CHAPTER I

THE ART OF PAINTING

The most adequate object of sculpture is the tranquil self-absorption of personality in its essential substance, the character whose spiritual individuality is in the fullest degree displayed on the face of its corporeal presentment, making the sensuous frame, which reveals this incorporation of spirit, adequate to such an embodiment of mind wholly in its aspects of external form. The sightless look has as yet failed to concentrate at one point the supreme focus of ideal life, the vital breath of soul, the heart of most intimate feeling, and is as yet without spiritual movement, without the deliberate distinction between a world without it and a life within. It is on account of this that the sculpture of the ancients leaves us in some degree unmoved. We either do not remain long before it, or our delay is rather due to a scientific investigation of the fine modifications of form and detail which it displays. We cannot blame mankind if they are unable to take the profound interest in fine works of sculpture which such works deserve. To know how to value them is a study in itself. At first glance we either experience no attraction, or are immediately conscious of the general character of the whole. To come to closer quarters we have first to discover what it is that continues to supply such an interest. An enjoyment, however, which is only the possible result of study, thought, learning, and a wide experience is not the immediate object of art. And, moreover, the essential demand we make that a character should develop, should pass into the field of action and affairs, and that the soul should thereby meet with divisions and-grow deeper, this, after all our journey in search of the delight which this study of the works of antique sculpture may bring to us, remains unsatisfied. For this reason we inevitably feel more at home in painting. In other words we are at once and for the first time conscious in it of the principle of our finite and yet essentially infinite spiritual substance, the life and breath of our own existence; we contemplate in its pictures the very spark which works and is active in ourselves. The god of sculpture remains for sense-perception an object simply; in painting, on the contrary, the Divine appears as itself essentially the living subject of spiritual life, which comes into direct relations with the community, and makes it possible for each individual thereof to place himself in spiritual communion and reconcilement with Him. The substantive character of such a Divinity is not, as in sculpture, an individual that persists in the inflexible bond of its own limitations[220], but is one which expands into and is differentiated within the community itself.

The same principle generally differentiates the individual from his own bodily frame and external environment to quite as considerable an extent as it brings the soul into mediated relation with the same. Within the compass of this subjective differentiation--regarded as the independent assertion of human individuality as opposed to God, Nature, and the inward and external life of other persons, regarded also conversely as the most intimate relation, the most secure communion of God with the community, and of individual men with God, the environment of Nature and the infinite variety of the wants, purposes, passions, and activities of human existence--falls the entire movement and vitality, which sculpture, both in respect to its content and its means of contributing expression, suffers to escape; and it adds an immeasurable wealth of new material and a novel breadth and variety of artistic treatment which hitherto was absent. Briefly, then, this principle of subjectivity is on the one hand the basis of division, on the other a principle of mediation and synthesis, so that painting unites in one and the same art what hitherto formed the subject-matter of two different arts, namely, the external environment, which architecture treated artistically, and the essentially spiritual form, which was elaborated by sculpture. Painting places its figures on the background of a Nature or an architectural environment, both of which are the products of its own invention in precisely the same sense, and is able to make this external material in both of these aspects by virtue of its emotional powers and soul a counterfeit within its ideal realm, in the degree that it understands how best to place it in relation and harmony with the spirit of the figures that live and move therein.

Such is the principle of the new advance that painting contributes to the representative powers of art.

If we inquire now the course which the more detailed examination of our subject necessitates the following division will serve us.

In the _first_ place we shall have yet further to consider the _general character_ which the art of painting must necessarily receive in accordance with its notion and relatively both to its specific content, the material that is made consonant with this content and finally the artistic treatment which is thereby involved.

_Secondly_, we have to develop the _separate_ modes of definition, which are contained in the principle of such a content and manner of presentation, and more succinctly fix the boundaries of the subject-matter which is adapted to painting no less than the modes of its conception, composition, and technical qualities as painting.

_Thirdly_, painting is itself _broken up_ into _distinct schools_ of painting by reason of the above divisions of matter, technique, and so forth, which, as in the other arts, have their own phases of historical development.

1. GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE ART OF PAINTING

After having thus emphasized as the essential principle of painting that world of the soul in its vitality of feeling, conception, and

## action cast in embrace round heaven and earth, in the variety of its

manifestations and external disclosures within the bodily frame, and affirmed on this account that the focus, and centre of this art is to be sought for in romantic and Christian art, it may immediately occur to the reader that not only do we find excellent artists among the ancients, who are as distinguished in this art as others of their age in sculpture--and we cannot praise them more highly--but also that other peoples, notably the Chinese, Hindoos, and Egyptians, have secured distinction in the direction of painting. Without question the art of painting is, by virtue of the variety of the objects treated and the particular type of its manner of execution, less[221] restricted in the range of nations that exemplify its pursuit. This, however, is not the point at issue. If our question is simply that of the historian doubtless we find single examples of one type[222] of painting or another have been produced at the most varied epochs by the nations already mentioned and others. It is, however, a profounder question altogether when we ask ourselves what is the _principle_ of painting, examine the means of its exposition and in doing so seek to establish that content, which by virtue of its _own nature_ is emphatically consonant with the _painter's art_ as such and its mode of presentment, so that we can affirm the form thus selected to be wholly adequate to the content in question. We have but little left us of the painting of the ancient world, examples, in fact, which we see can neither have formed part of the most consummate work of antiquity in this respect, nor have been the product of its most famous masters. At least all that has been discovered through excavation in private houses is of this character. It is impossible, however, not to admire the delicacy of taste, the suitability of the objects, selected, the clearness of the grouping, and, we may add, the lightness of the handling and freshness of the colouring, excellences which without doubt were present in the originals of such pictures in a far higher degree, in imitation of which, for example, the wall paintings in the so-called house of the tragedian at Pompeii have been executed. We have, unfortunately, no examples of the works of famous masters. Whatever degree of excellence, however, these more original productions attained, we may none the less affirm that the ancients could not, alongside of the unmatchable beauty of their sculptures, have lifted the art of painting to the level of artistic elaboration as painting which we find secured in the Christian era of the Middle Ages, and pre-eminently in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. And we may assume this to be so on the philosophical ground that the most genuine heart of the Greek outlook is, in a degree which is inapplicable to the other arts, concordant with the root and fragrance of that which sculpture and sculpture alone can supply. And in art we are not entitled to separate spiritual content from its mode of presentation. If, having this clear to our minds, we inquire how it is that painting only reached its most characteristic consummation through the content of the romantic type of art, we can but reply that it is precisely the intimacy of feeling, the blessedness[223] and pain that give to us the soul of this profounder content, whose demand is for such a vital infusion, which has paved the way to and in fact been the cause of this higher perfection of painting.

As an example of what I mean I will but recall to recollection one

## particular instance already cited, namely, that we borrow from

Raoul-Rochette of the treatment of Isis carrying Horns on her knees. In general the subject is identical with the Madonna pictures, a Divine mother and her child. The difference of handling and conception in the two cases, however, is immeasurable. The Egyptian Isis, as we find her thus situated on bas-reliefs, has nothing maternal about her, no tenderness, no trait of soul or emotion, such as is not even wholly absent in the stiffer Byzantine pictures of the Madonna. And if we think of Raphael, or any other great Italian master, what results have they not achieved from this subject of the Mother and Christ-babe! What depth of emotion, what spiritual life, what intimacy and wealth of heart, what exaltation and endearment, how human and yet how entirely filled with divine spirit is the soul which speaks to us from every line and feature. And under what infinite variety of forms and situations is this one subject presented to us even by particular masters taken singly and still more by different artists. The mother, the pure Virgin, the physical, the spiritual beauty, loftiness and devotion of love, all this and countless other features are emphasized in their turn as the main significance of the expression. But chief of all we find throughout that it is not the sensuous beauty of mere form, but the animate life of Spirit, by virtue of which artistic genius no less than mastery of execution is asserted and secured. Now it is quite true that Greek art has passed a long way beyond Egyptian art, and we may add that it has made the expression of man's soul an object aimed for. But it was not capable of grasping that intimacy and depth of emotion which is discovered to us in the Christian type of expression, and indeed was careful, in accordance with its entire character, not to attach itself to such intensity of feeling. Take, for instance, the case I have more than once already cited of the faun, who carries the youthful Bacchus in his arms; it is, no doubt, expressive of extremely tender and amiable qualities. The nymphs are equally so who tend upon Bacchus, a situation which is depicted by a gem in a very beautiful group of figures. In such cases we have an analogous sentiment of unconstrained love for a child, equally free from passion and yearning; but, even putting on one side the maternal relation[224], the expression possesses in no respect the intimacy, the depth of soul, which confront us in Christian paintings. The ancients may very well have painted excellent portraits, but neither their way of conceiving natural fact, nor the point of view from which they regarded human and divine conditions was of the kind that, in the case of painting, an infusion of soul-life could be expressed with such intimate intensity as was possible in Christian painting.

The demand of painting, however, for this more personal type of inspiration is a result of its very material. In other words, the sensuous medium in which it moves is an extension on pure surface, and the display of form by means of the use of _diversified_ colours, by virtue of which process the objective shape, as we have it presented to the vision, is converted to an artificial illusion adopted by a spiritual agency[225] in the place of the actual form of fact. It is part of the principle of such a treatment of material that which is external should not ultimately retain its validity in its independent native existence, even in the modified form it takes as a vital product of human hands, but should in this form of realization be lowered as reality to a purely phenomenal reflex of the _inward_ soul-life itself, which seeks to contemplate itself independently as such. When we look into the heart of the matter we shall find that the advance from the rounded form of sculpture amounts to nothing less than the above statement. It is the soul-life, the ideality of Spirit which undertakes to express itself in an intimate way through the counterfeit of the objective world. Add to this, in the second place, that the surface on which the art of painting makes its objects visible, opens independently the path to the employment of a surrounding background and other complex relations; and colour too, regarded as the articulation of that which appears, requires a correspondent differentiation of soul-life, which can only be rendered clearly through the definition of expression, situation, and action, and consequently makes necessary variety, movement, and the detailed exposition of both the inward and external life. This principle of inwardness[226] taken alone, which at the same time in its actual manifestation is associated with the variety of external existence and is cognizable on the face of such particular existence as an essentially complete and independent complex of conditions, we have already seen to be the principle of the romantic type of art, in whose configuration and mode of presentation consequently the medium of painting discovers in a unique way its _wholly adequate object._ Conversely we may affirm at the same time that romantic art, when the question is actually one of definite works of art, must seek for material which is consonant with its content, and in the first instance it finds such in painting, which consequently remains more or less of a formal character when dealing with all objects and compositions not of this type[227]. Granting, then, the fact that we find outside the Christian paintings an Oriental, Greek, and Roman school of painting, yet the real centre and focus of all is none the less the elaboration which this art secured within the boundaries of romantic art. We can only speak of Oriental and Greek painting in the same kind of way as we did when, despite our main thesis that sculpture attained its highest crown of perfection in the classical Ideal, we referred to a subordinate Christian type of sculpture. In other words we are forced to admit that the art of painting first apprehends its content in the material of the romantic type of art, which completely corresponds to its instruments and its modes, and consequently that it was only after the treatment of such material that it discovered how best to use and elaborate in every direction all the means at its disposal.

Following now the course of the above remarks in a wholly general way we have to observe as follows in connection with the _content_, _material_, and _artistic mode_ of treatment of painting.

(_a_) The fundamental definition of the _content_ of painting is, as we have seen, subjectivity as an independent process[228].

(_α_) In this process, looking at it from the point of view of a _reflex of soul-life_, individuality must not wholly pass into the universality its substance, but must on the contrary disclose how it retains that content as a distinctive personality[229], and possesses and expresses its inward life, that is the vitality of its own conception and feeling in the same; neither should the external form be wholly dominated by the ideal individuality as is the case in sculpture. For the principle of subjectivity, albeit that it permeates the external material as the mode of objectivity adequate to express it, is notwithstanding likewise an identity which withdraws itself into itself out of that objective domain, and by virtue of this self-seclusion is relatively to that objective aspect neutral, leaving it quite untrammelled. Just as therefore, on the spiritual side of the content, the particularity of the personal life is not set forth in direct union with its substance and universality, but is essentially reflected as the culminating feature of its independent embodiment[230], so, too, in the objective envisagement of form, the

## particularity and universality of the same are carried from their

previous plastic union[231] to a predominance of the individual aspect, and indeed of comparatively accidental and indifferent features, and in a manner much the same as that which, in the reality of sense experience, is the prevailing character of all phenomena.

(_β_) A _further_ important point is that connected with the range of _scope_ that is permitted to the art of painting in virtue of its principle with regard to the objects to be thus presented.

The free principle of subjectivity suffers on the one hand the entire field of natural objects, and every department of human activity to remain in its substantive mode of existence; on the other, it is capable of entering into fusion with all possible detail, and creating therefrom a content of its own ideal life, of rather we should say that only in this interfusion with concrete actuality does it assert itself as concrete and vital in its products. Consequently it is possible for the painter to import a wealth of material into the realm occupied by his artistic works, which remains outside, the reach of the sculptor. The entire world of the religious idea, conceptions of heaven and hell, the history of Christ, his disciples and saints, external Nature, all that concerns humanity down to the most fugitive of situations and characters, all this material and more can find a place here. For as we have seen all that pertains to the detail, caprice, and accidental features of human need and interest is affected by this principle, which at once strives to comprehend and compose it.

(_γ_) And along with this fact we have as its _corollary_ that painting makes the _soul_ of man itself the subject of its creative work. All that is alive within the soul is present in ideal form, if it is, when we consider its content, at once objective and absolute in the abstract sense[232]. For the emotional life of soul can without question carry the universal within its content, a content, however, which, as feeling, does not retain the form of this universality, but appears under the mode as I, this individual person--I know my identity therein and feel the same. In order to educe and set forth this objective content as objective, I must forget myself. In this way the painter no doubt reveals to our sight the ideal substance of soul in the form of external objects, but the truly real content which it expresses is the personal soul that feels. For which reason painting, from the point of view of form, is unable to offer such distinctive envisagements of the Divine as sculpture, but only ideas of less defined character such as belong to the emotions. It may appear as a contradiction to this position that we find again and again selected as subjects of the paintings of masters, who stand without question in the highest rank, the external environment of mankind, mountains, valleys, meadows, brooks, trees, ships, buildings, their interiors, in short earth, sea, and sky. What, however, constitutes the core in the content of such works of art is not the objects themselves, but the _vitality_ and soul imported into them by the artist's conception and execution, his emotional life in fact, which is reflected in his work, and gives us not merely a counterfeit of external objects, but therewith his own personality and temperament[233]. And it is precisely by his doing this that the objects of Nature, as reflected by painting, even from this realistic point of view, are relatively insignificant, because the influence of soul-life begins to assert itself in them as the main significance. In this tendency towards temperament, which, in the case of objects borrowed from external Nature, may frequently only amount to a general response emphasized between the two sides, we find the most important distinction between painting on the one hand and sculpture and architecture on the other. Painting indeed approximates in this respect more closely to music and emphasizes here the point of transition from the plastic arts to that of tone.

(_b_) To proceed to our _second_ main division I have already several times referred, if only in respect to features of fundamental importance, to the difference we discover between the sensuous _material_ of painting and that of sculpture. I will therefore in this place only touch upon the closer connection which obtains between this material and the spiritual content which it most notably has to display to us.

(_α_) The first fact we have to consider in this connection is this that painting compresses the _three_ dimensions, of Space. Absolute concentration would be carried to the point, as elimination of all juxtaposition, and as unrest essentially predicable of such concentration, as we find it in the point of Time. Such a mode of negation carried out in its entire result, however, we only meet with in the art of music. Painting, on the contrary, permits the spatial relation still to subsist, and only effaces _one_ of the three dimensions; superficies is made the element of its representations. This reduction of the three dimensions to level surface is implied in principle of increasing reality, which is only capable thereby of asserting itself in spatial relation as such ideal transmutation, owing to the fact that it does not suffer the complete totality of objective fact to persist as such, but restricts the same. Ordinarily we are accustomed to view this reduction as a caprice of the art which amounts to a defect. What is here sought for, it appears, is that natural objects in all their naked reality, or spiritual ideas and feelings, by means of the human body and its postures should be made visible to our senses for such an aim it is obvious that the surface is insufficient and inferior to Nature, which appears before us with a completeness wholly different.

(_αα_) Painting is unquestionably yet more abstract than sculpture in respect to material conditioned in Space; but this abstraction, remote as it is from being a purely capricious limitation, or an indication of human incapacity, is just that which brings about the necessary advance from sculpture. Even sculpture is not simply an imitation of natural or physical existence, but a creation of intelligence, which removes from form all aspects of natural existence which are not in accord with the definite content it undertakes to present. This elimination was carried out by sculpture in the case of all colour detail, so that what remained to it was only the abstraction of material form. In painting we have the opposite process, its content being the ideality of soul-life, which can only appear on the face of objective reality, by a process of self-absorption from that very material[234]. The art of painting, therefore, no doubt, works for the sense-perception, but in a way, through which the object which it displays remains no longer an actual natural existence wholly in Space, but is changed to a counterfeit creation of intelligence, in which it only so far reveals its spiritual source as it annuls the actual existence of its object, recreating it for itself in a purely phenomenal semblance within its own spiritual realm--for Spirit.

(_ββ_) And to this intent painting must necessarily effect a breach with the totality of the spatial condition, and there is no reason for charging to human incapacity this loss of Nature's completeness. In other words, inasmuch as the object of painting from the point of view of its spatial existence, is merely a semblance, reflective of the soul of man, exhibited by art for his spirit, the self-subsistency of the object as we find it actually in Space is dissolved, and the object is related in a far more restricted way to the spectator than is the case in sculpture. A statue is by itself wholly an isolated object, independent of the spectator, who may place himself where he pleases; his point of view, his movements, his walking round it, not one of them affect the work of art as a whole[235]. If this self-subsistency is to be preserved the sculptured figure must also have some definite impression to offer each and every point of view. And this independence of the work must be retained in sculpture for the reason that its content is the tranquillity, self-seclusion, and objective presence which, in both an external and ideal sense, reposes on their own substance. In painting, on the contrary, whose content is conditioned by an ideal atmosphere, and in fact is composed of ideal relations essentially particularized, it is precisely this aspect of discord in a work of art between object and spectator which has to be emphasized, and yet with a like directness to be resolved in the fact, that the work, as depicting the ideality of intelligence in its entire mode of presentation, can be only defined under the assumption that it stands there related to an individual mind, that is a spectator, and apart from the same has no self-subsistency. The spectator is assumed and reckoned to be there from the first, and the work of art is only intelligible as related to this point of personal contemplation[236]. For such a relation to mere _visibility_ and its reflection upon an individual consciousness, however, the mere show of reality is sufficient; or rather the actual totality of the spatial condition is a defect, because in that case the objects seen retain an independent existence, and do not appear to be created by Spirit for its own contemplation. Nature consequently is not entitled to reduce its images to the plain surface; its objects possess and claim to possess a real and independent existence. The satisfaction, however, we derive from painting is not in actual existence, but in the contemplative interest we receive from the external reproduction of ideal truths, things born of the soul, and its art therefore dispenses wholly with the need and apparatus of spatial reality in its complete organization.

(_γγ_) And together with this reduction to the level surface we may _thirdly_ associate the fact that painting is placed in a still more remote position to architecture than that occupied by sculpture. Works of sculpture even where exhibited independently for themselves in public places or gardens, require some kind of pedestal treated architectonically, and, in the case of apartments, forecourts, and halls, either the art of building merely assists in presenting the statue's fitting environment, or conversely the sculptured figure is used as the decoration of the building, and between these two thus related objects we find a close association. Painting, on the contrary, whether placed in the enclosed apartment, or in public halls, or under the open sky, is limited to the wall. Originally its function is simply to fill up empty wall spaces. Among the ancients this original destination is mainly sufficient, and they decorated in this way the walls of their temples, and in more recent times also their private chambers. Gothic architecture, whose main task is the enclosure under the most grandiose conditions, supplies no doubt still larger surfaces, or rather the largest possible, yet it is only in the most ancient mosaics that we find painting is employed as a decoration of empty spaces, whether in the case of the outside or the interior. The more recent architecture of the fourteenth century, on the contrary, fills up its enormous wall surfaces in an architectural manner, the most imposing example I know of which is the main _façade_ of Strasbourg cathedral. Here we find that the empty surfaces, excluding the entrance doors, the rose and other windows, are filled in by the ornamental work analogous to that of windows traced over the walls, and decorated by figures of considerable delicacy and variety of form, so that we have no need here for painting. In the case of religious architecture, therefore, painting mainly appears in buildings which begin to approximate to the ancient type of architecture. As a rule, however, Christian painting is to be distinguished from the arts of building, and presents its works in independent form, as for example in large pictures, whether placed in chapels or on high altars. It is true that here, too, the picture must retain some relation to the character of the place, which it is destined to fill; for the rest, however, it is not merely intended to fill up wall spaces, but to hang them as a work of art independently just as a work of sculpture may do. In conclusion painting has its use as a decoration of halls and apartments in public buildings, town halls, palaces, and private houses, in which respect its association with architecture is once more closely marked, an association, however, in which its independence as a free art ought not to be lost.

(_β_) A further necessary ground for the contraction of the spatial dimensions in painting to bare surface is due to the fact that the art of painting is concerned to express ideal conditions essentially in their separation[237], and thereby rich in every kind of particular character. A mere restriction to the shapes of _spatial_ form, with which sculpture is able to rest satisfied, vanishes therefore in the more luxuriant art; for the forms of spatial dimension are the most abstract in Nature, and an attempt must now be made to seize particular distinctions, in so far as the demand is now for an essentially more multifold material. The matter specifically defined in the _physical_ sense is attached to the very principle of presentation in Space, the differences of which[238], if they are to appear as essential in the work of art, themselves disclose this fact[239] in the total configuration of spatial form, which no longer remains the final mode of presentation, and they are compelled to make a breach in the complete form of spatial dimensions, in order to cancel the exclusive appearance of the physical medium. For the dimensions in painting are not presented by themselves in their actual reality, but are merely by means of this physical aspect made to appear and be visible as such.

(_αα_) If we further inquire what is the nature of the _physical_ element which the art of painting makes use of we shall find this to be _Light_, regarding it as that medium which renders all objects whatever visible.

Previously the sensuous, concrete material of architecture was the resisting matter of gravity, which more particularly in the art of building asserted this character of heavy material in its features of burden, constraint, power to support and be supported, and even in sculpture still retained such characteristics. Heavy material encumbers because it does not possess its centre of material unity in itself, but in something else; and it seeks for this centre and strives towards it, though it retains its position through the resistance of other bodies, which become by doing so bodies of support. The principle of light is an opposite, or extreme, of that material of weight which is not as yet enclosed within its unity. Whatever else we may predicate of light it is obvious that it is absolutely devoid of weight and offers no resistance; rather it is pure identity with itself, and thereby simple self-relation, the primordial ideality, the original self of Nature. In light Nature make its start on the path of ideality or inwardness[240], and is the universal physical ego, which of course is not carried here to the point of particularity[241], nor has as yet concentrated itself within the unit of individuality and self-seclusion, yet is thereby enabled to cancel the bare objectivity and external show of heavy matter and abstract from the sensuous and spatial totality of the same[242]. From this aspect of the more _ideal_ quality of light it becomes the physical principle of the art of painting.

(_ββ_) Light regarded simply as such, however, only exists as _one_ aspect contained in the principle of subjectivity, that is, as this more ideal identity. In this respect light is manifestation, just that, which, however, in Nature is only asserted _generally_ as the power of making objects visible, holding the particular content of that which it reveals outside itself as an objective world, which is not light, but rather that which confronts it and consequently is dark. These objects light renders cognizable under their distinctions of form by irradiating them, that is, illuminating to a greater or less degree their obscurity and invisibility, and permitting certain parts to be more visible, namely, as they approach the spectator, and others, on the contrary, more obscure as they withdraw from him. For light and darkness, putting for the present on one side the particular colour of an object, is generally speaking due to the relative remoteness of the illuminated objects from us in their specific degree of illumination. In this direct relation to objectivity light is no longer asserted simply as light, but as essentially particularized brightness and obscurity, light and shadow, whose varied manifestations render the shape and distance of objects from one another intelligible to the spectator. This is the principle which painting makes use of, because from the first differentiation is implied in its notion. If we compare this art in this respect with sculpture and architecture we shall see that in these latter arts the actual distinctions of spatial configuration are set forth in their nakedness, and light and shadow are suffered to retain the ordinary effect which light produces in Nature relatively to the position of the spectator, so that the rondure of form is here already independently[243] present and light and shade, whereby they are rendered visible, are merely a result of that which was already actually on the spot independently of this further aspect of their becoming visible. In the art of painting, however, brightness and darkness together with all their gradations and finest transitions are themselves part of the fundamental _artistic material_, and it is a purely _intentional appearance_ they produce of that medium, which sculpture gives form to in its _native_ state. Light and shade, in short, the appearance of objects under this illumination, is effected by art rather than the mere natural light, which consequently only makes that kind of brightness, darkness, and lighting _visible_, which are the products of painting. And this it is which constitutes the positive rationale deduced from the material of the art itself, why painting does not require three dimensions. Form is the creation of light and shadow simply, and that form which exists in spatial reality is superfluous.

