MNEMOSYNE

THE

PARALLEL
AND

BETWEEN

THE

VISUAL

LITERATURE
ARTS

M A R I O PR A Z
THE

W.

BOLL

MELLON

1N G E N

LECTURES

SERIES

IN

XXXV

THE

16

U N I

ARTS

PRINCETON

1 96 7

o '! NLi
I he Parallel Between Literature
and the Visual Arts
In his search for the common link between
literature and the visual arts. Professor Praz
draws upon the abundant evidence of long
mutual understanding and correspondence be
tween the sister alts Although parallels of
theme and inspiration are plentiful, be is not
primarily concerned with these. Rather, he
examines the close relationship or air de fanulle
between the expression of the arts m any given
epoch.
Each epoch has its peculiar handwriting
or handwritings, which, if one could interpret
them, would reveal a character, even a physi
cal appearance. Although handwriting is
taught and some of its characteristics thus
belong to the general style of the period, the
personality of the writer does not fail to pierce
through. Something of the same sort, the au
thor proposes, occurs in art. The kinship of
literature and painting rests on this circum
stance: a work of art, whether visual or liter
ary, must use the distinctive handwriting of
its particular age, even as its originality pierces
through this handwriting.
The likeness between the arts within various
periods o f history can ultimately be traced,
then, to structural similarities similarities
that arise out of the characteristic way in
which the people of a certain epoch see and
memorize facts aesthetically. Mnemosyne, at
once the goddess of memory and the mother
of the muses, therefore presides over this view
of ihe arts. In illustrating her iniluence. Pro
fessor Praz ranges widely through Western
sources, both literary and pictorial. There are
1 2 1 illustrations accompanying the text.
M A R IO P R A Z is Professor of English L an
guage and Literature at the University of
Rome. His earlier books include The Rom an
tic A gony, Studies in Seventeenth-Century
imagery, and The Flam ing Heart.
ackct design by P J. Conkwright

TH E A. W. iMEI.EON EKCTUKES IN I'Hl I INI AJU'S

DlfUVHUCD AT 1111 NATIONAL C.AI 1 1 in OF All I
WASlIINd ION, 1). C.
1952.

C R E A T IV E I N T l'l

1953-

tiie

nude : a stu d y

1954.

tiie

a rt

o f

1 ION

in

p a in tin g

and re a lity

19 56 .

ART

IL L U S IO N :

re p re se n ta tio n

1957.

id e a l

korm

by Kenneth Clark

bv Herbert Mead

sc u lp tu re

1955.

AND

l)\ .lacqiics Maintain

IN A R T AN D P O E T R Y

Gilson

by Etienne

ASTUD Y

IN

T IIE

PSYCHOLOGY

1.

TH E B EG IN N IN G S OF ART

II T H E B E G IN N IN G S OF A R C H IT E C T U R E

by S. Giedion

1958.

n i c o l a s p o u s s in by A nthony Blunt

1959-

o f d iv e r s a r t s by N a u m Gabo

1960.

h o r a c e w a l p o l e by W ilm arth Sheldon Lewis

1961.

C h ristia n

1962.

b la k e

1963.

th e

1964.

on q u a lity

1965.

th e

1966.

V ISIO N A R Y AND D R E A M E R :

ic o n o g ra p h y :
tra d itio n

p o rtra it

o rig in s

in

th e

in a r t

v is u a l a r ts
im a g in a tiv e

1969.

a r t

as

re n a issa n c e

o rig in s

by Andre Grabar

by John Pope-H ennessy

by Jakob Rosenberg
by Isaiah Berlin

TW O PO ETIC P A IN T E R S , S A M U E L P A L M E R

PARALLEL

by David Cecil
BETW EEN

L IT E R A T U R E

AND T IIE

by Mario Praz

lite r a tu r e

m ode

o f its

by Kathleen Raine

b u rn e -jo n e s

19 6 7 . M N EM O SYN E: THE

1968.

a stu d y

o f ro m a n tic ism

and edw ard

P 1C T O R 1 \ L

by E. IE Gombrich

THE ETER N A L P R E SE N T :

and

OF

o f

and

k n o w le d g e

p a in tin g s

by Stephen Spender

by Jacob Bronowski

B O L L I N G E N S E R I E S X X X V 16

MNEMOSYNE
THE P A R A L L E L B E T W E E N L I T E R A T U R E
AND THE VISUAL ARTS

BY MARI O PRAZ

THE

A.

W.

M EL L O N
THE

L E C T U R E S

NATION AL

IN

G A L L E R Y

W ASH IN GTO N ,

BO LLIN G E N

PRIN CETO N

THE

SERIES

D.

FIN E
OF

C.

XXXV

U N IV E R S IT Y

ART

16

PR ESS

ARTS

1 9 6 7

Copyright 1 9 7 0 by the Trustees of the National Gallery

of Art, Washington, D. C.
Published by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey
This is the sixteenth volume
of the A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts,
which are delivered annually at the National Gallery of Art, Washitigton.
The volumes of lectures constitute Number XX XV
in Bollingen Series, sponsored by Bollingen Foundation
Library of Congress Catalogue Card No.: 6 8 -2 0 8 7 6
SB N 6 9 1 -0 9 8 5 F -3
Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
LIST

OF

ILLUSTRATIONS

Viii
ix

i Ut Pictura Poesis

1 1 Tim e Unveils Truth

29

1 1 1 Sam eness of Structure in a Variety of Media

I V H arm ony and the Serpentine Line
V The Curve and the Shell

v i Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

VII

Spatial and Tem poral Interpenetration

55
79
10 9
15 3
19 1

NOTES

2 19

INDEX

243

A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

T h e auth or ackn ow led ges his indebtedness fo r perm ission to quote

in the text as fo llo w s: For the poem in C h apter V II, co pyright 19 2 3
and 1 9 5 1

by E. E. C u m m in gs and reprinted fro m his volum e

Poem s 1 9 2 3 - 1 9 5 4 . to H arcourt. B race & W orld. Inc., N ew York,

and to M acGibbon & Kee Ltd., London. For excerp ts from T h e
W aves by V irg in ia W oolf and T h e W aste L a n d by T. S. Eliot, to
H arcourt, B race & W orld, In c., N ew Y ork, and respectively to the
H ogarth Press Ltd. and F ab er & Fab er Ltd., London. F o r an excerpt
from a poem by W. H. A uden , from his C o llected Sh o rter Poem s.
1 9 2 7 - 1 9 5 7 , and for a p assage from G ertrude Stein 's Ida and one
from S ele c ted W ritin gs o f G ertru d e S tein , ed. C arl V an V echten. to
Random H ouse, Inc. F o r the extract from A uden, also to F ab er &
F ab er Ltd ., London. F or perm ission to quote the poem by G ertrude
Stein on p. 2 0 7 , in C hapter V II, as w ell as the two excerpts ju st
listed , to the E state o f G ertrude Stein, D aniel C. Jo sep h . A d m in is
trator. F or p a ssa g e s from C o n clu d in g and B a c k , by H enry G reen,
to the V ik in g P ress, In c., N ew Y ork, and the H ogarth Press Ltd.,
London. F or a p assage from L iv in g , by H enry G reen , to J . M. Dent
& Sons Ltd ., London. F o r a p a ssa g e from T h e B ody, copyright 19 4 9
by the auth or, W illiam San som , to the H ogarth P ress Ltd.. London.

L I S T OF I L L U S T R A T I O N S
p = source o f photograph. U nless o th erw ise in d ic a te d , the photographs have
u su ally been fu rn is h ed by the resp ective in stitution or collection.
page

1
2

4
5
6

7
8
9
10
11
12

F erd in a n d IV o f N a ples as M in erva. M arble, 18 0 0 .

M useo N azion ale, N aples. P : Brogi.
T i t i a n : Portrait o f a Y o u n g L a d y as V en u s B in d in g the E yes o f
C upid. C an va s, m id -i5 5 o s. N atio n al G allery of A rt (S a m u e l H. K ress
C o llection ), W ashin gton, D.C.
S i r J o s h u a R e y n o l d s : M rs. S h erid a n as St. C ecilia. C an v a s, 17 7 5 .
B y courtesy o f T h e N ation al T ru st, W addesdon M anor, B u c k in g
ham shire.
C la u d e L o r r a in :
L a n d sca p e w ith M ill. C an va s, 16 4 8 . G alleria
D oria-Pam phili, Rom e. P : A lin ari.
G u i d o R f . n i : Aurora. F resco, 1 6 1 3 . C asin o o f the P alazzo P allavicin iRospigliosi, Rom e, p : A linari.
G u i d o R e n i : F o rtun a. C an va s, ca. 16 2 3 . A ccad em ia di S . L u c a,
Rom e. P : A linari.
N i c o l a s P o u s s i n : E t in A rca d ia Ego. C an vas. 16 5 0 55 . Lou vre,
P aris. P : A linari.
G u e rcin o :
A urora. F resco, 1 6 2 1 2 3 . V illa Lu d o visi, Rom e. P :
A n to n io C an o va:

15
16

10

13
13
14
15
16

N igh t. F resco, 1 6 2 1 2 3 . V illa Lu d o visi, Rom e. P : A lin ari.

