak but briefly of (the main points connected with) mediæval art, which has but little interest for us until we come to Niccola Pisano, and Giotto. |Miniaturists.| During the early years of what are called the Middle Ages, miniaturists were evolving monstrosities from their own inner consciousness, but with Charlemagne, who said, |Charlemagne.| “We neither destroy pictures nor pray to them,” the standard adopted was again classical antiquity. |Ivan the Terrible.|So art continuously declined until it became a slave to the Church, and the worst phase of this slavery was to be seen in the East, under Ivan the Terrible, for we read that “artists were under the strictest tutelage to the clergy, who chose the subjects to be painted, prescribed the manner of the treatment, watched over the morality of the painters, and had it in their power to give and refuse commissions. Bishops alone could promote a pupil to be a master, and it was their duty to see that the work was done according to ancient models.” Here was indeed a pretty state of things, a painter to be watched by a priest; to have his subjects selected for him! One cannot imagine anything more certain to degrade art. Religion has ever been on the side of mental retrogression, has ever been the first and most pertinacious foe to intellectual progress, but perhaps to nothing has she been so harmful as to art, unless it has been to science.
During the period of this slavery, the Church used art as a tool, as a disseminator of her tenets, as a means of imparting religious knowledge. Very clever of her, but very disastrous for poor art.
How conventional art was during the Romanesque period can be seen in the glass paintings that decorate many of the old churches, to admire which crowds go to Italy and waste their short time in the unhealthy interiors of churches, instead of spending it at Sorrento or Capri. These go back to their own country, oppressed with dim recollections of blue and red dresses, crude green landscapes, and with parrot-like talks of “subdued lights,” “rich tones mellowed by time,” and such cant.
The Romanesque style of architecture was superseded in the fourteenth century by the Gothic. |Gothic.| A transformation took place in art and France now took the lead. The painters of this period emancipated themselves from the direction of the priesthood—a great step indeed. |The guilds.| The masters of this age were specialists; the guilds now ruled supreme in art matters. We read that “now popular sentiment began to acknowledge that the artist’s own mode of conceiving a subject had a certain claim, side by side with tradition and sacerdotal prescription.... They took their impressions direct from nature,” but their insight into nature was scanty. As Messrs. Woltmann and Woermann very truly remark, “If for the purpose of depicting human beings, either separately or in determined groups and scenes, the artist wishes to develop a language for the expression of emotion, there is only one means open to him—a closer grasp and observation of nature. In the age which we are now approaching, the painter’s knowledge of nature remains but scanty. He does not succeed in fathoming and mastering her aspects; but his eyes are open to them so far as is demanded by the expressional phenomena which it is his great motive to represent; since it is not yet for their own sakes, but only for the sake of giving expression to a particular range of sentiments that he seeks to imitate the realities of the world.”
There was a struggle at this period for the study of nature, and the tyranny of the Church was being thrown off; there was then hope that art would at last advance, and advance it did. What was wanting was a deeper insight into nature, for nature is not a book to be read at a glance, she requires constant study, and will not reveal all her beauties without much wooing. |Thirteenth century sketch-book.| And though we read of a sketch-book of this time, the thirteenth century, in which appears a sketch of a lion, which “looks extremely heraldic,” and to which the artist has appended the remark, “N.B.—Drawn from life,” this in no way surprises us, for have we not been seriously told in this nineteenth century by the painters of catchy, meretricious water-colours, with reds, blues and greens such as would delight a child, that they had painted them from nature; pictures in which no two tones were correct, in which detail, called by the ignorant, finish, had been painfully elaborated, whilst the broad facts of nature had been ignored. Such work is generally painted from memory or photographs. Happily work of this kind will never live, however much the gullible public may buy it. Next we read that “the germs of realism already existing in art by degrees unfold themselves further, and artists venture upon a closer grip of nature.” |Niccola Pisano.| Here, then, were the signs of coming success, and the great effect of these gradual changes was first manifested in the work of Niccola Pisano, who “made a sudden and powerful return to the example of the antique.” All honour to this man, who was an epoch-maker, who based his conception “upon a sudden and powerful return to the example of the antique, of the Roman relief.” His work is by no means naturalistic or perfect, but it was enough for one man to do such a herculean task as to ignore his own times and rise superior to them. |Cimabue.| Painting, however, took no such quick turn, but Cimabue was the first of those who were to bring it into the right way. The principal works ascribed to him, however, are not authenticated.