(_γγ_) Bright and dark, shadow and light, no less than their interplay are, however, merely an abstraction, which do not exist in Nature as such abstraction, and consequently cannot be utilized as sensuous material. In other words Light, as we have already seen, is related to its opposite Dark. In this relation both principles have no self-subsistency apart from each other, but can only be asserted in their unity, that is, as the interplay of light and dark. The light, which is in this way essentially impaired and obscured, which, however, to a like extent transpierces and illumines darkness[244], supplies us with the principle of _colour_ as the genuine material of painting. Light in its purity is devoid of colour, it is the pure indeterminacy of essential identity. Distinction from bare light, a lowering of its value, is the characteristic of colour, which in contrast to light is already in some degree obscurity, and together with which the principle of light is asserted in union. It is consequently an incorrect and false idea to hold that light is the aggregate result of different colours, or in other words different degrees of obscuration[245].

Form, distance, limitation, rounded shape, in short, all spatial relations and distinctions visible in the phenomena of Space are unfolded in the art of painting entirely by means of colour, the more ideal principle of which is capable of presenting a more ideal content and by virtue of its profounder oppositions, the infinite variety of its transitional gradations and the delicacy of its softest modulations relatively to the fulness and detail of the objects it accepts as subject-matter, is possessed of a field for its activity of the widest range. It is beyond belief what mere colour is able to accomplish in this art. Two human beings are, for example, something totally distinct. Either is in his self-conscious identity no less than his bodily organism an independent and exclusive spiritual and bodily totality, yet the entire result of this difference is in a picture reduced to a distinction of colours. In one place some particular shade of colour ceases, in another a particular one starts up, and by such means we get everything set before us, shape, distance, play of posture, expression, what is nearest to sense and what is most akin to intelligence. And we are not to regard this reduction as a make-shift and defect. Quite the reverse is the fact; the art of painting dispensing with the third dimension in no such way, but deliberately rejecting it in order to set in the place of purely spatial reality the higher and richer principle of colour.

(_γ_) This wealth enables painting to elaborate in its reproductions the entire extent of the phenomenal world. Sculpture is more or less restricted to the stable self-seclusion of individuality. In painting, however, the individual cannot remain in such limitations of stability whether regarded in his ideal aspect or relatively to the external world, but is placed in every kind of varied definition. For on the one hand, as already pointed out, he is placed in a far closer relation to the spectator, and on the other he receives a more varied connection with other individuals and the environment of Nature. A process, therefore, which merely illuminates semblance of objective fact makes possible the widest expansion of distances and spaces and the present of such and all the varied objects that appear in them in one and the same work of art. Yet it must no less, as a work of art, prove itself to be a self-contained and unified whole, and exhibit itself in this synthesis, not simply as an aggregate whose limits and boundaries are defined by no principle, but rather as a totality whose unified consistency is due to its own subject-matter.

(_c_) In the _third_ place we have, after this general consideration of the content and sensuous material of painting, briefly to adduce in general terms the principle of the _artistic mode_ of treatment adopted by it.

The art of painting more so than either sculpture or architecture admits of the two extremes. In the first case prominence is given to the religious and ethical severity of the conception and presentation of the ideal beauty of form, and in the second, where the subject-matter is, taken by itself, insignificant, to the detail of what it contains and the personal aspect of the creative art. We may therefore not unfrequently hear two extreme kinds of criticism. Our critic in the one case apostrophizes the nobility of the object, the depth and astonishing sufficiency of the conception, the greatness of the expression, and the boldness of the delineation[246]. And in the other equal praise is given to the fine and unexampled character of the painter's treatment of his colour. This contrast is implied in the very notion of the art; indeed, we may affirm that it is impossible to unite both aspects on one plane of elaboration. Each must remain inevitably independent of the other. For painting has shape simply as such, that is, the forms of spatial limitation, no less than colour as means contributive to its artistic result, and is placed thereby midway between the Ideal of the plastic arts and the extreme form of the direct detail of Nature's reality; by reason of which we get two distinct types of painting. One, that is the ideal, whose essential basis is universality; and the other, that which presents particular objects in all their closeness of detail.

(_α_) In this respect painting must accept, in the first instance, as sculpture, that which is substantive in the sense that the objects of religious belief are such, no less than the great events of history, and its pre-eminent individual characters, albeit it renders visible this substance in a form wherein the ideal and personal aspect is emphasized. It is the imposing character, the serious significance of the action portrayed, or the depth of the soul expressed which is here of most importance, so that the elaboration and employment of all the rich artistic means which are within the reach of painting, and the dexterity, which the wholly consummate use of these means demands regarded as a _tour de force_ of technique, cannot here be entirely indicated. In cases of this kind it is the force of the content to be presented and the absorption in what is essential and substantive in the same, which tend to drive into the background the overwhelming facility in the art of painting as that aspect which is less essential. In this sense, for instance, the Cartoons of Raphael are of invaluable merit, and fully display the entire excellence of their composition, although Raphael, even in the case of particular pictures, despite all his mastery in drawing, and the purity of his ideal, and at the same time wholly vital personal figures, and the composition he may have arrived at, most certainly in colour, and all that concerns landscape and other aspects, is excelled by the Dutch masters. This is yet more the case with the earlier Italian heroes of art, in contrast to whom Raphael is to a somewhat similar degree inferior in depth, power, and ideality of expression, as he surpasses such in the technique of his craft, in the beauty of vital grouping, in draughtsmanship and the like[247].

(_β_) Conversely, however, the art of painting, as we have seen, ought to advance further than this exclusive absorption in the ideal and infinite content of man's soul-life; its function is equally to assert the subsistency and freedom of detail, which however incidental it may be, contributes to the environment and background of the work. In this advance from the profoundest seriousness to the objective features of independent detail it is bound to force its way to the extreme articulation of the purely phenomenal, where any and every content is a matter of indifference, and artistic illusion in a realistic sense is the main interest. In such a type of art we find depicted for us the most fugitive aspect of the sky, the time of day, the lighting up of the woods, the gleam and reflection of the clouds, waves, lakes, streams, the shimmer and glitter of wine in the glass, the glance of the eye, and every conceivable look and smile of the human countenance. Painting in such cases moves from the idealistic standpoint to that of living reality, whose phenomenal effect it mainly seeks to reproduce by means of accuracy in the execution of every bit of detail[248]. Yet this effort is no mere assiduity of elaboration, but a real exercise of genuine talent, which strives to present every kind of detail in its independent perfection, and yet retain the whole composition in unity and fusion, and this can only be done by the finest art. In such work the vital force of the realistic appearance thus secured tends to be more near to the artist's aim than the Ideal; and it is precisely this kind of art, as I have already found occasion to remark, which raises, as no other, controversial points over the significance of the Ideal and Nature. No doubt it is very possible to blame the use of the most elaborate technique in subjects of little importance by themselves as mere extravagance; yet there is no real reason for rejecting such material, and it is precisely of that kind which ought to be treated in this way by art, and be permitted to keep every conceivable subtlety and refinement of surface appearance that it possesses.

(_γ_) The artistic treatment does not, however, stop at this more general kind of opposition, but, inasmuch as painting reposes on the principle of soul-expression and particularity, proceeds yet further in the direction of differentiation in its results. Both architecture and sculpture, it is true, assert differences of national type, and in

## particular we are made aware in sculpture of a closer individuality

typical of certain schools and masters. In the art of painting this distinction and personal aspect in the modes of representation expands to an incalculable degree in proportion as the objects, which it may accept, are taken from a field without definable limitations. In this art to a pre-eminent extent the genius of particular peoples, provinces, epochs and individuals asserts its claims and affects not merely the choice of subjects and the spirit of their conception, but also the character of drawing, grouping, colouring, handling of the dry point no less than that of particular colours down to characteristics of personal style and wont.

Inasmuch as the function of painting is so without restriction concerned with the ideal aspect and the details of its subject-matter, it follows of course that it gives us quite as little opportunity to make definite statements of universal validity as to adduce specific facts which can always without exception be accepted as true of it. We must, however, not rest satisfied with what I have already discussed in respect of the principle of the content, the material and the artistic treatment, but make a further effort, however much we leave on one side all that confronts us in its multifold variety, still to subject certain aspects, that most emphatically enlist our attention, to further examination.

2. PARTICULAR MODES OF THE DEFINITION OF PAINTING

The different points of view, according to which we have to undertake this closer characterization, may be already anticipated from our previous discussion. They refer once more to the content, the material and the artistic treatment.

_First_, as to _content_, we have no doubt found the content of the romantic type of art offer the most adequate subject-matter; we must, however, inquire further what specific portions we should select from the entire wealth within this type as pre-eminently adapted to the art of painting.

_Secondly_, we have already made ourselves fairly cognisant with the _principle_ of the sensuous material. We have now to define more narrowly the forms, which may be expressed on the level surface by means of colouring, in so far as the human form and other facts of Nature have to be made visible in order that the ideality of Spirit may be thereby disclosed.

_Thirdly_, we have a similar question with regard to the definite character of the artistic conception and presentation, which corresponds to the different character of the content thus itself similarly differentiated, producing thereby different _types_ or schools of painting.

(_a_) I have already at an earlier stage recalled the fact that the ancients have had excellent painters, but added thereto the statement that the function of painting is only completely satisfied by the way of looking at things and the type of art which is referable to the emotional life and which is actively asserted in the romantic type of art. What appears, however, to contradict this from the point of view of content is the fact that at the very culminating point of Christian painting, during the age of Raphael, Rubens, Correggio, and others, we find that mythological subjects are used and portrayed in part on their own merits, and in part for the decoration and allegorization of great exploits, triumphs, royal weddings, and so forth. In this sense Goethe, for example, has once more borrowed from the descriptions of Philostratus of the pictures of Polygnotus, and, assisted by his imaginative powers as a poet, has added a novel freshness to such subjects for the painter's benefit. If, however, such contributions further imply the demand that subjects of Greek mythology and saga, or scenes, too, from the Roman world, for which the French at a certain period of their painting have evinced a great inclination, should be conceived and portrayed in the definitive mood and significance attached to them by the ancient world we can only object generally that it is impossible to recall to life this past history, and what is peculiarly appropriate to the antique is not wholly compatible with the art of painting. The painter must consequently create from such material an entirely different result, must import therein a totally different spirit, other emotions and modes of seeing things than those present to the ancients, in order to bring such a content into accord with the real problems and aims of painting. For this reason also the circle of antique material and situations is not that which painting has elaborated in a consequential process; rather it is an aspect of it which has been passed over as alien to its material, and which has first to be essentially remodelled. I have several times insisted that painting has before all to seize that, the presentment of which it can, in deliberate contrast to sculpture, music, and poetry, master by means of external form. And this is preeminently the self-concentration of Spirit, which is denied to sculpture, while music again is unable to make the passage to the external appearance of ideality, and poetry itself can merely render visible the bodily presence in an incomplete way. Painting, on the contrary, is still in a position to unite both aspects. It can express the entire content of soul-life in an external form, and is consequently bound to accept for its essential content the emotional depth of the soul no less than the particular type of character and its specific traits in its deepest impression--in other words intensity of feeling and ideality in its differentiation, for the expression of which definite events, conditions, and situations not only must appear as the explanatory source of individual character, but the specific individuality must disclose itself as a part of the moulded form of the soul and physiognomy, rooted therein, and entirely taken up into the external embodiment.

In order to express generally this ideality of soul we do not require that ideal self-subsistency and largeness[249] of the classical type we have previously dealt with, in which individuality persists in immediate accord with the substantive core of its spiritual essence and the physical characteristics of its bodily presentment; to quite as little extent will suffice to the manifestation of this soul-life Nature's ordinary hilarity, that Greek geniality of enjoyment and blissful absorption in its object; rather true depth and self-revelation of spiritual life presupposes that the soul has worked its way through its emotions, its forces, its whole inward life, has overcome much, has suffered and endured much anguish or misery of spirit, and yet in all these divisions has retained its sense of unity and come back to the same out of them. The ancients no doubt also place before us in the mythos of Hercules a hero, who after many troubles receives his apotheosis, and enjoys among the gods the repose of blessedness; but the labours which Hercules accomplishes are purely external, and the bliss, which he obtains as a reward, is merely a tranquil cessation from labour; and the ancient rune, that Zeus will have brought his empire to its consummation by his efforts, he, that is the greatest hero of Greece, has not accomplished. Rather the end of the rule of these self-subsistent gods then commences for the first time, where we find man overcomes the dragons and serpents of his own breast, the obstinacy and stubbornness of the soul's native realm rather than the living dragons and serpents of Nature. Only thereby will Nature's gladsomeness attain to that loftier cheerfulness of the spirit, which is perfected in its passage through the negative phase of division, and finally secures an infinite satisfaction through such travail. The feeling of blitheness and happiness must be glorified and expanded in real blessedness. For happiness and content still retain an association with external conditions which partake of Nature's contingency. In blessedness, however, that happiness, which is still related to immediate existence, is left behind, and the entire content is made one with the inner life of soul. Blessedness is a satisfaction which is an attained result, and is thereby justified; it is the gladness of a victory, the emotion of a soul which has essentially set at nought what is sensuous and finite, and thereby thrust from itself the care which lurks for ever in ambush. Blessed is the soul, which has, it is true, experienced both conflict and pain, but come victorious through its troubles.

(_α_) If we now inquire what is the nature of the actual _Ideal_ in this content we shall find it to be the _reconciliation_ of the individual soul with God, who in His human manifestation has Himself traversed this passage of sorrows. The substantive ideality[250] can only be that of _religion_, the peace of self-consciousness, which only feels itself truly satisfied, in so far as it is concentrated in its own substance, has broken its earthly heart, has raised itself above the purely natural conditions of finite existence, and in this exaltation has secured an inward life of universal significance, an ideal union in and with God Himself. The soul wills itself, but it finds the object of its will in something other than itself, in its particularity; it thereby gives itself up in its opposition to God, in order to find itself again and its joy in Him. This is the vital character of Love, the soul's function in its truth, that is religious love purged of mere desire, which communicates to Spirit reconciliation, peace, and blessedness. It is not the enjoyment and delight of the actual love of living nature, but rather one that is devoid of passion, nay, one that is without inclination, a tendency of the soul, a love in fact which on the side of Nature is identical with death, and is such a state, so that the actual relation as earthly bond and relation of man to man floats before us as a thing of the Past, which essentially has no consummation in its usual existing form, but carries within itself the defect of its temporality, and as such prepares the way for an exaltation to something beyond it, which is found to be at the same time a conscious state and enjoyment of a love that is without yearning and sensuous desire.

It is this character which gives to us the soulful, intimate, and more elevated Ideal, which we find now in the place of the tranquil greatness and self-subsistency of the antique. No doubt the divinities of the classical Ideal were not without a trait of sombre grief, a negative replete with fateful import, which is as it were the shadow of a cold Necessity passing over these blithesome figures, which remain, however, secure in their substantive divinity and freedom, their simple greatness and might. The freedom of Love, however, is not a freedom of this kind, being more instinct with soul-life, for the reason that it subsists in a relation between soul and soul, and spirit to spirit. This inward glow enkindles the ray of bliss made actual in the soul, a love, which in suffering, and the extremest loss not merely can discover comfort or independence therefrom, but in proportion to the depth of its suffering can feel the more profoundly therein the reality and assuredness of its love, making clear the mastery of its own essential substance in that suffering. In the Ideal of the ancients on the contrary we find no doubt, independently of that trait of a tranquil sorrow already indicated, the expression of the pain of noble natures, as for instance in the case of Niobe and Laocoon. They do not betake themselves to lamentation and despair, but adhere to their greatness and loftiness of spirit; but this self-continency remains empty; their suffering, their pain is likewise the conclusion of the matter. In the place of reconcilement and satisfaction we can only have an austere resignation, which, without suffering entire collapse, surrenders that upon which it had previously laid hold. It is not the base that is crushed[251]; no rage, no contempt or vexation is expressed; but despite of it all the loftiness of this type of individuality is nought but an inflexible self-continency[252], an endurance of destiny that is without relief, in which the nobility and pain of the soul do not appear as reconciled in fulfilment. In the romantic love of religion we find for the first time the expression of blessedness and freedom. This union and satisfaction is by nature concrete in a spiritual sense, for it is the feeling of Spirit which is made cognizant of its unity in something other than itself. And for this reason we find necessary here, if the content presented is to be complete, two aspects, in so far as the reduplication of spiritual personality is necessary to love's appearance. It reposes upon two independent individuals who possess, however, the sense of their intrinsic union. With this union, however, the negative condition is always at the same time connected. In other words Love belongs to the soul's condition; the subject of such a conscious state is, however, this independently self-stable[253] heart, which to experience love must bid goodbye to itself, surrender itself and sacrifice the unyielding focus of its individual isolation. It is this sacrifice which constitutes the _motive_ principle of Love, the life and emotion of which is bound up wholly in a self-surrender. In consequence of this, if notwithstanding a man retains his consciousness of self in an act of such surrender, and just in this very annihilation of his personal independence attains to a truly positive self-subsistency, in that case he has left him at least in the feeling of this unity and its supreme happiness the negative aspect, the movement of Love's principle, not so much in a sense of sacrifice, as of a blessedness undeserved, which in despite of himself permits him still to feel his assured identity at unity with itself. The movement is the feeling of the dialectical contradiction, namely, to have surrendered personality and yet to remain in self-subsistent unity, a contradiction which is present in Love and eternally resolved in it.

In so far, then, as the aspect of an individual _human_ state of soul-life is concerned in this universal condition we find that the unique Love, which blesses and discovers its heaven within it, tends to rise over all that is finite and the specific individuality of character, which lapses into a position of insignificance. Already we have observed that the divine ideals of sculpture pass into one another, always provided, however, that they are not wrested from the content and province of that original and immediate type of individuality; and yet it must be admitted that this individuality remains the essential form of the mode of presentment. In this later pure gleam of blessedness, however, particularity is on the contrary cancelled. Before God all men are equal, or rather piety makes them actually equal, so that the sole point of importance is the expression of love in the concentrated focus above depicted, and which has no further need of happiness, or this or that particular object. No doubt religious Love, too, requires definite individuals as a condition of its existence, which possess also, apart from this experience, other spheres of existence; for the reason, however, that this soul-possessed state of intimate life supplies the really ideal content, the expression and reality of such are not to be found in the isolated distinctions of character, its talents, conditions, and fortunes, but are rather lifted above the same. When consequently nowadays we hear people make a regard for distinctions in the soul-life of different persons a matter of first importance in education, and in that which is the essential requirement of each man individually, from which we deduce the fundamental thesis that every one will and indeed inevitably must act differently in a given case, such a position directly clashes with the fact of the love of religion, in which all such diversities of individual life fall into the background. Conversely, however, individual characterization now, precisely for the reason that it is the unessential, which refuses wholly to fuse with the spiritual realm of celestial Love, receives a more emphatic definition. In other words, agreeably to the romantic type of art, it is free, and is written in character all the more distinct in proportion as it refuses to accept as its supreme principle classical beauty, that is the entire transfusion of immediate vitality, and the particularity of finite existence, with a spiritual or religious content. In despite of this fact, however, there is no absolute reason that this individual characterization should impair this inward intensity of Love, which, as such on its own account, is not shackled to such features, but has become free, and constitutes independently the truly self-substantive Ideal of Spirit.

What, then, constitutes the ideal centre and main content of the religious field is, as we have already indicated in our examination of the romantic type of art, the essentially _reconciled_ and satisfied Love, whose object should appear in the art of painting, whose function it is to exhibit the most spiritual content under the mode of human and corporeal actuality, as no mere "beyond" of Spirit, but in its veritable presence. In conformity with such a result we may adduce the Holy Family, and above all the love of the Madonna to her child as the ideal content pre-eminently fitted to this sphere. On either side of this centre, however, a mass of additional material extends which is in varying degree less adapted in this sense to the art in question. I will now attempt to differentiate the whole of this material on the following lines.

(_αα_) The first objectification is the object of Love itself in its pure universality and unimpaired unity with itself--God Himself in His unphenomenal essence--or God the Father. In this case, however, painting has great difficulties to overcome, when it attempts to depict God the Father as the religious imagination of Christendom seeks to grasp Him. The Father of gods and men regarded as a particular personality is exhaustively dealt with by art in Zeus. What on the contrary falls away from the Christian conception of God the Father is the human individuality, in which painting is alone in a position to reproduce the spiritual aspect. For taken in His independent self-exclusion God the Father is no doubt spiritual personality and supreme Power, Wisdom and so forth, but only retained as such without defined form and as an abstraction of thought. The art of painting is, however, unable to avoid anthropomorphization, and must perforce assign to Him the figure of man. However broad in its generalization, however lofty, ideal, and masterful the presentment of such a figure may be, we fail to get beyond the fact that it is entirely a human individual of more or less grave aspect, which fails entirely to coalesce with the conception of God the Father. Among the early Flemish painters Van Eyck in his God the Father of the altar picture at Ghent has attained the greatest success that we can conceive as possible in this sphere. It is a creation that may well match our conception of the Olympian Zeus. But however consummate it may be also in its expression of eternal repose, loftiness, power, worth, and other qualities--and it is quite impossible to overstate the depth and imposing character of its conception no less than its execution--yet our imagination cannot fail to find something in it which does not satisfy. For what is here set before us as God the Father, that is to say a creation that is likewise human personality, is just what we first meet with in Christ the Son. It is in Him that we contemplate for the first time this decisive moment in which individuality and human existence combine as a moment in the Divine Life[254], and moreover combine in such a way that the same is not disclosed as an ingenious creature of the phantasy, as was the case with the Greek divinities, but as essential and very revelation, the fact of all importance and fundamental significance.

(_ββ_) The more essential object, therefore, of Love in the creation of painting will be _Christ._ In other words, with this object Art at once finds itself in the sphere of humanity, a sphere which along with Christ embraces further material in its presentations of the Virgin Mary, Joseph, John the Baptist, the disciples, and so forth, and ultimately the common folk who in part are followers of the Gospel, and in part cry out for the crucifixion of its Master and mock Him in His sufferings.

And here once more the already mentioned difficulty confronts us how we are to conceive and depict Christ in his _universality_, when he is presented in the ordinary way of half-length figures or portraits. I must admit that for myself at any rate, the heads of Christ I have seen by Caracci and others and, to take two famous examples, that of Van Eyck, formerly in the Sully Collection and now in the Berlin Museum, and that of Von Hemling, now in Munich, do not give me the entire satisfaction which they ought to do. That of Van Eyck, no doubt, is very imposing in figure, forehead, colour, and general conception, but the mouth and eye wholly fail to express anything that transcends our humanity. The expression is rather that of an inflexible seriousness, which is emphasized by the general type of the form, the parting of the hair, and other traits. And when such heads incline still further in expression and shape towards the specifically human type, and a milder, more yielding and tender aspect is thereby imported, much of their depth and power of impression is very readily lost; and least of all suited to such, as I have already observed, is the beauty of Greek form.

For this reason Christ, as depicted in the experiences of His actual life, is a more suitable subject for pictorial effort. Yet in this connection an essential distinction must not be overlooked. It is quite true that in the biographies of Christ we have from one point of view the human consciousness of God presented us as a fundamental aspect. Christ is one of the gods, but under the guise of an actual man, and takes His place among men as one of them, in whose phenomenal appearance He can consequently be depicted in so far as such expresses the life of Spirit. From another point of view, however, he is not merely an individual man, but entirely God. In such situations, therefore, in which this supreme Divinity forces its way beyond the limits of human soul-life, the art of painting is met with a fresh source of difficulty. The very depth of the content begins to be too overpowering. For in the majority of cases in which we find Christ presented for example merely as a teacher, art will not pass much beyond the point in which He is depicted as the noblest, most worthy, and wisest of men, much as Pythagoras or any other wise man, is presented to us in such a picture as Raphael's "School of Athens." The most important way in which painting can overcome such a difficulty is to bring the Divinity of Christ mainly into direct contrast with His surroundings, and above all, to contrast it with the sins, the repentance and penance, or the meanness and evil of our humanity, or again conversely through His worshippers, who, by their adoration of Him remove Him as one of themselves and a man, existing in a particular place, from such immediate conditions, so that we behold Him exalted to the heaven of Spirit, and at the same time get a glimpse of the fact that His appearance has not merely been that of God, but also that of the human form under its ordinary and natural, in other words, not wholly ideal conditions, who as Spirit essentially possesses his existence in our humanity and the human community, and expresses His divinity as reflected in the same. But we must not understand this reflection as though God is present in humanity as in a purely accidental or external mode of form and expression; rather we ought to regard the Spirit manifested in the consciousness of mankind as the essential spiritual existence of God Himself[255]. Such a mode of presentation will be exceptionally appropriate where Christ is to be represented as man, teacher, as the risen and glorified person who ascends up to heaven before our eyes. To speak plainly, in situations such as these the means of expression in painting such as the human form and its colour, the countenance, the glance of eye, are not wholly sufficient to express all that is implied in the Christ. And least of all will the antique beauty of forms suffice. In particular the resurrection and ascension, and generally, all scenes in the life of Christ, in which He, the individual man, is already divested of immediate existence as such on His return to His Father, require a more elevated expression of Divinity than the art of painting is able to supply, for the reason that it ought to cancel the very means it uses in its representation, that is, the expression of human soul-life in its external form, and glorify the same in a light of purer quality.

