“There are,” says Winckelmann, “two kinds of beauty, individual and ideal: the former is a combination of the beauties of an individual; the latter, a selection of beautiful parts from several.
“The formation of beauty was begun from some beautiful individual, that is, from the imitation of some beautiful person, as in the representation of some divinity. Even in the ages when the arts were flourishing, the goddesses were formed from the models of beautiful women, and even from those who publicly sold their charms: such was Theodota, of whom Xenophon speaks. Nor was any one scandalized at it, for the opinion of the ancients on these matters was very different from ours.”
Winckelmann adds: “There is rarely or never, a body without fault, all the parts of which are such that it is impossible to find or draw them more perfect in other persons. The wisest artists, being aware of this ... did not confine themselves to copying the forms of beauty from one individual ... but seeking what is beautiful from various objects, they endeavored to combine them together, as the celebrated Parrhasius says in his discourse with Socrates. Thus, in the formation of their figures, they were not guided by any personal affections, by which we are frequently led, in the pursuit of beauty that pleases us, to abandon true beauty.
“From the selection of the most beautiful parts and their harmonious union in one figure, arises ideal beauty: nor is this a metaphysical idea, because all the portions of the human figure taken separately are not ideal; but merely the entire figure.” And he elsewhere says: “It is called ideal, not as regards its parts, but as a whole, in which nature can be surpassed by art.”
With deeper observation still, he adds that, “though nature tends to perfection in the formation of individuals, yet she is so constantly thwarted by the numerous accidents to which humanity is subject, that she cannot attain the end proposed; so that it is in a manner impossible to find an individual in whom all parts of the body are perfectly beautiful.”
It was to the same purport that Proclus had in ancient times said: “He who takes for his model such forms as nature produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation of them, will never attain to what is perfectly beautiful. For the works of nature are full of disproportion, and fall very short of the true standard of beauty. So that Phidias, when he formed his Jupiter, did not copy any object ever presented to his sight, but contemplated only that image which he had conceived in his mind from Homer’s description.”[46]
In short, while the Greek artists perpetually studied nature, they discovered her best and highest tendencies even in her most perfect forms; their works accordingly present nothing foreign to that which is strictly beautiful; they present not only no inferior forms, but no idle ornaments; and everything in them is accordingly at once simple and sublime.
Barry[47] affords me the means of continuing the view I now wish to present. “In all individuals,” he says, “of every species, there is necessarily a visible tendency to a certain point or form. In this point or form, the standard of each species rests. The deviations from this, either by excess or deficiency, are of two kinds: first, deviations indicating a more peculiar adaptation of certain characters of advantage and utility, such as strength, agility, and so forth; even mental as well as corporeal, since they sometimes result from habit and education, as well as from original conformation. In these deviations, are to be found those ingredients which, in their composition and union, exhibit the abstract or ideal perfection in the several classes or species of character. The second kind of deviation is that which, having no reference to anything useful or advantageous, but rather visibly indicating the contrary, as being useless, cumbersome, or deficient, is considered as deformity; and this deformity will be always found different in the several individuals, by either not being in the same part, in the same manner, or in the same degree. The points of agreement which indicate the species, are therefore many; of difference which indicate the deformity, few.”
Barry, however, wrongly says: “Mere beauty, then, though always interesting, is, notwithstanding, vague and indeterminate; as it indicates no particular expression either of body or mind.” But it indicates the highest character, the capability of all noble expression, and this is better than its sacrifice to actuality in one.
I am now led to the greater rules which their ideal method suggested to the Greeks. Payne Knight indeed says: “Precise rules and definitions, in matters of this sort, are merely the playthings or tools of system-builders;” and, unchecked by any recollection of the practical and unrivalled excellence of the founders of these rules, he adds a great deal of narrow-minded and mistaken nonsense upon the subject, never distinguishing between rules in themselves rational, and the stretching of them to utter inapplicability. On this subject, even Reynolds properly observes, that “some of the greatest names of antiquity, and those who have most distinguished themselves in works of genius and imagination, were equally eminent for their critical skill. Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and Horace; and among the moderns, Boileau, Corneille, Pope, and Dryden, are at least instances of genius not being destroyed by attention or subjection to rules and science.”