The Parents' Review

A Monthly Magazine of Home-Training and Culture

An Essay on Greek Sculpture.

(Continued from page 851).

Perhaps, though I may be pardoned if in this I seem to digress, it may help to a better appreciation of the Hellenic temper in this matter, if I contrast it with the modern spirit. I may as well say at once, although I deplore it, that there appears to me to be very little of the Greek tendency in our present system of aesthetics. The reasons for this are several. In the first place, learning and muscular exercise are, to a very great extent, divorced from each other. I do not mean to say that there is not an honest attempt, in schools and college, to encourage them side by side, but the fact remains that the scholar, as a rule, is not a good athlete. The converse is also generally true. In Greece it was not so. I feel sure that Lysis, Charmides, and Simmias were good athletes, and no one, I think, will question their interest in philosophy. But I very much doubt if the performance of their English representatives in the field or in the gymnasium would be to their credit. Now one explanation is probably due to heredity. A race of scholars is not likely to produce athletic successors, because a sedentary and inactive mode of life are hardly the ingredients out of which such stuff is made. Economic conditions must also enter largely into the matter. A scholar, as a rule, has not sufficient time both for study and exercise. His period of preparation at college is limited, and probably his first object is to pass some examination that will lead to future academic employment. But allowing full weight for these considerations, another fact still remains. There is only too prevalent, especially in England, an atmosphere of sport which has grown up round the practice of healthful manly exercise. The Derby sentiment enters largely into the race or the cricket field. There is constantly the idea of putting our money on to the best man. This produces a state of affairs that is demoralizing both to the players and to the onlookers. The fine spirit of doing one's best, because such things are fair and sweet in themselves and according to nature, is lost sight of; and the only motive to excel becomes a sordid one. But if we could banish all this, and train our boys and young men to play their games in all earnestness, but in the same manner as they did as children, the old Greek spirit might come back to us, and a new Pindar might arise, the theme of whose verses should be the modern cricketer, cyclist, or runner, and the strength, the grace, and the valour of each of these the source of his inspiration.

Of the two names that stand out most prominently as sculptors of this class, the most noticeable are those of Myron and Polycletus. We have approached almost to the highest point in Greek art, for these two men were contemporary with Phidias, were, in fact, trained in the same studio. The former excelled in representing the athlete in full action, and of his achievements the greatest and most popular is the Discobolus, or the Disc Thrower, an ancient copy of which is in the British Museum. Walter Pater, in his studies on Greek art, gives an interesting account of this statue, in which he points out that its chief merit lies in its representation of that moment which ensues between two opposed motions, or what he calls the "mystery of combined motion and rest." The right arm holding the disc is swung back, while almost at the same moment the left foot is in the act of starting forward. He thus considers that it is a learned work, because this mystery was no easy thing to do accurately; it could only have come of long study. But as he says, and I think all who know this statue will agree with him, it is its freshness, its simplicity, its kinship to nature, which constitutes its true charm. And in a really fine and appreciative passage, which I wish I had by me to read, he quotes of it a saying in Pindar which I think all will re-echo: "το δε φυα αταυ κρατιςτου." ["The nature of the hold"]

With the higher forms of sculpture, with the body of man in its heroic aspect, this artist is not concerned. He does not, except in an indirect manner, attempt to reveal to us anything of the soul of the athlete. But by a little study, I think it is not quite fanciful to imagine that there is something in these youths of marble, which suggests that the dawn of things spiritual is not far off. There is about them an atmosphere of refinement, a sense of standing apart which neither time nor association can quite explain. There were, as we know, also scholars, and in the course of time the true value of their knowledge would come home to them. Their learning was as yet only a mental training, a thing to be cultivated side by side with the physical as part of the equipment of man. But later on, the ethics of his education, in its appeal to the heart and the conscience, would become apparent to the youth, and it is the possibility of this revelation, or perhaps rather the dawn of it that, without in the least detracting from the purely natural view of the subject, lends to it an additional interest, and create a charm, at the first sight not quite apparent.