J.A .D . I n g r e s : La G ran de O dalisque. C an va s, 1 8 1 4 . Lou vre, P aris.
P : A lin ari.
E u g e n e D e l a c r o i x - . W om en o f A lg iers. C an va s, 18 3 4 . L o u vre, P aris.
P : A linari.
P i e r r e - A u g u s t e R e n o i r : P arisian s D ressed in A lg eria n Costum e.
C a n v a s , 18 7 2 . N a t i o n a l M u s e u m o f W e s t e r n A r t ( M a t s u k a t a C o l l e c

17

G u e rc in o :

19
19

S a k a m o to Photo R esearc h L ab o ra to ry , T o k y o ; p er

19 6 8 b y F r e n c h R e p r o d u c t i o n R i g h t s I n c .
S i r J o h n E v e r e t t M i l l a i s -.The P>lind G irl. C an v a s, 18 5 6 . City
M useum and A rt G allery, B irm in gh am , E n glan d .
C harioteer o f D elphi and Ionic C olum n. From Ja m e s L a v e r, S tyle in
C ostum e (L o n d o n : O xford U n iversity P ress, 19 4 9 ) , plates 3 and 4.
The H ennin and Gothic P in n acle. From L a ve r, S tyle in C o stu m e,
plates 9 and 10 .
M a s t e r o f t h e B o r r o m e o G a m e s : T h e G am e o f T h e p alm a ( d e
t a i l ) . F r e s c o , c a . 1 4 5 0 . C a s a B o r r o m e o , M i l a n . P : A. P o l e t t i , M i l a n .
m issio n S P A D E M

14

A linari.

tio n ), T o kyo, p :

13

21
23
28
28

30

I 1 S T t 1 i l l u s t r a t i o n s

17
18

K a i m i a i i. : Portrait of G iotau ua d'Arotiona. Can va s

c;i
15 1H . Lorn re. P h i s 1*: A iin a jj
A n iiio.n ^ v a n Dy k I'aola A do rn o . Marc In sa di iIriguolt' Salt
C an va s 16 2 2 27. I h r I'rick Collection New York P: Copyright I h r
I rick CoU*cCion, by cou ites\

School 0i

19

h 11 1 0 1 1 oi' iu c o JoNi Narcissus at tlu' Sprim/. From a \U inoru <ti

1111 pittore di qtiadri autiehi ( San Caseu u o \'al di Pesa Societii F.tli
mice toscaua, [19 3 2 ]) , plate opposite p. 228,

20

G u m a \ k M o d la u : The Ai>i>aritU>ii W ater color, ca. 18 7 6 . Cabinet

des Dossins dn \lu see dn Louvre, P an s 1* Bulloz, P aris.
A Plan o f M r. P opes G arden as it a as left al his Death T a ken by
M r S erb Ins G a rd en er ( 1 7 4 5 ) . British M useum , Loudon.
W ii.iia m K e n t : A V iew tn I'o p es G arden . D raw in g, ca. 1 7 2 0 - 3 0 .
B ritish M useum , London.
W ili.ia m B i.a k k :
N eb u ch adn ezza r. Color printed d raw jp g. 17 9 5 .
M useum o f Fine A rts ( Clift o f M rs. Robert H o in a n s). Boston
W i i . i . i a m B i . a k k : Title page o f Songs o f In n o cen ce. Color print.
17 8 9 . B ritish M useum , London.
W i l l i a m B i . a k k : H ar an d H eva B ath in g A tten ded hij M uetha.
D esign illu stratin g T irie l. ca. 17 8 9 . F itzw illiam M useum . Cam bridge.
P: S te a m ; reproduced by perm ission o f the Svn d ics o f the FitZw illian i M useum .
D a n t e G a b r i e l R o s s e t t i : T h e D aydream . C an v a s. 18 8 0 . Victoria
and Albert M useum . London.
D a n t e G a b r i e l R o s s e t t i : T h e B ou er-M ea d o ic. C an va s. 18 7 2 . C ity
Art G allery, M an ch ester, E n glan d .
T i t i a n : Venus w ith the O rgan Plaijer. C an v a s, ca. 15 4 6 - 4 8 . Museo
del Prado, M adrid. P: A nderson.
D a n t e G a b r i e l R o s s e t t i : L a d y L ilith . C an va s, 18 6 4 -6 8 . D elaw are
Art C enter (S a m u e l and M ary R . B an cro ft C o llectio n ) W ilm ington.
D elaw are. P: Lubitsh & B u n g arz W ilm ington, by courtesy.
G u s t a v e C o u r b e t : T h e W oniau w ith the M irror (L a B elle Irla n d a is c ). C an va s, 18 6 6 . The M etropolitan M useum o f Art (B eq u est
o f M rs. H. O. H avem eyer, 19 2 9 : The H. O. H avem ever C o llectio n ).
N ew York.
T i t i a n : Flora. C an va s, ca. 1 5 1 5 - 1 6 . Uffizi. F loren ce. P: A nderson.
V i c t o r H u g o : H a u teville H ouse. G u e rn s e y : D raw in g, 18 8 6 . M aison
de Victor H ugo. P aris. P: H. Roger-V iollet, P aris.

21

22
23
24
25

26
27
28
29

30

31
32
33
34

B ran ch H ill Pond. H am pstead ( ? ) . C an v a s, ca.

1 8 2 1 . Victoria and A lbert M useum , London.
T rian gu latio n o f the order o f the tem ple o f H era A rg iva , P aesiu m
A fter Funck-H ellet. De lu Proportion ie q u e tr e des m aitres d a 'u v re
(V in cen t et F re a l, 1 9 5 1 ).
Jo h n

32
33

35
M

43
43
46

47

47
48
49
5

51

52
53
54

C o n sta b le :

61

62

L I S T OF I L L U S T R A T I O N S
Rouen C ath ed ral, Portail des Libraires. Thirteen th cen tury. P :
Giraudon.
3 6 G i o t t o : Jo a c h im W an derin g A m on g the S h ep h erd s. F resco, 1 3 0 3
05. A rena C hapel, Pad u a. P : A linari.
3 7 P i s a n e l l o : S a in t G eorge an d the P rincess o f T rebizo n d. Fresco,
I 4 3 3 38. S. A n asta sia, V erona. P : A linari.
3 8 Tarot card. Ca. 14 2 8 - 4 7 . V iscon ti di M odrone C ollection, M ilan . P :
G abinetto Fotografico N azion ale, Rom e.
39 J a n v a n E y c k : P ortrait o f M argu erite van E yck . P an el, 14 3 9 . Groenin gem u seu m , M usee C om m un al des B eaux-A rts, B ru ges. P : P au l
B ijteb ier, U ccle-Brussels.
40 H a n s M e m l i n g : P ortrait o f B arba ra M oreel. W ood, ca. 14 7 8 . M usees
R o va u x des B eau x-A rts, B ru ssels. P : C opyright A. C. L . , B ru ssels.
41
P i e t e r B r u e g e l , the E ld e r: S a in t Jo h n the B aptist P rea ch in g.
Wood, 15 6 6 . M useum o f Fin e A rts, Budapest.
42 P i e t e r B r u e g e l , the E ld e r: L a n d sca p e w ith the F a ll o f Icarus.
C an vas, ca. 15 4 4 55. M usees R o y a u x des B eau x-A rts, B ru ssels. P :
Copyright A. C. L ., B russels.
43
P i e t e r B r u e g e l , the E ld e r: P rocession to C alva ry. W ood, 15 6 4 .
K un sthistorisches M useum , V ienna.
44 M an inscribed in a square and a circle. V itru vian F igu re from
C esare C esarian o s edition o f V itru viu s (C om o, 1 5 2 1 ) . P : O scar
Savio, Rom e.
45 L e o n B a t t i s t a A l b e r t i : F a ?a d e , S. A n d rea, M an tu a. 14 7 0 . p :
A linari.
4 6 A rch o f T ra ja n , A ncona, a . d . 1 1 2 . p : A lin ari.
4 7 L e o n a r d o d a V i n c i : L a G ioconda ( M ona L is a ) . C an v a s, ca. 15 0 3 .
Lou vre, P aris. D etail, w ith a superim posed geom etrical design , a fte r
M. H. Goldblatt, Leonardo da V inci and A n drea S a la i, T h e C on
n oisseu r (M ay 19 5 0 ) .
48 L e o n a r d o d a V i n c i : T h e V irgin a n d C h ild w ith St. A n n e. C an va s, ca.
1 5 0 7 - 1 3 . Lou vre, P aris. P : A lin ari.
49 M i c h e l a n g e l o : A nteroom o f the L a u ren tian L ib ra ry , F loren ce. B e
gun 15 2 4 . T h e stairs built 15 5 9 under the su pervision o f B artolom
m eo A m m an n ati. P : O scar S avio, Rom e.
50 S a l v i a t i : L a Caritci. C an va s, ca. 15 4 0 - 5 0 . Uffizi, Flo ren ce, P: A lin ari.
5 1 B r o n z i n o : A n A llego ry. W ood, ca. 1 5 5 0 - 5 5 . N atio n al G allery,
London.
5 2 S a l v i a t i : B ath sh eb a B eta k in g H erself to D avid. F resco , 1 5 5 2 54.
Palazzo Sacch etti, Rom e. P : G abinetto Fotografico N azio n ale, Rom e.
5 3 G i o r g i o V a s a r i : A llegory o f the Im m acu late C onception . C an v a s, ca.
15 4 0 . A sh m olean M useum , O xford; a subject execu ted in larg e scale
fo r the C hurch o f SS. A postoli, Florence.

