It would have been difficult, or rather impossible, to adhere to such a rule in those reliefs in which the actual incidents of military expeditions were retraced. In them the sculptor thought it necessary to insert such details as would permit the various episodes commemorated to be identified. One of the simplest means of insuring the desired result was to render not only buildings, such as castles and fortified towns, but also the natural features of the scene, with the greatest possible truth. This the Assyrian artist did, as a rule, with excellent judgment. Thus, if an action or campaign had been fought in a mountainous country, he made use of a kind of lattice-work or reticulation, which every spectator thoroughly understood (see Vol. I. Figs. 39 and 43); if among forests, he introduced numerous trees among his figures. He made little attempt to distinguish between one kind of tree and another, but in most cases employed forms as conventional as that by which he indicated hills (Fig. 114).
Fig. 114.—Tree on a river bank; from Layard.
One of the chief merits and most striking features of Assyrian sculpture is, then, its power of selection, its rejection of all that is superfluous, its comprehension, in fact, of the true spirit and special conditions of the art. The field has none of those encumbering accessories which, under the pretext of furnishing and defining, only serve, so to speak, to take away air and elbow-room from the figures. When certain complementary features are required to make the subject clear, the sculptor introduces them, but he never gives more than is strictly necessary. He never gives way to the temptation to exaggerate such details, or treats them as if they had an interest and importance of their own. Such sobriety found its reward. His work no doubt remained faulty in many respects and inferior to that of his Egyptian forerunner, still more to that of his Greek successor; but yet it had an air of frankness, of pride and dignity, to which the more complex and superficially more skilful compositions of the following epoch too seldom attained.
The good qualities of this early Assyrian school are no less conspicuous in the colossal figures with which the doorways of palaces and temples were decorated. The head of the winged bull has nowhere a more lofty expression or one more full of dignity than at Nimroud (see below, Fig. 133). The chisels of these northern artists never created anything more bold, energetic, and lifelike than the figures from the small temple built by Assurnazirpal (Vol. I. Fig. 188); we need only mention the colossal lion in the British Museum (Plate VIII.) and the grimacing demon whom a beneficent god seems to be expelling from the sanctuary in spite of his threats and grinning teeth.[235]
And yet this art which is so masterly in some respects is very primitive and naïve in others. We cannot help being amazed, for instance, at the wide band of wedges that the scribe has been allowed to cut across all the lines and contours left by the sculptor. This proceeding is to be explained, of course, by the essentially historical and anecdotic character of Assyrian art, but nevertheless it betrays the contempt for æsthetic effect which is one of the characteristics of archaic art in Assyria. This feature is by no means without importance, and Sir Henry Layard seems to us to have been ill advised in deliberately suppressing it. In his otherwise faithful reproductions of the best preserved among the bas-reliefs of Assurnazirpal he has everywhere left out the continuous band of inscription which runs across them at about two-thirds of their height. By such a proceeding he has sensibly modified their decorative value.[236]
We must be on our guard against attributing such primitive simplicity to inexperience in the use of the chisel. In the finest works of later years that instrument was never wielded with more assured skill than in the delicate carvings in which the embroidery on the royal robes are reproduced. We have already put several of these motives before our readers; in Fig. 115 we give a last exquisite morsel. It shows a winged lion with the head of a woman, and a king or priest who holds one of her paws in his left hand, while with his right he seems to threaten her with a mace.
Fig. 115.—Detail from the royal robe of Assurnazirpal; from Layard.
Such dexterity as this is not to be seen in works in the round (see Fig. 60). But with the reign of Assurnazirpal commences another series of royal monuments in which the artist, not being compelled to quit work in relief, felt himself more at home. We refer to those round-headed steles on which the standing figure of the king is relieved against a flat ground bordered by a raised edge. An inscription is engraved sometimes upon the bed of the relief, sometimes on the reverse of the stele. An effigy of Assurnazirpal belonging to this class is now in the British Museum. It was discovered still standing in the entrance to one of the temples built by that sovereign on the platform of Calah. Before the stele there was an altar similar to that shown on page 256 of our first volume. This altar is also in the British Museum.[237] From the existence of these steles it has been concluded, with no little probability, that the Assyrian kings, or at least some of them, received divine honours after their deaths. We have chosen that of Samas-vul II. for reproduction, on account of its good condition (Fig. 116). It differs but little from the stele of Assurnazirpal. High up in the field and in front of the head may be noticed symbols like those on the land marks (see Figs. 111, 112, and 143). The king’s right hand is raised in the attitude of adoration. In his left he holds a sceptre, with a ball of ivory or metal at one end and a tassel at the other. These steles must have been set up in great numbers. We find them represented in the reliefs (Vol. I. Figs. 42 and 112, and Plate XII.) and upon cylinders (ib. Fig. 69). They were raised as a sign of annexation in conquered countries, and an invocation engraved upon the stone put them under the protection of the Assyrian gods, who were charged with the punishment of any who might lay hands upon them.[238]