Consequently, we shall find those scenes of Christ's life treated with greater advantage and more fitting effect in which He Himself has not yet arrived at the full consummation, or where His Divinity appears to be obstructed and depressed in the moment of negation. And this we find is the case in His _childhood_ and the _Passion._ That Christ as a child expresses definitely from a certain point of view the significance which attaches to Him in religion. He is God Who becomes man, and Who consequently passes through the stages of man's natural life. In another aspect of the same fact that He is presented to our minds as a child we are led to feel the practical impossibility of disclosing entirely to us all that He essentially is. And it is just here that the art of painting possesses the incalculable advantage of being able to show how the loftiness and dignity of Spirit can shine forth from the _naïveté_ and innocence of the child, which in some measure derives actual force from such a contrast, and in part, for the very reason that it is predicated of an infant, is to an infinitely less extent required by us in comparison with that we look for in Christ as man, teacher, and judge of the world. In this way the examples of Christ the babe which we find in Raphael's pictures, and above all, that in the Sistine Madonna picture at Dresden, offer us the most beautiful presentment of childhood. We are, however, aware in them also of a tendency to pass beyond merely childlike innocence, a passage which discloses quite as much the Divine already present in the opening sheath, as it enables us to surmise the expansion of such Divinity to an infinite fulness of revelation, a revelation the incompleteness of which in the child carries with it its own justification. In the Madonna pictures of Van Eyck, on the contrary, the Divine babe is the least successful feature, for they are in general stiff and emphasize the defective form of a newly-born child. It has been attempted to regard this as allegorical and intentional. They are not to be fair in aspect because it is not the beauty of the Christ babe which is that which is adorable, but the Christ as Christ. Such a mode of thought is not consonant with the true aim of Art, and the babes of Raphael regarded as works of art are in this respect of far higher rank.

In the same way the history of _Christ's passion_, such as the scenes where He is mocked and crowned with thorns, that of the Ecce Homo carrying the cross, deposition, and burial, are exceptionally appropriate to pictorial presentment. For in these it is precisely the Divinity, in its contrast to its triumph and in the depression of its unlimited power and wisdom, which supplies the content. Art is not merely able to present this, but there is ample room for the play of originality in the composition of such scenes without falling into purely fantastical imagery. God is here set before us as suffering, in so far as He is man and under certain determinate bounds. Such pain is not merely disclosed as human pain over human calamity, but it is an awful suffering, the feeling of an infinite negativity, albeit in human form, as the conscious life of one individual. And withal there is added, for the reason that it is God who suffers, a certain sense of alleviation, a reduction of such anguish which is thus unable to break forth in actual despair, distortion, and horror. This expression of _soul-suffering_ is, more particularly in the works of several Italian masters, an original creation. The pain is in the lower portions of the countenance, a gravity of mien, and nothing more, not as in the Laocoon a contraction of the muscles, which can be interpreted as an actual cry; but in the eyes and on the forehead the billows of soul-anguish are, so to speak, allowed to roll over one another. The sweat drops that bespeak the heart's agony stand forth; and with true instinct on the brow, in which the immovable bone constitutes the determining feature, precisely at the point where nose, eyes, and forehead coalesce, and the life of mind and heart is concentrated and emphasized, we find that just one or two indications of skin-folds and muscles, unable to be distorted to any great extent, are suffered pre-eminently to bear and express in tension this accumulated weight of agony. In particular I can recall a certain head in the gallery of Schleisheim, in which the master--I fancy Guido Reni[256]--and doubtless others in a similar way, have discovered a distinct colour tone for the flesh, which is quite unlike that of human flesh. They had to disclose the night of the Spirit and created for the same a dowry of colour, most admirably adapted to express this tempest, these black clouds of Spirit which are likewise encompassed by the brazen forehead of the Divine Nature[257].

As the most perfect subject of such painting, however, I have already affirmed that Love, which is essentially _satisfied_, whose object is no purely spiritual Beyond, but one actually present, so that we can behold Love itself in its object. The highest and most unique form of such a Love is that of the Virgin Mother for her Christ child, the love of the one mother who has brought forth the Saviour of the world and carries Him in her arms. This is the content of most loveliness to which we may say Christian art generally and pre-eminently the painter's art in the religious sphere has been exalted.

The love of God, and more expressly[258] that of which Christ is the object, is of an entirely spiritual type. Its object is only visible to the eyes of the soul, so that in these cases we do not in the strict sense get the reciprocity which is bound with the notion of Love, and moreover there is no natural tie which secures the lovers and from its origin binds them to each other. Every other type of love, to put the matter conversely, remains in some measure accidental in its incidence, and in another aspect of it the lovers possess, as, for instance, sisters, or the father's love for his children, yet further relations outside this particular one, which assert an essential claim upon them. A father or brothers are compelled to direct their attention to the world, the State, affairs or war, in one word universal ends; the sister becomes wife, mother, and so forth. In the case of a mother's love of her child, on the contrary, the love is from its very nature neither something that is contingent, nor is it merely a single phase[259]. It is its highest earthly type, in which its natural character and its most sacred function immediately coalesce. From the point of view, however, in which as a rule in maternal love the mother sees and feels at the same time her husband in her child, we may observe that this aspect, too, in the Virgin Mary's case disappears. Her feeling has nothing in common with a wife's love for her wedded husband; on the contrary her relation to Joseph is rather that of a sister, and on the side of Joseph a feeling of respectful reverence for the Child that is God's and Mary's. We therefore find that religious love is set forth in its fullest and most ideal[260] human form, not in that for Christ amid His sufferings, nor in His resurrection, nor as He delays His departure among His friends, but in the emotional nature of a woman, in Mary. Her entire soul and life is human love for the Child, which she calls her own, and along with it adoration, and love of God with whom she feels herself thus united[261]. She is humble before God, and yet is steeped in the infinite exaltation that she is the single one among maidens who is above all blessed. Not alone and apart, but only in her Child is she made perfect in God, but in that, whether it be by the cradle or as queen of heaven, she is entirely content and blessed, without passion and yearning, with no other want, with no other aim to have or possess anything but that which she possesses.

The manifestation of this love under the aspect of its religious content expands in many directions, such as the annunciation, the visitation, the birth, the flight into Egypt, and other such incidents. We may also associate with it, during the later course of the Christ-life, the disciples and women, who follow Him, and in whom the love of God is more or less a personal relation of their love to the living, present Saviour, Who, as actual man, pursues His course among them, and in like manner also the love of those angels who, on the occasion of His birth and at other times, hover around in grave adoration or simple joy. In treating all such figures the art of painting in particular discloses the complete peace and content of such a love.

But this peace, furthermore, is dissolved in the most heartfelt anguish. Mary the mother beholds Christ carrying the cross. She sees Him suffer on the cross and die; she sees Him taken from the cross and buried, and no grief is more poignant than her own. And yet we may observe that it is neither the irreparableness[262] of such a grief, or rather of such a loss, nor the weight of the calamity, nor the lament over the injustice of destiny, which constitutes the real content in such anguish, so that a contrast between it and the sorrow of Niobe is

## particularly instructive. Niobe, too, has lost all her children, and

is set before us in severe loftiness and unperturbed beauty. The main content here is the aspect of the natural life of this ill-starred sufferer, the beauty in which Nature has robed her and which embraces the entire presentment of her actual existence. She, this actual personality, is beauty personified, and therein she persists. But her soul-life, her heart, has lost the entire content of its love, its soul, and her individuality and beauty can only turn into stone. The grief of Mary is of a wholly different type. She feels intimately the dagger which cuts through her soul's very centre, her heart breaks, but she does not become stone. She did not merely possess love, but her soul-life throughout is nothing but love, that is, free and concrete ideality, which retains the absolute content of that which it loses, and in the loss itself of the beloved persists in the peace of love. Her heart indeed breaks, but the substantive principle of her heart, the content of its life[263], which is disclosed through her anguish of soul with a vital strength that can never be lost, is something infinitely more exalted, namely, the living beauty of the human soul, as contrasted with its abstract substance, whose ideal existence as presented in _bodily shape_, when it is lost remains indeed indestructible, but is turned to stone.

There is one further subject for painting in connection with Mary the mother of Jesus, and that is her death and assumption. Schoreel has with exceptional beauty depicted a death of Mary in which we find the charm of her youth once more restored[264]. This master has united in his picture the expression of somnambulism, presence of death, rigidity, and blindness towards the exterior world with one which seems to suggest that the spirit, which seems somehow to penetrate through their general aspect, has found a home elsewhere and is blessed therein.

(_γγ_)_Thirdly_, we must include within the sphere of the actual presence of God in the life, sufferings, and glorification of Himself, _mankind at large_[265], that is to say the consciousness of _individual human life_, which God, or more accurately the events of His history, constitutes as itself an object of His love, communicating to it a content which is not merely finite but absolute in its significance. Here, too, we may emphasize the three aspects of tranquil _devotion_, _repentance_, and _conversion_, which both from the point of view of the soul and that of external condition the history of the Divine Passion repeats to mankind, no less than the ideal _consummation_ in glory and the blessedness of pure attainment.

In respect to the _first_ of these, namely, devotion, we have here what is primarily the content of _prayer._ This relation is in one aspect of it a humbling, surrender of the self, the seeking of peace in another; from another point of view it is not a _petition_ but rather a _prayer_[266]. Petition and prayer are no doubt closely connected in so far, that is, as a prayer can be a petition. And yet the genuine petition seeks after something _for itself._ It importunes the man who possesses something of importance to myself, that he may feel inclined to do me a favour in virtue of the request, that his heart may yield, or his love may be roused toward me, in one word that his feeling of identity with myself may be awakened. What I, however, feel in making a petition is the desire for something, which the other person must lose if I am to secure it. The other person is to love me in order that my self-love may be satisfied, and my weal and necessity be promoted. I on the contrary give nothing further in the transaction unless it be contained in an admission that the person thus opportuned may ask for similar favours from myself. Prayer is not a petition of this type. It is an exaltation of the heart to the Absolute, which is assumed to be essentially Love, and as such possesses nothing independently[267]. The devotion itself is the gift, the petition itself is the blessedness. For although prayer may contain a petition for some particular thing, yet it is not this particular thing which is the true purport of the prayer; rather the essential truth of it is the conviction that the petition will be heard, and not heard in its relation to the particular request so much as to the absolute trust that God will apportion that which is best for me to receive. And thus even in such a connection prayer is itself its own satisfaction, the enjoyment, the express feeling and consciousness of eternal Love, which not only with its ray of illumination shines through the object[268] of prayer and its situation, but in fact constitutes the situation and what is there actually or is thereby manifested. It is this type of supplication which we find exemplified by Pope Sixtus in the picture of Raphael already mentioned[269], no less than by Santa Barbara in the same picture, and by many other representations of the prayers of apostles and saints, of Saint Francis[270] and the like at the foot of the Cross, where we find in the place of the suffering of Christ, or the dismay, doubt, and despair of the disciples the love and adoration of God, and the prayer that loses itself in Him is selected as the significant content. We find such rendered with particular force for the most part on the countenances of aged men marked strongly with the sufferings and experience of life in the earlier period of painting, faces that appear to be portraits, souls permeated with devotional feeling to such an extent that this attitude of prayer does not merely appear to be experienced at this particular moment, but rather they are presented us as pious and saintlike persons whose entire life, thought, instinct, and volition is one prayer, and whose expression despite of all the truth of their portraiture may be summed up wholly in this assurance and peace of Love. It is otherwise, however, among many of the earlier German and Flemish masters. The subject of the altar picture in Cologne Cathedral is the adoring kings and patrons of Cologne. We find this subject too frequently selected by the school of Van Eyck. In such examples the persons who adore are frequently famous individuals, princes, as, for instance, in a well-known adoration picture, which has been taken for the work of Van Eyck, critics have identified two of the kings with portraits of Philip of Burgundy and Charles the Bold. In the case of personages of this type we see that they are something more than saints, have affairs in the world, and only go to mass on Sunday or in the early morning, but during the rest of the week or for the rest of the day have other business to look after. And more particularly in our Flemish or German pictures the patrons are pious knights, God-fearing housewives with their sons and daughters. They resemble Martha who fares hither and thither and is concerned with matters of external or mundane significance, rather than Mary who has selected once and for all the best part. Their piety is not deficient, it is true, in intensity and soul; but we do not find here the song of Love which is at once the beginning and end of it, and which is perforce not merely an exaltation, a prayer, or thanks for a gift received, but is as much its unique life as that of the nightingale.

We may summarize the distinction which can be drawn generally in pictures of this kind between saints and worshippers on the one hand, and pious members of the Christian community as they actually appeared on the other, in the statement that the worshippers, more especially in Italian pictures, disclose in the expression of their piety a complete harmony of external and spiritual condition. It is their very soul which we find written for the most part on their countenances, which are not permitted to express anything opposed to the emotions of their heart. In the actual conditions of life this is not always the case. An infant, for example, when it weeps, more particularly when beginning to do so, quite apart from the fact that we know its grief is not worth the trouble of crying over, often makes us smile with its ugly faces. And in the same way old folk pucker up their face when they laugh, because the lines of their features are too pronounced, cold, and stiff to accommodate themselves readily to an unreserved and natural laugh or a friendly smile. The art of painting should endeavour to avoid this incompatibility between the emotions of piety expressed and the sensuous forms which have to express them, and, so far as possible, produce a harmony between the soul and its external mode of expression. And this in the highest degree was effected by the Italians; the Germans and Flemish were less successful, because the main object in their work was living portraiture.

I will add one further remark, that this devotion of the soul ought not to reach the point of the actual cry of anxiety, that cry of tribulation and desire, such as the Psalms and many Lutheran hymns express, and we may illustrate it with the old words: "As the hart crieth for the water-brooks, so crieth my soul for Thee." We may rather indicate it as a gradual melting away, not to that attenuation of sweetness perhaps we associate with the nun, but at any rate a surrender of the soul, and an enjoyment and satisfaction in such surrender. For that travail of faith, that anxious troubling of soul, that doubt and desperation which persists in disunion, such a type of hypochondriacal piety which never is certain whether it is still sin, whether there has been repentance and pardon is complete, a surrender, in which the soul can never advance a step, and is always betraying the fact by his anxiety, such a state is not compatible with the beauty of the romantic Ideal. We much prefer that the eye of devotion should raise its look of yearning heavenwards, although it is both more artistic and gives us yet more satisfaction when it is centred on some present object of adoration, whether it be the Virgin Mother, Christ, or saint. It is a facile thing, only too facile, to attach to a picture a spiritual interest, by making its central figure gaze heavenwards, anywhere beyond the world, just as we find that nowadays people are only too ready to make use of an equally facile way of proving God and religion to be the foundation of society by quoting texts of the Bible rather than establishing such a basis on the reason of actual reality. Such a gaze of countenance upwards becomes in the pictures of Guido Reni[271], for example, a pure mannerism. The Assumption of the Virgin, too, which we find at Munich, has been much eulogized by its admirers and critics, and we may admit that the exalted character of its transfiguration, the absorption and surrender of the soul in the heavenly vision, and indeed the entire pose of the ascending figure, to say nothing of the brilliance and beauty of the colouring, is most impressive. But for myself I find such representations which depict the Virgin Mother in her own daydream of love and blessedness with her glance centred on her babe still more appropriate to her truth. The other type of yearning and strain, with its upward gaze heavenwards, is somewhat too near to our modern sentimentalism.

A _further_ aspect of importance is concerned with the entrance of the principle of negation into the spiritual devotion of Love. The disciples, saints, and martyrs, have to pass through, in some measure as an experience of their souls, and in part, too, as one of their external life, that way of suffering along which the Christ in the history of His Passion passed before them.

This suffering lies to some extent on the confines of art. Painting can very easily overstep this boundary, in so far, that is, as it accepts for its subject-matter the horrors and terrors of the _bodily_ torture, whether it be in flaying, or burning, or crucifixion, and its pains. This it is not permitted to do, if it is not to forsake the spiritual Ideal. This is not solely due to the fact that to present martyrs under such conditions to our sight is not beautiful to the sense, nor because our nerves nowadays are too keenly strung, but on the better ground that this material aspect is not the really important one. The true content we have to follow with sympathy and which should be depicted is the _spiritual_ experience, the soul in all that it suffers through Love, and not the direct bodily pain of a certain individual, the grief for the sufferings of another, or the anguish felt personally for personal demerit. The endurance of martyrs in physical tortures is an endurance which carries with it merely physical pain: what the spiritual Ideal looks for is the trial of the soul in its own domain, its own peculiar suffering, the wounds of its love, the repentance, mourning, anguish, and penance of its heart.

But we must add that in depicting this pain of soul the _positive_ aspect must not wholly be absent. The soul must be assured of the actual and essentially consummated reconciliation between mankind and God, and only experience anxiety that this eternal salvation be realized as a truth in itself. In this connection we not unfrequently meet with repentant people, martyrs, and monks, who, despite of their assuredness of an objective atonement, partly are overwhelmed with sorrow for a heart whose entire surrender they deem to be right, and

## partly have already made such complete surrender, and yet are always

for realizing such reconciliation anew, and consequently for ever imposing on themselves the burden of penances. And we find, therefore, in the artistic treatment of such situations a twofold point of departure. In other words, the artist may, to start with, presuppose in his subject an open disposition, freedom, cheerfulness, and decision of spirit, such as carries with ease life and the yoke of the actual world and knows how to readily deal with the same, then he may fitly associate with such painful experiences a native nobility, grace, freshness, freedom, and beauty of form. When, on the contrary, his work is based upon a natural sense that is more refractory, defiant, savage, and limited, the conflict of the spirit in overcoming the flesh and the world, and securing to itself the religion of salvation will necessarily imply more severe travail. In cases of such obstinacy of soul, therefore, the harsher reflections of force and stability are more apparent, the scars of the wounds which have been inflicted on an obstinacy of this type are more visible and enduring, and the beauty of the physical result tends to vanish[272].

_Thirdly_, that positive aspect of atonement, the _transfigurement_ that results from grief's travail, the blessedness that comes of repentance may be independently accepted as the subject of artistic presentment though it may readily pass into false conceptions.

Such, then, are the main distinguishing characteristics of the absolute spiritual Ideal regarded as the essential content of romantic painting. It forms the material of its most successful and solemn creations, works that are immortal by virtue of the depth of their contemplation; and when the representation of essential truth is thereby expressed they are nothing less than the most exalted expansion of the soul to its heaven of bliss, the most intimate and complete revelation of ideal life that an artist can bring before our vision.

Following this pre-eminently religious sphere of artistic production we have still to investigate two further fields of its activity.

(_β_) In direct contrast to the province of religion we have that which, if we consider it in its isolated abstraction, is equally destitute of the life of soul and God, Nature in its simplest terms, and regarded more definitely in its connection with painting, Nature's _landscape._ We have stated the character of the object of religion to be such that in it the _substantive_ ideality of the soul expresses therein the indwelling sense of Love as united to the Absolute[273]. This inward ideality has, however, a further content. It is able to discover in that which is wholly external an accord with soul-life, and can recognize in the objective world as such traits which have an affinity with what is spiritual. Regarded in their immediacy, no doubt, hills, mountains, woods, valleys, streams, meadows, sunlight, moon, and the starry heavens, are simply perceived to be the natural objects they are. But, in the _first_ place, these objects have to start with an _independent_ interest, in so far as it is the free life of Nature, which appears in them, and produces a sense of fellow feeling in the individual as one who shares that life himself; and, _secondly_, the particular changes of Nature's moods bring about states in the soul which correspond to such moods. It is possible for man to follow with his own life this animation of Nature and partake in this harmony of soul with its environment, and feel thereby at home in Nature. Just as the Arcadians spoke of a Pan, who made them shudder and frightened in the gloaming of the forest, in the same way the varied conditions of Nature's landscape in its gentle blithesomeness, its balmy repose, its spring-freshness, its wintry chill, its morning awakening and evening rest find their counterfeits in states of the soul. The tranquil depth of the ocean, the possibility that its depths may break forth with infinite power is akin to soul movements, just as conversely the roaring, upwelling, foaming, and break of storm-tossed waves stir the soul with concordant music. It is an ideal significance of this kind that the art of painting accepts as its object. And for this reason it is not natural objects merely as such in their external form and association which ought to constitute its true content, so that painting is nothing more than a mere imitation, but rather the animation of Nature's life, which interfuses it throughout and which is able to bring into prominence and assert with more vividness in the scenes of Nature reproduced the characteristic affinity of specific conditions of this life with particular spiritual states--it is a vital

## participation in Nature of this kind which gives us the meeting-point,

steeped as it is in the soul-life and temperament of the artist, by means of which Nature may become the content of painting not merely as environment, but as possessing a distinct individuality[274].

(_γ_) There is yet further a _third_ type of idealization which we find

## partly in the case where objects wholly insignificant are detached from

the position they occupy in the landscape, and, partly, in scenes of human life, which may appear to us not merely as wholly accidental as thus selected, but even of a kind that is both mean and commonplace. I have already found an opportunity for an attempt to justify the artistic selection of such subjects[275]. I will in connection with painting merely add the following remarks to our former discussion.

The art of painting is not merely concerned with the inward life of the soul, but with that ideal element that is essentially _particularized_[276]. This latter type of ideality for the reason that particularity is its principle is not content to rest satisfied with the absolute object of religion, and as little will merely accept from the external world Nature's vitality and its defined character as landscape; rather it insists on partaking of everything, in which man as an isolated individual soul can take a rational interest and find pleasure. Even in the case of its representations of religious material art, in proportion as it develops, it attaches such more closely to terrestrial conditions and the objects of actual vision, giving to its content the complete presence of natural existence, so that we ultimately find that the aspect of sensuous existence is most important and the interest of devotional life only so in a subordinate degree. For here, too, art receives the task to work out the Ideal in its fullest realization, in other words, to present to our senses that which is originally detached from them, to carry over objects taken from the remoteness of past life into present life and unite them with that present human life.

At our present stage of human evolution it is the ideality which we find in actual life as it faces us, in the circumstances of daily experience, the most common and the most trivial, which is the actual content.

(_αα_) If we inquire, then, what it is that makes a content of this kind, otherwise so poverty-stricken and indifferent, compatible with the claims of art, we must reply that it is the substantive core that is contained and made valid therein, in general terms the vitality and delight of self-subsistent existence, exemplified in the greatest variety of its aims and interests. The life of mankind is always in the immediate Present. What a man may do in each moment thereof is something specific, and its justification consists in the fact that he carries through all his engagements, the least no less than the greatest, with heart and soul. In this way he is united with each

## particular incident, and, by infusing into each the entire force of

his individuality, appears to identify his whole existence with such. This coalescence[277] produces that harmony of the individual with the specific character of his immediate activity in the circumstances that are nearest him, which is itself a mode of ideality, and which communicates in such a case to the subsistency of an existence, which is an exclusive and perfected whole, its attractive character. The interest, therefore, that we derive from representations of this kind is not to be attributed to the subject-matter, but rather to this animating soul, which by itself, and independently of that wherein it is disclosed as vital, finds an echo in every uncorrupted nature, in every free spirit, and is for the same an object of sympathy and delight. We must not, therefore, impair our enjoyment on the ground that the demand is made of us to admire such works of art under the aspect of their _likeness_ to _Nature_ so-called and such illusive imitation[278]. This demand, which works of this kind appear at first blush to support, is itself merely a deception which fails to hit the real point. For an admiration of this type is solely deducible from the wholly external comparison of a work of art and a work of Nature, and is only associated with the similarity of the counterfeit with an object or fact presented us, whereas the real content here and the artistic quality in the composition and execution is the coalescence of the matter portrayed _with its own substance_, which is the reality as independently depicted in its vital characterization. According to the principle of illusion, for instance, the portraits of Denner are entitled to our praise, which are, no doubt, imitations of Nature, but for the most part fail entirely to present us that vital animation on which we lay the main stress in these cases, and are mainly concerned with depicting hair, wrinkles, and generally every kind of trait which, without exactly being indicative of a corpse, are equally remote from the human physiognomy depicted as alive.

Moreover, if we permit ourselves to level down our enjoyment through superficial thoughts of the above fashionable kind, believing subjects of this type to be mean and unworthy of our contemplation, we accept the content by doing so in a form other than that in which art offers them us. In other words we merely associate with them the relation in which we stand to them according to our personal needs, pleasure, such education as we otherwise possess and other objects we have before us, that is to say we merely conceive them in respect to their _external purport_, throughout which it is our own requirements which are the vital thing we aim at for ourselves, and the matter of all importance. The life of the subject-matter itself, however, is thereby destroyed, in so far, that is, as the sole object of its existence appears to be that of a means simply, or lapses into a thing of no moment at all, just because we personally have no need for it. A gleam of sunlight, for example, which falls upon a room we enter through an open door, a part of the country we travel through, a sempstress, a maid we happen to see busily engaged, one and all we may regard with indifference, because we suffer them to pass by remote from the thoughts and interests which are bound up with them, and consequently in our soliloquy, or conversation with another will not suffer the situations which actually lie before us to speak a word in the current of our own thoughts and speech; or we cast what is merely a passing glance at them, the summary of which does not amount to more than the remark, "how pleasant, fine, or ugly they are." Thus we are charmed with the joviality of dance of peasants, while we merely glance at it superficially, or turn away from it with contempt, because we are hostile to "every sort of barbarism." We treat in a similar way the human countenances we come across in our daily life, or which we happen to chance upon. Our own personal point of view, and the various matters which engage us are for ever being interposed. _We_ are forced to address this or that person in a certain way, we have affairs to despatch, we have certain things to consider, thoughts that affect our relation to such a person; we observe him under the particular circumstances of our knowledge; we regulate our conversation relatively to that, or we are silent upon it, if he may be likely to resent it--in short we have always in our minds the man's business, station, and status, and our attitude to and business with him, remaining in a wholly practical relation, or in a position of indifference and preoccupied inattention. Art, however, when it depicts such real life, wholly changes our attitude to it; it cuts away once and for all all practical deviations[279], such as we are wont to associate with such material; it places us simply in the attitude of abstract contemplation to it; and in the like degree it does away with its indifference, and directs our otherwise preoccupied attention wholly to the situation portrayed; upon which we must collect and concentrate all our faculties, if we are to enjoy it. Sculpture, in particular, by virtue of its ideal mode of production from the first strikes off all practical relation to the object to the extent that its product at once betrays the fact that it does not belong to this reality. Painting, on the contrary, carries us wholly into the presence of the daily life with which we are in immediate contact, but it furthermore destroys all the threads of practical necessity, attraction, inclination, or disinclination, which draw us to such a Present, or the reverse, and forces us to approach those objects more intimately as ends to themselves in their own particular phase or mode of life. What we meet with here is just the opposite to that which Herr von Schlegel, for example, in the tale of Pygmalion, expresses so very prosily as the return of the completed work of art to common life, that is to a relation of a man's own inclinations and an actual enjoyment, a return which is the very opposite of that alienation, in which the work of art places the objects delineated in their relation to our practical necessities, and, precisely by doing so, sets forth before us their own independent life and appearance.

