“The next name on our list is that of the famous Euphranor (B.C. 362). For the fact that to the practice of sculpture and of painting he added an exposition of the theory, we are indebted to Pliny, who says (xxxv. 11, 40), ‘Volumina quoque composuit de symmetria et coloribus.’ When we reflect on the critical position occupied by Euphranor in the history of Greek art, as a connecting link between the idealism of Pheidias and the naturalism of Lysippus, we can scarcely overestimate the value of a treatise on art proceeding from such a quarter. This is especially the case with the first of the two works here assigned to Euphranor. The inquiries which of late years have been instituted by Mr D. R. Hay of Edinburgh, on the proportions of the human figure, and on the natural principles of beauty as illustrated by works of Greek art, constitute an epoch in the study of æsthetics and the philosophy of form. Now, in the presence of these inquiries, or of such less solid results as Mr Hay’s predecessors in the same field have elicited, it naturally becomes an object of considerable interest to ascertain how far these laws of form and principles of beauty were consciously developed in the mind, and by the chisel, of the sculptor: how far any such system of curves and proportions as Mr Hay’s was used by the Greek as a practical manual of his craft. Without in the least wishing to impugn the accuracy of that gentleman’s results—a piece of presumption I should do well to avoid—I must be permitted to doubt whether the ‘Symmetria’ of Euphranor contained anything analogous to them in kind, or indeed equal in value. It must not be forgotten that the truth of Mr Hay’s theory is perfectly compatible with the fact, that of such theory the Greek may have been utterly ignorant. It is on this fact I insist: it is here that I join issue with Mr Hay, and with his reviewer in a recent number of Blackwood’s Magazine. Or, to speak more accurately,—while I am quite prepared to find that the Elgin marbles will best of all stand the test which Mr Hay has hitherto applied, I believe, to works of a later age, I am none the less convinced that it is precisely that golden age of Hellenic art to which they belong, precisely that first and chief of Hellenic artists by whom they were executed, to which and to whom any such line of research on the laws of form would have been pre-eminently alien. Pheidias, remember, by the right of primogeniture, is the ruling spirit of idealism in art. Of spontaneity was that idealism begotten and nurtured: by any such system as Mr Hay’s, that spontaneity would be smothered and paralysed. Pheidias copied an idea in his own mind—‘Ipsius in mente insidebat species pulchritudinis eximia quædam’ (Cic.);—later ages copied him. He created: they criticised. He was the author of Iliads: they the authors of Poetics. Doubtless, if you unsphere the spirit of Mr Hay’s theories, you will find nothing discordant with what I have here said. That is a sound view of Beauty which makes it consist in that due subordination of the parts to the whole, that due relation of the parts to each other, which Mendelssohn had in his mind when he said that the essence of beauty was ‘unity in variety’—variety beguiling the imagination, the perception of unity exercising the thewes and sinews of the intellect. On such a view of beauty, Mr Hay’s theory may, in spirit, be said to rest. But here, as in higher things, it is the letter that killeth, while the spirit giveth life. And accordingly I must enter a protest against any endeavour to foist upon the palmy days of Hellenic art systems of geometrical proportions incompatible, as I believe, with those higher and broader principles by which the progress of ancient sculpture was ordered and governed—systems which will bear nothing of that ‘felicity and chance by which’—and not by rule—‘Lord Bacon believed that a painter may make a better face than ever was:’ systems which take no account of that fundamental distinction between the schools of Athens and of Argos, and their respective disciples and descendants, without which you will make nonsense of the pages of Pliny, and—what is worse—sense of the pages of his commentators;—systems, in short, which may have their value as instruments for the education of the eye, and for instructions in the arts of design, but must be cast aside as matters of learned trifling and curious disputation, where they profess to be royal roads to art, and to map the mighty maze of a creative mind. And even as regards the application of such a system of proportions to those works of sculpture which are posterior to the Pheidian age, only partial can have been the prevalence which it or any other one system can have obtained. The discrepancies of different artists in the treatment of what was called, technically called, Symmetria (as in the title of Euphranor’s work) were, by the concurrent testimony of all ancient writers, far too salient and important to warrant the supposition of any uniform scale of proportions, as advocated by Mr Hay. Even in Egypt, where one might surely have expected that such uniformity would have been observed with far greater rigour than in Greece, the discoveries of Dr Lepsius (Vorläufige Nachricht, Berlin, 1849) have elicited three totally different κανόνες, one of which is identical with the system of proportions of the human figure detailed in Diodorus. While we thus venture to differ from Mr Hay on the historical data he has mixed up with his inquiries, we feel bound to pay him a large and glad tribute of praise for having devised a system of proportions which rises superior to the idiosyncracies of different artists, which brings back to one common type the sensations of eye and ear, and so makes a giant stride towards that codification, if I may so speak, of the laws of the universe which it is the business of the science to effect. I have no hesitation in saying, that, for scientific precision of method and importance of results, Albert Durer, Da Vinci, and Hogarth, not to mention less noteworthy writers, must all yield the palm to Mr Hay.
