II.—Beauty in Art.

The term Beauty in Art is little else than a synonym for Perfection, but perfection in these three classes of arts is far from being the same thing, or of anything like the same value, as an intellectual expression. The beauty of a machine, however complicated, arises mainly from its adaptability to use; while a mosaic of exquisite colours, or an elevated piece of instrumental music, raises emotions of a far higher class: and a painting or a poem may appeal to all that is great or noble in human nature.

If, for instance, we take a dozen arts at random, and divide them into twelve equal component parts, as they belong to each of the three divisions, Technic, Æsthetic, or Phonetic. If we further assign one as the relative intellectual value of the Technic element, two as that due to the Æsthetic, and three as the proportionate importance of the Phonetic, we obtain the index number in the fourth column of the table below, which is probably not far from expressing the true relative value of each. Of course there are adventitious circumstances which may raise the proportionate value of any art very considerably, and, on the other hand, neglect of cultivation may depress others below their true value; but the principles on which the table is formed are probably those by which a correct estimate may be most easily obtained.

Technic.Æsthetic.Phonetic.
Heating, Ventilation, &c.111—= 13
Turnery, Joinery, &c.93—= 15
Gastronomy75—= 17
Jewellery741= 18
Clothing561= 20
Ceramique552= 21
Gardening462= 22
Architecture444= 24
Music264= 26
Painting and Sculpture336= 27
Drama228= 30
Epic—210= 34
Eloquence—111= 35

The first three arts enumerated in the above table are evidently utterly incapable of Phonetic expression, and the first hardly even can be raised to the second class, though air combined with warmth does afford pleasure to the senses. Joinery may convey an idea of perfection from the mode in which it is designed or executed; while gastronomy, as above mentioned, does really afford important gratification to the senses, approaching nearly in importance to the plain food-supplying art of cookery. Jewellery may combine extreme mechanical beauty of execution with the most harmonious arrangement of colour, and may also be made to express a meaning, though only to a very limited extent. Clothing depends on both colour and form for its perfection more than even beauty of material, and may be made to express gaiety or sorrow, though perhaps more from association than from any inherent qualities. The arts of the potter can exhibit not only perfection in execution, but practically depend both in colour and form, especially the latter, to raise their products out of the category of mere Technic arts; while the paintings on them, which are indispensable to the highest class of ceramique, render them capable of taking their place among those objects which affect a Phonetic mode of utterance. As mentioned above, floriculture and landscape gardening may, besides their use, afford infinite pleasure to the senses and even express gaiety or gloom, and, from mere prettiness, may rise towards something like sublimity in expression.

Architecture is, however, the central art of the group, which in its highest form combines all the three classes in nearly equal proportions, but not always necessarily so. The Pyramids of Egypt, for instance, though Technically the most wonderful buildings in the world, have very little Æsthetic, and hardly more than one of Phonetic, value. The great temple at Baalbec,—and in fact all the Roman temples, may be classed as containing six parts of Technic value for mechanical excellence of size and construction, four for beauty of form and detail, but certainly not more than two parts for any expression of religion or intellect they may exhibit, making up twenty for the index of their artistic value. Cologne cathedral takes very nearly the same position in the scale, but Rheims, Bourges, and the more perfect Gothic cathedrals may be classed higher, as five Technic, three Æsthetic, and four Phonetic, making twenty-three altogether as their index; and they are only surpassed by such a building as the Parthenon at Athens, which, though not so large and imposing as some others, is, so far as we know, the most perfect building yet erected by man. It owes this perfection mainly to the equal balance of parts. There is nothing so difficult or startling in its construction as there is in most Gothic cathedrals; but what there is is mechanically perfect, both in design and execution. Its form is nearly perfect, combining stability with simplicity and at the same time avoiding monotony or any appearance of greater strength than is absolutely necessary. Its details are all as exquisite in form as the Temple itself, and it was at one time coloured to an extent we can hardly now realise, but which must, when complete, have made it one of the most perfect examples of Æsthetic art. The walls of the cella were almost certainly covered with Phonetic paintings similar to those in the Lesche at Delphi; and the pediment, the metopes, the friezes, were all sculptured to such an extent as to render the Phonetic expression of the building at least equal to either its Technic or its Æsthetic excellence. It is easy to conceive a building, such as a trophy or a mausoleum, in which painting and sculpture shall be relatively more important than they are in this instance, and in which consequently the index may be raised above twenty-four; but if this were so, it ought probably to be classed among works of sculpture or painting rather than as an object of architecture.

In music the Æsthetic element naturally prevails over the other two, but Technic cleverness of execution often affords to some as much pleasure as the harmony of the sounds produced; and, on the other hand, in its power of expressing joy or sorrow and of exciting varied emotions at will, it rivals frequently the more distinct and permanent power of words themselves, when unaccompanied by Æsthetic forms of art. It is of course, however, in the outpourings of his imagination or in the logical products of his reason that man rises highest, and stands most distinctly apart from the rest of created beings; and though all may not be capable of appreciating it, it is when both Technic and Æsthetic adjuncts are laid aside, and man listens only to the voice of reason, that he reaches what, as far as we can now see, is the highest form of his artistic development.

Of course there are many other forms in which this might be expressed, and many will be inclined to dispute the correctness of the figures assigned to each art. They are, in fact, only approximations, and as a first attempt can hardly be expected to meet all the conditions of the problem. The truth of the matter is, it would have been better to use algebraic symbols and to allow every one to translate them into numbers according to his own fancy, but in the present state of matters such an attempt would have savoured of affectation. The art of criticism is not sufficiently advanced for this, but if two or three would follow up what is here indicated it might be placed on a basis from which to proceed higher. Meanwhile, perhaps the annexed diagram may serve to explain the relation of the three classes of art to one another, and the way in which they overlap and mix together so as to make up a perfect art. Like the preceding table, it will require several editions, the work of several minds, before it can be perfected, but it probably is not far from representing the truth as at present known.