XI

35

67
69

71
73

74
74
75

76
77

83
85
85

87
87

9i
92
92
93

94

xii

L I S T OF I L L U S T R A T I O N S

5-1

Ja c o p o da I o n to h m o : Jo sep h in Egypt. C an vas

tional G allery. London.

55

G iu s i 1MM-: A h c im b o u x ): W inter. P an el, 15 6 3 K im *tk i*id m c i ;

M useum , V ienna.
G iu se p p e A k c im b o u o : T h e L ib ra ria n , Wood, ca 15 8 0 . N ordlska
M tiseet (Sk o k lo ster C o lle ctio n ), Stockholm 1*. C ourtesy Of Dr
Ake M eyerion.
S c h o o l ok F o n t a iv k h i F.AU: M ythological S e e m A llego ry o\ Love.
C ain as, ca. 15 9 0 . L.ouvve, Paris. P: Service de D ocum entation Pliotographique de la Reunion des M usees N atio n au x.

56

57

58
59

Go
61
62
63

64
6'5
66
67

68
69
70
71
72

ca. 1 5 1 7

18

Na

T riu m p h o f Flora. C an v a s, ca. 15 6 0 - 6 5 Private

collection, V icenza. P : Foto F errin i. V icenza.
T i t i a n : P erseu s a n d A ndrotu eda, C an va s, ca 15 6 2 W allace C ollec
tion, London, p . Reproduced by perm ission o f the Trustees o f the
W allace Collection.
T i n t o r e t t o : T h e R c sc n e o f A rsiu oe. C an va s, ca. 15 5 6 . S e m lld e galarie A lte M eister, Staatlich e K u n stsam m lu n gen , D resden.

96
98

99

102

M a T trf. d e F i.o h f.:

Ja c o p o Z u c c h i: C oral F is h in g . Copper, ca. 15 7 2 . Borghese G a lle n

Rom e, p : A lin ari.
H a n s E W o r t h : S ir Jo h n L n ttrell Wood, 15 5 0 . C ourtau kl Institute o f
A rt, London.
H a n s E w o r t h : Q ueen E lizabeth I an d the T h re e G o ddesses. P anel.
15 6 9 . Royal C ollection, H am pton Court, p : Photo Studios Ltd., Lon
don; reproduced by the gracious perm ission o f Her M ajesty.
J a c o p o d a P o n t o r m o : Doul>le Portrait. W ood. ca. 1 5 1 6 . Conte C in i
Collection, V enice, p : A m m in istrazion e V ittorio Cini.
G u i d o R e n i: G irl w ith a W reath. C a n v a s, ca. 1 6 3 5
C apitoline
G allery, Rom e, p : A lin ari.
D o m e n i c h i n o : St. C ecilia R efu ses to W orsh ip the Idols. F resco,
1 6 1 1 14 . S. L u ig i dei F ra n c e si, Rom e, p : A nderson.
J a c q u e s S t e l l a : C lelia a n d H er C om pan ion s C ro ssin g the Tiber.
C an va s. 1 6 3 5 - 3 7 . L ou vre, Paris, p : G abinetto Fotografico N azio n ale,
Rom e.
J a n B r u e g h e l : T h e A lleg o ry o f S ig h t W ood, ca. 1 6 1 8 M useo del
Prado, M adrid, p : Anderson.
G i a n l o r e n z o B e r n i n i : A n g el w ith th e C ro w n o f T h orns. M arble,
1 6 6 8 - 7 1 . S . A n d rea delle F ratte. Rom e, p : A nderson.
G i a n l o r e n z o B e r n i n i : A n g e l w ith the S u p erscrip tio n . M arble.
16 6 8 7 1 . S. A n d rea delle F ratte, Rom e, p : A nderson.
G ia n lo re n z o
B e rn in i:
D avid. M arble, 16 2 3 . Borghese G allery.
Rom e, p : A lin ari.
G erard T erborch
T h e P a ren ta l A d m o n itio n . C am as, ca. 1 6 5 4 - 5 5 .
G em ald egalerie, B erlin-D ahlem . p : W alter Stein ko pf, B e ilin .

103

10G
10G
107

111

112
113
115

116

117
1

19

122
123
124
126

xiii

L I S T OF I L L U S T R A T I O N S
B o r r o m i n i : Colonnade w ith fa lse p erspective, P alazzo
Spad a, Rom e. 16 3 5 . P: A linari.
G i a n l o r e n z o B e r n i n i : S ca la R egia, V atican P alace. Rom e. 16 6 3
66. p .- A linari.
G i a n l o r e n z o B e r n i n i : T hrone of St. Peter. G ilt, bronze, m arble,
and stucco, 1 6 5 7 66. A pse, St. P eters, Rom e. P : A lin ari.
A n d r e a P o z z o : T h e G lo ry o f St. Ign atiu s. F resco , 1 6 9 1 94. C eilin g
of the n ave, S. Ign azio. Rom e. P : A nderson.
C o r r e g g i o : C hrist in G lory. F resco, 1 5 2 2 - 2 4 . C upola, S. G iovan n i
E van g elista, P arm a. P: A nderson.
R e m b r a n d t : D iana at the B ath. E tch in g, ca. 1 6 3 1 . B ritish M useum ,
London.
F r a n c e s c o B o r r o m i n i : F ag ad e, S. C arlin o alle Quattro Fontan e,
Rom e. 16 6 5 - 6 7 . p : A lin ari.
F r a n c e s c o B o r r o m i n i : F ag ad e, P alace o f the Collegio di P ropa
ganda F id e, Rom e. 16 6 2 . P : A linari.
F r a n c e s c o B o r r o m i n i : V iew into dom e, S. C arlino alle Quattro F on
tane, Rom e. 1 6 3 8 - 4 1 . P: A lin ari.
G u a r i n o G u a r i n i : V iew into dom e, C ap ella della SS. Sindone,
T u rin . 16 6 7 90. P : Soprintendenza ai M onum enti.
G i o v a n n i B a t t i s t a T i e p o l o : A potheosis o f the P isan i F a m ily .
F resco, com pleted 1 7 6 1 - 6 2 . C eilin g o f the ballroom , V illa P isan i,
Stra. P : Soprintendenza ai M onum enti, V enice.
Rococo p an elin g. Hotel de S eign olay, P aris. C a. 17 4 5 . p : C aisse R a
tionale des M onum ents H istoriques, P aris.
P i e t r o d a C o r t o n a : C h u rch in sp ired by the C h ig i arm s. P ro ject,
period o f Pope A le xa n d e r V II, 16 5 5 - 6 7 . Civ. R acco lta delle Stam pe A.
B ertarelli, C astello Sforzesco, M ilan.
C l a u d e - N i c o l a s L e d o u x : P rison dA ix. Project o f ca. 17 7 0 . From
L A rch itectu re con sideree sous le rapport de la r t , des mceurs et de la
legislation (2 n d ed n .; P a ris, 1 8 4 7 ) , plates 6 0 -6 4 . P : Bibliotheque
N ation ale, P aris.
E t i e n n e - L o u i s B o u l l e e : N ew ton M em orial. Project o f 17 8 4 . B iblio
theque N atio n ale, H a. 5 7 , No. 6, Paris.
H i e r o n y m u s B o s c h : T h e A scen t into the E m p y rea n . W ood, 1 5 0 5
16 . Palazzo D u cale, V enice. P : A linari.
C h r i s t o f f e r W i l h e l m E c k e r s b e r g : V ieiv T h ro u gh T h ree A rch es
o f the C olosseum . C an va s, 1 8 1 5 . Statens M useum fo r K un st. Copen
hagen.
C h r i s t i a n F r e d r i k H a n s e n - . C hurch o f the V irg in , C o pen h agen .
1 8 1 1 - 2 9 . (L ith o g ra p h .) p: Det K ongelige Bibliotek.
J.A .D . I n g r e s : M adam e la V icom tesse de S en o n n es. C an va s, 1 8 1 6 .
M usee des B eau x-A rts, N an tes. P : Giraudon.
Fran cesco

75

76
77

78
79

8o
8i
82
83

84
85

86

87

88
89

90
9i

12 7
127
12 8
130

131

133
138

i 39
14 0
14 1

14 5
14 7

150

55

J 55
16 0

16 1
16 2
16 6

\iv
92

LIST

B kon zIn o :

I n c n ziu

01;
P am

ll.I.US

tu tif In

1 H A T 1O N
W o od

t.r

1 5 . jo 3 0 .

U fii r i ,

1'l o r e i K e . i: A n d e r s o n .

1) a \ i d

167

93

C aspar

94

A lexan d re C a b a n e l: P Jn d re . C an v a s, 1880. Mu see I ahre, M ont

pellier. P : Studio E-rbe.
J.A .D . I n g r e s : V irgil R e a d in g from the A e v e id C an v a s 1 8 1 9
M usees R o yau x des B eau x-A rts. B russels. P : A. C. I.., B r u w k

I n n n u n 1 1: S e l f - P o r t r a i t . B l a c k c i . i v o n 0 1 1 p . i p i r

ca.

i B i o . S t . M t l i c h e M u s p t ' i i , N g t f c u w i i g w l i S j i e , Bt l l i u .