As Myron represented the athlete in the moment of action, so Polycletus moulded him in the moment of rest. Of his extant statues, the best known is the Diadumenos, the youth binding the ribbon of fillet of victory around his brow. The same naturalism, with perhaps somewhat more of quiet strength, is noticeable in his statues. It is interesting to learn of him that he claimed to have fixed the canon of human form, the perfect man, and though this can scarcely be a matter that it would be safe to dogmatize about, he at least achieved a measure of success which few of his contemporaries have equalled, if indeed any have excelled.

But there was another reason which must have led to this excellence, and this was the exceptional opportunities that the sculptor had of observing the body of the athlete. From the fifteenth Olympiad downwards it became the custom for the competitors, in the games or in the gymnasium, to appear naked, and thus he could notice every phase of the body, undisguised by any form of clothing. The practice sounds strange to our northern ears, but we must remember that what we consider decency is not a fixed quantity, but varies according to time and circumstances. Even in England, as little clothing as is consistent with our ideas of propriety is worn in games or sports, and from this to the dispensing with it altogether is only another step. That it was a natural thing in Greece is, I think, quite evident, for it is impossible to imagine such youths as we read of in the time of Socrates, whose greatest charm was their modesty, as acting in any way derogatory to the dignity of their sex. With females the reverse was the case, and though the idea of disguising the form, as was the practice in the East, never came into fashion, the undraped feminine figure was looked upon as an impossibility. There are, of course, notable exceptions to this rule, especially in the case of goddesses such as Aphrodite, but her divinity, I presume, was a sufficient excuse for defying criticism. But it was only in Sparta that the women were allowed to appear naked in the arena, and this custom was a constant source of reproach between Athens and her rival in the Peloponnesus. But this manly privilege granted to the athlete of appearing on these occasions as God and nature had intended him, was of the greatest benefit to the sculptor, and introduces another element into this matter, which even at the risk of appearing tedious, I must dwell upon for a little.

Such statues as the Discobolus and the Diadumenos are not merely expressions of the beauty of youth, they are also eloquent of the dignity of the body of man. It is a mistake to my mind to imagine that the artist merely selected some lad, noted for his grace, and only busied himself with the form. No doubt youth is the time when life is most gracious, and, from the point of view of art, forms the most aesthetic subject for treatment of this kind. But as time goes on it is difficult for the grown man to keep the finer proportions of boyhood, even supposing that his mode of life in no way interfered with his bodily development. Time and age and the wrestle of the spirit with the flesh leave their marks on the body as well as on the face. But from the essential point of view, is the body less beautiful than in former years? The outline, the proportions may be less graceful. They may not please the eye to the same extent. But the body itself is not less beautiful, because it is still the same fearful and wonderful structure that it was from the beginning. And as such, it is an object not for concealment, but rather for admiration, a thing for angels to wonder at and for men to reverence. And it is this doctrine of the dignity of the flesh apart from the question of age which seems to come down to us as a message from the old artists of Hellas, a message which custom and convention cannot wholly silence, and concerning which nature herself is always eloquent.

We now approach the greatest name in the study of Greek sculpture, viz., that of Phidias, a name that is not only remarkable for the high achievements with which it is connected, but also for the motives which prompted them. That particular quality which they especially represent had not been absent from the works of preceding artists, some in fact had come under its influence to a considerable extent, but I mention it more directly for the first time for two reasons. Firstly, because I have endeavoured in this paper more to study the general tendencies that are noticeable, both at the birth of art and during its development, rather than any special characteristic; and secondly, because to follow out this element in its fullness during the whole time I have selected would involve a special reading and knowledge which I have no pretensions to possess. But when we reach to Phidias this quality is so prominent that it can no longer be left out of account, and therefore I propose, as a fitting end to my paper, to endeavour to explain somewhat of the meaning of it, especially in its connection with the work of this remarkable man.

That element, in a word, is what is known as idealism, but before defining it I should like first to consider a few of the sculptures that are attributed to Phidias, and then point out in what manner they bear out what I conceive to be the meaning of this term. Here, unfortunately, we are met by one great difficulty. Of the two ideal statues which he erected at Athens and Olympia, in the one case only copies survive, and in the second, no monumental evidence at all has come down to us. We have therefore, in the absence of direct proof, to rely largely upon two facts, viz., the writings of such men as Pausanias who actually beheld them; and secondly, upon the history of the times.