(_ββ_) Just as, then, art, in this particular sphere, re-establishes the forfeited independence of a content, which we otherwise failed to preserve in its unique characteristics, in the same way, _secondly_, it is able to secure in stability such objects as may happen to appear in actual existence in a form we are not accustomed to respect simply as such. The higher Nature stretches in its organization and shifting appearance the more it resembles the actor who only serves the present need. In this connection I have already emphasized the fact as a triumph of art over reality, namely, that it is able to fix that which is most evanescent. This power of art in attaching permanence to _momentary_ things applies not only to the sudden flash of life we find concentrated in certain situations, but also to the magical effect of its external presentment in the rapid changes of its colour. A troop of horsemen, for example, may alter every moment in the mode of its grouping, and the mutual relation of each rider within it. If we were one of such we should have something else to do than consider the lively effect of such changes. We should have to mount, dismount, make up our haversack, eat, drink, rest, groom, drink and feed our horses: or, if we looked on as ordinary folk, we should look at such with wholly different interests. We should want to know what they are there for, what nationality they are, for what reason they have left their barracks, and so forth. The painter, on the contrary, smuggles off the most volatile of the movements, the most evanescent expressions of countenance, the most momentary gleams of colour apparent in such motion, and places such before us solely in virtue of its interest in the animation of such phenomena which without it would vanish. For especially it is the play of the colouring, not treated merely as flat tint, but in its lights and shadows, and in the prominence or subordination of the objects painted which is the reason that the representation appears lifelike, a fact which we are accustomed to observe in works of art less than such an aspect deserves, bringing as it does art first clearly to our minds. And, moreover, the artist preferably accepts in depicting these natural relations the effort of following the least detail, and making his work concrete, definite and stamped with individuality, endeavouring as he does to secure for his subject-matter the individuality which phenomenal life itself supplies in its most momentary flashes; and yet withal does not so much seek for such a detail merely as imitated closely to strike our senses with its directness, but rather to furnish a definite image to the imagination in which at the same time the ideality of the entire composition remains active.

(_γγ_) The more insignificant the objects are, in comparison with the material of religion, which this particular phase of painting accepts for its content, to that very extent it is just this quality of _artistic_ creation, the manner of observation, conception, elaboration, the vitality communicated by the artist to his work by all his individual faculties, in short the soul and living enthusiasm of his execution, which constitute a prominent aspect of its interest, and are part of its content. That which the subject treated is under his workmanship must, however, substantially remain what it is in fact and is capable of being. We believe, indeed, that we look upon something different, and novel, because in actual life we do not pay the same detailed attention to similar situations, and their manner of colouring. Looked at on the reverse side no doubt we have something, too, that is new added to such ordinary subjects, namely, just this very enthusiasm, artistic insight and spirit, the soul, in which the artist handles them, adapts them to his uses, and by doing so infuses the enthusiasm of his activity like the breath of a new life throughout all his work[280].

Such, then, are the essential points of view, which it was necessary to discuss in regard to the content of painting.

(_b_) The _second_ aspect which we have next in order to examine is connected with the more particular modes of definition, to which the sensuous material, in so far as it has to accept in itself a given content, has to accommodate itself.

(_α_) The _first_ of these of importance is the _linear perspective._ This is introduced as necessary, because painting has only the superficies at its disposal and no longer, as was the case with the bas-relief of antique sculpture, can extend its figures side by side on one and the same plane, but has to proceed to a mode of presentation, which finds it necessary to make the remoteness of its objects in all their spatial dimensions merely appear as such to our senses. For the art of painting has to unfold the content it selects, to place the same in its various movement before our eyes, and to associate in different ways its figures with the landscape of external Nature, its buildings and so forth, in a wholly distinct grade of literalness to that which sculpture in the relief is able to secure. And that which painting in this respect cannot place before us in its actual degree of remoteness in the realistic manner of sculpture it must present under the illusion of reality. What we have first to notice here consists in this that the _single_ surface which confronts painting is divided into distinct planes, apparently remote from one another, and by this means the contrasts of a near foreground and a remote background are secured, which furthermore are linked together by means of a middle distance. Inasmuch as the objects are, the more distant they are from the vision, proportionately reduced in size, and this deduction follows in Nature itself optical laws capable of mathematical determination, the art of painting, too, has on its part to follow the same rules, which, by virtue of the fact that objects are set forth on one surface, are applicable here in a particular way. And this is the rational ground of the so-called linear or mathematical perspective in the art of painting, whose more detailed exposition, however, it is not our business here to discuss.

(_β_) In the _second_ place, however, objects are not only placed at a certain distance from one another, but they also differ in _shape._ This particular mode of their spatial limitation by virtue of which every object is made visible in its particular form is the subject-matter of _draughtsmanship._ The art of drawing gives us for the first time not merely the comparative distance of objects from one another, but their respective configuration. Its most important principle is _accuracy_ of form and relative distance, which of course in the first instance is not as yet associated with ideal[281] expression, but related simply to external appearance, and consequently forms the purely external framework[282], an accuracy, however, which, more particularly in the case of organic forms and their varied movements, is on account of the fore-shortenings thereby rendered necessary one of extreme difficulty. In so far as these two aspects are related purely to _form_ and its spatial totality they constitute the _plastic_ or sculpturesque features in painting, which this art, for the very reason that it expresses what is most ideal in its significance by means of external form, can as little dispense with as it can in another respect remain solely content with. For its supreme task is the employment of colour, and in such a way that in all that is truly painting distance and shape only attain and discover their genuine presentment by virtue of the distinctions of colour.

(_γ_) It is, therefore, _colour_, and the art of colouring, which make the painter a painter. We dwell with pleasure, no doubt, on the drawing, and exceptionally so on the study or sketch, as on that which pre-eminently betrays the quality of genius; but however rich with invention and imagination, with whatever directness the soul of an artist may assert itself in such studies by reason of the more transparent and mobile shell of their form, yet the fact remains to be painting we must have colour, if the work is not to continue abstract from the point of view of its sensuous material in the vital individuality and articulation of its objects. We must, however, at the same time admit that drawings and dry point drawings from the hand of great masters such as Raphael and Albrecht Dürer are of real importance. In fact from a certain point of view we may say that it is just these hand drawings which carry with them the finest interest. We find here the wonderful result that the entire spirit of the master is expressed directly in such manual facility, a facility which places with the greatest ease, in instantaneous work, without any preliminary essays, the essential substance of the master's conception. The border drawings of Dürer, for example, in the Prayer-book of the Munich library, are of indescribable ideality and freedom. Idea and execution appear in such a case to be one and the same thing, whereas in finished pictures we cannot avoid the sense that the consummate result is only secured after repeated over-paintings, a continuous process of advance and finish.

In despite of this, however, it is only through its employment of colour that the art of painting is able to give a real and vital presentment to the wealth of soul-life. All the schools of painting have, however, not retained the art of colouring at the same high level. It is a significant fact that we may, with an exception here and there, assert that it is only the Venetians and the Dutch[283] who have become consummate masters in their use of it. Both peoples were linked to the sea-coast, both situated on a low-lying land divided by fens, streams, and canals. In the case of the Dutch we may find an explanation in the fact that, on account of their having so perpetually a cloud-covered horizon, their conception of a gray background became fixed in their minds, and owing to this very gloomy prepossession they were the more driven to study colour in all its effects and variety of lighting, shadow, and chiaroscuro, to emphasize this and to discover in this the main task of their artistic efforts. In contrast to that of the Venetians and the Dutch the painting of the Italians generally, if we except that of Correggio and one or two others, appears to be more dry, sapless, cold, and lifeless. Looked at more closely we may emphasize the following points in connection with the art of colouring as the most important.

(_αα_) In the _first_ place we have the abstract basis of all colour in _light_ and _dark._ When we posit this contrast and its transitions by themselves without further distinctions of colour effect, we get thereby simply the contrasts supplied us by white as light and black as shadow together with their transitional grades and nuances, contrasts which offer to the art of drawing its integrating quality, appertaining as they do to the real plastic character of form, and producing the prominence, retreat, rondure, and distance of objects. We may incidentally mention in this connection the art of engraving on the plate which is wholly concerned with light and shadow as such[284]. Apart from the infinite assiduity and labour it implies we find in this highly valuable art, at the point of its supreme attainment, soul intimately associated with the utility of great variety of form[285], a variety which the art of bookbinding also possesses. Such an art, however, is not wholly occupied with effects of light and shade as that of simple draughtsmanship is; it endeavours further in its elaboration to become distinctly a rival of painting, and in addition to light and shade such as is purely the effect of illumination, also strives to express those distinctions of more emphatic light and darkness which are primarily the result of local colour; we find, for example, in a copperplate engraving that an attempt is made by its use of light effects to render visible the distinction between blond and black hair.

In painting, however, as already remarked, mere light and darkness only supply the fundamental basis, albeit such a foundation is of the greatest importance. For it is this contrast and only this which defines the comparative prominence and retirement, the rondure, and generally the actual appearance of form as sensuous shape, all that we understand by _modelling._ Masters of colour in this respect simply carry the process to the most extreme contrasts of the most brilliant light and the deepest shadow, and merely produce thereby their grand effects. Such contrasts are, however, only permissible in so far as they avoid harshness, that is, in so far as they are made within the limits of a just interplay of intermediate tones and colour transitions, which bind the entire composition in a fluid unity and render the finest gradations of tint possible. If such contrasts are entirely absent the entire effect will be flat, because it is precisely this distinction between that which is more brilliant and more obscure which gives emphatic prominence to particular aspects of the work and a like subordination to others. And especially in the case of compositions having a large content, and where the distance between objects is considerable, it is necessary to introduce the deepest shadow in order to make the scale of light and shadow a broad one.

With regard to the closer definition of light and shade we find that this depends more than anything else upon the mode of _lighting_ accepted by the artist. The light of day, that of morning, noon, and evening, sunlight or moonlight, a clear or clouded sky, the light of tempest, candle-light, a light that is veiled, or falls upon the object or diffuses itself gradually, every conceivable mode of lighting, in short, is possible, and the cause of every kind of effect. In treating a subject of public interest, full of incident, a situation that at once appeals to our common sense, the question of external lighting is of subordinate importance. The artist will avail himself here with most advantage of ordinary daylight, if, that is, the demands of dramatic vividness, and a desire to emphasize particular figures and groups, or to throw into the background others, do not render a less usual mode of lighting necessary, which may fall in more readily with such objects.

The great painters of the earlier school have consequently as a rule made little use of such contrasts or specific schemes of lighting. And they did rightly, inasmuch as their emphasis was rather on the spiritual aspect as such than on the sensuous impression of their pictures. And on account of the pre-eminent ideality and spiritual significance of the content they were able to dispense with the aspect of their work which inclined more or less to the material side. In the case of landscapes, on the contrary, and subjects of less importance taken from ordinary life, the question of lighting makes a very different appeal. In these important artistic and, often, artificial and mysterious effects are indispensable. In the landscape the bold contrasts between large masses in illumination and other parts in the strongest shadow will receive their full effect, but tend also to develop the artistic mannerism. Conversely we find, more especially in the treatment of landscape, reflections of light, the flash and its counterfeit, that wonderful echo of light, which arises from the interplay of light and dark, and offers an ample and progressive subject of study both to the artist and the spectator. Such a scheme of lighting, which the artist has either by direct imitation or imaginatively conceived in his work, can, however, by itself only be a transient one, which is subject to rapid change. However sudden or uncommon the lighting thus permanently retained may be, the artist must see in the treatment of his composition, even though it be as full of movement as possible, that the whole, despite all its variety, is not injured by mere restlessness and wavering motive, but is throughout clear and marked with unity.

(_ββ_) In accordance with what has already been stated the art of painting, however, has not merely to express light and dark in its purely abstract intension, but to add to it the distinctions of colour. Light and shadow must be coloured light and shadow. We have therefore in the _second_ place to discuss colour simply.

The _first_ point we have to deal with here is the _brightness_ and _obscurity_ of particular colours respectively to one another, that is in so far as they are operative as light and dark in their varied relations, and either emphasize or suppress and impair their individual effect. Red, for example, and still more yellow, is at an equal grade of intensity more brilliant than blue. This is dependent upon the nature of the colours themselves, which in recent times Goethe has for the first time fully explained[286]. In other words, we find that in blue _shadow_ is of main significance, which, in its first operation through a brighter, but not as yet fully transparent medium, appears to our sight as blue. The sky, for example, is dark, and on the highest mountains it is yet darker. Seen through a transparent but thick medium, such as the atmosphere of its lower planes is, it appears as blue, and its brightness increases in proportion as the air is less transparent. In the case of yellow, on the contrary, essential brightness works through a density, which, however, suffers this brightness to shine through it. Smoke, for example, is such an obscuring medium; looked at in front of anything black which works its way through it, it appears of a bluish tint, and before anything bright it appears yellow and reddish. Genuine red is the actively royal and concrete colour, in which blue and yellow, themselves also extremes of opposition, press together in fusion, We may also regard green as such a union, not, however, in a unity that is concrete, but merely as a difference that is cancelled, as a medium of satiated and tranquillized neutrality[287]. These colours are the purest, simplest, and original _cardinal_ colours. We may consequently find a symbolical significance in the way that the old masters made use of them. Especially is this so in their use of blue and red. Blue corresponds with the milder, sensuous, more tranquil aspect, a contemplation which is rich in feeling, in so far as it has obscurity for its principle, and offers no resistance, whereas the brightness therein rather suggests that which resists, produces, is alive and blithesome. Red corresponds with what is masculine, dominant, and royal, green with that which is indifferent and neutral. According to such symbolism for example, the Virgin Mary is frequently clothed in red where she is enthroned, and set before us as queen of heaven; where she is depicted as mother, she wears a blue mantle[288]. All the other colours in their endless variety must be regarded as mere modifications of the above, in which we must recognize a certain degree of shadow fused with the cardinal colours. In this sense no painter would call violet a colour[289]. Furthermore all these colours, in their mutual relation to each other, are respectively of greater brightness or obscurity, a fact that the artist must bear in mind if he is not to fail in getting the just tone which any particular section of his modelling or distance effects ought to have. In other words we have here a source of exceptional difficulty. In the countenance, for example, the lip is red, the eyebrow dark, black, brown, or, if blonde, at least darker as such than the lip; in the same way the cheeks with their reddish tint are more brilliant in colour than the nose, with its main impression of yellow, brownish, or greenish tint. Such portions of the face can readily receive a greater brightness and intensity owing to this local colour than is consonant with their modelling as parts of the whole. In sculpture, indeed in mere drawing too, such parts of a composition receive their light and shadow wholly in reference to their particular form and its manner of lighting. A painter on the contrary must accept their local colouring, and this disturbs such a relation. Such a difficulty is even more obvious between objects more removed from one another. For the ordinary vision of sight it is our mind which determines the distance and form of such objects, not merely by means of their colour appearance, but also on a variety of other grounds. In painting, however, all that we have before us is colour, which as such is able to interfere with that which is demanded by mere brightness and darkness as such. The art of the painter, therefore, consists in his ability to resolve this contradiction, and so to arrange his colours that neither in their local tints, nor in their mutual relation in any other way, they impair the modelling as a whole. Only if success is secured in both respects are we likely to see the actual shape and colour of the objects realized in perfection. With what consummate art, for example, have the Dutch painted the sheen of satin dresses with all their variety of reflections and gradations of shadow in their folds, or the flash of silver, gold, copper, vessels of glass and velvet; and in the same way we may mention the lighting a Van Eyck gives to his jewels, gold borders, and metals. The colours by means of which the flash of gold is presented have nothing of metallic about them: looked at closely we merely see yellow, which by itself is of no great brightness. The entire effect is due on the one hand to the prominence of the form, and on the other to the contiguity of the mutual gradations of distinct colour tones.

A further aspect in the _second_ place is the _harmony_ of the colouring.

I have already observed that the very nature of the facts necessitates that colour should have itself an articulated system. And this complete result should appear. No fundamental colour should be wholly omitted, otherwise our sense of this integrated whole is lost. To an exceptional degree the old Italian masters and the Dutch satisfy us in this respect. We find in their pictures blue, yellow, red, and green[290]. It is this completeness which supplies the basis of our colour harmony. The colours, moreover, must be so arranged that not merely their artistic contrast, but also their mediation and resolution, and a repose and reconciliation as the result of such, is made visible to the sight. Such effective contrast and repose in conciliated extremes is brought about partly by the way the colours are associated, and partly by the degree of intensity which characterizes each colour. In early painting it was principally the Dutch school[291], which employed the cardinal colours in their purity and their unimpaired brilliance, by which means the harmony is rendered more difficult by reason of the emphasis laid on contrast, but when secured should be pleasing to the eye. Where, however, the decisive character and force of colour is insisted on the nature of the subject-matter itself should be more definite and simple. And by attending to this a higher degree of harmony between colouring and content is also obtained. The important personages, for instance, must receive the colour that is most emphatic, and in their characterization, their entire deportment and expression should appear more imposing than the subordinate figures, who will receive merely the composite colours. In landscape painting the contrast of pure cardinal colours is less pronounced. In scenes, on the contrary, in which human figures are of most importance, and more particularly where drapery occupies large spaces of canvas, the more simple colours will be in their right place. In such we have a scene taken from the world of spiritual life, in which that which is inorganic, the natural environment, is more abstract, in other words must not appear in its natural completeness and isolated manner of effect, and the varied tints of landscape in all the profusion of their gradations are less suitable. As a rule the landscape is not so entirely fitted to the environment of human scenes as a room, or generally that which is architectural, inasmuch as situations which take place in the open air are in general not accepted from a class in which the life of soul without considerable reserve is manifested. If a man is placed before us with the open landscape around him it should appear simply as environment. And in cases of this type it is right to make use of colours that are exceptionally prominent. But the use of such involves also boldness and power of execution. Sickly sweet, overpowered[292], doting faces are not the kind for such treatment. Such soft expressions, such over-diluted countenances, which, ever since Mengs gave them as people are wont to think typical of ideality, would be entirely pulverized by such decision of colour. In recent times and among us Germans, weak faces which have essentially nothing to say[293], carefully posed in ways that imagine themselves to possess grace, simplicity, and imposing character, are all the fashion. This lack of distinction, on the side of spiritual characterization, has its counterpart in and indeed produces a similar lack of definition in colour and tone, so that all colours are run together in one confusion, and forceless condition of mutilation and evaporization, and no real emphasis is laid on any. You cannot say that one suppresses another exactly, but then none adds contrast to another. It is no doubt a colour harmony of a kind, and frequently it impresses with its excessive sweetness and flattering endearment, but the note of distinction is absent. In this connection Goethe thus expresses himself in his observations added to the translation of Diderot's essay on painting: "Critics do not by any means admit that it is easier to make weak colour harmonious than a strong scheme: but it stands to reason when colour is strong, when colours are placed before us vividly, in that case the eye will experience their harmony or discord with greater vividness. If, however, we weaken our colours, employ some with brilliance, others in fusion, others in obscure squalour, then it is obvious no one will be able to say whether the picture he looks at is harmonious or not. One thing in any case we can say of it, it lacks distinction."

With harmony of colour, however, we have not by any means attained the goal of the art of colouring. To reach this consummate effect, in the _third_ place, several other aspects must not be neglected. In this respect I will restrict my observations to three points, first, the so-called _atmospheric perspective_, secondly, _flesh-colour_, and in conclusion, the magic of _colour brilliancy._[294]

Linear perspective is connected in the first instance merely with the different degrees of size, which the lines of objects possess in their greater or less remoteness from the human eye. This alteration and reduction of form is, however, not the only thing painting has to reproduce. In Nature everything is affected by the presence of atmosphere, not merely between different objects, but even different parts of them, a difference which asserts itself in colour. This tone of colour which thus as it were evaporates with the distance is what constitutes _atmospheric perspective_, in so far as thereby objects are modified partly in deliberate outline, and partly in respect to their light and shadow and general colouring. As a rule people think that what is nearest to the eye in the foreground is brightest, and what lies in the background is more obscure; in truth the matter is otherwise[295]. But lights and shadows in the foreground are strongest, in other words the contrast between light and shade has a more powerful effect, and outlines are more defined near to the spectator. In proportion, however, to the degree of their remoteness, they lose in definition of colour and form, because the contrast of their light and shadow is gradually reduced, until finally everything disappears in transpicuous gray. Different schemes of lighting, however, necessitate in this respect various modes of treatment. In landscape painting more especially, but also in other compositions, which present large spaces, atmospheric perspective is of first importance, and the great masters of colour have carried out by this means the most bewitching effects.

The most difficult achievement in colouring, the ideal and consummation of its art, is the colour effect of the human flesh[296], which unites in its perfection all other colour tones, without permitting any

## particular one to be singly prominent. The healthy red in the cheeks of

youth is, no doubt, pure carmine without any admixture of blue, violet, or yellow, but this red is itself only a flush, or rather a sheen, which appears to rise on the surface, and imperceptibly passes into the prevailing flesh-tints. And this is an ideal[297] commixture of all the fundamental colours. Through the transparent yellow of the skin the red of the arteries and the blue of the veins is visible, and along with the light and shade and all the variety of sheen and reflection we have further tones of gray, brown, even green, which at first sight appear as contrary to Nature, but for all that may contribute to the justness and truth of the effect. Moreover, this composite treatment of many apparent tints is wholly without sheen as such, that is, it reflects nothing alien to it on its surface; its vital quality is entirely a result of itself and the living thing it is. It is this rendering of that which is the life shining through the organic integument which constitutes the main difficulty. We may compare it to a lake in the evening glow, in which we behold the objects that it reflects[298] no less than the clear depth and native character of water. The flash of metal combines on the contrary, no doubt, both light of its own and transparency, jewels both flash and are translucent, and something similar is seen in the case of velvet and silk-stuffs, but none of these approaches the life-conferred interfusion of colours apparent on the surface of the living flesh. The skin of animals, whether hair or hide, wool, and so forth, are in like manner of the most varied colouring, but it is a colour capable of more direct and independent definition in its parts, so that the variety is rather the result of different surfaces and planes, it is not a single transfusion and suffusion of many colours such as human flesh is. The nearest approach to it perhaps is the interplay of colour visible in the bunch of grapes, or the exquisitely tender gradations of translucent colour in the rose. And yet even this last example is unable to give us the counterfeit of ideal animation[299] which flesh-colour should possess. It is this volatile emanation of the soul exhibited on a non-transparent surface which is one of the most difficult problems of painting. For this ideality, this reflex of the inward life of soul must not appear on a surface as imported there, must not be pasted there as so many streaks, hatchings, and so forth of material colour, but seem to us itself to belong to the living whole[300], a transparent depth, as the blue of heaven, which offers our vision no repellent surface, but one in which we are infallibly invited to unfold. Already Diderot, in the essay on painting translated by Goethe, expressed himself as follows on this head: "He who once has truly felt and secured the apparition of flesh-colour is far on his way to perfect victory. Thousands of painters have died without such a feeling, and many thousands more will die without doing so."

In so far as the material is concerned, by means of which this untransparent vitality of flesh is reproduced, the first medium to declare its suitability for such an effect was the oil-pigment. Work in mosaics is of all the least fitting to present us such a composite effect. Its permanency is no doubt a recommendation, but inasmuch as it can only express colour gradations through variously coloured glass cubes or stones placed in juxtaposition, it is wholly unable to reproduce the intermingling flow of one unified presentment of many colours. Fresco and tempera painting carry us considerably further in this direction. Yet in the case of fresco-painting the colours are put on the wet plaster with too great rapidity, so that, on the one hand, the greatest facility and sureness of brushwork is an essential, and, on the other, the work has to be carried out with broad adjacent strokes, which on account of their drying so rapidly do not admit of a fine degree of finish[301]. The same kind of difficulty meets us in the case of tempera-painting, a process[302] which no doubt admits of great lucidity of expression[303] and beautiful contrasts of light and shadow, yet for all that, by reason of the fact that its medium dries so quickly, is less adapted to the fusion and elaboration of its effects, and necessitates an articulate surface made up of definite strokes of the brush. The oil pigment, on the contrary, not only permits of the most tender and subtle melting together and elaborate fusion of colour effect, so that transitions are so imperceptible we cannot say where one colour begins and where it leaves off, but it is, where its component elements are properly fused and the execution of it is as it should be, itself remarkable for a luminous quality like that of precious stones, and it can, by virtue of its distinctions between opaque or transparent colours[304], reproduce in a far higher degree than tempera painting the translucency of different layers of colour.