95

90
97

98
99
10 0
10 1

10 2
10 3
10 4

10 5
10 6

10 7
10 8
10 9
110

S ciiiira m is F o u n d in g a T o w n . C a m a s , 1 8 6 1 . I,o m re .
Paris, p G irau d on ; perm ission SPA D EM 19 6 8 by 1 reach Reproduc
tion R ights Inc.
P i e r o d e l l a F r a n c e s c a : T h e Q ueen o f S h eb a m id H er R etinu e.
F resco, 1 4 5 3 4 - 6 5 . S. F ran cesco , Arezzo. P : A linari.
F r e d e r i c L o r d L e i g h t o n o f S t r k t t o n : C ap tive A n dro m ach e. C a n
vas, ca. 18 8 7 . C ity A rt G allery, M an chester, E n glan d .
T i i o m a s C o u t u r e : T h e R om an s o f the D eca den ce. C a m a s , 18 4 7 .
Lou vre. P aris, P : A lin ari.
J o h n B r e t t : T h e Sto n eh reaker. C an v a s, 1 8 5 7 - 5 8 . W alk er A r t
G allery, Liverpool.
A le k se i G a v r ilo v ic h V e n e tsia n o v :
S le e p in g S h e p h e rd 's Boij.
W ood, 18 2 0 . R u ssian M useum . L en in grad . P : P ro p \laen V erlag,
B erlin , P ropylaen K u n stgeschichte 1 1 . 19 6 6 .
G o y a : P ilg rim a g e o f S. Isid ro (d e tail ). C an v a s, 1 S 2 1 - 2 2 . M useo del
Prado, M adrid, p : A nderson.
G u s t a v e C o u r b e t : L a n d sca p e n ea r L a S o u rce h leu e. C an va s,
18 7 2 . N atio n alm u seu m , Stockholm .
E d g a r D e g a s : L a L a at the C irqu e F e rn a n d o . C a n v a s, 18 7 9 .
Reproduced by cou rtesy o f the T ru stees. T h e N atio n al G allery. Lon
don. Perm issio n S P A D E M 19 6 8 by F ren ch Reproduction R igh ts Inc.
M e i n d e r t H o b b e m a : T h e A v e n u e . M id d elh a rn is. C a n v a s, 16 8 9 .
N ation al G allery, London.
I v a n I v a n o v i c h S i h s j i k i n : T h e R u efield. C a m a s . 18 7 8 T retyakov
G allery, M oscow, p : Propylaen V erla g , B erlin , P ro p ylaen K u n st
gesch ich te 1 1 . 19 6 6 .
G o y a : V ieiv o f the P ra dera o f S. Isidro. C a n v a s, 17 S 8 . M useo del
Prado, M adrid. P : A nderson.
F o r d M a d o x B r o w n : An E n g lish A u tu m n A ftern o o n . C an va s. 1 8 5 2
54. C ity M useum and Art G allery, B irm in gh a m , E n glan d .

168
169
170

Edgar D egas:

A B rid g e in a F ren ch T o w n . C an vas, ca. 18 7 0 .

K u n sth istorisch es M useum , V ienna.
G a s p a r v a n W i t t e l : Viexv o f the lsola T ih erin a . C an v a s, 16 9 0
17 0 0 . K u nsthistorisches M useum , V ienna.

173
173

175
175
177
177

179
180

180
181

181
182
182

S t a n is la s L e p in e :

18 3

184

L I S T OF I L L U S T R A T I O N S
111
112

113
114

115
I l6
117

118

119
120

1 21

R o b e r t : T h e Old B ridge. C an va s, prob. 17 7 5 . N atio n al

G allery o f Art (S a m u e l H . K ress C o llectio n ), W ashin gton , D.C.
P a b l o P i c a s s o : L es D em oiselles d 'A vig n o n . C an v a s, sprin g 19 0 7 .
T h e M useum o f M odern Art (acq u ired through the L illie P . B liss
B eq u est), N ew York.
G e o r g e s B r a q u e : V iolin an d Palette. C an va s, 1 9 1 0 . T h e Solom on
R. G uggenheim M useum Collection, N ew York. P erm ission A D A G P
19 6 8 by F ren ch Reproduction R ights Inc.
F e r n a n d L e g e r : L a N oce. C an va s, 1 9 1 1 . M usee N atio n al dA rt
M oderne, P aris. P : S ervice de docum entation photographique
de la Reunion des M usees N atio n a u x , V ersailles; perm ission
SP A D E M 19 6 8 by Fren ch Reproduction R ights Inc.
U m b e r t o B o c c i o n i : T h e Street E n ters the H ouse. C an va s. 1 9 1 1 .
N ied ersach sisch es L an d esm u seu m , Stadtisch e G alerie, H annover.
Y v e s T a n g u y : P eiv tu re. C an va s, 19 2 8 . Collection Ja cq u e s U llm an ,
P aris. P : G alerie A .F . Petit, P aris.
G e o r g e s B r a q u e : F a c e et Profd. C an v a s, 19 4 2 . C ollection o f Mr.
and M rs. H erm an E . Cooper, N ew York. P: C ourtauld Institute o f
A rt, London.
P i e r o d i C o s i m o : S im onetta V espucci. W ood, ca. 14 8 0 . M usee
Conde, C h an tilly. P : G iraudon.
S a l v a d o r D a l i : C a u ch em a r de violon celles m ous. C an va s, 19 4 0 .
Collection M r. and M rs. A. Reynolds M orse, C levelan d. P : The
Reynolds M orse Foun d ation , C leveland.
H e n r i M a t i s s e : T h e P in k N u d e. C an va s, 19 3 5 . T h e B altim ore
M useum o f Art (C one C o llectio n ), B altim ore. P erm ission SP A D E M
19 6 8 by F ren ch Reproduction R ights Inc.
J u a n G r i s : S till L ife w ith F ru it D ish. Oil and p a p ier colle on ca n
va s, 1 9 1 4 . P rivate collection. P : G alerie Louise L e iris; perm ission
A D A G P 19 6 8 by F ren ch Reproduction R igh ts Inc.

xv

H ub ert

18 4

193
195
19 6

197
20 3

204
205

206

209

2 11

Mnemosyne:
TH E

P A R A L L E L
AND

B E T W E E N

THE

VISUAL

L I T E R A T U R E
ARTS

CHAPTER I

Ut Pictura Poesis
A N A X IO M oi' idealistic philosophy recorded by E. M. Forster p ro claim s:
A work of art . . . is a unique product. But w hy? It is unique not because
it is clever or noble or beautiful or enlightened or original or sincere or
idealistic or u seful or educational it m ay embody any of those qualities
but because it is the only m aterial object in the universe which m ay
possess internal harm ony. All the others have been pressed into shape
from outside, and when their m ould is removed they collapse. The wTork of
art stands up by itself, and nothing else does. It achieves som ething which
has often been promised by society, but alw ays delusively. Ancient Athens
m ade a m ess but the A ntigone stands up. R enaissance Rom e m ade a
m ess but the ceiling of the Sistine got painted. Jam es I m ade a m ess
but there w as M acbeth. Louis X IV but there w as P h cd re .1 If, then, what
interests you in a work of art is its being unique, if what interests you in a
possible parallel between a poem and a painting is not what they m ay have
in common, but rather w hat differentiates them and m akes each o f them a
thing apart, i f you are not interested m sources but only in the final
product, then the subject of this book w ill appear to you academ ic and
even futile.
On the other hand, the idea of the sister arts has been so rooted in m en's
minds since times o f remote antiquity, that there m ust be in it som ething
deeper than an idle speculation, something tantalizing and refu sin g to be
lightly dism issed, like all problems of origins. One m ight say that by
probing into those m ysterious relationships men think to come closer to
the whole phenomenon of artistic inspiration.
Indeed, even if not actually from prehistoric times (sin ce palaeologists
have shown that the first signs men traced on rock surfaces w ere ab-

M N 1 MOSVN I

stract), certainh Cram the earlv (lowering ol the Civil&ariOft lo which. until
recently, we were proud to belong (until someone stood up to preach that
art must be

raw

obeying only ones impulses and no tradition what

soever), from those remote times until wsterday there has been a mu
tual understanding and a correspondence between painting and po^ny
Ideas were expressed by means of pictures not only m Egyptian hiero
glyphics, but throughout a long and very copious symbolic tradition, part
oi' which has been brilliantly illustrated bv Edgar Wind in his book 011
P a g a n M y s te r ie s in th e R e n a is s a n c e .'