Let us consider the latter. The youth of Phidias was passed among stirring events, viz., at the time of the great Persian invasion. It is almost impossible to exaggerate the influence that such victories as Marathon, Salamis and Plataea had upon the Greek mind, especially in its dealings with art. Before those great triumphs, the shadow of Persia, extending her empire to the shores of Ionia and then threatening Hellas, must have been a constant source of anxiety, if not of terror, to the native country. When greater dynasties than her own had gone down before that successful advance, it was not to be wondered at that she should tremble. For as yet Greeks and Asiatics had not met in the field, and that great superiority of the western over the eastern soldier had not been established. Greece did not till this moment know her full powers. Nor perhaps did she wholly recognise what the degradation would mean if Darius or Xerxes had prevailed. But when all was over, she must have learnt the moral force of her victories, and their meaning in the national life. Her triumph needed some tangible embodiment, some emblem in the form of art, and the genius of Phidias arose to perform the task.

I do not now propose to speak in detail of the works of this artist, but only to deal with the two great statues of which I have spoken. For although we can only survey them with the eye of the mind, as we have hardly any visible shape left, they yet suit our purpose best, for they were the direct work of the hand of Phidias. It would have been impossible during that time of artistic activity which ensued between the close of the Persian and the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, for one man to have executed by himself all the sculptures that adorned the Parthenon. Pericles, we know, entrusted the general superintendence of the work to Phidias, but it must have been only here and there that the master could have worked single-handed. And this will probably account for the fact that, fine as is, for instance, the frieze illustrating the Pan-Hellenic procession, that quality which we are now studying is not largely apparent. One reason for this may be that to express any abstract feeling in relief, is not so easy to do so in the round. But to my mind, this is only a partial explanation. What one is chiefly struck with and what has caused the general admiration is the boldness of execution the spirited effect rendered in the treatment of horse and rider in a confined space. But the object in the main of the frieze must have been decorative and thus, whoever actually executed it, we should hardly enquire here for the element we are now seeking.

We must now pass on to the great statue of Athene Parthenos, but before doing so it will be well to consider for a moment the other statue of the Athene Promachus. It stood in a prominent position on the Acropolis, and it is stated by Pausanias that the tip of the spear could be seen off Sunium as an indication to mariners of their home coming. But little is known about this statue, but it appears to have been of bronze, on a colossal scale, and represented the goddess armed with shield, spear and helmet. She stood in this warlike fashion as the protectress of the city, and as a type of that spirit which made Salamis and Marathon possible. In her was embodied the fullness of the Greek triumph, a triumph not merely of one nation over another, but of law over license, of Grecian civilization over the barbarism of the East. It was a high performance and one that must have had a strong appeal to the popular imagination. But it was a representation of the patron goddess in one aspect only, and for a fuller conception we must now turn to the Athene Parthenos.

This statue now exists but in copies, one of the most useful of which for the present enquiry being the Roman copy, found near the Varvakeion at Athens. The original was intended for the Parthenon, the House of the Virgin, and was likewise on a grand scale. The goddess again appears fully armed and bearing in her right hand the figure of Nike or Victory. But these things appear to have a passive rather than an active presence and are supplied more to indicate the attributes of Athene than for the actual purpose of contact. She is the representative here of peace, not of war, the symbol in the Greek mind of all that was best in his intellectual and spiritual aspirations.

But in his colossal Zeus at Olympia, Phidias aimed still higher. Fine as this production of Athene was, it was still only Attic, of local not of universal significance. But the Zeus spoke for all Greece, as the father of gods and men and the controller of the universe. He was seated on a throne; on his right arm stood a statue of Victory, while the left rested on his sceptre. The lower part of the body was draped with a mantle richly embossed, the whole great statue being chryselephantine, of ivory and gold. The throne itself appears to have been highly decorated with mythical subjects, and the effect viewed from a distance must have been very grand and imposing. No copies have come down to us, but from the descriptions that are extant, and from an attempt to grasp the significance of the whole, the mind can construct some image resembling the original work.