“I am quite aware that in the digression I have here allowed myself, on systems of proportions prevalent among ancient artists, and on the probable contents of such treatises as that of Euphranor, De Symmetria, I have laid myself open to the charge of treating an intricate question in a very perfunctory way. At present the exigencies of the subject more immediately in hand allow me only to urge in reply, that, as regards the point at issue—I mean the ‘solidarité’ between theories such as Mr Hay’s and the practice of Pheidias—the onus probandi rests with my adversaries.”
I am bound, in the first place, gratefully to acknowledge the kind and complimentary notice which, notwithstanding our difference of opinion, this author has been pleased to take of my works; and, in the second, to assure him that if any of them profess to be “royal roads to art,” or to “map the mighty maze of a creative mind,” they certainly profess to do more than I ever meant they should; for I never entertained the idea that a system of æsthetic culture, even when based upon a law of nature, was capable of effecting any such object. But I doubt not that this too common misapprehension of the scope and tendency of my works must arise from a want of perspicuity in my style.
I have certainly, on one occasion,[27] gone the length of stating that as poetic genius must yield obedience to the rules of rhythmical measure, even in the highest flights of her inspirations; and musical genius must, in like manner, be subject to the strictly defined laws of harmony in the most delicate, as well as in the most powerfully grand of her compositions; so must genius, in the formative arts, either consciously or unconsciously have clothed her creations of ideal beauty with proportions strictly in accordance with the laws which nature has set up as inflexible standards. If, therefore, the laws of proportion, in their relation to the arts of design, constitute the harmony of geometry, as definitely as those that are applicable to poetry and music produce the harmony of acoustics; the former ought, certainly, to hold the same relative position in those arts which are addressed to the eye, that is accorded to the latter in those which are addressed to the ear. Until so much science be brought to bear upon the arts of design, the student must continue to copy from individual and imperfect objects in nature, or from the few existing remains of ancient Greek art, in total ignorance of the laws by which their proportions are produced, and, what is equally detrimental to art, the accuracy of all criticism must continue to rest upon the indefinite and variable basis of mere opinion.
It cannot be denied that men of great artistic genius are possessed of an intuitive feeling of appreciation for what is beautiful, by means of which they impart to their works the most perfect proportions, independently of any knowledge of the definite laws which govern that species of beauty. But they often do so at the expense of much labour, making many trials before they can satisfy themselves in imparting to them the true proportions which their minds can conceive, and which, along with those other qualities of expression, action, or attitude, which belong more exclusively to the province of genius. In such cases, an acquaintance with the rules which constitute the science of proportion, instead of proving fetters to genius, would doubtless afford her such a vantage ground as would promote the more free exercise of her powers, and give confidence and precision in the embodiment of her inspirations; qualities which, although quite compatible with genius, are not always intuitively developed along with that gift.
It is also true that the operations of the conceptive faculty of the mind are uncontrolled by definite laws, and that, therefore, there cannot exist any rules by the inculcation of which an ordinary mind can be imbued with genius sufficient to produce works of high art. Nevertheless, such a mind may be improved in its perceptive faculty by instruction in the science of proportion, so as to be enabled to exercise as correct and just an appreciation of the conceptions of others, in works of plastic art, as that manifested by the educated portion of mankind in respect to poetry and music. In short, it appears that, in those arts which are addressed to the ear, men of genius communicate the original conceptions of their minds under the control of certain scientific laws, by means of which the educated easily distinguish the true from the false, and by which the works of the poet and musical composer may be placed above mere imitations of nature, or of the works of others; while, in those arts that are addressed to the eye in their own peculiar language, such as sculpture, architecture, painting, and ornamental design, no such laws are as yet acknowledged.
