The three Glaukon representations we have met with till now are pure pictures of ‘existence.’ The ‘horse’ master dedicated to the same boy Glaukon a second kylix, the fragments of which, found on the Acropolis, represent the death of Orpheus at the hands of the Thracian women. The scheme, if one may speak of such, is in so far old, as the victor moving to the right attacks an opponent in kneeling position also moving to the right and looking round; but an infinite nobility is poured over the old type, and the fight is carried through with dramatic weight, though in the faces of the fighters the inward excitement is not reflected, as on later works of the same hand. Yet, as on the Aphrodite kylix (Fig. [129]) the living expression of the eye is already strengthened by the line of the upper lid.
In place of the very fragmentary Orpheus kylix, the fight in a contemporary picture may show the progress, which scenes of dramatic movement attain in Polygnotan times. The slaying of Aktaion by the divine huntress Artemis was brought to great effect by the Pan master, so called from the reverse of the same Boston bell-krater (Fig. [131]). In the stiff folds of the cloak of Artemis this vigorous and original painter betrays his descent from the archaic style, which can be plainly followed in his works, always full as they are of dramatic life. Otherwise there is little archaic in this picture. The long lower part of the face, which lends the heads their severity, the folds running themselves out, which assert themselves even in the chiton, the surely drawn fore-shortened foot of Artemis, the lower legs of Aktaion disappearing in the background, show the progressive master; the suggestive effect of the composition, and the urgent language of the gestures are quite in the spirit of the noble new style.
With the Centaur psykter in Rome (Fig. [132]) we get perhaps beyond the bloom of Glaukon’s beauty, and what reminds us of old times in the grotesque movement of the battle scene is probably only individual failings of the master, which he outweighs by many innovations. The three-quarters view of the face, the fore-shortening of the shield, the motive of the falling man seen from behind, are significant of the struggle with perspective; the bestial lust for battle speaks out of the eyes of the attackers as does the penetrating pain of the wounded; and the pathos of the gestures is at least post-archaic. The impression of this vase is remarkably determined by the experiments in colouring, which the master undertakes with help of thinned colour: the helmets, greaves, and hides he has made dark in contrast with the human skin, he has given an effect of light to the material of the hair of head and beard, and rounded the horses’ bodies by shading.
These novelties of the somewhat crude and quaint master are only intelligible as reflection of a great painting, which struggled with problems of expression and light, as is expressly testified for the art of the great Polygnotos and his contemporaries. Naturally at no time were vase-painters entirely uninfluenced by the achievements of the great art. But just now in the sixties of the 5th century, this borrowing made itself felt more than ever, and enticed the vase-painters often beyond the limits of their branch of art. This comes not only from the overpowering impression of the great personalities among the painters of this period, but especially from the fact, that wall-painting now struck out new bold paths, on which vase-painting could follow it less than ever.
Among the vase-pictures, which very strongly echo these new strains, are the later works of the ‘horse’ master. The interior of the Penthesileia kylix (Fig. [134]) only enclosed by a delicate branch, the master did not paint as in
PLATE LXXX.
[Fig. 132]. BATTLE WITH CENTAURS: RED-FIGURED PSYKTER.