The sphinx was not onl\ a fantastic animal it also possessed lor the
ancients a m eaning which is explained by Pico della Mirandola: "that
divine things should be concealed in riddles and poetical dissimulation.'
Ju st as words take up various and oecasionalh outwardlv contrasting
meanings, so did symbolical figures, and thus the sphinx meant also a
guilty and demented ignorance. We seem to detect the shape of a skull in
the folds of the dress which covers the Virgin's bosom in Michelangelos
Pieta: is it a casual arrangement, or else either a deliberate or a subcon
scious allusion of' this artist in whom, according to Vasari, never did a
thought arise in which death was not engraved'? And while the technopaignia of the Alexandrians and of the seventeenth-centurv poets who
revived that fashion were naive attempts at suggesting objects ( such as an
ax, an altar, a pair of w ings) through a pattern of lines of different
lengths, and Apollinaire's caUigratumes were animated by a similar inten
tion. on the other hand one comes across much weightier pictorial sugges
tions in the course of literature.
These have been studied by an American scholar. Jea n II Hagstrum. in
T he Sister A rts: T h e Tradition o f Literary Pictorialistn and English Poetnj
from D ryden to G ra y. Although Hagstrum, as the subtitle states, is clnefh
concerned with the English tradition, he traces the story of the alliance
between painting and poetry to its origins.4 Two stock phrases, one of
Horace, the other of Simonides of Ceos, enjoyed an undisputed authorin
for centuries: the expression ut pietura poesis, from the Ars poetica, which
was interpreted as a precept, whereas the poet had only intended to sa\
that like certain paintings, some poems please only once, while others can
bear repeated readings and close critical scrutiny; and a comment, attrib

"Ut Pictura Poesis

uted by Plutarch to Simonides of Ceos, to the effect that painting is mute

poetry and poetry a speaking picture.
On such texts the practice of painters and poets w as based for centuries;
the form er derived inspiration from literary themes for their compositions,
the latter tried to conjure up before the readers eyes such im ages as only
the visual arts, one would have thought, m ight adequately convey. A
glance at an old tradition dating back as fa r as Homer's description of
Achilles shield w ill easily convince us that poetry and painting have
constantly proceeded hand in hand, in a sisterly em ulation of aim s and
m eans of expression. This is the case whether you consider the a<9p&creis
of the A lexandrians, the Im agines of Philostratus the Elder, or the plastic
descriptions o f D antes D ivine Com edy (such as the sculptural A nnun
ciation in the tenth canto of the Purgatory), of Boccaccios Am orosa
Visione, and of the Orlando Furioso (to quote only instances from the
Italian tradition); even down to Foscolos Grazie, in which the poet has
Canova for a model, and to DAnnunzios sensuous im ages, which owe a
good deal to the Pre-Raphaelites, who in their turn were saturated with
suggestions from the literary field. And, in the English tradition, one m ay
trace the sam e trend from C haucers description o f the m onum ents o f the
worthies in the House o f Fam e and the paintings in verse in Spenser and
Shakespeare (T h e R ape o f L u c re c e) down to Keats's passages inspired by
Titian. Poussin, the Elgin m arbles, and even by John M artins spectacular
compositions.5
The theme of "directions to the painter, which, devised at first bv
Anacreon, enjoyed a great vogue particularly with English poets, w as no
m ere elegant fiction; painters actually took suggestions from waiters, and
followed schemes invented by the latter in the decoration of w alls and
ceilings as well as in the choice of subjects for single paintings. One m ay
quote the cases of Botticellis Prim avera, Birth of V en u s, and C alu m n y, or
of some of Giorgiones paintings, but there are plenty o f other instances.
On the other hand the ut pictura poesis form ula w as a warning to poets,
since painting served to show that art could only be effective when it kept
close contact with the visible world; and Ben Jonson. after translating a
passage from Philostratus to the effect that W hosoever loves not Picture
is injurious to Truth and all the wisdome of Poetry (w hich brings to mind

M N EM OSYN E

the fam ous lines of T h e M erchant Qf Vcnicc on m u sic), adds

Picture is

the invention of Heaven, the most ancient and most a kin ne to N arine."'1
The amount of prestige achieved by painting, thanks to the great Italian
m asters of the Renaissance* caused Picture to obtain a victorv over her
sister art, Poetry; w itness the poets unrelenting efforts to vie with painters
in the sensuousness of their descriptions.
T his iconic convention, as Hagstrum calls it? prevailed not only in the
R enaissance, but m ost o f all during the seventeenth century, when Giam
battista Marino .and his followers produced galleries of paintings in verse
culm inating in Pierre Le M oynes Pointures m orales, and w hen the litera
ture of emblems was in its heyday. Indeed, in the seventeenth century we
seem to watch the acute phase of a tendency of the im agination winch
Diderot attempted to explain in a passage of the Lettre sui les sourds et les
m uets": II passe alors dans le discours du poete un esprit cjui en meut et
vivifie toutes les syllabes. Qu'est-ce que cet esprit? j cn ai quelqucfois senti
la presence; m ais tout ce que j en sais, e'est que eest lui qui fait que les
choses sont dites et representees tout a la fois; que dans le meme temps
que lentendem cnt les saisit, Fame en est emue, lim agination les voit et
1oreille les entend, et que le discours n est plus seulem em un enchainem ent de termes energiques qui exposent la pensee avec force et noblesse,
m ais que eest encore un tissu dhieroglyphes entasses les uns sur les autres
qui la peignent. Je pourrais dire, en ce sens., que toute poesie est emblematique.7
W hereas the En glish poets of the Elizabethan period had only a va^ue
fam iliarity with painters (the only Italian artist m entioned by Shake
speare. Giulio Rom ano, w as a sculptor o f w ax figures )7", eighteenth-cen
tury En glish poets were generally personal friends of painters, had seen
the m asterpieces o f Italian art, and were them selves collectors of prints
and sometim es of paintings. Shaftesbury w as not exaggerating when he
affirmed that the invention o f prints w as to English culture of the eight
eenth century w hat the invention of' printing had been earlier to the entire
republic of letters.8 In this w ay a pantheon of painters was form ed, a
constellation of fam ous nam es and fam ous works which exerted a para
mount influence on taste. At the beginning of the nineteenth century,
when English painting w as in its heyday, the cultural circles were satu

 Ut Pictura Poesis

rated with connoisseurship. It was m ostly through prints that Keats ac

quired a taste for the visual arts, in the wake of Leigh Hunt, who indulged
in the most extravagant and haphazard parallels between painters and
poets particularly in the case of Spenser, in whom he finds the qualities
of Titian, Rem brandt, M ichelangelo, Rubens, Reni, R aphael, Correggio,
and others.9
In the eighteenth century both poets and painters idealized contempo
rary subjects, deriving suggestions from the ancient statues, investing
modern persons with qualities and attributes taken from history and m y
thology. This custom dated from the times of A lexandria and Im perial
Rome, when sovereigns were represented with attributes of divinity, and
lasted until the time of Canova, who represented Ferdinand IV of N aples
(his face rendered almost grotesque by a plump Bourbon nose) in the garb
of M inerva, the goddess of wisdom and culture [i]. Botticelli represented
a lady, probably Caterina Sforza-Riario, with the attributes of the homony
mous saint, the palm and the wheel (Lindenau M useum , A ltenburg);
Girolamo Savoldo showed another lady as St. M argaret, the dragon at her
side (Capitoline Gallery, R o m e); T itian m ade a portrait [2] of a young ladv
as Venus binding the eyes of Cupid. M ignard and Reynolds'" portrayed
m embers of the nobility as m ythological fig u res: M ignard represented the
M archioness of Seigneleys as Thetis, and the Count o f Toulouse as sleep
ing Cupid; Reynolds m ade Mrs. Sheridan into a St. Cecilia [3], Mrs. Blake
into a Juno, and Mrs. Siddons the Tragic Muse (Rom ney chose the sam e
role for Mrs. Y ates). In the second scene of the fourth act of Steeles The
T en d er Hnshand ( 1 7 0 5 ) this fashion is ridiculed in a dialogue between
Captain Clerimont, who is disguised as a painter, and Biddy Tipkin (M r.
Tipkins n ie c e ) :
N iccc. Since there is room for fan cy in a picture, I would be drawn like
the amazon Thalcstris, with a spear in m y hand, and an helm et on a table
before me. At a distance behind let there be a dw arf, holding by the bridle
a milk-white palfrey.
Clerim ont. M adam, the thought is fu ll of spirit, and if you please, there
shall be a Cupid stealing aw ay your helmet, to show that love should have
a part in all gallant actions.

a n t o n i o c a n o v a : Ferdinand IV of Naples as Minerva. Marble, 1800

t i t i a n : Portrait of a Young Lady as Venus Rinding the Eyes of Cupid. Canvas,

m id-1550s

s ir j o s h u a

R e y n o l d s : Mrs Sheridan as St. Cecilia. Canvas, 1 7 7 5

 Ut Pictura Poesis

ii

N iece. That circum stance m ay be very picturesque.