Another epoch-maker, Giotto, now appears. He seems to have been a remarkable man in himself, which however hardly concerns us. The historian of his works says, “The bodies still show a want of independent study of nature; the proportions of the several members (as we know by the handbook of Cemieno hereafter to be mentioned) were regulated by a fixed system of measurement;” again, “The drawing is still on the whole conventional, and the modelling not carried far.” His trees and animals are like toys. Yet we read that “their naturalism is the very point which the contemporaries of Giotto extol in his creations,” but, as Woltmann and Woermann say, this must be accepted according to the notion entertained of what nature was, and we are by this means able to see how crude the notions of nature can become in educated men when they neglect the study of it. But from all this evidence we gather that Giotto’s intellect was great, and that his strides towards the truthful suggesting of nature were enormous. His attempts too at expression are wonderful for his age, see his “Presentations,” the figures are almost natural notwithstanding their crude drawing; he got some of the charm and life of the children around him. We read that in some of his pictures, he took his models direct from nature, as also did Dante in his poetry, but like Dante he attempted at times the doctrinal in his pictures, as in the “Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty,” he tried in fact what many moderns are still trying to do, and daily fail to do, namely, to teach by means of their pictures—a fatal error. Doctrinal subjects are unsuitable for pictorial art, and will never live. Who cares now for Giotto’s “Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty”? but who would not care for a landscape or figure subject taken by Giotto from the life and landscape of his own times?—it would be priceless. Owing to circumstances, we hear that he had to put “much of his art at the service of the Franciscans,” and though not a slave to them, yet we read this disgusted him with the monkish temper. In 1337 Giotto died, but he had done much. Without Kepler there might have been no Newton, so without Giotto there might have been no Velasquez.
Artists at this time belonged to one of the seven higher of the twenty-one guilds into which Florentine craftsmen were divided, namely, that of the surgeons and apothecaries (medici and speziali). Here art and science were enrolled in the same guild, and so were connected, as they always will be, for the study of nature is at the foundation of both, the very first principle of both. Together they have been enslaved, persecuted, and their progress hampered; together they have endured; and now to-day together they stand out glorious in their achievements, free to study, free to do. The one is lending a hand to the other, and the other returns the help with graceful affection. Superstition, priestcraft, tyranny, all their old persecutors are daily losing power, and will finally perish, as do all falsehoods.
We thus leave the art of the Middle Ages, as we left the catacombs, with a wish never to see any more of it. One feels the deepest sympathy for great intellects like Giotto, and his greatest followers, whose lots were cast in times of darkness, and we cannot but respect such as struggled with this darkness, and fought to gain the road to nature’s fountains of truth and beauty. But at the same time, though we may in these pictures see a graceful pose here, a good expression there, or a beautiful and true bit of colour or quality elsewhere, yet we cannot get away from the subject-matter of many of the pictures, which, allegorical and doctrinal as they are, do not lie within the scope of art, and above all one cannot in any way get rid of the false sentiment and untruthfulness of the whole work. Such works will always be interesting to the historian and to the philosopher, but beyond that, to us they are valueless, and we would far rather possess a drawing by Millet than a masterpiece by Giotto.
When abroad, and being actually persuaded of their great littleness, we have been moved with pity for the victims we have met, victims of the pedant and the guide-book, who are led by the nose, and stand gaping before middle-age monstrosities, whilst some incompetent pretender pours into their ears endless cant of grace, spirituality, lustrous colouring, mellifluous line, idealism, et id genus omne, until, bewildered and sick at heart, they return home to retail their lesson diluted, and to swell the number of those who pay homage at the shrine of pedantry and mysticism. Had these travellers spent their short and valuable time in the fields of Italy, they would have “learnt more art,” whatever they may mean by that term of theirs, than they ever did in the bourgeois Campo Santo or dark interior of Santa Croce or Santa Maria Novella. Alas! that the painters of the Middle Ages were unable to paint well. Had they been able to paint, as can some of the moderns, and had they painted truthfully the life and landscape around them, there is no distance some of us would not go to see a gallery of their works: works showing men and women as they were, and as they lived, and in their own surroundings. There at once would have been the pictures, the history, and the idyllic poetry of a bygone age; and what have we now in their place? Diluted types of repulsive asceticism, sentimental types of ignorance and credulity, pictures hideous and untrue and painful to gaze upon, lies and libels on our beautiful world, and on our own race. And whom have we to thank for this? Religion—the so-called encourager of truth, charity, and all that is beautiful and good.
