History of Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture. J. S. Memes
generally, which, together with breadth and simplicity, brings them nearest the productions of the Grecian chisel. From the style of execution, however, it would appear that the effect has been brought out rather by patience and labour, than by rapid or dexterous management. In fact, the general character has been influenced not a little by the materials; for in the statues of wood, both as described and discovered, the action is bolder, and the manner more free. If a conjecture may be hazarded on the subject of their theory, it would seem that the Egyptians, in the infancy of their arts, were guided by an outline traced round a human figure, dead or alive, extended upon the block, face upwards, with the arms close by the sides, and the limbs placed together exactly as their statues are composed. The scattered details given in the Greek writers respecting the arts of this ancient people, have indeed induced the belief, that they were acquainted with much more refined canons of symmetry; but it ought to have been observed, that Diodorus and others describe the practices existing in their own times, when Egypt had, to a certain extent, become the pupil of Greece. In some respects, also, it is difficult to give implicit credit to their accounts, at least in the common interpretation. It is farther particularly to be observed, that the supposition now made will account for the correctness of the general proportions which would thus be obtained from nature; likewise no theory of proportional parts can be detected different from the results thus obtainable, while those details which a refined theory would preserve, but which could not by such method be measured, are defective.
We have been thus minute and critical in these investigations for two reasons: from Egypt certainly descended the first principles of improvement to Western art, while no less evidently did the Eastern world derive its entire knowledge from the same source. Consequently, in carefully examining that of the Egyptians, the best account, deduced too from monuments actually observed, has been given of Oriental Sculpture generally. Of the mighty empires, indeed, which once embraced the happiest regions of Asia and of the globe, a name, or at most a shapeless mass of ruins, alone remain. Of Jewish art, the sole memorials in existence are the sculptured transcripts on the arch of Titus. But every description in the sacred records, from the calf of the wilderness to the twelve oxen of the molten sea, or the lions of the throne of Solomon, evinces the taste of the former bondsmen of Pharaoh, and of him who was skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians; at the same time we learn that the Israelites quickly departed from the severe and simple grandeur of the parent source. Moving eastward: Baalbec's gigantic masonry is adorned with little of sculpture; the lonely Palmyra exhibits only Roman ruins, for the Tadmor of Scripture has long disappeared; the pillared Persepolis claims a remoter antiquity; but the Pelhavi and arrowheaded inscriptions, instead of hieroglyphics, show comparatively recent, and the innumerable and beautiful sculptures, display certain traits of the Grecian school. They cannot be older than Cyrus, but most probably belong to the age of his successors. The mysterious monuments of Hindustan alone seem to claim an equal or more ancient date compared with the labours we have surveyed. Their nature, also, is the same; hence there are not wanting names of highest eminence, who have maintained not only the greater antiquity of Indian art, but that thence has been derived all other, as from the parent source. This opinion has been grounded too exclusively on the dubious inferences of philology, or of mere antiquarian erudition—dubious, at least, when applied to Sculpture. Here the subject itself ought to supply the true principles of decision; and on this point one observation will suffice. The sculpture, like the architecture, of Egypt, bears the impress of uniform simplicity; the grand lines of composition are few, accessories are sparingly introduced, and wear the same sober, massive, and unpretending character. In the works of Asiatic art, on the contrary, although presenting a general resemblance to those of Egypt, the design is neither simple nor uniform; the parts are numerous, breaking the master lines into multiplied compartments, while the style of ornament is replete with complicated details, and of pretension above the means of the artist. Now, judging according to the natural inferences from these facts, and according to the acknowledged precepts of imitative art, this latter style, with its defects in keeping, has evidently arisen in consequence of superinducing a laboured and injudiciously aspiring taste upon the more severe and simple conceptions of a primitive composition. Similar principles may be obviously traced in the farther progress of the arts eastward. China is admitted, on the most learned authorities, to have been planted by colonists from the banks of the Indus and the Ganges; and in the unchanging modes of that country, we seem almost to catch glimpses of the aboriginal knowledge of our race. Yet how striking the difference between the ornate and the frittered labours of the Chinese compared with the works either of India or of Egypt! Even their great wall is but the accumulation of petty exertions—an evidence of numerical, not of scientific energy.
CHAPTER II.
In the previous chapter, Egypt has been exhibited as the centre of intelligence in the history of ancient art; and having explained the connexion which can still be traced in the few remaining monuments of the East, we now turn from the parent source to trace the progress of refinement in the West, where, first in Greece, the human mind awoke to the full consciousness of its capacious grasp, and of its exquisite sensibilities.
The universal origin of sculptural representation, already noticed, in the alliance which man forms with natural objects as shadowing forth the affections or the regrets of the heart, is nowhere so conspicuous as in Greece. Here art was poetry from the beginning; her consecrated groves, her winding streams, her flowery plains, the azure depths of her mountains, became at once the residence and the representatives of those beings, whether divine or heroic, who constituted her theology. By a people, simple in their habits, yet ardent in their feelings, this early faith was long remembered—such reminiscences deeply tincturing much of what is most exquisitely descriptive and sentimental in Grecian poetry. But a belief so abstract, so untangible in its forms, and so remotely addressed to the senses, would soon prove insufficient to maintain effectual empire over the passions. Attempts were speedily made to secure, as it were, the more immediate presence and protection of the objects of veneration or of worship. Men's desires in this respect, however, as in all other instances, would necessarily be limited by their knowledge and their powers. In the primitive ages, accordingly, objects rude and unfashioned as we learn from history, were adored as representing the divinities of Greece. Even to the time of Pausanias, stones and trunks of trees, rough and uninformed by art, were preserved in the temples: and though replaced by forms almost divine, still regarded with peculiar veneration, as the ancient images of the deities. As skill improved, these signs began to assume more determinate similitude; and from a square column, the first stage, by slow gradations something approaching to a resemblance of the human figure was fashioned. These efforts at sculpture long continued extremely imperfect. The extremities seem not to have been even attempted; the arms were not separated from the body, nor the limbs from each other, but, like the folds of the drapery, stiffly indicated by deep lines drawn on the surface. Such appears to have been the general state of the art immediately prior to the period when it can first be traced, as cultivated with some degree of success in any particular place. This occurs about twelve centuries before Christ.
The fine arts have never flourished in states not commercial; in this respect, presenting a marked contrast to the origin and progress of poetry and music; a fact singularly exemplified in the condition of those cities where arose the primitive schools in Greece. Sicyon, Ægina, Corinth, and Athens, were the first seats of commerce and of sculpture. Sicyon, with its small but important territory, extending a few miles along the south-eastern extremity of the Corinthian gulf, was the most ancient of the Grecian states, and probably the oldest city of Europe. From the earliest times, it became celebrated for the wealth, enterprise, and intelligence of its population; and from the Sicyonian academy were sent forth many of the most celebrated masters of design; hence Sicyon obtained the venerable appellation of 'Mother of the Arts.' The foundation of this school, though most probably of much higher antiquity, is assigned to Dibutades, who, in the humble occupation of a potter, became the accidental inventor of the art of modelling. For this discovery, so precious in its subsequent effects, he was indebted to the ingenuity of his daughter, who, inspired by love, traced upon the wall, by means of a lamp, the shadowed profile of the favored youth as he slept, that with this imperfect resemblance she might