Clerim ont. Here, m adam , shall be your own picture, here the palfrey,
and here the d w arf the d w arf m ust be very little, or we shant have room
for him.
N iece. A d w arf cannot be too little.
Clerim ont. Ill m ake him a blackam oor to distinguish him from the other
too powerful d w arf ( S ig h s ) the Cupid Ill place that beauteous boy
near you, twill look very n atu ral Hell certainly take you for his mother
Venus.
N iece. I leave these particulars to your own fan cy.
Oliver Goldsmith, in the sixteenth chapter of the T h e Vicar o f W ake
field, has written a witty satire o f the conversation piece in allegorical
costum es: the V icars fam ily, desirous of outdoing a neighboring fam ily in
point of taste, decides to be portrayed in one large historical fam ily piece.
and as no suitable subject comes to their m inds, they are contented each
with being drawn as independent historical figures, the w ife as Venus, the
two sm aller children as Cupids, Olivia as an Am azon, Sophia as a shepherd
ess, and the Vicar in his gown and band. in the act of presenting his
w ife i.e., V enus with his book on the W histonian controversy.
Very frequently the allegories in paintings of this description were
derived from the fam ous repertory of Cesare R ipas Iconology, whose
influence on the arts has been the subject of a well-known studv bv Em ile
M ale,11 and whose sources have been traced bv E rn a M andow sky.1- Such
cultural background accounts for the pleasure, described by Joseph Warton, of people who, in wandering through a wilderness or grove, suddenlv
behold in the turning of the w alk, a statue of some

v ir tu e

or

m u se

.13

Thus during the eighteenth century the time-hallowed iconic tradition

gathered strength from the definite influence of certain painters. We
moderns have always felt no little surprise at the popularity enjoyed in
that century by painters who later sank in the critics estim ation, until
quite recently, when a kind of re-evaluation o f them seem s to have taken
place: Guido Reni, the C arracci, Guercino. Reni was a past m aster of
delicacy and grace to the eighteenth century, which extolled those qualities
above all others. A widespread opinion holds that poets anticipated
painters in the discovery of new realm s of the im agination, but H agstrum

12

M N I M OS \ \ I

h is shown in his book ili.it Iarras Thom son celebrated .is the inv< mm ol
the lom im tic landscape, did nothing othea than

d x d s I'ci

into poetry

themes common to seventeenth century ltnidscapc painters

not onlv

Claude L o n ain [ |] and Salvator Rosa, but dsn other m asters who used the
natural scene as a m auilesiatiou oi heroic, pastoral or re ligions ideals.
That the heroic rather than die natural

landscape was Thom son s real

source of inspiration is proved by Lis use ol personifications .is die ftn <1
point of the scene. Nature becomes organized around those personific a
tions, whom the poet provides with suitable attributes and is attuned to
them. Thom son's description, in the revised version ol the passagd on the
advent of Sum m er, ol the "parent of Seasons," i.e., the Sun, in his beam
ing car around which the rosv-fingerecl hours'' dance, is e\identl\ in
spired by Guido Renis fam ous ceiling with the f resco of Aurora [5].
W illiam Collins' allegories are also indebted to Reni. and the first visual
parallel to them which com es to mind is his Fortiuiu, whose alabaster bod\
hovers on an azure globe against a pale blue skv (6). Snn ilarh

Thom as

G ray's pantheon consisted o f the Rom an m asters ol the sixteenth centun

and the Bolognese o f the seventeenth, on whose paintings he took copious
notes during his Grand Tour: the m clanchoh which tinges his Eleg\

is o f

the sam e quality as that which Poussin breathed into Ins celebrated paint
ing Et in A rcadia Ego [7]. In other poems Gray, like Thom son, m akes the
scene subservient to some quasi-m ythological persona whose function is
to organize the details and interpret them as m anifestations of some kind
of anim istic order and m eanin g."11 Those allegories the offspring o f
Ripa's iconological fa m ily fulfill in poetry the sam e function that the
statues had in the parks; they im part to the scene a note o f m editation and
reverie which shortly was to have a new n am e: rom antic sensibility.
Thus the transitions from painting to poetry and from poetry to painting
were almost im perceptible in those times. This kind of interrelation can be
am ply illustrated from any of the literatures of the West, and although it
legitim ately form s a chapter in the treatment of the whole subject of the
parallel between the arts, it is by no m eans the most im portant part o f it.
This is because all these relationships do not tell us much about the style
in which the borrowings are conducted. The fact that a poet had a painter
in m ind while com posing his poem does not necessarily involve a similar-

g u i d o r e n i : Aurora. Fresco, 1G13

g u i d o r e n i : Fortuna. Canvas, ca. 16 2 3

 Ut Pictura Poesis

15

ity in poetics and style. This sim ilarity m ay be pressed to a certain extent,
although this has seldom been attempted, in the cases of Thom son and
Collins; however, their approaches to the painted source are not quite the
same. I f we compare, for instance, Thom sons passage on the advent of
Sum mer, to which I have just referred, with Collins Ode to Even in g, we
see that the form er is still within the boundaries of Virgilian description
and the poetic diction, which im part to its lines a stately rhythm fam iliar
to readers of Latin and neo-Latin poetry (in fact, Thom sons lines lend
them selves easily to a Latin tran slation ); w hereas the latter, notwithstand
ing its personifications with their m onum ental air and passe-partout qual
ity, has inflections and nuances rem inding us of Milton on one side, and

N ic o la s

p o u s s i n : Et in Arcadia Ego. Canvas, 1 6 5 0 - 5 5

g u e r c i n o : Aurora. Fresco, 1 6 2 1 - 2 3 . Villa Ludovisi, Rome

on the other anticipating the sensibility mt Keats's ode To Autum n. Read

side by side these lines from Thom sons Sum m er :
w h ile, round thy beam ing car.
H igh-seen, the Seasons lea d , in sprightly dance
H arm onious knit, the rosy-fingered hours,
T h e zephyrs floating loose, the tim ely rains,
O f bloom ethereal the light-footed clews,
A nd, softened into joy, the surly storm s
and Collins description o f the various m\ thical figures attending the car of
E v e n in g :
For w h en thyI fo ldin g Star arising shews
His paly Circlet, at his n a m in g Lam p
T h e fragrant Hoiirs, and E lves
W ho slept in Buds the Day,
A nd m any a Nym ph w ho w reaths her Brows with Sedge,
A nd sheds the freshening De iv, and lovelier stdl,
T h e Pensive Pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadoicy Car.

 Ut Pictura Poesis

17

Both passages can be termed pictorial, and one m ay further add that
Thomson's description is closer to R en is neoclassical A urora, which has
been compared to a frieze or bas-relief, and Collins to Guercino's more
m elancholy and rom antic Aurora [8] in the Villa Ludovisi. with its chiaro
scuro effects, and the m agic of cypresses and stormy clouds. In fact, a detail
[9] of Guercinos N ight taken from D iirers M elencolia, the pensive figure
sitting under a broken arch while a bat flitters by overhead, m ight recall
this passage by Collins:
Nozu air is h usltd, save xvhere the zueak-eyd bat,
W ith short shrill Shriek flits by on leathern W ing.
It would be tempting, but unw arrantable, to assum e that Thom son had
Renis Aurora in mind, and Collins Guercinos; but it is safer to say that
their pictorial inspiration can be defined only looselv, whereas the poetic
tradition to w'hich the two poets were beholden can be much more pre
cisely assessed.

g u e r c i n o : Night. Fresco, 16 2 1- 2 3 . Villa Ludovisi, Rome

l8

MNEMOSYNE

Orher explorations of the sam e kind lead us 10 sim ilar conclusions.

Take, for instance. Keatss notes on liis Scottish tour, where lie imagines
on Lorh Lomond a fleet of chivalry bargt^ wttli trumpets and banners,
fad ing in the a/.ure distance am ong the mountains. Wc are tokl

that the

inspiration for this fan tas\ cam e to him 6 0 in C laudes so-called / nchant&d Castle, but. unless thus warned, we would find its counterpart
rather in the m edieval fantasies of the conventional rom antic painter
Fhom as Cole, whose T h e D eparture and T he Return (both in the Cor
coran Gallery of Art, W ashington) show crenelated castles overlooking
rom antic expanses of water, and barges with warriors wearing feathered
helm ets. Doth Ingres and D elacroix have compositions on a then fashiona
ble theme from the N ear East, to whose popularity Byron's T ales in verse
had largely contributed: the harem . Ingress Odalisque [10 ], painted in
1 8 1 4 . rem inds us of Canova's Puolinu Borghese as V enus; but D elacroixs
W om en o f A lgiers [ n ] of 18 3 4 is based on sketches m ade directh on the
spot by the painter h im self,1'1 and this painting has a closer fam ih likeness
to R enoirs painting [12 ] 011 a sim ilar subject (P arisian s D ressed in Algerian
Costum e. 18 7 2 , conceived as a hom age to D elacroix), than to Ingress. In
cases like this the link between art and literature is even looser than in the
case of Thom son and Collins just exam ined. But themes m ean little; it is
the m anner in which they are treated that deserves consideration, and
Ingres had neoclassical patterns in mind (even the dancer in Le Bain turc
seem s to owe her attitude to an antique bas-relief), while Delacroix,
though he too w as subject to influences, relied first of all 011 firsthand
im pressions treasured with a rom antics love of experience.
All this seem s to confirm the appositeness of a rem ark in Wellek and
W arrens Theory o f Literature that "the various arts the plastic arts,
literature and m usic have each their individual evolution, with a differ
ent tempo and a different internal structure o f elem ents. . . . We m ust
conceive of the sum total of m ans cultural activities as of a whole system
of self-evolving series, each having its own set of norm s which are not
n ecessarily identical with those of the neighboring series.17
A sim ilar rem ark concludes the volum e of Helmut A. H atzleld. Litera
ture through A rt, A N ew Approach to Fren ch Literature: "It seemed to me
not only a sound point of view but an absolute principle that the prim ary