There is still another relation of these arts to one another which must not be overlooked before proceeding further, as a knowledge of it is indispensable in forming a correct judgment of their respective merits. Like the Sciences, the Technic Arts hardly depend, after the first steps have been taken, on individual prowess for their advancement. An astronomer, a chemist, or a natural historian, now starts from the highest point reached by any of his predecessors, and he has only to observe and calculate, to analyse and put together again, in order to advance our knowledge. A giant may of course make a rapid stride in advance, but a hundred dwarfs will, if they persevere steadily in the right path, not only overtake him, but probably advance far beyond anything the most gigantic intellect can accomplish in science. So it is also in the mechanical arts. The immense strides that have of late years been made in improving all the machines employed in manufactures have not been made by the greatest intellects, but by thousands of men suggesting new contrivances and acquiring skill by steady improvement in manipulation. In ship-building, for instance, one of the most complex of the useful arts, no one can tell who the men were who converted the rude galleys in which our forefathers sailed to Crecy and Agincourt into the gigantic commercial steamers and war-ships of the present day. It was the result of thousands of intellects working steadily towards a well-defined aim, and accomplishing a triumph by a process which must always be successful in the Technic arts when persevered in long enough.

Diagram No. 1.

The case is somewhat different with the Æsthetic arts. Some men are insensible to the harmony of colour and are not offended by the crudest contrasts. Others do not perceive concords in music, and the most violent discords give them no pain; others, on the contrary, are endowed with the utmost sensibility on these points, and are consequently not only able to appreciate the beauty of the arts arising out of colour or sound, but of advancing what to those who cannot understand them is an inexplicable mystery.

When from the Æsthetic Arts we turn to the Sciences and Technic Arts, we find, as just pointed out, that the individual becomes much less important and the process everything. Every astronomer now knows more than Newton; every chemist than John Dalton. Any ordinary mechanic can start from a higher point than was reached by a Watt or an Arkwright or a Stephenson, and can surpass them. But no man can mount on the shoulders of such men as Handel or Mozart or Beethoven, and surpass them; and the higher we ascend in the scale of arts the more important does the individual become and the less so the process. A Phidias, a Raphael, a Shakespeare, are yet unsurpassed, and possibly never may be. All men may be taught to carve, to colour, and to write mechanically, and may even be instructed to practise these processes so as to afford pleasure to themselves and others; but when from this we rise to Phonetic painting, sculpture, or poetry, and the still higher region of philosophy, the individual becomes all in all, and his special genius there stamps the true value on the production.

In this respect, again, Architecture is singularly happy as a means of study. As a Technic art it is practised in the same progressive principles as all its sister arts, irrespective of individuality. As an Æsthetic art it is hardly so individual as music, because its forms and colours are permanent and capable of being repeated with such improvements as each experiment suggests in every subsequent building; but when it attempts Phonetic forms of utterance, these are seldom so absolutely integral that they cannot be separated from the building and judged of apart. A Greek Temple or a Mediæval cathedral without painting and sculpture may be poor and inanimate, but still so beautiful in its form, so grand from its mass, and so imposing from its durability, that in its Technic-Æsthetic form alone it may command our admiration, more perhaps than any other work of human hands, except of course, as said before, the highest intellectual forms of Phonetic art. Architecture thus combines in itself the steady progressive perfectibility of a Technic art quite independent of the intellectual capabilities of the architect, combined with the Æsthetic appreciation of form and colour which is mostly universal, and can at all events be generally inculcated and learned. But its greatest glory is that it can enlist in its service the higher branches of Phonetic sculpture and painting, which can be exercised only by specially gifted individuals. It is difficult to conceive all these qualities being equally combined in the person of any one architect, and in practice it is by no means necessary for success that it should be so, though, if possible, the combination would no doubt be advantageous. In criticising, on the contrary, it is always necessary to separate and distinguish between the mechanical, the sensuous, and the intellectual part of a design. Without this an intelligent appreciation of its merits or defects can hardly be obtained.

Notwithstanding all that has been pointed out already, and the advantages of its central position among the sister arts, combined with its own intrinsic merits, Architecture would never have attained to the high position it now occupies had it not been fitted with an aim which raised it far above all utilitarian feelings. In all ages, though certainly not among all nations, Architecture has been employed as one of the principal forms of worship. The desire to erect a temple to their Gods worthy to be their dwelling-place has exalted even the rude arts of savages into something worthy of admiration, and when such a nation as the Egyptians were inspired with the same desire, they produced, even in the earliest ages, temples which still excite feelings of admiration and of awe. Had the practice of architecture been restricted to supplying only the ordinary wants of mortals, it never would have risen to be the noble art it now is. Neither the palaces of the greatest kings, nor the wants of the proudest municipalities, nor the emporia of the richest commerce would have supplied that lofty aim which is indispensable for any great intellectual effort. But when, freed from all trammels of use or expense, the object is to erect a casket worthy to enshrine the sacred image of a god whom men feared but adored, the aspiration elevates the work far beyond its useful purpose. It is when men seek to erect a hall in which worshippers may meet to render that homage which is their greatest privilege and their highest aspiration, when all that man can conceive that is great and beautiful is enlisted to create something worthy of the purpose, that temples have been erected which rank among the most successful works man has yet produced. Had any exigencies of use or economy controlled the design of the Parthenon, or of any of our Mediæval cathedrals, they must have taken a much lower place in the scale than they now occupy. Their architects were, however, in fact as free from any utilitarian influences as the poets who composed the ‘Iliad’ or ‘Paradise Lost.’