Before beginning the renascence we must glance through Mohammedan, Chinese, and Japanese art. |Mohammedan Art.| With Mohammedan art we have little to do, as it was entirely decorative. It is seen at its best in the Alhambra, and was not the outcome of any study of nature. The Arabian mind seems to have been unable to rise beyond a conventional geometrical picture-writing. Such minds are seen to-day in all countries amongst the undeveloped. Quite recently we have seen some of the best modern negro work from the West Coast of Africa; there too was the love of geometrical ornamentation as strong as in the Arabian art. |Art amongst the Philistines.| We repeat, this artistically-speaking low standard of development is often seen among the people of to-day, and though highly educated in all else, in art they are uneducated, in short they are survivals; and the mischief is, that they judge pictures by their survival decorative standard; they look for bright colours placed in Persian-rug juxtaposition, and talk of “glorious colouring.” It never seems to occur to them what art really is, and what the artist has tried to express, and how well he has expressed it; and they never refer their “glorious colouring” to the infallible standard—nature; but seem to imagine there are abstract standards of colour and form. |Water-colours.| “Glorious colourings” are oftener than not meretricious lies dressed out in gaudiest, vulgarest apparel, and when compared with nature these “colourings” will be found veritable strumpets. Look carefully at many of the much-vaunted water-colours, and then carefully study the same scene in nature, and if many of those water-colours please you afterwards—well, in matters artistic, you have the taste of a frugivorous ape. But apply this test to the water-colours of Israels or Mauve, and you will see they interpret nature. But they have painted chiefly in oils, and wisely so, as there is more to be expressed by oil-painting, and we know of few, if any, great men who confine themselves to water-colour as a medium. But it serves the turn of a host of men—painters, but not artists, who, with their pretty paints, make pot-boilers, of which the form and idea are often stolen—stolen, perhaps, from a photograph. Do such ever study nature? No. They sit at home, and coin vulgar counterfeits with no more of nature in them than the perpetrators have of honesty. It is time that it was clearly and distinctly understood that the man who copies a photograph is as despicable as the man who copies a painting, and it is very certain neither will ever be respected by his contemporaries, or remembered by his successors. Yet the “cheap” work of these men sells well, and the gulled public talk glibly over them of “strength” and “tone” and “colouring,” and what not. Nature is so subtle and astonishing in her facts that but few even of those who do paint directly from her can come anywhere near her, whereas, those who do not study her at all, who do not paint coram ipse, fake and fake, and by faking they lie, and set the example to others to lie, and, if not fought against, this sort of thing would speedily take us back to the art of the Middle Ages, when we should be under the tyranny of Crœsus, instead of Clericus.
It is, then, the absolute duty of every picture-buyer, who has any regard for truth, and any interest in the future of art, to learn to study nature carefully, and to buy only that which is true and sincere, and let the pink and white school of dishonesty die of inanition.
In short, it is high time that educated people ceased to judge painting as they often do, by the standard of coloured rugs. This talk of “colour” is one of the stumbling-blocks of the weak-kneed in art. Colour is good so long as it is true, and no longer. A Persian rug, or Turkey carpet, is not the standard of colour whereby to judge pictures, and only those in the mental state of the frugivorous ape or the Arab craftsmen can think so.
In China and Japan things were very different. Following Mr. Anderson’s invaluable work, the “Pictorial Arts of Japan,” we find that their history of pictorial art begins about A.D. 457. |First period.| Mr. Anderson thinks, however, that art was only actually planted in Japan with the introduction of Buddhism in the sixth century. |Buddhism.| Then it begins badly, for it was under the influence of religion, and in fact we read that the earliest art consisted of Buddhist images and mural decorations. This religious influence, together with a servile imitation of the Chinese masters, so enslaved art, that no development of importance took place till the end of the ninth century.
Looking at the plate of the “Ni Ō,”—a wooden statue—considered the greatest work of the time, we can see the artist had really struggled to interpret nature, and no doubt studies were made from the nude, for the work on the anatomy could not otherwise have been so well expressed; but, good as it is, it runs in the Michael Angelo spirit, is exaggerated, and lacks entirely all the greatness of the Greek sculpture. This work—the greatest of what Mr. Anderson has called the first period—shows that there had been a struggle towards the expression of nature.