The _third_ and last point for our consideration in this connection is the emanation[305] and _mystery_ of colour in its entire effect. This witchery of colour appearance will mainly be found, where the substantive ideality of objects has become an effusion of spirit which enters into the scheme and treatment of its coloured presentment. In general, we may say that the magic consists in a handling of colour by means of which we obtain an interplay of scenic effect which is devoid of defined articulation as such, which is, in fact, simply the result of moulding of colour in the finest degree of fluency, a fusion of coloured material, an interplay of reflected points which pass into one another, and are so fine and evanescent in their gradations, so full of vital cohesion that the medium here seems already to have entered that of musical sound. From the point of view of modelling the mastery of chiaroscuro is part of this magic result, an aspect of the art in which among the Italians Leonardo da Vinci and, above all, Correggio were supreme. While introducing the very deepest shadow, the transparency of this is not only preserved, but is carried through imperceptible gradations to the most brilliant light. By this means roundness in the moulding of form is complete; there is no harshness of line or limit, but all is equable transition. Light and shadow are not here merely in their immediate effect as such, but gleam through one another much as a spiritual force is operative through an external shell. It is just an effect like this we find in the artistic treatment of colour, and the Dutch were no less than others consummate masters of this. By virtue of this ideality, this mutual relation between the parts, this interfusion of reflections and colour scintillations, this alternation and evanescence of transitional tones, a breath of soul and vitality is throughout communicated in the brilliancy, depth, the mild and juicy illumination of colour. It is this which gives us the magic effect of a masterpiece of colour; it is the unique gift of the genius of the artist who is himself the magician.

(_γγ_) And this brings us to the last point we have to discuss on this part of our subject.

We started with the _linear perspective_, we passed on then to _drawing_ and concluded with _colour_; _first_ considering light and shade in its relation to modelling, and, _secondly_, viewing it as colour simply, or more accurately, as the mutual relation between degrees of brightness and darkness in colours, regarding it, moreover, in its aspects of harmony, atmospheric perspective, flesh-colour and magical effect. We have now to consider more directly[306] the _creative impulse_ of the artist in bringing about such colour effects.

The ordinary view is that the art of painting follows definite rules in attaining its results. This is, however, only true of the linear perspective, being as it is a wholly geometrical science, and even in this case rules must not obtrude themselves in their abstract stringency, if we are to preserve all that essentially contributes to our art. And, in the second place, we shall find that artistic drawing accommodates itself even less readily than perspective to universal rules, but least of all is this true of colouring. Sense of colour ought to be an artistic instinct or quality, should be as much a unique way of looking at and composing existing tones of colour, as it should be an essential aspect of creative power and invention. On account of this personal equation in the production of colour, the way, that is, the artist looks at and is active in the making of his world, the immense variety which we find in different modes of treating, it is no mere caprice and favourite mannerism of colouring, which is absent from the facts _in rerum natura_, but lies in the nature of the case. Goethe supplies us with an example of personal experience which, as confided in his "Dichtung und Wahrheit," illustrates what I mean: "As I returned to my cobbler's house [he had just visited the Dresden Gallery] once more to take lunch I could scarce trust the evidence of my eyes. I believed myself to see before me a picture of Van Ostade[307], so complete it was, that you might have hung it there and then in the Gallery. Composition of subject-matter, light, shadow, brown tone of the whole, all that is admirable in this artist's pictures I saw actually before me. It was the first time that I was aware, to such a high degree of the power which I subsequently exercised with intention, the power of seeing, that is, with the eyes of the particular artist, to whose works I had just happened to devote exceptional attention. This facility afforded me great enjoyment, but also increased the desire from time to time to persevere in the exercise of a talent which Nature seemed ungracious enough to disallow me[308]." This variety in the manner of colouring is exceptionally conspicuous in the painting of human flesh, quite apart from all modifications rendered necessary by the mode of lighting, age, sex, situation, and the like considerations. And for the rest, whether the subject depicted be daily life, outside or within the interior of private houses, taverns, churches, or other buildings, or it be that of Nature's landscape, with its wealth of objects and colour, which finds more or less accurate reflection in the personal essay of any particular painter, the result cannot fail to illustrate this varied play of form and colour effect[309], which will infallibly appear, due as it is to the manner in which each comprehends, reproduces, and creates his own work according to his own outlook, experience and imaginative powers.

(_c_) We have hitherto, in discussing the several points of view which are given effect to in the art of painting, referred, _firstly_, to its content, and _secondly_ to the sensuous medium in which such content can be built up. We have in conclusion to define the mode under which the artist is bound to conceive and execute his content as a painter and under the conditions of his particular medium. We will divide the very considerable matter which such an investigation implies in the following manner:

_First_, we have to deal with the more _general_ distinctions in forms of _conception_, which it will be necessary to classify and follow in their progressive advance to richer manifestations of life.

_Secondly_, we shall have to direct attention to the more definite aspects, which, within these general types of conception, are more directly referable to genuine pictorial _composition_, that is, the artistic motives apparent in the particular situation and manner of grouping selected.

_Lastly_, we propose to review rapidly the mode of _characterization_, which results from distinctions of subject-matter no less than modes of conception.

(_α_) With respect to the most generally prevailing modes of artistic conception[310], we shall find these are in some measure due to the content which has to be depicted, and in part are referable to the course of the art's evolution, which does not from the first seek to elaborate all that is apparent in any subject, but rather through a variety of stages and transitions makes itself fully mistress of Life and its manifestations.

(_αα_) The first position which the art of painting is able to secure still betrays its origin from sculpture and architecture: in the _entire mode_ of its conception it is still in close association with these arts. And this will pre-eminently be the case where the artist restricts himself to individual figures, which he does not place before us in the vital connections of an essentially concrete situation, but in the simple independence of its self-repose. Out of the many sources of content which I have indicated as adapted to painting, we shall find religious subjects, Christ, his apostles, and the like are exceptionally suited to such abstract treatment. Such figures as these must necessarily be assumed to possess sufficient significance in their isolation, to be complete in themselves, and to unfold an object sufficiently substantive of adoration and love. Belonging to this type, particularly in early art, we meet with examples of Christ or his saints isolated without definite situation and environment. If we do find the latter it mainly consists in architectural embellishments,

## particularly Gothic; this is frequently the case in early Flemish or

upper German art[311]. In this relation to architecture, among the columns and arches of which such figures as the twelve apostles and others are frequently composed, painting does not as yet attain to the life-like actuality of its later development, and we find that even the figures still retain in some measure a character which inclines to the statuesque, or to some extent do not move beyond such a general type as we find indicated in its fundamentals by Byzantine painting. For isolated figures of this character, devoid of any background or only retaining a purely architectonic outline, a more severe simplicity of colour, and a more emphatic brilliancy, is as it should be. The oldest school of painters have consequently employed a single-tinted ground of gold instead of a rich natural landscape, a ground which the colours of drapery have to confront, and to which they are compelled to adapt themselves; these are consequently more decisive and glaring than the colours employed in the periods of Art's finest bloom, just as we find as a rule that simple vivid colours such as red, blue, and the rest are most pleasing to uncultivated people.

To this earliest type of conception it is that for the most part the miracle-working pictures belong. To such as to something stupendous man is merely placed in a relation of stupidity, from which the aspect of their artistic merit vanishes, so that they are not brought nearer to his conscious life in friendly guise in accordance with their vital humanity and beauty, and the very pictures which are most revered in a religious sense are from an artistic standpoint the most execrable.

If, however, isolated figures of this type do not supply an object for devotion or interest as being already complete and independent personality, their execution, carried out as it is in consonance with the principle of statuesque conception, has no meaning at all. Portraits, for example, are of interest to relatives who know the man thus portrayed and his individuality. But where the personages thus depicted are forgotten or unknown the sympathy which is excited by their portraiture in a given action or situation, which gives definite content to a particular character, is of a wholly different kind to that which we find in the entirely simple type of conception above referred to. Really great portraits, when they face us in the fullest wealth of life all the means of art can display, possess in this wealth itself the power to stand forth from and step out of their frames. In looking at the portraits of Van Dyck, for example, more

## particularly when the pose of the figure is not wholly full face, but

slightly turned away, the frame has struck me like the door of the world, which the man before me enters. When consequently individuals do not possess, as saints, angels and the like do, a characterization which is in itself sufficiently complete and acknowledged, and are only interesting by virtue of the definite character of a given situation, some single circumstance or particular action, it is not suitable to present them as independent figures. As an example of this the last work of Kügelchen in Dresden was a composition of four heads, half figures, namely, Christ, John the Evangelist, John the Baptist, and the Prodigal Son. So far as Christ and John the Evangelist are concerned I found the conception quite appropriate. But in the case of the Baptist, and in every respect in that of the Prodigal Son, I failed to connect with them the authentic character which could justify a treatment of them as half-length portraits. In such cases it is essential to place the figures in a condition of action or incident, or at least to show them in situations, by means of which, in vital association with external environment, they can assert the individuality which marks an essentially exclusive whole. The head of the Prodigal Son in the above picture expresses no doubt, very finely too, pain, profound repentance and remorse, but the only indication we have given us that this is the repentance of the Prodigal Son is a very diminutive herd of swine in the foreground. Instead of a symbolical reference of this kind we ought to see him among his swine, or at least in some other scene of his life. The Prodigal Son, in short, does not possess for us any further general characterization complete as such in our minds and only exists, in so far as he is not purely allegorical, in the well-known scenes of Biblical narrative. He should be depicted to us as leaving his father's house, or in his misery, his repentance and return, that is, in the concrete facts of the tale. Those swine put in the foreground do not carry us much further than a label with "The Prodigal Son" written on it.

(_ββ_) And generally it is obvious that painting, for the reason that its function is to accept as its content the wealth of soul-life in all its detail, is, to a yet greater extent than sculpture, unable to rest satisfied with that repose on itself which is without defined situation and the conception of a character taken by itself and alone simply. It is bound to make the effort to exhibit such self-subsistency and its content in specific situation, variety, and distinction of character viewed in their mutual relations and in association with their environment. It is, in fact, just this departure from purely eclectic and traditional types, from the architectonic composition of figures and the statuesque mode of conception; it is just this liberation from all that is devoid of movement and action, this striving after a living human expression, a characteristic individuality; it is this investment of a content with all the detail of the ideal and external condition that affects it which constitutes the advance of the art, in virtue of which it secures its own unique point of view. Consequently to painting as to no other plastic art is it not merely permitted, but it is even required from it, that it should unfold dramatic realization, and by the composition of its figures display their activity in a distinctly emphasized situation.

(_γγ_) And, in the _third_ place, closely connected with this absorption in the complete wealth of existing life and the dramatic movement of circumstance and character, we are aware of the importance which is increasingly attached, both in conception and execution, to the individuality and the vital wealth of the colour aspect of all objects, in so far as in painting we attain to the supremest effects of vital truth which are capable of being expressed purely by colour.

This magical result of appearance can, however, be carried to such a pitch, that in contrast to it the exhibition of content becomes a matter of indifference, and painting tends to pass over, in the mere charm and perfume of its colour tones, and the contrast, fusion, and play of their harmonies, into the art of music, precisely as sculpture, in the elaboration of its reliefs, tends to associate itself with painting.

(_β_) What we have in the first instance now to pass in review are the

## particular lines[312] that pictorial _composition_ is constrained to

adhere to in its productions when presenting to us a definite situation and the more immediate motives referable to it by virtue of the way it concentrates and groups together various figures and natural objects in one self-exclusive whole.

(_αα_) What is of fundamental and pre-eminent importance here is the happy selection of a situation adapted to the art.

In this respect the imaginative powers of the painter possess an immeasurable field to select from, a field whose limits extend from the simplest situation[313] of an object insignificant in itself, such as a wreath of flowers, or a wineglass composed with plates, bread, and certain fruits, to rich compositions of important public events, political actions, coronation fêtes, battles, or even the Last Judgment, in which God the Father, Christ, his apostles, the heavenly legions, nay, our entire humanity, and earth, heaven, and hell are brought together. And here a closer inspection will show us that we must clearly distinguish what is truly pictorial on the one hand from that which is sculpturesque, and on the other from what is poetical in the sense that it is only poetry that can fully express it.

The essential difference between a _pictorial_, and _sculpturesque_ situation consists, as we have already seen, in this, that the main function of sculpture is to place before us that which is self-subsistent in its tranquillity, without conflict under conditions that do not affect it, in which distinctness of definition is not the main demand, it is only in the relief that it really begins to approach a group composition, and an epic expanse of figures begins to represent

## actions involving motion, and which imply collision of opposing forces.

The art of painting, on the contrary, only thoroughly takes up its proper task, when it moves away from figures composed independently of their more concrete relations, moves away from a situation that is deficient in its elaboration, in order that it may thus pass into the sphere of living movement, human conditions, passions, conflicts,

## actions in persistent association with external environment, and even

in its composition of natural landscape is able to retain firmly this definite structure of a given situation and its most lifelike individuality. It was for this reason that from the first we maintained that painting was called upon to effect the exposition of character, soul, and ideal qualities, not in the way that this spiritual world enables us to recognize it directly in its external shape, but in the way it evolves and expresses its actual substance by means of _actions._

And the truth we have just mentioned is that which brings painting into closer relation with _poetry._ Both arts have in this respect an advantage[314], and from another point of view, also a disadvantage. Painting is unable to give us the development of a situation, event, or

## action, as poetry or music, that is to say, in a _series_ of changes;

it can only embody one moment of time. A simple reflection is deducible from this, namely, that we must in this one moment have placed before us the substance of the situation or action in its entirety, the very bloom of it; consequently, that moment should be selected in which all that preceded and followed it is concentrated in one point. In the case of a battle, for example, this moment will be that of victory. The conflict is still apparent, but its decisive conclusion is equally so. The artist is able, therefore, to retain as it were the residue of the Past, which, in the very act of withdrawal and disappearance, still asserts itself in the Present, and furthermore can suggest what has yet to be evolved as the immediate result of a given situation. I cannot, however, here enlarge further on this head. The painter, however, together with this disadvantage as against the poet, is to this extent advantaged in that he can bring the precise scene before our vision in all the appearance of its reality, can depict it perfectly in all its detail. "_Ut pictura poesis erit_" is no doubt a favourite saying which is particularly and pertinaciously advanced by theorists, and is no doubt actually accepted and exemplified by narrative poetry in its descriptions of the seasons, its flowers, and its landscapes. Detailed transcription of such objects and situations is, however, not only a very dry and tedious affair, and indeed, so far from being exhaustive, always leaves something more to say. It is, further, contrasted with painting, only a confusing result, because it is forced to present as a successive series of ideas what painting sets before our vision once and for all, so that we constantly tend to forget what has gone before and lose it from our minds, despite the fact that it should be held in essential relation with that which follows, inasmuch as under the spatial condition it is in fact a part of it, and only is significant in this association and this immediacy. It is, however, just in this contemporaneous exposition of detail that the painter can restore that which, in respect to the progressive series of past and future events, he fails to secure.

There is, however, another respect in which painting yields place to poetry and music, and that is in its lyrical quality. The art of poetry can not only develop emotions and ideas generally as such respectively, but also in their transitions, movement, and increased intensity. In respect to concentrated intensity this is yet more the case in music, which is essentially concerned with soul-movement. To represent this painting has nothing beyond the expression of face and pose; and if it does exclusively direct its effort, to what is actually lyrical, it misconceives the means at hand. However much the soul's passion may be expressed in the play of the countenance or bodily movement, such expression should not be directly referable to emotion as such, but to emotions in so far as they are present, with a _definite_ mode of expression, in an event or action. The fact that it reveals ideality in external form therefore does not connote the abstract meaning that it makes the nature of the soul visible by means of physiognomy and form, under the mode of which it expresses soul-life; it is rather just the individual situation of an action, passion in some specific outburst thereof, by means of which the emotion is unfolded and recognized. When, therefore, it is attempted to interpret the poetical quality of painting under the assumption that it should express the soul's emotion directly, without a motive and action more near to it in facial expression and pose, all that we do in such a case is to throw the art back upon an abstraction, which its effort should precisely strive to be rid of; we ask of it, in short, that it should master the peculiar and just contribution of poetry; and if it attempts to do this the result will be a barren and stale one.

I particularly insist on this point because in the exhibition of art we had here last year (1828) several pictures from the so-called Düsseldorf school have received much attention, the painters of which, while displaying in their work considerable knowledge and technical ability, have laid almost exclusive stress on this ideal aspect, on material that is only capable of adequate presentment in poetry. The content, for the most part borrowed from poems of Goethe or from Shakespeare, Ariosto, and Tasso, may be generally indicated as the ideal emotion of Love. As a rule the most capable of these pictures set before us a pair of lovers, Romeo and Juliet, for example, or Rinaldo and Armida, without any further situation, so that these couples have nothing more to do and express except the fact that they are in love with each other, in other words, they share a mutual attraction, gaze on each other as lovers, and as lovers look yet again. Naturally in such a case the main expression must be concentrated in the mouth and eyes; and we may add that our Rinaldo has been so placed relatively to his spider legs that he looks very much as though he did not know what to do with them. They are extensions which are entirely without meaning. Sculpture, as we have seen, dispenses with the glance of eye, the soul-flash; painting, on the other hand, seizes on this potent means of expression, but it must not focus everything at this one point, it should not make the fire or the refluent languor and yearning of the eye or soft friendliness of lips the soul and centre of expression without any other motives. Equally defective was the fisherman of Hübner, the theme of which was borrowed from that famous poem of Goethe, which depicts with such wonderful depth and charm of feeling the indefinite yearning for the repose, coolness and purity of water. The naked fisher lad, who in this picture is being drawn into the water, has, just as the male figures in the other pictures have, a very prosaic looking face, such as we could not imagine, if the features were in repose, to be capable of profound or beautiful emotions. And, as a rule, we cannot assert of these figures, whether male or female, that they are beautiful in a healthy sense; they, on the contrary, merely betray the nervous excitement, weakness, and disease of Love and emotional life generally, which people have no business to repeat and which we would willingly, whether in life or Art, be spared. To the same class of conception belongs the way that Schadow, the master of this school, has depicted Goethe's Mignon. The character of Mignon is wholly poetical. What makes her interesting is her Past, the severity of her destiny as it affects both her inward and outward life, the conflict of her Italian, wholly excited passion in a soul which is still obscure to itself, which can neither decide upon a course of action or object, and which, being this mystery to itself, merges itself in such and yet can do itself no good. It is this self-expression wholly divided in itself and yet retiring into itself, and only letting us see its confusion in isolated and unrelated eruptions, which creates the awful interest we cannot fail to experience in her. Such a network of contradictions we may no doubt imagine in our minds, but the art of painting is wholly unable to, present it to us, as Schadow has attempted to do, simply by means of Mignon's form and physiognomy, without defining further any situation or action. We may, therefore, assert generally that the above-mentioned pictures are conceived without any real insight for situations, motives, and expression. It is, in short, an inseparable condition of genuine artistic representations of painting that the entire subject-matter should be grasped with imaginative power, should be made visible to us in figurative form, which is expressed and manifests its ideal quality through a series of feeling, that is, through an action, which is of such significance to the emotion, that each and everything in the work of art appears to be entirely appropriated by the imagination to express the content selected. The old Italian painters have to a conspicuous degree, no less than their modern fraternity, depicted love-scenes, and in part borrowed the material from poetry; but they have known how to clothe the same with imagination and delight. Cupid and Psyche, Cupid and Venus, Pluto's rape of Proserpine, the rape of the Sabine women, such and other similar subjects the old masters depicted in lifelike and definite situations, in scenes properly motived and not merely as simple emotion conceived without imaginative grasp, without action. They have also borrowed love scenes from the Old Testament. We may find an example in the Dresden Gallery, a picture of Giorgione, in which Jacob, after his long journey, greets Rachel, presses her hand and kisses her; in the distance there stand a pair of youths by a spring, busily engaged in watering their herds, which are feeding, a large number of them, in the dale. Another picture presents to us Isaac and Rebecca. Rebecca gives Abraham's carls water to drink and is recognized in doing so. In the same way scenes are taken from Ariosto; we have Medor, for example, writing the name of Angelica on the edge of a spring. When, therefore, people nowadays refer to poetry in painting, this can only mean, as already insisted, that we must grasp a subject imaginatively and suffer emotions to unfold themselves in action; it excludes the idea of securing feeling simply as such or endeavouring thus to express it. Even poetry, which is capable of expressing emotion in its ideal or spiritual substance, is unfolded in ideas, images, and descriptions. If this art was content to abide by a mere "I love thee," repeated eternally, as its entire expression, such a consummation no doubt, might prove highly agreeable to those masters who have talked so much about the poetry of poetry, but it would be the blankest prose for all that. For art generally in its relation to emotion consists in the apprehension and enjoyment of the same by means of the imagination, which in poetry displays passion in its conceptions, and satisfies us in their expression, whether that expression be lyrical, or conveyed in epical events, or dramatic action. As a presentment of the inward life of soul, however, in painting the mouth, eye, and pose, do not alone suffice; we must have the total objective realization in its concreteness to make valid and vouch for such ideality.

The main thing, then, in a picture is that it present to us a situation, the scene of some action. And closely associated with this we have the primary law of _intelligibility._ In this respect religious subjects possess the supreme advantage, that they are universally known. The annunciation of the angel, the adoration of the shepherds or of the three kings, the repose in the flight to Egypt, the crucifixion, burial, resurrection, no less than the legends of the saints, were well known subjects with the public, for whom such pictures were painted, albeit to our own generation the stories of the martyrs are removed to some distance. For a particular church, for example, it was mainly the biography of its patrons or its guardian saints which was represented. Consequently it was not always the painters themselves who selected such subjects; particular circumstances rendered such selection inevitable for particular altars, chapels, and cloisters, so that the place where they are exhibited in itself contributes to their elucidation. And this is, in part, necessary, for in painting we do not find speech, words, and names, by which interpretation of poetry may be materially assisted to say nothing of all its other means. And in the same way in a royal residence, council-hall, or parliament-building, scenes of great events, important situations taken from the history of the state, city, and building in which they are found are there, and receive a just recognition in the place for which they were originally painted. It is hardly likely, for instance, that in painting a picture for one of our palaces an artist would select a subject borrowed from English or Chinese history, or from the life of King Mithridates. It is otherwise in picture galleries, where we have all kinds of subjects brought together that we could wish to buy or possess as examples of fine works of art. In such a case, of course, the peculiar relation of any picture to a definite locale, no less than its intelligibility, so far as it is thereby promoted, disappears. The same thing is true of the private collection. The collector brings together just what he can get; the principle is that of a public gallery, and his love of art or caprice may extend in other directions.

Allegorical pictures are far inferior to those of historical content in the matter of intelligibility; they are, moreover, for the reason that the ideal vitality and emphatic characterization of the figures must in great measure pass out of them, indefinite, and not motive to enthusiasm. Landscapes and situations borrowed from the reality of daily life, are, on the contrary, no less clear in their substantial import than, in respect to their characterization, dramatic variety, movement and wealth of existence, they supply a highly favourable opportunity for inventive power and executive ability.

(_ββ_) To render the defined situation of a picture intelligible, in so far as the artist is called upon to do this, the mere fact of its local place of exposition and a general knowledge of its subject will not suffice. As a general rule, these are purely external relations, under which the work as a work of art is less affected. The main point of real importance consists, on the contrary, in this that the artist be sufficiently endowed in artistic sense and general talent to bring into prominence and give form to the varied motives, which such a situation contains, with all the bounty of invention. Every action, in which the ideal world is manifested in that which is external, possesses immediate modes of expression, sensuous results and relations, which, in so far as they are actually the activities of spirit, betray and reflect its emotion, and consequently can be utilized with the greatest advantage as motives which contribute to the intelligibility of the work no less than its individual character. It is, for example, a frequent criticism of the Transfiguration picture of Raphael, that the composition is cut up into two unrelated parts; and this from an _objective_ standpoint is the case. We have the transfiguration on the hill and the incident of the possessed child in the foreground. From an ideal[315] point of view, however, an association of supreme significance is undoubtedly present. For, on the one hand, the sensuous transfiguration of Christ is just this very exaltation of himself above the earth and his removal from his disciples, a removal which as such separation ought to be made visible; and from a further point of view the majesty of Christ is in this, an actual and particular case, to the highest degree emphasized by the fact that the disciples are unable to heal the possessed child without the assistance of their Master. In this instance, therefore, this twofold action is throughout motived, and the association is enforced before our eyes, both in its external and ideal aspect, by the incident that a disciple expressly points to Christ who is removed from them, and in doing so suggests the profounder truth of the Son of God to be at the same time on Earth, in accordance with the truth of that saying, "If two are gathered together in my name I am in the midst of them." I will give yet another illustration. Goethe on one occasion gave as a subject for a prize exhibition the representation of Achilles in female garments at the coming of Odysseus. In one drawing Achilles glances at the helmet of the armed hero, his heart fires up at the sight, and in consequence of this emotion the pearl necklace is broken which he wears round the neck. A lad seeks for and picks up the pieces from the ground. Such is an example of admirable motive.

Moreover, the artist finds he has to a more or less extent large spaces to fill in; he requires landscape as background, lighting, architectonic surrounding, and he has to introduce incidental figures and objects and so forth. All this material he should apply, in so far as it can be so adapted, as motives in the situation, and bring this external matter into unity with his subject in such a way that it is no longer insignificant. Two princes or patriarchs shake hands. If this is indicative of a peace treaty, and the seal upon the same, warriors, armed bands, and the like, preparations for a sacrifice to solemnize the pact, will be an obviously fitting environment. If such people happen to meet each other with a similar welcome on a journey, other motives will be necessary. To invent the same in a way that attaches real significance and individualization to the action, this it is which more than anything else will test the artistic insight of the painter so far as this aspect of his work is concerned. And in order to promote this not a few artists have also attached symbolical relations between background and the main action. In the composition, for example, of the Adoration of the three Kings, we not unfrequently find the holy Infant in His cradle beneath a ruined roof, around Him the walls of a building falling in decay, and in the background the commencement of a cathedral. The falling stone-work and the rising cathedral directly suggest the victory of the Christian church over paganism[316]. In the same way we find, not unfrequently, in pictures, more especially of the Van Eyck school, which depict the greeting of the angel Gabriel to Mary, flowering lilies like stamens. They indicate the maidenhood of the mother of God.

