Fig. 18. ACHILLES KILLING TROÏLOS.
By Euphronios. Louvre Museum.
The poetry in the best compositions of Douris is entirely derived from memories of the epic and memories of the drama. It matters little whether he invented them or whether they were suggested to him; it is the very essence of Greek painting disclosed before our eyes, with its spirit of freedom and ready adaptation. Everything is helpful and suggestive to an artist. Whether derived from epic recitations, from lyric strophes, or from the theatre, these floating images all become fixed by his brush and take definite shapes, which in turn will haunt the imagination of other artists and guide their hands. What a rich fertility of art, which multiplied its creations on all hands, and united all classes of the Athenian people into a kind of brotherhood of labour!
2. Martial Subjects.
Battle-scenes had for three centuries been the classic subject of industrial design. As with all primitive peoples, war had been at first the chief occupation of the Greeks, and in consequence one of the chief sources of art. The Dipylon vases covered with warriors, chariots, boats, dead and wounded, or with pompous funeral scenes are contemporary with the Iliad. From the seventh to the fifth century the warrior subject was repeated to satiety upon all ceramics with black figures. How will Douris profit by this?
Seven drinking cups bearing twenty paintings are devoted to this style. Most of them are subject to the rules of symmetric composition, which we observed on the Memnon kylix, in the contests of Menelaos and Paris, and of Ajax and Hector. Truth and tradition unite in giving to this subject the appearance of a simple duel, the secondary personages, as it were, forming a frame. Sometimes a wounded man placed between the two champions indicates the cause of the encounter, and at the same time forms the centre of the group. This primitive scheme, much used by the Corinthians, is found again in many of Douris’ paintings. It is evident that he did not give himself great trouble to invent, and that he only reproduces a well-known theme. One may say as much of the battle, considered as a hand-to-hand fight; five hoplites are engaged in a struggle in a regular and prescribed manner, where the combatants, ordinarily paired two and two, display their strength in the attitudes of well disciplined duellists. It is only a variant of the preceding subject. These works teach us nothing new with regard to the art of Douris, and are only of value in so far as the minute mastery of his brush is concerned. We must look elsewhere for his ingenious mind—in the scenes of arming and the battles of Greeks and Persians.
Arming is only an episode of military life. Instead of showing us the battle, the painter allows us to be present at the preparations. A strong effect has been produced on a kylix made in the workshop of Euphronios: Achilles, in ambush, surprises Troïlos, the youngest son of Priam, who comes to draw water at a fountain; he pursues him across the plain as he flees in his chariot. The alarm is given, and one sees the Trojans hastily arming and running to the royal child’s assistance. But they come too late. In another painting we see the crime already accomplished; without pity for the tender years or the cries of his victim, the hero cuts off the boy’s head by the altar of Apollo, where he has taken refuge ([Fig. 18]).
The conceptions of Douris are not so dramatic. The design of the kylix in Vienna, which is a masterpiece of its kind, allows us in a manner to penetrate into a Greek camp, at the hour when all are preparing for the manœuvres or the battle ([Fig. 19]). It is mediocre, even a little commonplace, as regards observation, but it is clever by the realism of the small practical details. In the interior is the classic scene of a libation, a soldier before his departure praying to the gods; a woman brings him wine which she pours into a sacrificial cup. On the reverse, an encampment; the alarm has sounded, every one seeks his arms in haste, one his sword, another his lance or helmet. The monotony of the subject had to be varied. The painter has succeeded in this by introducing some old and bearded men who help and encourage the youths, and a woman who brings a shield and a sword. Nothing can be more animated than the faces and gestures of these young men arming themselves. One tries his sword and draws it partly out of the scabbard, another binds the fillet about his hair, so as to adjust his helmet more firmly; his companion, with a finical gesture, turns up his sleeve and the lower part of his tunic. Elsewhere ([Fig. 19]), a hoplite already helmeted places greaves on his legs, another dons his corselet, a third hangs his sword at his side and puts the shoulder belt over his shoulder, a fourth makes a little gesture of comic despair showing that he has forgotten to place a crest on his helmet, while the last raises and ties his long hair. These are sketches drawn from life, and are almost like the sketch-book of an artist who has accompanied soldiers at their manœvres. What we term “military painting,” in its familiar and picturesque form, dates from the Greeks.