The second period, we learn, ends with the fourteenth century, and is parallel, therefore, with the European mediæval period. On comparing plates of the Japanese work with that of the same period in Europe, we are forced to give the palm to the Japanese artists, they were, in fact, vastly superior. In looking at the plate of “The Death of Kosé No Hirotaka” we cannot but feel there was much more respect for nature in Japan than there was in Europe at that time, notwithstanding the fact that Buddhism bore the same relation to art in Japan as Christianity did in Europe. |Nobuzané.| We read also that in the twelfth century there was one, Nobuzané, who had a brilliant reputation for “portraits and other studies from Nature.” The specimen of Nobuzané’s work is admirable in expression, he has caught the living expression of his model, but the rest is conventional. |Chinese renascence.| We are told that the Chinese renascence began about 1275, and that the painters of this movement were naturalistic, “Ink sketches of birds and bamboos, portraits and landscapes were the subjects chosen,” and though these were only a kind of picture-writing, yet the movement led the artists more and more to study nature.
Coming now to Mr. Anderson’s third period, from the end of the fourteenth century to the last quarter of the eighteenth,|Meichō.| we find that Meichō seems to have been to Japanese art what Giotto was to European art, and at about the same period. We read further on that in the early part of the fifteenth century the revived Chinese movement referred to made its influence felt in Japan. |Shiūbun.| An example given by Mr. Anderson of Shiūbun’s idealized landscape painting, while far from satisfactory or even pleasing, is, we venture to think, superior to the work of Giotto. Therein is shown some power, and there is not the childishness which is visible in Giotto’s work. |Soga Jasoku.| Much more naturalistic, powerful, and pleasing are the works of Soga Jasoku, fifteenth-century Chinese school. These landscapes show the artist had a feeling for nature, and although he attempted in the upper plate (Plate 16) what we consider to be beyond the scope of art, yet in the lower the master-hand shows itself. There is atmosphere in the picture. Close observation of nature resulted in a grasp of subtlest movement and expression. |Soga Chokuan.| Witness the “Falcon and Egret” by Soga Chokuan (sixteenth century), where the power shown in depicting the grasp of the falcon’s talon as it mercilessly crushes the helpless egret, is very great. Then look at the paintings of birds in any of our books, and see how wooden, how lifeless they are, compared with even the sixteenth-century Japanese representations of bird life.
Sesshiū, we are told, was another great painter, and the founder of a school (1420-1509). This great man, we are told, “did not follow in the footsteps of the ancients, but developed a style peculiar to himself. His power was greatest in landscape, after which he excelled most in figures, then in flowers and birds,” and later on, we are told, in animals. He preferred working in monochrome, and it is said asserted “the scenery of nature was his final teacher.”
Then came the Kano School, all of whose artists evidently struggled for Naturalism, and had great power of expression of movement but not of form. The leader, we are told, was an eclectic, and painted Chinese landscapes in Japan, so that he must have neglected nature, and his works belong to the so-called imaginative or unnatural school. The best men of this period were decidedly impressionists, and their chief aim seems to have been to give the impression of the scene and neglect the details, and it is perfectly marvellous how well they succeeded in depicting movement by a very few lines. The “Rain Scene” by Kano Tanyu is a fine example of this.
We read that the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were periods of decadence; we conclude therefore that in Japan art reached its highest state during the second period, under Shiūbun, Soga Jasoku, Sesshiū and Tanyu, who were all students of nature, and several of whom would have been called impressionists had they painted in these days.
We are told that Matahei tried to found a naturalistic school, whose followers should go direct to nature for their subjects, but the movement did not receive any hearty impulse. However it was taken up afterwards by a series of book-illustrators. |Kôrin.| Next we read of Kôrin whose “works demonstrate remarkable boldness of invention, associated with great delicacy of colouring, and often ... masterly drawing and composition.” It is quite marvellous to see the work of this seventeenth-century artist.
Winding up his account of the third period, Mr. Anderson says, “But three-quarters of the eighteenth century were allowed to pass without a struggle on the part of the older schools to elevate the standard of their art, and painting was beginning to languish into inanition when the revolutionary doctrines of a naturalistic school and of a few artisan book-illustrators brought new aims and new workers to inaugurate the last and most characteristic period of Japanese art.”
Mr. Anderson says, “The fourth and last era began about thirty years before the close of the last century, with the rise of the |Shijo school.|Shijo naturalistic school of painting in Kioto, and a wider development of the artisan popular school in Yedo and Osaka, two steps which conferred upon Japanese art the strongest of those national characteristics that have now completed its separation from the parent art of Amia.”
He goes on to say “that the study of nature was admitted to be the best means of achieving the highest result in art by the older painters of China and Japan, but they limited its interpretation.”