20

MNEMOSYNE * 1

and predom inantly aesthetic approach In the analysis of any art cannot be
replaced by any other, if art is not to he, deprived ol in very th ai.it ter.
he adds that

But

it must be supplem ented by what some li.n e ca Iltd p ristcs-

geschichti or the History ol Ideas.' il the aesthetic problems are to he

understood." And his final words are that in his book he has attempted to
apply Wolfflins principles to the literary lit Id in its iusepai.ib ilm from
art. 1"
Professor Hafcsfelds book bears however not so much on the parallel
between the various arts, as on a sort of iconologic expligu ce par lc^ tc \(es
its utility lies in its being a repertory ol themes, though not arranged in the
form of a catalogue like A. Piglers B u r o c h t h c n i c v Although he produces
a num ber of stim ulating exam ples, lie never seems to reach a clear defini
tion of principles, and deliberately rules out a m oiphology of the arts.
But actually we are entitled to speak of correspondences onh v\here there
are com parable expressive intentions and com parable poetics, accom pa
nied by related technical m edia. Too often Professor H at/feld is content
with finding purely them atic parallels, so that his book results in an
approxim ate fitting of literary texts to contem porary paintings, something
which has alw ays been done. No Italian secon dan school teacher ever fails
to mention Botticellis P'rhnavera when speaking o f Politians Stauze-. two
works whose resem blances are m uch less significant than their differ
ences. Some of his rapprochem ents are apposite, as when lie m entions in
one breath D escartess esprit geom etriqne, the form al gardens, and the
paradoxical logic of the R acinian plots. But a list of his less convincing
parallels would detract from his work that m odicum of originality which
consists in his choice of subject. He sees in Cezanne the perfect in carn a
tion of G autiers and Baudelaire's ideas on art. and in Puvis de Chavannes's
insipid frescoes a m ajestic sim plicity whose form ula would be found in
Cezanne; he sees in Ingres's O dalisque a counterpart of Victor Hugos Sara
la baigncuse; he considers Georges de la Tour and R acine representatives
o f the sam e spiritual tencbroso; and he finds points o f contact in Balzac
and Renoir, and between the fam ous carriage drive in M adatue B ovary and
the passing of carriages in Renoir's Les Grands Boulevards au prinlcm ps.
If a parallel is to be found for that fam ous episode in Flauberts novel, it
is in nineteenth-century genre painting, where it was custom ary to suggest

12

p i e r r e -a u g u s t e r e n o i r : Parisians Dressed in Algerian Costume. Canvas, 18 7 2

22

M N I M O S V \ 1- ' 1

a s io n through a hint a gesture winch appeal*d to the inti lle( t or the

tc't'li11*4 ol the onlookers. T h e passage dcsi nl)i'> a moment when
middle ol the da\, in the open (o n n tn

in the

wink* the sun is striking on the old

lantt m s of the carriage, a naked hand is thrust from behind the ( in tain of
vellow d o tli at Lhecarriage window and scatters hits ol paper, which flatter
like' so m am butterflies on a held ol red clover in hlosvoiu. I Ins im pres
sionist attention to blots ol color (silvered lantern* of the carriage, curtain
of vellow cloth hits of white paper, field of red elo \er) and the oppressne
m elan d ioh of the drive arc typical ol the ninetcenth-ientm \ tiiste which
w as fond of 'pathetic circum stances such as cause a lump in

th e

throat.

The spirit ol Flauberts episode m akes one think however, lather of Vic
torian painters than o f French im pressionists. It is enough to call to mind
M illais's T he B lind Gu I [1 3] who

sits

in the midst of an enchanting

rainbow-spanned landscape with a pied buttcrlh resting on her shaw l: all

tilings the unfortunate girl is unable to see. Her predicam ent has the sam e
appeal for the onlooker as the guess of what m ay be happening inside the
carriage has for the reader o f Flaubert's novel.
In most cases the parallelism s produced In Professor Hatzleld arc no
more cogent than the vague impressions which anvone can feel in the
presence of a work of art. We h a\e already m entioned Leigh Hunts
haphazard quotations of painters apropos of Spenser. It is not uncommon
to hear people linking the nam es of W atteau and Mozart as typical o f the
spirit of the eighteenth century. 111 the sam e wav others, as 1 have said,
speak of Politian and Botticelli as expressions of the mood o f the Floren
tine R enaissance. But, in the words o f W ellek and W arren, this is the kind
of parallelism which is of little worth for purposes o f precise an alysis.
On the other hand, do we, when speaking o f precise analysis, intend
som ething like Etienne Souriau's La Currcspondauce des a r t s which tries
to establish on a scientific basis a series of correspondences alreadx \ agueh
hinted at by Gregorio Com anini? This hum anist, in his dialogue II Fiqino
overo del Fin e della p itlu ia , had gone a step farther than the common
belief, shared by Ben Jonson. in the affinity of poetry and painting. Com a
nini quoted the compositions of the bizarre painter Arcimboldo as exam
ples of transpositions of m usical tones into visual terms, and concluded by
saying that the various arts walked side by side and with the sam e laws 111

13

SIK J O H N EVERETT m i l i . a i s , The Blind Girl. Canvas, 1856

2.}

M N I M OS Y N I

ijm u in g their im ages ("del pari e con 1( niedesime leggi nel for mart? i lor
s in n ila c ii').

Holder still

Louis Bertrand Casicl m his OptiqiLt des cou-

lemti ( 17 4 0 ) , descitbed a clavecin ocuUtirr in which the various <olois of a

palette were distributed am ong the keys o f the instrum ent. And Diderot in
th e Lettve from which we have already quoted, addressed to the author ol
l.cs Beuux-Arts reduits a v n merrnc p rin cip e i.e., the Abbe Batteux
wrote: "B alan cer les beautes d im poete avec celles d un autre poete. eest
ce quon a fait m ijje fois. Mais rassem blej les beautes connnunes de la
poesie, de la pcinture et de la m usique; en niontier les a n a l o g i e s ; explujuer
comment le poete. le peintre et le m usicien rendent la meme im age; saisir
les em blemes lugitifs de leur expression: exam iner s'll 11 \ aurait pas
quelque sim ilitude entre ces em blem es, etc., eest ce C|ui reste a faire. ei ce
que je vous conseille dajouter a vos Beuu\-urts rediuts a un m em e priucipe
Well m ay Lessing utter a w arning, a few years afterw ards, about the
lim its separating poetry and painting, stating that the field ol painting is
space and that o f poetry is time, so that there could be no confusion
between the two of them, w ell m ay he declare false the parallel which
W inckelm ann had drawn between Sophocles' 1Jiiloctetes and the Iaiocoou
as expressions of pain in art. The temptation to explore the correspond
ence between the various arts, to discover the source o f this sevenfold Nde.
has sprung up again every nowT and then in the fan tasy o f artists: Baude
laire's Correspondances," R im bauds sonnet on the vowels, and Des Esseintes's organ of liqueurs are instances of this recurring idea, together with
Scriabin's Poeui of Ecstasy, Op. 54. played in New York in 19 0 8. a G<sa m tknnstuerk with dances, m usic, colors, perfum es: the ideal o f a com
plete fusion of abstract sculpture, abstract painting, and building technol
ogy expressed by J. J. P. Oud and furthered by W alter Gropius and Le
Corbusier:"" and Thom as W ilfred's curious chrom atic kaleidoscope o f col
ored w aves, which can be seen in the M useum of Modern Art. New York.
Not onlvj has the Andersstreben of the various arts been occasionallyj
reaffirm ed by thinkers, as fo r instance by Goethe in his speculations on the
taste of colors and bv W alter Pater 111 a passage o f his School o f Giorgione
( Although each art has thus its own specific order of im pressions, and an
untranslatable charm . . . yet it is noticeable that . . . each art may be

 UtPictnrci Poesis

25

observed to pass into the condition of some other art ); but this Andersstreben has given rise to system atic investigation, of which Souriaus book
can be taken as a specim en.20
Souriau has devised a roulette of seven prim ary arts and seven corre
sponding secondary or representative arts in which the implicit prim ary
form can be found by suppressing the representative param eter ; in this
w ay abstract art is justified as pure painting, but not therefore lacking in
sentim ental appeal and power to move. Thanks to this simple schem e and
the linking of the various arts in pairs, has Souriau actually discovered the
system of this delicate roulette? Music and the art of the arabesque ( a
prim ary form of design) are thus considered related. Certain passages of
Chopins Nocturne, Op. 9, No. 1, when translated into arabesque, yield a
design w hich conveniently colored, or only in chiaroscuro, could be used
as the border of a carpet by a decorator.27 As a m atter of fact, the
arabesques Souriau extracts from m usic have the m eager and angular
aspect of seism ographic records; their relation to the richness and com
plexity of the m usic recalls in fact that which a seism ographic record bears
to that vast and form idable phenomenon the earthquake: they are faint
traces of that trepidation of the spheres to which the m usical composition
can be compared. Possibly they represent the seam y side of m usic, but
what artistic value can we attribute to them?
On the other hand, the reverse o f this experim ent is impossible. One
cannot give the m usical equivalent of the profile of a statue; as m usic
proceeds by scales, all the curves would assum e an angular aspect as in
cross-stitching. Souriau does not feel discouraged by this, he insists rather
on the m agic of the arabesque, of the profile of a c u rv e : Cleopatras nose,
capable of changing the destiny of the world; the outline of his m istress
leg against the sunset, which so fascinated Baudelaire. Souriau does not
ask him self, but we wonder whether the secret of the parallel between the
arts m ight actually turn out to be only a secret of calligraphy.
Perhaps this is what it all am ounts to, as I shall say in a moment.
Each epoch has its peculiar handw riting or handwritings, which, if one
could interpret them, would reveal a character, even a physical appear
ance, as from the fragm ent o f a fossil palaeontologists can reconstruct the
entire anim al. The arabesque extracted from Chopins m usic bears the