(_γγ_) Inasmuch as in the _third_ place the art of painting, by virtue of the principle of ideal and external variety, in which it is bound to give clear definition to situations, events, conflicts, and

## actions, is forced to deal on its way with many kinds of distinction

and contradiction in its subject-matter, whether purely natural objects or human figures, and, moreover, receives the task to subdivide this composite content, and create of it one harmonious whole, a way of posing and _grouping_ its figures artistically, becomes one of the most important and necessary claims made upon it. Among the crowd of

## particular rules and definitions, however, which are applicable to

this subject, what we are able to affirm in its most general terms can only be valid in quite a formal way, and I will merely draw attention shortly to a few of the main points.

The earliest mode of composition still remains entirely architectonic, a homogeneous juxtaposition of figures or a regular opposition and symmetrical arrangement, not merely of the figures themselves, but also their posture and movements. We may add that at this stage the pyramidal form of grouping is much in favour. When the subject is the Crucifixion of our Lord such shapes follow as a matter of course. Christ is suspended on high from the cross, and at the sides we have a group of the disciples, Mary the mother, or saints. In pictures of the Madonna also, in which Mary is seated with her Child on a raised throne, and we find adoring apostles, martyrs, and so forth, beneath them on either side we have a further illustration of this form. Even in the Sistine Madonna picture this mode of grouping is still in its fundamental features retained. And, generally, it brings repose to the eye because the pyramids, by virtue of its apex, makes the otherwise dispersed association coherent, giving an external point of unity to the group[317].

Within the limits, however, of such a generally abstract symmetrical composition, the pose of the figures may be marked in detail by great vividness and individuality, and equally the general expression and movement. The artist, while using in combination the means of his art, will have his several planes, whereby he is able more definitely to emphasize the more important figures as against the others; and he can in addition avail himself of his scheme of lighting and colour. The way he will arrange his groups to arrive at this result is sufficiently obvious. He will not, of course, place his main figures at the sides, or place subordinate ones in positions which are likely to attract the highest attention. And similarly he will throw the strongest light on objects which are part of the most significant content, rather than leave them in shadow, and emphasize with such strong light and the most conspicuous tints objects which are incidental.

In the case he adopts a method of grouping less symmetrical, and thereby more life-like, the artist will have to take especial pains not to make the figures press too closely on each other, which results in a confusion not unfrequently noticeable in certain pictures; we should not be under the necessity of having first to identify limbs and discover which belong to which, whether they be arms, legs, or other properties, such as drapery, armour, and so forth. It will, on the contrary, be wisest in the case of larger compositions, in the first instance no doubt, to separate the whole into component parts easily ascertained, but, at the same time, not to isolate them in dispersion entirely. And particularly will this be advisable where we have scenes and situations, which on their own account naturally tend to a broad and disunited effect such as the gathering of manna in the wilderness, market-fairs, and similar subjects.

On the above subject I must restrict myself here to these very general observations.

(_γ_) Having thus, _firstly_, dealt with the general types of pictorial composition, and, _secondly_, with a composition from the point of view of selection of situations, arrangement of motives and grouping, we will now add a few remarks upon the mode of _characterization_, by means of which painting is to be distinguished from sculpture and its ideal plastic character.

(_αα_) I have several times previously taken occasion to remark, that in painting the ideal and external _particularity_ of soul-life is admitted in its freedom, and consequently is not necessarily that typical beauty of individualization which is inseparable from the Ideal itself, but one which is suffered to expand in every direction of particular appearance, by virtue of which we obtain that which in modern parlance is called _characteristic._ Critics have generally referred to "the characteristic" thus understood as the distinctive mark of modern art in its contrast to the antique; and, in the significance we are here attaching to the term, no doubt the above contrast is just. According to our modern criterion Zeus, Apollo, Diana, and the rest are really not characters at all in this sense, although we cannot fail to admire their infinitely lofty, plastic, and ideal individualities. We already find a more articulate individualization is approached by the Homeric Achilles, the Agamemnon and Clytemnestra of Aeschylus[318], or the Odysseus, Antigone, and Ismene in the type of spiritual development which by word and deed Sophocles unfolds to us, a definition in which these figures subsist in what appears to be consonant with their substantive nature, so that we can no doubt discover the presentment of character in the antique if we are prepared to call such creations characters. Still in Agamemnon, Ajax, Odysseus, and the rest, the individualization remains throughout of a generalized type, the character of a prince, of frantic rage, of cunning in its more abstract determinacy. The individual aspect is in the result closely intertwined with the general conception, and the character is merged in an individualization of ideal import. The art of painting, on the contrary, which does not restrain particularity within the limits of such ideality, is more than anything else occupied with developing the entire variety of that aspect of particularization which is accidental, so that what we have now set before us, instead of those plastic ideals of gods and men, is _particular people_ viewed in all the varied appearance of their accidental qualities. Consequently perfection of corporeal form, and the fully realized consonancy of the spiritual or ideal aspect with its free and sane existence, in a word, all that in sculpture we referred to as ideal beauty, in the art of painting neither make the same claim upon us, nor generally are regarded as the matter of most importance, inasmuch as now it is the ideality of soul-life itself, and its manifestation as conscious life which forms the centre of interest. In this more ideal sphere that realm of Nature is not so profoundly insistent. Piety of heart, religion of soul can, no less than ethical sense, and activity in fact did in the Silenus face of Socrates, find a dwelling in a bodily form which, viewed on the outside simply, is ugly and distorted. No doubt in expressing spiritual beauty, the artist will avoid what is essentially ugly in external form, or will find a way to subdue and illumine it in the power of the soul which breaks through it, but he cannot for all that entirely dispense with ugliness[319]. For the content of painting, as we have above depicted it at length, includes within itself an aspect, for which it is precisely the abnormal and distorted traits of human figures and physiognomy, which are most able to express. This is no other than the sphere of what is bad and evil, which in religious subjects we find mainly represented by the common soldiers, who take a part in the passion of Christ, or by the sinners and devils in hell. Michelangelo was pre-eminent in his delineation of devils. In his imaginative realization, though we find he passes beyond the scale of ordinary human life, yet at the same time an affinity with it is retained. However much notwithstanding the impersonations which painting sets before us necessarily disclose an essentially complete whole of characteristic realization, we will not go so far as to maintain that we cannot find in them an analogue of that which we refer to as the Ideal in the most plastic type of art[320]. In religious subjects, no doubt, the feature of all importance is that of pure Love. This is exceptionally so in the case of the Virgin mother, whose entire life reposes in this love; it is more or less the same thing with the women who accompany the Master, and with John, the disciple of Love. In the expression of this we may also find the sensuous beauty of forms associated, as is the case with Raphael's conceptions. Such a close affinity must not, however, assert itself merely as formal beauty, but must be spiritually made vital through the most intimate expression of soul-life, and thereby transfigured; and this spiritual penetration must make itself felt as the real object and content. The conception, too, of beauty, has its real opportunity in the stories of Christ's childhood and those of John the Baptist. In the case of the other historical persons, whether apostles, saints, disciples, or wise men of antiquity, this expression of an emphasized intensity of soul-life is rather simply an affair of particular critical situations, apart from which they are mainly placed before us as independent characters of the actual world of experience, endowed with force and endurance of courage, faith and action, so that what most determines the gist of their characters in all its variety is an earnest and worthy manliness. They are not ideals of gods, but entirely individualized human ideals; not simply men, as they ought to be, but human ideals[321], as they actually are in a certain place, to which neither particular definition of character is wanting, nor yet a real association between such particularity and the universal type which completes them. Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo da Vinci, in his famous Last Supper, have supplied examples of this type, in the composition of which we find an entirely different quality of worth, majesty and nobility present than in those presented by other painters[322]. This is precisely the point at which painting meets on the same ground with the ancients, without, however, sacrificing the character of its own province.

(_ββ_) Inasmuch, moreover, as the art of painting, to the fullest extent among the plastic arts, acknowledges the claim of the specific form, and the individualized characterization to assert itself, so above all we find here the transition to real _portraiture._ We should be therefore wholly in the wrong if we condemned portrait painting as incompatible with the lofty aims of art. Who indeed could desire to lose the great number of excellent portraits painted by the great masters? Who is not, quite apart from the artistic merits of such works, curious to have definitely substantiated to their vision this actual counterfeit of the idea of famous personalities, their genius, and their exploits, which they may have otherwise had to accept from history. For even the greatest and most highly placed man was, or is, a veritable individual, and we desire to see in visible shape this individuality, and the spiritual impression of it in all its most actual and vital characteristics. But apart from objects, which lie outside the purview of art, we may assert in a real sense, that the advances in painting from its imperfect essays consist in nothing so much as this very elaboration of the _portrait._ It was, in the first instance, the pious and devotional sense which brought into prominence the ideal life of soul. A yet finer art added new life to this sense by adding to its product reality of expression and individual existence; and with this profounder penetration into external fact the inward life of spirit, the expression of which was its main object, was also enhanced and deepened. In order, however, that the portrait should be a genuine work of art the unity of the spiritual individuality must, as I have already stated, be stamped upon it, and the spiritual impression of the characterization must be the one mainly emphasized and made prominent. Every feature of the countenance contributes to this result in a conspicuous degree, and the fine instinct for detecting such in the artist will declare itself by the way in which he makes visible the unique impression of any personality by seizing and emphasizing precisely those traits, and parts in which this distinctive personal quality is expressed in its clearest and most vitally pregnant embodiment. In this respect a portrait may be very true to Nature, executed with the greatest perseverance, and yet entirely devoid of life, while a mere sketch[323], a few outlines from the hand of a master, may be infinitely more vivacious and arresting in its truth. Such a study should, however, by indicating the lines or features of real significance, reflect that character in its structural completeness[324], if on the simplest scale, which the previous lifeless execution and insistence upon crude fact glosses over and renders invisible. The most advisable course, as a rule, is to maintain a happy mean between such studies, and purely natural imitation. The masterly portraits of Titian are of this type. The impression such make on us is that of a complete personality. We get from them an idea of spiritual vitality, such as actual experience is unable to supply. The effect is similar to that afforded by the description of great actions and events in the hands of a truly artistic historian. We obtain from such a much loftier and vitally true picture of the facts than any we could have taken from the direct evidence of our senses. Concrete reality is so overburdened with the phenomenal, that is incidental or accidental detail, that we frequently cannot see the forest for the trees, and often the most important fact slips by us as a thing of common or daily occurrence. It is the indwelling insight and genius of the writer which first adds the quality of greatness to events or actions, presenting them fully in a truly historical composition, which rejects what is purely external, and only brings into prominence that through which that ideal substance is vitally unfolded. In this way, too, the painter should place before us the mind[325] and character of the impersonation by means of his art. If success is fully attained we may affirm that a portrait of this qualify is more to the mark, more like the personality thus conceived than the real man himself is. Albrecht Dürer has also executed portraits of this character. With a few technical means the traits are emphasized with such simplicity, definition, and dignity, that we wholly believe ourselves to be facing spiritual life itself. The longer we look at such a picture, the more profoundly we penetrate into it, the more it is revealed to us. It reminds one of a clear-cut drawing, instinct with genius, which completely gives expression to the characteristic, and for the rest is merely executive in its colour and outlines in so far as the same may make the characterization more intelligible, apparent, and finished as a whole, without entering into all the importunate detail of the facts of natural life. In the same way also Nature in her landscape paints every leaf, branch, and blade to the last shadow of a line or tint. Landscape painting, on the contrary, has no business to attempt such elaboration, but may only follow her subject to a principle of treatment, in which the expression of the whole is involved, which emphasizes detail, but nevertheless does not copy slavishly such particulars in all their threads, irregularities and so forth, assuming it is to remain essentially characteristic and individual work. In the human face the drawing of _Nature_ is the framework of bone in its harsh lines, around which the softer ones are disposed and continue in various accidental details. Truly characteristic _portraiture_, however, despite all the importance we may rightly attach to these well defined lines, consists in other traits indicated with equal force, the countenance in short as _elaborated by the creative artist._[326] In this sense we may say of the portrait that it not only can, but that it ought to flatter, inasmuch as it neglects what pertains to Nature's contingency, and only accepts that which contributes to the characteristic content of the individual portrayed, his most unique and most intimate self. Nowadays we find it the fashion to give every kind of face just a ripple of a smile, to emphasize its amiability, a very questionable fashion indeed, and one hard to restrain within the limit imposed. Charming, no doubt; but the merely polite amiability of social intercourse is not a fundamental trait of any character, and becomes in the hands of many artists only too readily the most insipid kind of sweetness.

(_γγ_) However compatible with portraiture the course of painting may be in all its modes of production it should, however, make the

## particular features of the face, the specific forms, ways of posing,

grouping, and schemes of colour consonant with the actual situation, in which it composes its figures and natural objects in order to express a content. For it is just this content in this particular situation which should be portrayed.

Out of the infinitely diversified detail which in this connection we might examine I will only touch upon one point of vital importance. It is this that the situation may either be on its own account a passing one, and the emotion expressed by it of a momentary character, so that one and the same individual could express many similar ones in addition and also feelings in contrast with it, or the situation and emotion strikes at the very heart of a character, which thereby discloses its entire and most intimate nature. Situations and emotions of this latter type are the truly momentous crises in characterization[327]. In the situations, for example, in which I have already referred to the Madonna, one finds nothing, however essentially complete the individualization of the Mother of God may be in its composition, which is not a real factor in the embracing compass of her soul and character. In this case, too, the characterization is such that it is _self_-evident that she does not exist apart from what she can express in this specific circumstance. Supreme masters consequently have painted the Madonna in such immortal maternal situations or phases. Other masters have still retained in her character the expression of ordinary life otherwise experienced and actual. This expression may be very beautiful and life-like, but this form, the like features, and a similar expression would be equally applicable to other interests and relations of marriage lore. We are consequently inclined to regard a figure of this type from yet other points of view than that of a Madonna, whereas in the supremest works we are unable to make room for any other thoughts but that which the situation awakens in us. It is on this ground that I admire so strongly the Mary Magdalene of Correggio in Dresden, and it will for ever awake such admiration. We have here the repentant sinner, but we cannot fail to see that sinfulness is not here the point of serious consideration[328]; it is assumed she was essentially noble and could not have been capable of bad passions and actions. Her profound and intimately self-imposed restraint therefore can only be a return to that which she really is, what is no momentary situation, but her entire nature. Throughout this entire composition, whether we look at form, facial expression, dress, pose, or environment, the artist has therefore not in the slightest degree laid a stress on those circumstances, which might indicate sin and culpability; she has lost the consciousness of those times, and is entirely absorbed in her present condition, and this faith, this instinct, this absorption appears to be her real and complete character.

Such a complete reciprocity between soul-life and external surroundings, determinacy of character and situation, the masters of Italy have illustrated with exceptional beauty. In the example I have already referred to of Kügelchen's picture of the Prodigal Son, on the contrary, we have no doubt the remorse of repentance and grief expressed to the life; but the artist has failed to secure the unity of the entire character, which, apart from such an aspect of it, he possessed, and of the actual conditions under which such was depicted to us. If we examine quietly such features, we can only find in them the physiognomy of any one we might chance to meet on the Dresden bridge or anywhere else. In the case of a real coalescence of character with the expression of a specific situation such a result would be impossible; just as, in true genre-painting, even where the concentration is upon the most fleeting moments of time, the realization is too vivid to leave room for the notion that the figures before us could ever be otherwise placed or could have received other traits or an altered type of expression.

These, then, are the main points we have to consider in respect to the content and the artistic treatment in the sensuous material of painting, the surface, that is, and colour.

3. HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF PAINTING

In our consideration of this _third_ section of our subject we are unable to confine ourselves, as we have hitherto done, to a wholly general examination of the content and purport appropriate to painting, and the mode of configuration, which follows from its principle, for in so far as this art is built up on the particularity of characters and their situation, and upon form and its pose, colour, and so forth, we are compelled to fix in our minds and discuss the _actual reality_ of this art's separate productions. No study of painting is complete that does not take into its survey and is unable to enjoy and criticize the pictures themselves, in which the aspects of it we have examined are enforced. This is a general rule in the case of all art, but it applies with exceptional force to painting among those we have up to the present considered. In the case of architecture and sculpture, where the embrace of the content is more restricted, the means of exposition and configuration are to a less extent stamped with wealth and distinctive modification, and the particular aspects of their definition are simpler and more radical, we can more readily avail ourselves of copies, descriptions, and casts. It is essential in dealing with the art of painting that we should see the actual works themselves. In this case mere descriptions, however important they may be in a subsidiary sense, will not suffice. In the infinite variety, however, of its explication, the various aspects of which are united in particular works of art, these works appear to us in the first instance as a mere motley array, which, by reason of the fact that our review of it is based upon no principle of classification, is only to a small extent able to disclose to us the unique quality of individual pictures. And it follows from this that galleries, as a rule, if we are not already able to connect with each picture our knowledge of the country, period, school, and master to which it belongs, is simply a collection without meaning, in which we lose ourselves. The most profitable arrangement for study and enjoyment with our eyes is therefore an exhibition based on _historical sequence._ A collection of this kind, co-ordinated in relation to such a principle, unique and invaluable of its class, we shall shortly be able to admire in the picture gallery of the royal museum in this city[329]. In this we shall not only possess a historical survey of the technique of art in its stages of development, but shall have set before our minds, as an essential process with a history, that articulation of its ideal content in the distinctions of its schools, their various subject-matter, and their different modes of artistic conception and treatment. It is only through having given us a survey as consonant as this is with that vital process that we can form an idea from its origins in traditional and eclectic types, of the living growth of art, its search after expression and individual characteristic, its liberation from the inactive and tranquil station of its figures, that we can appreciate its progress to dramatic movement, grouping, and all the wealth and witchery of its colour, or finally learn to distinguish its schools, which either to some extent treat similar subject-matter in a way peculiar to themselves, or are distinct from each other by reasons of the variety of their respective content.

A historical development of painting such as that referred to is of as great importance to _scientific_ observation and exposition as it is to accurate study. The content of art as I have presented it, namely, the elaboration of its material, the distinct and fundamental changes in the mode of its conception, we find all this and more receives thus for the first time its concrete coherence in a sequence and under a classification which corresponds with the facts. It is therefore incumbent on us to glance at this process, if only by way of emphasis to what most immediately arrests attention.

In general the advance consists in this, that it originates in _religious_ subjects conceived still in a _typical_ way, with simple architectonic arrangement and unelaborated colour. After this, in an increasing degree of fusion with religious situations, we get actuality, vital beauty of form, individuality, depth of penetration, charm and witchery of colouring, until Art finally turns its attention to the world itself, makes itself master of Nature, the daily occurrence of ordinary life, or what is of significance in national history whether present or past, or portraiture and anything else down to the merest trifle and the least significant fact, and with an enthusiasm equal to that it devoted to the religious ideal, and pre-eminently in this sphere secures not merely the most consummate result of technical accomplishment, but also a treatment and execution which is most full of life and personality. This progress is followed in clearest outline if we take in succession the schools of Byzantine, Italian, Flemish, Dutch, and German painting, after noting the most prominent features of which briefly we shall finally indicate the transition to the art of music[330].

(_a_) In our review of Byzantine painting we may remark to start with that the practice of painting among the Greeks was to a definable degree always carried on; and examples of antique work contributed to the greater excellence of its results relatively to posture, draping, and other respects. On the other hand the touch of Nature and life wholly vanished from this art; in facial types it adhered strictly to tradition; in its figures and modes of expression it was conventional and rigid; in its general composition more or less architectonic. We find no trace of natural environment and a landscape background. The modelling, by means of light and shadow, brilliance and obscurity, and their fusion, no less than perspective and the art of lifelike grouping, either were not elaborated at all, or to a very slight extent. By reason of this strict adherence to a single acknowledged type independent artistic production had little room for its exercise. The art of painting and mosaic frequently degenerated into a mere craft, and became thereby lifeless and devoid of spirit, albeit such craftsmen, equally with the workers on antique vases, possessed excellent examples of previous work, which they could imitate so far as pose and the folding of drapery was concerned. A similar type of painting spread its sombre influence over the ravaged West and more particularly in Italy. Here, however, although in the first instance with beginnings of little strength, we are even at an early date conscious of an effort to break away from inflexible forms and modes of expression, and to face, at first, however, in a rough and ready way, a development of loftier aim. Of Byzantine pictures we may, on the contrary, affirm, as Herr von Rumohr[331] has maintained of Greek Madonnas and images of Christ that "it is obvious even in the most favoured examples, their origin was that of the mosaic, and artistic elaboration was rejected from the first." In other words[332] the Italians endeavoured even before the period of their independent art development in painting, and in contrast to the Byzantines to approximate to a more spiritual conception of Christian subjects. The writer above-named draws attention also as noteworthy support of his contention to the manner in which the later Greeks and Italians respectively represented Christ on crucifixes. According to this writer "the Greeks, to whom the sight of terrible bodily suffering was of common occurrence, conceived the Saviour suspended on the Cross with the entire weight of his body, the lower part of the body swollen and the slackened knees bent to the left, the bowed head contending with the pains of an awful death. Their subject was consequently in its essentials bodily suffering. The Italians, on the contrary, in their more ancient monuments, while we must not overlook the fact that the representation of the Virgin Mary with her Child no less than the Crucified is only of rare occurrence, were accustomed to depict the figure of the Saviour on the cross adopting, so it appears to us, the idea of the victory of the spiritual, not as in the former case the death of the body. And this unquestionably nobler conception asserts itself at an early date in the more favoured parts of Western Europe[333]." With this sketch I must here rest content.

(_b_) We have, however, _secondly_, another characteristic of art to consider in the earlier development of Italian painting. Apart from the religious content of the Old and New Testament and the biographies of martyrs and saints, it borrows its subjects in the main from Greek mythology, very seldom, that is, from the events of national history, or, if we except portraits, from the reality of contemporary life, and equally rarely, and only at a late stage and exceptionally, from natural landscape. Now that which it before all contributes to its conception and artistic elaboration of the subject-matter of religion is the _vital reality_ of spiritual and corporeal existence, relatively to which at this stage all its forms are embodied and endowed with animation. For this vitality the essential principle on the spiritual side is that natural delightfulness, and on the corporeal side is that beauty which is consonant with physical form, a beauty which independently, as beautiful form, already displays innocence, buoyancy, maidenhood, natural grace of temperament, nobility, imagination, and a loving soul. If there is further added to a _naturel_ of this type the exaltation and adornment of the soul in virtue of the ideal intimacy of religion and the spiritual characteristics of a profounder piety established as a vitalizing principle of soul-life in this essentially more admitted and inviolable province of spiritual redemption[334],--in such a case we have presented to us thereby an original harmony of form and its expression, which, wherever it is perfected, vividly reminds us in this sphere of romantic art and Christian art of the pure Ideal of art. No doubt also within a new accord of this type the inward life of the heart will be predominant; but this inward experience is a more happy, a purer heaven of the soul, the way of return to which form what is sensuous and finite, and the return to God, albeit the passage may be through a travail in the profounder anguish of repentance and death, is, however, less saturated with trouble and its insistency. And the reason of this is that the pain is concentrated in the sphere of soul, of idea, of faith, without making a descent into the region of passionate desire, intractable savagery, obstinate self-seeking and sin, and only arriving at the hardly won victory through smiting down such enemies of the blessed state. It is rather a transition of ideal permanence[335], a pain of the inward life, which feels itself as such suffering rather simply in virtue of its enthusiasm, a suffering of more abstract type, more spiritually abundant, which has as little need to brush away bodily anguish as we have to seek signs in the characterization of its bodily presence and physiognomy of obstinacy, uncouthness, crookedness, or the traits of superficial and mean natures, in which an obstinate conflict is first necessary, before such are meet to express real religious feeling[336] and piety. This more benign[337] intimacy of soul, this more original consonancy of exterior forms to ideal experience of this kind is what creates the charming clarity and the untroubled delight, which the genuinely beautiful works of Italian painting excite and supply. Just as we say of instrumental music that there is tone and melody in it, so, too, we find that the pure song of soul floats here in melodious fusion over the entire configuration and all its forms. And as in the music of the Italians and in the tones of their song, when the pure strains ring forth without a forced utterance, in every separate note and inflection of sound and melody, it is simply the delight of the voice itself which rings out; so, too, such an intimate personal enjoyment of the loving soul is the fundamental tone of their painting[338]. It is the same intimacy, clarity, and freedom which meet us again in the great Italian poets. To start with this artistic resonance of rhymes in their terzets, canzonets, sonnets, and stanzas, this accord, which is not merely satisfied to allay its thirst for reverberation in the one repetition, but repeats the echo three times and more, this is itself a euphony which streams forth on its own account and for the sake of its own enjoyment. And a like freedom is stamped upon the spiritual content. In Petrarch's sonnets, sestets, and canzonets it is not so much the actual possession of their subject, after which the heart yearns; it is not the consideration and emotion which are involved in the actual content of the poem as such, and which is therein necessarily expressed; rather it is the expression itself which constitutes the source of enjoyment. It is the self-delight of Love, which seeks its bliss in its own mourning, its laments, its descriptions, memories, and experience; a yearning, which is satisfied in itself as such, and with the image, the spirit of those it loves, is already in full possession of the soul, with which it longs to unite itself. Dante, too, when conducted by his master Virgil through hell and hell-fire, gazes at what is the culmination of horror, of awfulness; he is fearful, he often bursts into tears, but he strides on comforted and tranquil, without affright and anxiety, without the sullenness and embitterment which implies "these things should not be thus." Nay, even his damned in hell receive the blessedness of eternity. _Io eterno duro_ is inscribed over the gates of hell. They are what they are, without repentance and longing; they do not speak of their sufferings; they are as immaterial to us as they are to them, for they endure for ever. Rather they are absorbed simply in their personal experience and actions, secure of themselves as rooted in the same interests, without lamentation and without yearning[339].