The Zeus was generally considered better than the Athene, but both must have been of great excellence. And remembering this fact it may appear strange that the artist should have embodied his highest ideas first in the form of a woman and secondly in that of a man. No doubt some explanation is due to the reason that Phidias was subject both to Attic and to Argive influence. But considering the position held by women even at the time of Pericles, this fact is hardly a sufficient answer. There was at this period an attempt made by women, of whom Aspasia was an example, to rise above tradition and implant in the mind of men a broader and more chivalrous view of the dignity of their sex. But such women were the exception, not the rule, and it was a tendency that shocked rather than enlightened the public mind. There is no reason to suppose that in this respect Phidias was superior to his brethren, and this temper is reflected in his work. There is nothing that is essentially feminine in the statue of the goddess. Athene does not rank in this respect with Aphrodite or Demeter, in the possession of qualities to her sex. She is draped, dignified, somewhat austere, the patroness of the arts, the upholder of drapery and woman's form. And thus there is nothing incompatible between the Olympian Zeus and the Athene Parthenos, the former being only, as it were, an extension of the element from which the latter was created.

These two statues were regarded by the ancients as the highest expression of the ideal in art, and the moment has now arrived to explain in what this quality consists. What is idealism? For a better appreciation of this subject, let me for a moment adopt a similar method of thought to that which I have just used, and consider this element first in its relation to life and afterwards to art.

What do we mean if we say that anyone with whom we are acquainted takes an ideal view of, say, some intimate friend? To my mind his attitude is somewhat as follows: It is an attempt on his part to heighten all those finer qualities which he imagines his friend to possess, and an endeavor to conceal or treat as of no vital moment those which are less worthy of admiration. It is a belief that under any given circumstances he will always act up to his highest instincts, and that when he fails it is probably more through the force of circumstances than by his own fault.

This attitude of mind I generally the product of a generous nature, but not necessarily of a strong one and for this reason. It is frequently either a refusal to look facts in the face, or else to appreciate one or more of them at the expense of certain others. But its chief weakness lies in this, that it takes a one-sided view of the conduct and possibilities of humanity. For the idealist to imagine that his comrades will always come out of every engagement with flying colours is to lose sight of the fact that to err is human and that we fall back as often as we advance. Such a view is not essentially sound, for it is founded on an exaggerating, viz., an over-estimate of the powers that have been granted to humanity.

Now this characteristic may be introduced into art, especially into portrait painting and photography, where all that is best may be emphasized and the less pleasing features passed over lightly. But it is not this sort of idealism that I understand in the work of Phidias. It is an expression not of humanity as ideal of itself, but rather as being so through its connection with those great moral though independent qualities which govern the world. For it is the recognition and the belief in these which constitute the true ideal view of life. And I feel that this was so with Phidias and that he must have looked with his own eyes upon beauty, justice and truth, and seen that they were fair. In what manner he did so it is difficult to determine. He may have followed a similar train of thought as Plato, and conceived that in a former life he had moved as an existing unit in such a pure and visionary atmosphere. And some have thought this, for it is said of his greatest work, "that those who approach the statue of Zeus at Olympia do not conceive that they see ivory from the Indies or gold from the mines of Thrace, no, but the very son of Chronos and Rhea, transported by Phidias and set to watch over the lonely plain of Pisa." To the Greek mind this Zeus was a real being, but we do have the ages behind us and can study the mind of man know it only as a high and abstract creation of the human intelligence. And it is to the mind of a man like Phidias, who is of all time, that such a view would present itself, so that his Zeus was to him probably more an expression of the highest attributes of divinity than a personal god. But he may also have conceived the existence of such attributes as independent of man in their essence, and yet needing for their utterance the forms and the soul of humanity. So that Zeus himself must cease to be pure spirit, and at least for our comprehension adopt the fashion of the flesh. This view pleases me most, for it is fraught with the most consoling messages, to mankind. Looking upon this great statue, the Greek need not despair nor think too darkly of the unknown future, for here was humanity made perfect by righteousness in union with the supreme deity. And as such it represented to man the sum of those ideal qualities which he loved to contemplate and in the consideration of which he might most fully realise the spiritual possibilities of his own creation.

Typed by Blossom, Dec. 2024; Proofread by LNL, Jan. 2025