Although I am, and ever have been, far from endeavouring “to foist upon the palmy days of Hellenic art” any system incompatible with those higher and more intellectual qualities which genius alone can impart; yet, from what has been handed down to us by writers on the subject, meagre as it is, I cannot help continuing to believe that, along with the physical and metaphysical sciences, æsthetic science was taught in the early schools of Greece.
I shall here take the liberty to repeat the proofs I advanced in a former work as the ground of this belief, and to which the author, from whose essay I have quoted, undoubtedly refers. It is well known that, in the time of Pythagoras, the treasures of science were veiled in mystery to all but the properly initiated, and the results of its various branches only given to the world in the works of those who had acquired this knowledge. So strictly was this secresy maintained amongst the disciples and pupils of Pythagoras, that any one divulging the sacred doctrines to the profane, was expelled the community, and none of his former associates allowed to hold further intercourse with him; it is even said, that one of his pupils incurred the displeasure of the philosopher for having published the solution of a problem in geometry.[28] The difficulty, therefore, which is expressed by writers, shortly after the period in which Pythagoras lived, regarding a precise knowledge of his theories, is not to be wondered at, more especially when it is considered that he never committed them to writing. It would appear, however, that he proceeded upon the principle, that the order and beauty so apparent throughout the whole universe, must compel men to believe in, and refer them to, an intelligible cause. Pythagoras and his disciples sought for properties in the science of numbers, by the knowledge of which they might attain to that of nature; and they conceived those properties to be indicated in the phenomena of sonorous bodies. Observing that Nature herself had thus irrevocably fixed the numerical value of the intervals of musical tones, they justly concluded that, as she is always uniform in her works, the same laws must regulate the general system of the universe.[29] Pythagoras, therefore, considered numerical proportion as the great principle inherent in all things, and traced the various forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence.
How the principles of numbers were applied in the arts is not recorded, farther than what transpires in the works of Plato, whose doctrines were from the school of Pythagoras. In explaining the principle of beauty, as developed in the elements of the material world, he commences in the following words:—“But when the Artificer began to adorn the universe, he first of all figured with forms and numbers, fire and earth, water and air—which possessed, indeed, certain traces of the true elements, but were in every respect so constituted as it becomes anything to be from which Deity is absent. But we should always persevere in asserting that Divinity rendered them, as much as possible, the most beautiful and the best, when they were in a state of existence opposite to such a condition.” Plato goes on further to say, that these elementary bodies must have forms; and as it is necessary that every depth should comprehend the nature of a plane, and as of plane figures the triangle is the most elementary, he adopts two triangles as the originals or representatives of the isosceles and the scalene kinds. The first triangle of Plato is that which forms the half of the square, and is regulated by the number, 2; and the second, that which forms the half of the equilateral triangle, which is regulated by the number, 3; from various combinations of these, he formed the bodies of which he considered the elements to be composed. To these elementary figures I have already referred.
Vitruvius, who studied architecture ages after the arts of Greece had been buried in the oblivion which succeeded her conquest, gives the measurements of various details of monuments of Greek art then existing. But he seems to have had but a vague traditionary knowledge of the principle of harmony and proportion from which these measurements resulted. He says—“The several parts which constitute a temple ought to be subject to the laws of symmetry; the principles of which should be familiar to all who profess the science of architecture. Symmetry results from proportion, which, in the Greek language, is termed analogy. Proportion is the commensuration of the various constituent parts with the whole; in the existence of which symmetry is found to consist. For no building can possess the attributes of composition in which symmetry and proportion are disregarded; nor unless there exist that perfect conformation of parts which may be observed in a well-formed human being.” After going at some length into details, he adds—“Since, therefore, the human figure appears to have been formed with such propriety, that the several members are commensurate with the whole, the artists of antiquity (meaning those of Greece at the period of her highest refinement) must be allowed to have followed the dictates of a judgment the most rational, when, transferring to works of art principles derived from nature, every part was so regulated as to bear a just proportion to the whole. Now, although the principles were universally acted upon, yet they were more particularly attended to in the construction of temples and sacred edifices, the beauties or defects of which were destined to remain as a perpetual testimony of their skill or of their inability.”