When we have grasped this trait of happy independence and freedom of the soul in love we shall understand the character of the greatest Italian painters. It is in this freedom that they are masters of the detail of expression, and situation. On the wings of this tranquillity of soul they can maintain their sovereignty over form, beauty, and colour. In their most defined presentation of reality and character, while remaining wholly on the earth and often only producing portraits, or appearing to produce such, what we have are pictures of another sun, another spring. They are roses which are equally heavenly blossoms. And, consequently, we find that in their beauty we do not have merely beauty of form, we do not have only the sensuous unity of soul impressed on sensuous corporeal shapes; we are confronted with this very trait of reconciled Love in every mode, feature, and individuality of character. It is the butterfly, the Psyche[340], which in the sunlight of its heaven, even hovers round stunted flowers[341]. It is only by virtue of this rich, free, and rounded beauty that they are able to unfold the ideals of the antique art's more recent perfection.

Italian art has, however, not immediately and from the first attained to such a point of perfection; it had in truth a long road to traverse before it arrived there. And yet, despite this, the purity and innocence of its piety, the largeness of the entire conception, the unassuming beauty of form, this intimate revelation of soul[342], are frequently and above all in the case of the old Italian masters most conspicuous where the technical elaboration is still wholly incomplete. In the previous century it was fashionable to depreciate these earlier masters, and place them on one side as clumsy, dull, and barren[343]. It is only in more recent times that they have been once more rescued from oblivion by savants and artists; but the wonder and imitation thus awakened has run off into the excess of a preference which tends to deny the advances of a further development in mode of conception and presentment, and can only lead astray in the opposite direction.

In drawing the reader's more close attention to the more important phases in the development of Italian art up to this period of its fullest perfection, I will only briefly emphasize the following points which immediately concern the characterization of the essential aspects of painting and its modes of expression.

(_α_) After the earliest stage of rawness and barbarism the Italians moved forward with a fresh impetus from that in the main craftsmanship type of art which was planted by the Byzantines. The compass of subjects depicted was, however, not extensive, and the distinctive features of the type were austerity, solemnity, and religious loftiness. But even at this stage--I am quoting the conclusions of Herr von Rumohr--who is generally recognized as an authority upon these earlier periods[344], Duccio, the Sienese, and Cimabue, the Florentine, endeavoured to assimilate the few remains of antique drawing, which was grounded on laws of perspective and anatomical precision, and so far as possible, to rejuvenate the same in their own genius. They "instinctively recognized the value of such drawings, but strove to soften the extreme insistence[345] of their ossification, comparing such insufficiently comprehended traits with the life such as we find it in fact or suggestion when face to face with their own productions[345]." Such are merely the first and mediating efforts of art to rise from the inflexibility of a type to lifelike and individual expression.

(_β_) The _further_ step of advance consists in the complete severation from those previous Greek examples, in the full acceptance, relatively both to the entire conception and execution of what is distinctively human and individual, and along with this in the profounder suitability of human characters and forms which was gradually evolved to express the religious content thus to be expressed.

(_αα_) It is here before all we must draw attention to the great influence which Giotto and his pupils exercised. Giotto, along with the changes he effected in respect to modes of conception and composition, brought about a reform in the art of preparing colours. The later Greeks probably, such at least is the result of chemical analysis, made use of wax either as a medium of colour, or as a kind of varnish[346], and from this we get the yellow-green and obscure general tone, which is not sufficiently explained by the action of lamplight[347]. Giotto wholly dispensed with this glutinous medium of the Greek painters, and used instead, when preparing his colours[348], the clarified milk of young shoots, unripe figs, and other less oliginous limes[349], which Italian painters of the early Middle Ages had used, very likely even before they strenuously imitated the Byzantines[350]. A medium of this kind had no darkening effect on the colours, but left their luminosity and clarity unimpaired. Still more important was the reform effected by Giotto in Italian painting with respect to selection of subjects and their manner of presentment. Ghiberti himself praises Giotto for having abandoned the rude style of the Greeks, and without leaning in this direction to an excess having introduced the truth and grace of Nature. Boccaccio, too, says of him that Nature is unable to create anything that Giotto could not imitate to the point of deception[351]. In Byzantine pictures we can hardly detect a trace of natural appearance. It was Giotto, then, who concentrated his attention on what is present and actual, and compared the forms and effects which he undertook to exhibit with Life as it existed around him. And we may associate with this tendency the fact that during the times of Giotto not only do we find that the state of society was more free and intent on enjoyment, but that the veneration of several later saints took its rise then, saints whose lives more or less fell in that period[352]. It was such Giotto utilized particularly in emphasizing the truthful presentment of the subjects of his art; there was, in fact, thus the further demand suggested by the content itself that he should bring into prominence the natural features of the bodily presence and exhibit more defined characterization, action, passion, situation, pose, and movement. What we find, however, to a relative degree disappears from this attempt is that imposing religious seriousness which is the fundamental characteristic of the phase of art which it followed[353]. The things of the world receive a stage and a wider opportunity for expression; and this is illustrated by the way Giotto, under the influence of his age, found room for burlesque along with so much that was pathetic. In this connection Herr von Rumohr states rightly, "Under conditions of this description I am at a loss to understand how certain critics, who have exclusively insisted on this feature of Giotto's work, can so overestimate Giotto's tendency and performance by claiming it as the most sublime effort of modern art[354]." It is a great service of the above-named critic to have once more placed in a true light the point of view from which Giotto can be justly appreciated; he throughout makes us careful to see, that in this tendency of Giotto to humanize and towards realism he never really, as a rule, advances beyond a comparatively subordinate stage in the process.

(_ββ_) The advance of painting continued under the manner of conception for which Giotto was in the main responsible. The typical representation of Christ, the apostles, and the more important events which are reported us by the evangelists, were more and more thrust into the background. Yet in another direction the embrace of subject-matter was for that reason extended. As our author expresses it: "All artists engaged in depicting the various phases in the life of latter-day saints, such as their previous worldliness, the sudden awakening of conscience, their entrance into the life of piety and asceticism, the miracles of their lives, more particularly after their decease, in the representation of which, as is to be expected from the external conditions of the art, the expression of the effect upon the living exceeded any suggestion of invisible powder[355]." Add to this that the events of the Life and Passion of Christ were not neglected. The birth and education of Christ, the Madonna with her Child were exceptionally favoured subjects, and were invested with a more life-like domesticity, touched with a more intimate tenderness, revealed to us in the medium of human feeling, and, moreover, to quote yet further: "In the problems[356] suggested by the Passion it was not so much the sublime and the triumph as simply the pathetic aspect which was emphasized, a direct consequence of the enthusiastic wave of sympathy with the earthly sufferings of the Saviour, to which Saint Francis, both by example and teaching, had communicated a vital energy hitherto unheard of."

In respect to a yet further advance towards the middle of the fifteenth century, we have to lay exceptional stress on two names, Masaccio and Fiesole. In the progressive steps through which the religious content was vividly carried into the living forms of the human figure and the animated expression of human traits Herr von Rumohr[357] draws attention to two essential aspects as of most importance. The one is the increase of rondure in all forms to which it applies; the other he indicates as "a profounder penetration into the articulation, the consistency, the most varied phases of the charm and significance of the features of the human countenance." Masaccio and Angelico da Fiesole between them were the first to contribute effectively to the solution of this artistic problem, the difficulty of which in its entirety exceeded the powers of any one artist of that period. "Masaccio was mainly occupied with the problem of chiaroscuro, and the rounding and effective articulations of groups of figures. Angelico da Fiesole, on the other hand, devoted himself to sounding the depths of ideal coherence, that indwelling significance of human features, the mine of whose treasure he was the first to open to painting[358]." The effort of Masaccio was not so much one in the direction of grace as in that of imposing conception, manliness, and under the instinctive need for unity of the entire composition. The impulse of Fra Angelico was that of religious intensity, a love severed from the world, a cloistral purity of emotion, an exaltation and consecration of the soul. Vasari assures us in his account of him that he never commenced work without prayer, and never depicted the sufferings of the Redeemer without bursting into tears[359]. We have, then as aspects of this advance of painting a more exalted vitality and realism: but, on the other hand, the depth of piety, the ingenuous devotion of the soul in its faith overran itself and overpowered the freedom, dexterity, naturalism, and beauty of the composition, pose, drapery, and colour. If the later development was able to attain to a far more exalted and complete expression of the spiritual consciousness, yet the epoch we are now considering has never been surpassed in purity and innocence of religious feeling and serious depth of conception. Many pictures of this time may very well, by reason of the fact that the forms of life, which are used to depict the religious intensity of soul-life, do not appear fully adequate to this expression, give us something like a repulse; from the point of view, however, of spiritual emotion, which is the most vital source of these works of art, we have still less reason to fail to acknowledge the naive purity, the intimacy with the most profound depths of the truly religious content, the assuredness of faithful love even under oppression and in grief, and oft, too, the charm of innocence and blessedness, inasmuch as the epochs that followed it, however much in other aspects of artistic perfection they made a step forwards, yet for all that never secured again the perfection of these previous excellencies, when once it had been lost.

(_γγ_) A _third_ aspect attaches to the further development of the art, in addition to those already discussed, which may be described as the wider embrace of it relatively to the subjects accepted for presentation by the new impulse. Just as what was regarded as sacred had from the very commencement of Italian painting approached more closely to reality by reason of the fact that men whose lives fell about the time of the painters themselves were declared to be saints, so too Art received into its own sphere other aspects of reality and present life. Starting from that earliest phase of pure spirituality and piety, an art whose aim was wholly absorbed in the expression of such religious emotions, painting proceeded more and more to associate the external life of the world with its religious subject-matter. The gladsome, forceful self-reliance of the citizen in the midst of his professional career, the business and the craft that was bound up with such qualities, the freedom, the manly courage and patriotism, in one word, his weal in the vital activities of the Present, all this newly-awakened sense of human delight in the virtues of civil life and its cheer and humour[360], this harmonized sympathy with what was actual in both its aspects of ideal life[361] and the external framework of the same, all this it was which entered now into his artistic conceptions and modes of presenting such and was made valid therein. It is in this spirit that the enthusiasm for landscape backgrounds, views of cities, environment of church buildings and palaces becomes a real instinct of artistic life; the living portraits of famous savants, friends, statesmen, artists, and other persons remarkable in their day for their wit and vivacity find a place in religious compositions; traits borrowed from both civil and domestic life are utilized with a greater or less degree of freedom and dexterity; and if, no doubt, the spiritual aspect of the religious content remained the foundation of all, yet the expression of piety was no longer exclusively isolate, but is linked together with the more ample life of reality and the open stage of the world[362]. No doubt we must add that by reason of this tendency the expression of religious concentration and its intimate piety is weakened, but art required also this worldly element in order to arrive at its culminating point.

(_γ_) Out of this fusion of the more embracing reality of life with the ideal material of religious emotion arose a new problem for genius to solve, the complete solution of which was reserved for the great masters of the sixteenth century. The supreme aim now was to bring the intimate life of soul, the seriousness and the loftiness of religious emotion into harmony with the animation, the actual presence of characters and forms both in its corporeal and spiritual aspect, in order that the bodily configuration in its pose, movement, and colour, may not simply remain an external framework, but become itself essentially an expression of spirit and life, and by virtue of that expression, made throughout all its parts wholly the reflex of soul-life no less than of external form, reveal a beauty without break or interruption.

Among the masters of most distinction, who set before themselves such an aim, we should pre-eminently mention Leonardo da Vinci. It was he, who, by virtue of his artistic thoroughness, his almost over-refined passion for detail, his exquisite delicacy of mind and feeling, not only penetrated further than any other[363] into the mysteries of the human form and the secrets of its expression, but, through his equally profound knowledge of all the technique of a painter, attained to an extraordinary infallibility in the employment of all the means that his researches and practice had placed within his reach. And, along with this, he was able to retain a reverential seriousness in composing his religious subjects, so that his figures, however much they present to us the ideal of a more complete and rounded actuality, and disclose the expression of sweet, smiling joyfulness in facial traits and the delicate rhythm of drapery, do not thereby dispense with the dignity, which the worth and truth of religion demand[364].

The most unflecked quality[365] of perfection reached in this direction was, however, that first attained by Raphael. Herr von Rumohr assigns more particularly to the artists of the Umbrian School dating from the middle of the fifteenth century a mysterious fascination, which no sympathetic nature can resist, and endeavours to find the source of this attraction in the depth and tenderness of feeling no less than the marvellous unity into which these painters knew how to bring memories from the oldest essays of Christian art of a style only very

## partially understood by them[366] with the milder conceptions of a

later time, and in this respect proved themselves superior to the Tuscan, Lombard, and Venetian fellow artists of that period[367]. It was just this expression of "flawless purity of soul and absolute surrender to the yearning and enthusiastic flow of tender feeling" to which Pietro Perugino, the master of Raphael, devoted his artistic efforts, and succeeded by doing so in fusing the objectivity and vitality of external forms, throughout all its actual realization and in every detail, an aim which had previously received the most marked attention in the elaborate work of the Florentines. Starting from the work of Perugino, to whose artistic taste and style he appears to have consistently adhered in his early work, Raphael proceeded yet further to realize to the most consummate degree the demand of the ideal above indicated. In other words we find united in him the highest ecclesiastical feeling for the themes of religious art and a complete knowledge and enthusiastic respect for natural phenomena in all the animation of their colour and shape together with an insight fully as great for the beauty of the antique. This great admiration for the idealistic beauty of the ancients did not bring him in any way to imitate and adapt to his work the forms which Greek sculpture had elaborated in their perfection. What he seized from it was simply the general principle of their free beauty which in his hands was throughout suffused with a more individual vitality more applicable to his art and with a type of expression more deeply informed with soul-life, and at the same time with an open, blithesome clarity and thoroughness, in all the detail of the presentment that up to his time was as yet unknown among Italian artists. In the elaboration and consistent fusion and coherence of this ideal atmosphere he reached the highest point of his attainment. On the other hand, in the magical charm of chiaroscuro, in the exquisite tenderness and grace of soul-expression, of forms, movements, and grouping, it is Correggio who most excels, while the incomparable greatness of Titian consists in the wealth of natural life that he displays, the illuminating bloom, fervency, warmth, and power of his colour. We know nothing more delightful than the _naïveté_ of Correggio's not so much natural as religious and spiritual grace, nothing more sweet than his smiling, unconscious beauty and innocence[368].

The artistic perfection of these great masters is a culminating point of art such as could only be mastered by one nation in the course of historical development.

(_c_) _Thirdly_, in so far as the question is that of German painting we may affiliate that which is entirely German with that of Flemish or Dutch painters. The general distinction between the above schools and that of the Italians, consists in this, that neither the Germans nor the painters of the Netherlands were willing as a creation of their own to attain to the free ideal forms and modes of expression characteristic of Italian art, or were able to progress to that spiritually transfigured type of beauty which is essentially the result of such. What they did elaborate, however, was, in one aspect of it, the expression of depth of emotion and the austere seclusion of the individual soul, and, from another point of view, they attach to this intensity of faith the separate definition of individual character in the broader significance of it, that is to say, one which does not merely disclose the fact of its close interest with the claims of faith and salvation, but also shows how the individuals represented are affected by the concerns of the world, how they are buffeted by the cares of life, and in this severe ordeal have gained worldly wisdom, fidelity, consistency, straightforwardness, the constancy of chivalry and the sterling character of good citizens. Agreeably to this more restricted and depressed vision of the detail of life we find here, and it is particularly conspicuous in the German school, from the beginning, in deliberate contrast with the purer forms and characters of the Italians, rather the expression of a formal obstinacy of stubborn natures, which either oppose themselves to God with energetic defiance and brutal wilfulness, or are forced to impose restraint on themselves in order that they may, with sore travail, wrest themselves from their limitations and uncouthness, and fight their way to the reconciliation of religion; consequently the deep wounds which they inflict on their spiritual life inevitably contribute to the visible expression of their piety. In illustrating this more closely I will merely draw attention to certain prominent features, which are important indications of the contrast between the older Flemish school and the upper German and more recent Dutch masters of the seventeenth century.

(_α_) Among the early Flemish masters, the brothers Van Eyck, Hubert, and John are exceptionally distinguished in the early half of the fifteenth century, and it is only recently that their true merits have once more been established. It is now an established fact that they discovered, or at least they were the first to fully perfect, the process of oil-painting. Looking at the great advance they made we must now assume that a distinct series of stages in the course of this progress to its culmination could be set forth. We have, however, no historical array of works of art preserved for us whereby we could illustrate such a gradual process. We are face to face at one moment of time with the beginning and final consummation. For painting of greater excellence than that of these two brothers it is almost impossible to imagine. Moreover, the works that have come down to us, in which the mere type is already dispensed with and overcome, not merely display a grand mastery in drawing, arrangement, grouping, ideal and exterior characterization, enthusiasm, clarity, harmony, and delicacy of colouring, dignity and repose of composition; but we must add that the entire wealth of painting respectively to nature's environment, architectonic accessories, backgrounds, splendour and variety of material, drapery, style of weapons, ornamentation, and much besides, is already treated with such fidelity, with such an instinctive sense of what is pictorial, and with such a technical virtuosity, that even later centuries, at any rate from the point of view of thoroughness and truth, have been unable to produce any more consummate result. We are, however, more strongly attracted by the master works of Italian painting, if we contrast them with this Flemish school, because the Italians, along with the completest expression of soul-life and the religious sense, retain throughout the ideal of spiritual freedom and imaginative beauty. The figures of Flemish art delight us, no doubt, by virtue of their innocence, _naïveté_, and piety; nay, in the depth of their emotional life they, in some measure, surpass the work of the most excellent Italian artists; but the Flemish masters have never been able to attain to a beauty of form and a freedom of soul comparable with that of the Italians. Their Christ-babes are, in particular, badly modelled; and for the rest their characters, whether men or women, however strongly, subject to their dominant expression of religious fervour, they may display a sterling character in their relation to secular interests sanctified by the depth of their faith, nevertheless appear to us lacking in a significance which can exalt itself over such a piety, or rather, as dominated by it, do not appear able at the same time to be essentially free, instinct with imagination and the enterprise of superior qualities.

(_β_) A further aspect we shall do well to consider is the transition from the more tranquil, reverential piety to the representation of martyrdoms, and, in general, what is not beautiful in reality. It is more particularly the North German masters who excel in scenes borrowed from the Passion in which they emphasize the savagery of the soldiery, the evil aspects of the mocking, the fierceness of the hate against Christ during the course of His sufferings, with particular insistence on features of ugliness and distortion, and which are intended to denote external forms correspondent with the depravity of spirit. The tranquil and beautiful activity of an unassuming personal piety is thrown into the background, and the movements which are inseparable from the situations above mentioned unfold us hideous distortions, expressions of ferocity, and all the unbridled exhibition of passions. Where we have the contending tumult and the uncouthness of characters presented with such detail, it is not surprising that such pictures are defective in the ideal harmony of their composition no less than their colour, so that, more especially where a taste for old German paintings first crops up, critics when thus confronted with what is, as a rule, an inferior class of technical accomplishment, fall into many mistakes when determining the date of their production. Thus it has been maintained that they are previous to the more consummate pictures of the Van Eyck period, although, for the most part, they hail from a more recent time. However, the Upper German masters were not exclusively occupied with works of this type, but have likewise treated a variety of religious subjects, and, indeed--Albrecht Dürer, with others, exemplifies this--even in scenes from Christ's Passion, have understood how effectively to grapple with the extremes of pure savagery, and even when treating such themes to preserve an ideal nobility and an external independence[369] and freedom.

(_γ_) Finally, the development of German and Flemish art is characterized in a complete identification of itself with the _ordinary_ life of the Present; and, along with this, in a unified system of the most varied modes of presentation, which, both in respect to their content and technique, are distinct from one another and independently elaborated. We have seen already the advance made by Italian painting from the simple nobility of devotion to an ever-increasing assertion of secular motive, which here, however, as we pointed out in the case of Raphael, was in some measure permeated by ecclesiastical prepossessions, and in part limited by the coherent principle of antique beauty. We may add that the later course of this school is not so much a dissolution of that unity in the representation of every kind of subject-matter under the predominant interest of the colourist as a more superficial disposition, or rather, eclectic imitation of styles of draughtsmanship and painting. German and Flemish art, on the contrary, has in the most definite and exceptional degree traversed the entire scheme of content and modes of treatment, starting from its wholly traditional church pictures, single figures and half lengths, then on to thoughtful, pious, and devotional subjects, until we come to that animation and extension of the same in larger compositions and scenes, in which, however, the free characterization of figure, the heightened vitality effected by means of processions, retinues, incidental personages, embellishment of garments and utensils, wealth of portraiture, architectural works, environment, views of churches, cities, streams, forests, mountains, is still conceived and executed as a whole subject to religious motivation. This focal centre still persists; but we find that the range of subjects, which had hitherto been held together in unity, is broken into division, and the separate parts become, in the specific singularity and contingent character of their alternations or independent modifications, subject to every possible type of conception and pictorial execution[370].

In order to arrive at a full appreciation of this aspect of art's development in the present context, for we have already referred to the point, we will pass briefly in review the national conditions which were operative in the change. We are under the necessity to justify, as we shall attempt to do in the following observations, a transition from direct relations to the Church and the outlook and pictorial modes of piety to a delight in the world simply, that is to say, to the objects and particular phenomena of Nature, to domestic life in its dignity, congeniality, and peaceful seclusion, to an enjoyment of national festivities and processions, rustic dances, the games and follies attendant upon church fêtes. Now the Reformation had thoroughly penetrated Holland. The Dutch had become Protestants and overcome the despotism of the Spanish Crown and Church. And what is more we do not, if we consider the political condition here, either find a distinguished nobility which drives forth its princes and tyrants, or imposes laws on them, nor yet an agricultural people, oppressed peasantry, who break free as the Swiss have done, but rather a population which, in by far the largest proportion of it, if we except the few brave souls that tilled the soil and its more than brave heroes of the sea, consisted of citizens of the town, men of business, well-to-do burghers, men who, rejoicing in their ordinary avocations, entertained no lofty pretensions, but, as became their courage and intelligence, with audacious reliance in God, stood up to defend the freedom of their hardly-won liberties and the particular privileges of their provinces, cities, and guilds, dared to oppose themselves to all hazards without fear of the transcendent prestige of the Spanish dominion over half the world, to bravely let their blood flow for such an aim, and by virtue of this righteous boldness and endurance victoriously secured both their religious and civic independence. And if we may brand any single condition of soul-life as distinctively _deutsch_, it is just this loyal, well-to-do, and genial citizenship, which, in a self-respect that is without pride, in a piety which is not merely absorbed in enthusiasm and devotion, but which is concretely pious in the affairs of the world[371] and is homely and contented in its abundance, remains neat and clean, and in persistent carefulness and contentment under all circumstances, armed with its own enduring sense of independence and freedom, is able, with loyalty to its former life, to preserve the sterling character of its forefathers unimpaired. This intelligent and artistically endowed people furthermore seeks its enjoyment in the pictorial presentment of its vigorous, justly co-ordinated, satisfying, and comfortable existence; it is all for taking a renewed delight by means of its pictures in the cleanliness under all conditions of its towns, houses, and domestic arrangements, of enjoying thus its household felicity, its wealth, the generous adornment of its wives and children, the splendour of its civic feasts, the boldness of its seamen, the fame of its merchandise and the shipping, in which it rides over all the seas of the world. And it is just this instinct of orderly and cheerful existence, which the Dutch masters emphasize also in their landscape subjects. In one word, in all their pictorial accomplishment they succeed in combining with freedom, and truth of conception, with their enthusiasm for what is in appearance of inferior and momentary significance, with the freshness of open vision and the concentration of their entire soul on all that is most stamped with the seclusion and limitations of their life, the most ample freedom of artistic composition, no less than the finest feeling for accessories and the most perfect effects of studious elaboration. From one point of view this school of painting has developed to an incomparable degree the magic and mystery of lighting and colour[372] generally in its scenes borrowed from war and military life, in its tavern jollifications, in its weddings and other rustic fêtes, in its pictures of domestic life, in its portraits, landscapes, animals, flowers, and the rest. From another aspect it has elaborated with a similar excellence the characterization which penetrates to the heart of life in all the truth of which Art is capable. And although its insistence on the insignificant and contingent includes the expression of what is boorish, rude, and common, yet these scenes are so permeated throughout with ingenuous lustiness and jollity, that it is not the common in its meanness and naughtiness so much as the gaiety and joviality which creates the artistic subject and its content. We do not look at mean feelings and passions, but simply what is boorish, in the sense of being rustic, near to nature, in the poorer classes, a quality which connotes geniality, waggishness, and comedy. In short the Ideal itself is not wholly absent from this unperturbed easy-way-of-life. It is the Sabbath of Life, which brings all to one level and removes all badness, simply as such. Men who are thus so whole-heartedly of good temper can neither be wholly bad nor mean. In this respect it is not one and the same thing, whether evil is of purely momentary appearance in a character, or lies at its root and essence. In the work of these Dutch painters what is humorous in a situation cancels what is evil, and it is at once clear to us that the characters could be something other than that in the guise of which they are for the time being set before us[373]. A gaiety and comedy of this description contributes much to the invaluable character of these pictures. If pictures of this rollicking type are attempted nowadays, the painter, as a rule, only places before us what is essentially mean, coarse and bad without the illuminating atmosphere of a comic situation[374]. A bad wife rails at her tipsy husband in the tavern with all her might. In a scene of this kind we have only put before us, as I have already remarked, the bald facts that the man is a dissipated brute and the woman a rating wench.

If we look at the Dutch masters in this light we shall no longer entertain the view that the art of painting should have said goodbye to such subjects altogether, and merely confined itself to depicting the gods of old, myths, and fables, or even Madonna pictures, crucifixions, martyrs, popes, and saints of both sexes. What is a vital ingredient of every work of art is inseparable also from painting, and this is the observance of what generally concerns our humanity, the spirit and characterization of man, in other words what man is and what _each_ individual is. This vital grasp of the conscious life of human nature and the external forms of its appearance, this naive delight and artistic freedom, this freshness and cheerfulness of imaginative sympathy, this absolute directness of execution is what constitutes the poetry that underlies the work of the majority of the Dutch painters of this period. In their paintings we may study and acquaint ourselves with human nature and mankind. Nowadays, however, our artist only too frequently will confront us with portraits and historical pictures, at which we have only to cast a bare glance, and we see that, while flatly contradicting the wildest dream of what is possible in mankind or anyone in particular, he neither knows aught at all about man or his natural colour, nor yet the modes of composition[375] in which we may justly express that humanity[376].

[Footnote 214: _Die gesammte Menschen-brust._]

[Footnote 215: _Die in sich gediegene Individualität des Gottes._]

[Footnote 216: _Betrachtung_, here implying thought rather than vision.]

[Footnote 217: That is a unity which dissolves all difference.]

[Footnote 218: _Als Inneres._]

[Footnote 219: _Als Reflexion in sich._ Probably Hegel means simply the ultimate fact of self-conscious life--which is to find itself in Nature as the antithesis of the synthetic unity of the ego. This is developed in the latter half of the sentence.]

[Footnote 220: Lit., "Is not an essentially persistent and stereotyped (_Erstarrtes_, stiffened) individual."]

[Footnote 221: Less than sculpture.]

[Footnote 222: He may mean type of art generally, but I think the reference here is simply to painting. The passage is an important one.]

[Footnote 223: I presume Hegel uses the word _seeligkeit_ in the ordinary sense, not "soulfulness." The close relation with _Schmertz_ necessitates this. But the spelling suggests the other interpretation.]

[Footnote 224: Which is absent in the classical treatment.]

[Footnote 225: That is, the creative artist.]

[Footnote 226: _Innerlichkeit._ It is impossible to express Hegel's use of this word by one expression. It combines intimacy, ideal union, and inwardness of soul-life in its contrast to objective reality.]

[Footnote 227: That is the romantic type.]

[Footnote 228: _Die für sich seyende Subjektivität._ That is a process that elaborates itself in independent form consonant to its own substance.]

[Footnote 229: _Als dieses Subjekt._ That is, I assume, as the distinctive personality of the artist. This must appear on the face of the work as the crown of its independent type and concrete unity (_Zur Spitze des Fürsichseyns_) but must not dominate it to the extent of destroying all natural detail, not even to the extent of sculpture.]

[Footnote 230: _Zur Spitze des Fürsichseyns._ See note above.]

[Footnote 231: That is their union in sculpture.]

[Footnote 232: _Als solcher._ Hegel means that the universal present in emotion is objective therein as part of the self-conscious life, but is only presented in the concrete objective shape in the work of the artist who therein suffers to escape the wholly personal side.]

[Footnote 233: _Sein Inneres_, his ideal substance, with more direct reference to feeling.]

[Footnote 234: _Aus demselben in sich hineingehend._ I think what is meant is that the material is idealized out of one of its spatial conditions rather than that the artist selects his _medium_ in consonance with his temperament and technique.]

[Footnote 235: That is, does not affect the stability and total effect of the work. Of course the actual effect may vary.]

[Footnote 236: _Für diesen festen Punkt des Subjekts._]

[Footnote 237: _Die in sich besonderte Innerlichkeit._]

[Footnote 238: The distinctions in matter conditioned in Space.]

[Footnote 239: The meaning, if rather obscurely expressed, appears to be this. The art of sculpture shows us when it treats the spatial dimensions as essential that we must have the entire spatial form to do this, and it shows us that if we wish to pass from the mere presentment of bodily form to a fuller ideal quality we must contract this exclusive appearance of physical matter.]

[Footnote 240: Lit., "Begins to be subjective." Begins to possess a self-excluding centre of unity, _i.e._, self-identity.]

[Footnote 241: That is to the point of a real subject or ego.]

[Footnote 242: _E.g._, secure an abstract result in superficies only.]

[Footnote 243: Apart from artistic means.]

[Footnote 244: Though the statements here are suggestive, they are obviously influenced by Hegel's belief in the false theory of light propounded by Goethe.]

[Footnote 245: This is a direct reference to the Newtonian theory, of course.]

[Footnote 246: _Zeichnung_ here refers to line rather than technical excellence in draughtsmanship. It must be admitted Hegel's emphasis of these two aspects is carried rather too far.]

[Footnote 247: The above passage is open to criticism. Hegel hardly makes allowance for the fact that the defective technique, so far as it is defective, of the earlier masters, was mainly due to their state of knowledge. Art was, in a certain aspect of technique, in its infancy. Moreover to compare Dutch landscape with that of Bellini or Raphael is to compare things that are each unique of their kind and not comparable. Their aim was entirely different. In such pictures as the San Sisto Madonna of Raphael, the great Crucifixion of Tintoret, or the Entombment of Titian it is quite impossible to maintain that the earnestness of conception is in any way inferior to the technique, although we have no doubt a different degree of conviction expressed by Fra Angelico. And the classical landscape of Titian or Tintoret is of its type supreme.]

[Footnote 248: This statement of Hegel again requires parenthesis or at least interpretation. There is a realism such as that we find in the most consummate work of a Titian, or the genre work of the Dutch school, or our own Pre-Raphaelites, to say nothing of mere academical realism, which hardly comes within his remarks. It is obvious that the Ideal is subserved in different degrees by such examples, and in fact to preserve that unity of conception despite the greatest elaboration, _is_ to serve the Ideal at least in one aspect of it. Hegel, at least in the concluding part of this paragraph, appears mainly to have in his mind still life and the genre pictures of the Dutch, and rather seems to overlook his own statement as to the necessity of selection and the power to express detail by the shorthand of genius rather than deliberate imitation.]

[Footnote 249: _Grossartigkeit._]

[Footnote 250: _Innigkeit._ Intimate ideality, inwardness.]

[Footnote 251: I am not sure what Hegel means by the expression _Nicht das Niedrige ist zerdrückt._ If the text is correct I suppose it means the sensuous side does not make way for a more spiritual synthesis. What we should expect is some other verb than _zerdrückt_ such as _ausgedrückt_, the sense being that "_though_ the mean emotion is not expressed, and no rage, etc., is asserted, _yet_ despite of it all," etc. I think there must be some misprint here.]

[Footnote 252: _Ein starres Beisichseyn._ Compare the expression lower down _affirmatives Fürsichseyn_ with which it contrasts.]

[Footnote 253: _Für sich bestehende Herz._]

[Footnote 254: _Als ein göttliches Moment._ It means an actual phase in the Divine existence.]

[Footnote 255: An important statement. Hegel's words are _Sondern wir müssen das geistige Daseyn im Bewusstseyn des Menschen als die wesentliche geistige Existenz Gottes ansehn._]

[Footnote 256: A bad master at any rate for such a subject.]

[Footnote 257: This metaphor appears to me rather confused, and in fact I do not pretend wholly to understand its meaning. I suppose the idea is that beyond the clouds of soul-life there are the clouds that obscure Providence. In all this passage Hegel shows his limitations as an art student.]

[Footnote 258: _Näher._ That is our love of God is mainly through Christ.]

[Footnote 259: _Ein bloss eingelnes Moment._ A phase that passes or becomes relatively insignificant.]

[Footnote 260: _Innigste_, most intimate. A curious but characteristic conclusion of Hegel.]

[Footnote 261: This analysis must be accepted of course mainly as an analysis of the ideal proposed to us by the profoundest Christian art. It is obviously not true of much Italian art, Titian's work for example, and it is equally remote from many of the most probable facts of history.]

[Footnote 262: _Die Starrheit._ The rigid or unyielding character.]

[Footnote 263: _Der Gehalt ihres Gemüths._ It is possible to see in this analysis something rather capricious and far-fetched, and yet to appreciate its value as an analysis of Christian love for the deceased beloved as contrasted with pagan sentiment. The finest illustration I myself can recollect of this is not the mother Mary at all, but the figure of the Magdalene in Tintoret's "Deposition" in the S. Giorgio Maggiore Church in Venice. As a matter of fact the divine mother in sacred art is almost invariably depicted in a state of swoon under the stress of her grief, though Tintoret's Pietà in the Brera is a notable exception.]

[Footnote 264: I do not know this painter. For pathos I know no finer conception of the death than that of Rembrandt's etching. Blake's drawing, exhibited recently at Cambridge, shows us the tranquillity and dignity of the scene more finely than any other representation.]

[Footnote 265: I presume Hegel means this by the words _die Menschheit_, but it is a difficult passage.]

[Footnote 266: It is impossible in English to preserve the antithesis between _bitten_ and _beten._]

[Footnote 267: _Und nichts für sich hat._ That is to say reciprocity is of its essence. "Give and it shall be given unto you."]

[Footnote 268: _Die Gestalt_ may possibly refer to the suppliant.]

[Footnote 269: The Sistine Madonna.]

[Footnote 270: A good instance is the great Crucifixion of Fra Angelico in the S. Mark convent in Florence.]

[Footnote 271: And a painter like Carlo Dolci or the Caracci are even worse.]

[Footnote 272: It would perhaps have been more instructive to consider the difference of temperament in the artist when dealing with such subjects and its influence on his treatment. It is very far from an obvious truth that physiognomy upon which the conflict of soul-life is most marked loses thereby the characteristics of beauty. There is the beauty of gnarled oak no less than that of the rose and the lily.]

[Footnote 273: _Das Beisichseyn der Liebe im Absoluten._ Lit., the self-inherency cf Love within the Absolute.]

[Footnote 274: _Sondern auch selbständig._ He seems to mean that they receive from this relation the subsistent individuality of spirit. This reference to landscape is obviously very perfunctory and insufficient.]

[Footnote 275: See vol. I, p. 220.]

[Footnote 276: _Mit dem in sich particularisirten Innern._ With the ideal complexus of particular objects as related to one subject. Their

## particularity is due to their characterization, and that is dependent

on idealization.]

[Footnote 277: _Diess Verwachsenseyn._ Lit., this growing up with.]

[Footnote 278: There is, however, the aspect of consummate execution which in itself is a very real source of artistic enjoyment, and Hegel rather seems to overlook this here.]

[Footnote 279: _Verzweigungen._ All off-shoots of attention or interest.]

[Footnote 280: Of course, even in the painting of still life, artistic composition itself implies by its selection and subordination to an idea a new result. And the characteristic technique of a painter inevitably has the same result.]

[Footnote 281: _Geistigen Ausdrück._]

[Footnote 282: _Grundlage._]

[Footnote 283: It is perhaps rather strange that Hegel should have considered the Dutch and Flemish schools as pre-eminently colourists. Apart from Rembrandt the truth is not very apparent. But he was mainly thinking of their dexterity in the lighting of a picture and the scintillation of colour.]

[Footnote 284: That is, as black and white and its gradations.]

[Footnote 285: It is not quite clear what is intended here by _Vervielfältigung_, probably power of being adapted to various subject matter and modes of expression.]

[Footnote 286: It is hardly necessary to point out that this discussion, being based on Goethe's false theory of colour in opposition to Newton's prismatic analysis, has no scientific value, though historically of interest. The blueness of the sky is due to the blue rays being detained.]

[Footnote 287: I presume by concrete unity Hegel refers in some form to a unity that is such owing to its intrinsic nature.]

[Footnote 288: But red quite as often symbolizes enthusiasm and love, and in Tintoret's Paradise the Virgin has the red tunic and the blue mantle.]

[Footnote 289: As a matter of fact violet or purple is a cardinal colour.]

[Footnote 290: Green is not a cardinal colour.]

[Footnote 291: Hegel seems to have in view the Flemish school rather than the Dutch in the restricted sense. It is rather strange that he should dwell on this rather than work of the Venetians such as Bellini.]

[Footnote 292: _Verschwemmte._ Carried away by a stream.]

[Footnote 293: Such as Ary Scheffer and others of the same monotony. The flesh tints of Leighton and Poynter and many less men suffer in the same way.]

[Footnote 294: _Farbenschein_, as Hegel uses it later on, I find it impossible to translate in one word. In fact it is not easy to seize precisely what he means. "Modulation of colour" partly expresses it. But he also seems to refer to what we understand as the personal quality of a picture or its general atmosphere, not regarded simply as Nature's atmosphere, but as the communication of the artist's own afflatus.]

[Footnote 295: I crossed a young landscape-artist of growing fame the other day, who affirmed and endeavoured to express in his pictures the conviction that colour was as strong in distance as foreground. His pictures were of great interest, but I still think his robust theory unsound.]

[Footnote 296: We have no English equivalent for the German _das Incarnat_ or colour incarnate.]

[Footnote 297: _Ein ideelles Ineinander._ By ideal Hegel means apparently that the distinctions of tint fine away beyond the grasp of sense vision. This of course is true in all natural colouring. Possibly he may mean that the idea of Life is contributive to the result.]

[Footnote 298: Hardly a just simile for the reason that, as Hegel himself points out, flesh does not reflect external objects.]

[Footnote 299: _Den Schein innerer Belebung._ This expression seems to prove that Hegel uses the word _ideel_ in its ordinary sense of spiritual ideality.]

[Footnote 300: _Als selbst lebendiges Ganze._ The colour must appear as itself a part of the vitality, not a mere covering.]

[Footnote 301: _Vertreibung._ What Hegel exactly means I am not sure, probably finish by overpaintings.]

[Footnote 302: Fresco painting is strictly in tempera. I suppose Hegel has here before him the two processes of tempera painting on the wet wall of plaster and tempera painting on some other dry surface.]

[Footnote 303: _Zu grosser innerer Klarheit und schönen Leuchten._ I give what appears to me to be the meaning.]

[Footnote 304: I presume Hegel understands by _Deck und Lasurfarben_ the distinction of our opaque and transparent colours such as flake white and the madders or umbers. He clearly refers to glazes.]

[Footnote 305: _Die Duftigkeit, Magie in der Wirkung des Kolorits._ This is a difficult passage to translate, and I am not quite sure what Hegel is aiming at. He seems to have in his mind both the ideal atmosphere of a composition and the presence of a personal style.]

[Footnote 306: Hegel has already related the effects considered to the artist's personality. He now endeavours to examine more closely what is implied in the relation.]

[Footnote 307: Adriaen van Ostade, 1610-1685.]

[Footnote 308: He means painting, of course. He never passed beyond the stage of the average amateur.]

[Footnote 309: _Spiel von Scheinen._ The play of appearance, that is, as it strikes on different natures.]

[Footnote 310: _Malerischen Auffassung._ Here the ideas on mental conception and artistic composition seem to be combined. But Hegel is rather loose in his use of them.]

[Footnote 311: Hegel has doubtless Albrecht Dürer and yet earlier German art in his mind.]

[Footnote 312: _Die besonderen Bestimmungen._ The lines of its definite exposition.]

[Footnote 313: I adopt Hegel's generic term. But he means here little more than delineation or composition.]

[Footnote 314: As between the art of painting and those of poetry and music.]

[Footnote 315: _Geistig._ We may say the same thing of Tintoret's great Golden Calf picture. But the objection to the composition as a work of art remains more strongly than is the case with Raphael's picture.]

[Footnote 316: The same thing is a characteristic of Tintoret's Annunciation in the S. Rocco Scuola and several pictures of Dürer.]

[Footnote 317: Fine examples of this are Rembrandt's Descent from the Cross in the Munich Gallery, and the group of mourners in Tintoret's Great Crucifixion.]

[Footnote 318: They have in this respect been well contrasted with the characters of Euripides in the play of Aristophanes which particularly emphasizes the difference between the heroic type of Aeschylus and the realism of Euripides, "The Frogs of Aristophanes," text and translation of B. B. Rogers; see Introd., pp. XVIII, XIX, XLV.]

[Footnote 319: As to ugliness and its treatment by Hegel, see Professor Bosanquet's "History of Aesthetik," pp. 338, 355, and generally pp. 432-436.]

[Footnote 320: That is sculpture. Hegel calls it _im Plastischen._]

[Footnote 321: An ideal with Hegel is not necessarily an image of the mind, but far more generally the concrete realization of life.]

[Footnote 322: He should have added Tintoretto at least. What could be more pertinent than his Sages in the Palazzo Reale in Venice.]

[Footnote 323: Applies to the study rather than the talent exercised.]

[Footnote 324: _Aber ganze Grundbild des Charakters darstellen._]

[Footnote 325: _Den geistigen Sinn und Charakter._ He means the entire spiritual impression, heart, soul, and intelligence, with its practical effect in substantive character.]

[Footnote 326: I think this is implied here in Hegel's use of the words _verarbeitet durch den Geist._ But it may mean "in the face as worked upon the soul within the _person portrayed._"]

[Footnote 327: _Die wahrhaften absoluten Momente für die Characteristik._]

[Footnote 328: The German expression is, "It is not a serious affair with her sinning." I am not sure that Hegel's view here does not lean towards the sentimentalism he generally so strongly opposes. No doubt a clear conception of the Magdalene's character is difficult. But it is obvious that the less stress we lay upon her sin, the less weight her conversion carries from the religious point of view, and the less great appears the effect of the interposition of her divine Master. Correggio was not a master likely to penetrate profoundly into his subject. But, on the other hand, it must be admitted that Hegel's contention is in one aspect of it supported by the far finer conceptions of the Magdalene in Tintoret's work. At least this great master clearly shows us that in his view of her she was strongly emotional, heart and soul in everything whether for good, under good influence, or for evil under opposite direction. It is possible to understand Hegel's interpretation as one mainly aesthetic.]

[Footnote 329: In Berlin. The statement is made in February 1829.]

[Footnote 330: The omission of the Spanish school at least omits a most important link with modern impressionism and its close relation to that transition to music. And it is impossible to indicate the progress of landscape without reference to the English school.]

[Footnote 331: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. I, p. 279.]

[Footnote 332: The words _in ähnlicher Weise_ make no sense.]

[Footnote 333: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. I, p. 280.]

[Footnote 334: Literally the sense is "Which (apparently agrees with the trait of piety) invigorates with soul that assuredness and accepted fact (_Fertigkeit_) of existence, which is from the very first (_von Hause aus_) more decisive (_entscheidenere_) in this province of salvation (_des Heils_)." _Heils_ must obviously be used in the same sense as _Heiland_ above. My translation is necessarily rather free, but I hope I have emphasized the meaning.]

[Footnote 335: _Ein ideal bleibender Uebergang._ The transition is rather one the soul imagines than an actual fact. "Ideal persistence" is perhaps better.]

[Footnote 336: _Religiosität_ here used in good sense.]

[Footnote 337: Lit., "More free from struggling." Compare Saint John and Saint Paul as examples on the higher levels.]

[Footnote 338: That is Italian painting.]

[Footnote 339: Hegel's delight in Italian opera is well known to readers of his correspondence. In the above fine passage he to some extent unbelts himself from his ordinary tone of rather austere reticence.]

[Footnote 340: The distinction seems to be between the more formal unity of personality and the peculiarly seductive charm of Italian art. It is rather a fine one and it seems to me rather confusing. Moreover I do not quite see the pertinency of the simile of a Psyche that is wafted as a butterfly even round blooms that have been spoiled of their treasure, for such I understand to be the sense of _verkümmerte Blumen._ A butterfly comes into no active relation with such unless the idea is pictorial decoration. But possibly Hegel was thinking of his reference to Dante, and in that case employed the metaphor loosely, rather too loosely I should say.]

[Footnote 341: "Stunted" is perhaps the best translation. The fault of the simile lies in its superficiality. It does not penetrate the conception Hegel has before him.]

[Footnote 342: Giotto, Mantegna, Carpaccio, Masaccio, would be leading names in point here. Hegel mentions two himself lower down.]

[Footnote 343: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 4.]

[Footnote 344: _Grelle._ That is harsh and flagrant outline.]

[Footnote 345: _Ihrer_ must refer I think to the Italians, though the sentence might mean, "In contrast to these Greek productions."]

[Footnote 346: _Als Ueberzug._ The expression suggests it was used as a facial glaze or varnish.]

[Footnote 347: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. I, p. 312.]

[Footnote 348: That is mixed with the attrited colour in its dryness.]

[Footnote 349: _Leimen. Leim_ is size or lime, in the compound word _leim-farbe_ signifying distemper.]

[Footnote 350: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 42.]

[Footnote 351: Decam. Giorn., 6. Nov. 5.]

[Footnote 352: Such as S. Francis as presented us in Giotto's great frescoes in Assisi.]

[Footnote 353: No doubt the serious aspect is less imposingly emphasized; but if the opinion condemned below is too sweeping it remains the fact that we can imagine nothing more profoundly serious in the religious sense than the frescoes in the Arena Chapel in Padua.]

[Footnote 354: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 73.]

[Footnote 355: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 213.]

[Footnote 356: _Aufgaben_, artistic problems, themes.]

[Footnote 357: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 243.]

[Footnote 358: This of course is too strong a statement, and indeed is ridiculous to anyone who has complete knowledge of the best work even of Giotto.]

[Footnote 359: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 252.]

[Footnote 360: The frescoes of Mantegna, and those of Ghirlandaio, we would mention in particular the fine examples in the S. Maria Novella church in Florence, or for Mantegna our own cartoons at Hampton Court and the invaluable but now hopelessly ruined frescoes of Gozzoli, in the Campo Santo of Pisa, are fine illustrations of the text.]

[Footnote 361: _Des inneren Geistes_ may here refer to the ideal aspects of civil and domestic life, but I think Hegel is contrasting the two extremes and it refers to the religious content.]

[Footnote 362: "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 282.]

[Footnote 363: To make this judgment in any degree a sound one we must assume the stress is laid on the mysterious aspect of expression and form. The genuine examples of Leonardo are so very few. But quite apart from that unless we exclude the great triumvirate of the Venetian school altogether Tintoret, Titian, and Veronese, the praise here given to Leonardo as a consummate master of the technique in oil-painting can only be received with considerable reserve and qualification.]

[Footnote 364: Compare "Ital. Forsch.," vol. II, p. 308.]

[Footnote 365: _Die reinste Vollendung._ The adjective refers to the character of the perfection as an expression of artistic feeling and execution.]

[Footnote 366: _Halbdeutliche Erinnerungen._ Not I think memories that are obscure themselves so much as memories which have failed to grasp the content of what is recollected. The expression is rather confused.]

[Footnote 367: Modern criticism would doubtless have a good deal to say in qualification of this. The name of Bellini alone is sufficiently suggestive.]

[Footnote 368: This emphasis on the work of Raphael and Correggio is characteristic of the best art criticism of the times of Hegel, but marks its limitations. Neither Raphael nor Correggio can be called religious painters in the sense that those profound masters Tintoret and Michelangelo were such. The essentially academic aspect of so much of Raphael's later production is not noticed. And it is these three great names, Titian, Tintoret, and Michelangelo, who most truly mark the transition to our modern outlook.]

[Footnote 369: _Eine aüssere Abgeschlossenheit._ This must mean, I think, a dignified and reserved treatment of the technique mainly of such themes.]

[Footnote 370: The technical and somewhat long-worded aspect of Hegel's style is here at its worst and I find it hard to make complete sense of this doubtless unrevised passage. The main difficulty is this, that the sentence appears to assert that "the centre" (_der Mittelpunkt_) of religion persists (_fortbleibt_) and yet asserts in the same breath that the informing unity is broken up. I have done my best.]

[Footnote 371: A piety which is not merely emotional, but is concrete in active life, possesses practical content.]

[Footnote 372: See note at end of chapter.]

[Footnote 373: This appears rather to contradict what Hegel has said before of the impression a fine picture such as Correggio's Magdalene leaves upon us that we cannot imagine the character to be other than it is. See note below.]

[Footnote 374: More literally, "Without the alleviating effect of what is comic."]

[Footnote 375: I presume _die Formen_ refers here rather to the artistic forms of grouping and composition than the traits of vital expression. But perhaps the latter interpretation would be more natural to the words.]

[Footnote 376: The above survey of Dutch art is of great interest, and in its careful comparison of the type of that art with the national development of the Dutch may be contrasted favourably with the somewhat prejudiced criticism of such a critic as John Ruskin. At the same time I think it must be obvious that Hegel is a little inclined to overrate the ideal aspect of that portion of it we may indicate in the work of painters such as Wouvermans or Teniers, many examples of which are little removed from the defects of theme he points out in more modern work. Also personally I should say that, if we exclude the supreme genius of Rembrandt, he rather exaggerates their rank as supreme colourists in respect to the scintillation, mystery, and other effects of light. To consider that they rank above the Venetians in this respect is wholly impossible, to say nothing of Velasquez. Rubens, however, may add some support to the view, but he is hardly in the school described, and Van Dyck stands with him.]

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