M N I M 0-S Y N I

26

sam e relation to it that .1 sam ple of handw riting bears to the complexity of

the live individual. What, in practice, do Souriau s theories boi down to?
Ills system ol the roulette of the arts in.i\ he ol some interest hut when in
the Sistine Chapel he finds a correspondence between Pootelli's

urchitec-

iure. P e Jig in o , and M ichelangelo, we fail to see the point. What is there in
common between Perugino and M ichelangelo? Souriau sees the sam e

spirit 111 Hirers illustrations to Revelation and <11 Dorcs to the R im 4 of the
Ancient M arnier (the only affinity we seem to perceive here is that be
tween the nam es of the two artists. D iner and D orc)

in certain Hyrortic

fantasies of D elacroix; and m Beethoven's b verm res to Coriolan and

EcjmonL "works in w hich, he says,

with various degrees of success, the

affinity of the related compositions, either m usical or visual or literan

seem s to culm inate in an effort to express in the sam e m anner the sam e
inexpressible thing, to conjure up through different spells the sam e half-re
vealed m etaphysical world [po w evotjiier par des joriu nles inaqiqucs differentes tin memc uu-dela senii-snscite}. Perhaps all works of art intercom
m unicate at that height.-9 As Pierre Fran castel has said: La conciliation
cst facile sur le plan des idecs vagu es.*" Or. rather, in the rarefied atm os
phere of ars unu. species m ille, no com parison lias anv sense and the
colors of the rainbow are annihilated into a uniform gravness. and the
wretched infidel gazes him self blind at the m onum ental white shroud that
w raps all the prospect around him , as in M elvilles fam ous passage about
the w hiteness of Mobv Dick.
The rem ark

1 have ju st m ade about handw riting m ay, however, offer us

a starting point for a more satisfactory approach to the parallel between

the various a rts .;i Souriau has shown us that a piece of m usic can be
translated into a graphic form which is, so to say. its cipher, the sign
m anual of the artist. And w hat else is handw riting but the concentrated
expression of the personality of an individual? Of all the sciences or
pseudo-sciences which presum e to interpret the character and destim of
m an from signs, graphology is surely the one which has the soundest
foundation. H andwriting is taught, and certain of its characteristics be
long to the general style of the period, but the personality of the writer, if it
is at all relevant, does not fa il to pierce through. The sam e happens with
art. The lesser artists show the elem ents common to the period in a more

 Ut Pictura Poesis

27

conspicuous m anner, but no artist, 110 matter bow original, can avoid
reflecting a num ber of traits. In terms of handwriting one can speak of a
ductus, or hand, or style of writing not only in actual handwriting, but in
every form of artistic creation, w hich is to an even greater extent

an

expression, something pressed or squeezed out of the individual.

If the language I am using now seem s to come close to Croces definition
of aesthetics as "a science of expression and general linguistic; I must
declare from the outset that I do not share, on the other hand, Croces
belief that the single expressive facts are like as m anv individuals, each
incom parable with the other except in a very general way. To put it in
terms of scholastic philosophy, this is a species which cannot in its turn
fulfill the function of a genus. The im pressions, i.e. the contents, v ary:
every content differs from another, because nothing repeats itself in life;
and from the continuous variety of contents there follows the irreducible
variety of the expressive facts, which are the aesthetic syntheses of the
im pressions.*2
This passage in Croces A esthetic im m ediately precedes his statem ent
that translations are impossible and that every translation creates a new
expression. And consequently Croce would dism iss as inappropriate any
talk about a parallel between the various arts. In the passage just quoted
he says that the single expressive facts are incom parable with each other
except in a very general w ay ( I singoli fatti espressivi sono altrettanti
individui, luno non ragguagliabile con laltro se non genericam ente, in
quanto espressione ). It rem ains to be seen what range we m ay give to the
qualification se non genericam ente ; and this is w het we shall try to
determine in the next chapter.

14

Charioteer of Delphi and Ionic Column

15

The Hennin and Gothic Pinnacle

C H A P T E R II

Time Unveils Truth

S O M E time ago that great authority on clothes and underclothes, Mr.
Jam es Laver, brought out a little book1 in which, following a suggestion
from Gerald H eards N arcissus, An Anatom y of C l o t h e s he took a surpris
ing short cut to prove that the style o f a period is stamped on all its art
form s, even on the com m crcial art of dressm aking, for all its so-called
caprice. This seem s a truism w hat about those old-fashioned school
textbooks of literary history where we find each section introduced by a
passage which purports to show that political events are reflected in the
character of any given period of literature? Have we not heard enough
about the Zeitgeist the spirit of the age? Still, in his com pact little book,
sim ply by m atching on opposite pages an A ssyrian m itre and a Chaldean
ziggurat, the Charioteer of D elphi and an Ionic column [14 ], the shape of a
m edieval knights helm et and a Gothic arch, the hennin, that typical
headdress of fifteenth-century ladies, and a flam boyant Gothic pinnacle
[15 ], a trunk hose and an Elizabethan table leg, and so on, Mr. Laver
contrives to put before us, beyond all doubt, a fact which elaborate disqui
sitions about the spirit of the age very often tend to obscure: the close
relationship, or air de fam ille as we m ay call it. between the expressions of
the various arts in any given epoch of the past.
Rem arks to the sam e effect have been made by a historian of Italian
costume, Rosita Levi Pisetzky:
Unity of taste is more or less distinctly discernible in all historical
periods. It is therefore useful to com pare the characteristics of architec
ture and of clothes respectively, because this will help us to understand the
clim ate in which the dresses fashionable at the time were created. Thus,
sixteenth-century palaces strike us by the greater stress laid on effects of

30

M M

M OSYM

II

volume, as contrasted to tbfi linear Harness ol hin*( nth-i ( mm v constnitlions mid b y

the appearance of the cuivc a s ;i par mioum strin m r a l

element ui the frequency ol arches, in the circular plan of manv court

yards, in the spiral shape ol many s t a i i s

whereas in the previous age. the

straight hue \ariouslv coinhined, was the b a s i s of architectural design. I he

harmonious characteristics of architecture reappear in the serene Hardens
rich in fruit* and flowers which stretch 111 trout of the luxurious Cfnquecento counts) houses, with calculated vistas that frequently a m v erg e into
large oval spaces; even in the waterworks whose jets fall archwise into
variously curvilinear ponds, in the swelling waterfalls which often pour
their liquid lawn within the frame of large round niches of stagehke
columned grottoes. . . . Dresses, particularly womens, are on the whole
conceived so as to am plify the human figure without altering its propor
tions. The simplified synthesis which triumphs in the Cinquecento. with
its emphasis on effects of volume, is evident also in the ample and majestic
flow of the fabrics on the forms of the body. Thus the break already

i6

m a s t e r o f t h e b o r r o m f o g a m e s : The Game of the Palma (detail). Fresco,

ca. 1450; Casa Borromeo, Milan

Time Unveils Truth

31

begun at the end of the fifteenth century is completely effected from the
sharp Gothic predilection for the straight line [16] which delighted in the
naive and curious invention of m inute details. Italian fashions find a
balance in a m asterly and broad accord of form s and colors, with a calm
alternation of horizontal lines which cut across the vertical shape of the
figure. The low-hung sleeves harm oniously em phasize the shoulder line in
all its broadness [17 ]. The square decolletage underlines the width of the
bust, the w aist m arked in its natural position without stiffness, and the
round skirt o f the women, the knee-breeches of men, are features which
cut down the figure instead of stressing its slim ness as in the Gothic
fashions.3
The sam e author observes that in the seventeenth century the search for
effects of chiaroscuro, so typical o f baroque painting and architecture,
finds a counterpart in the textile fabrics, where such effects are achieved
at times by em ploying various working processes in turns, as in cisele
velvets, and at times by varying the hues and shades with an almost
Caravaggio-like touch in distributing colors, light and dark [18].
Such a close relationship between the expressions of the various arts
seems almost inevitable. Far from being dictated by the whim of a court
lady or the com m ercial speculation of a dressm aker, clothes, says Mr.
Laver, are nothing less than the furniture of the mind m ade visible, the
very m irror of an epochs soul. 1 Skeptics m ay think that some of the
instances of parallelism given are m ere coincidences. But the amount of
evidence to the contrary is such that one ends by wondering whether, in
this difficult field, we are nowadays in the position of those early linguists
who discovered the fam ily relationship am ong Indo-European languages:
like Filippo Sacchetti, for instance, who, traveling in India at the end of
the seventeenth century, noticed the linguistic affinity between a few San
skrit and Italian words, or like the Bohem ian scholar Gelenius who, in
15 3 7 , was the first to connect the Slavic with the W estern languages.
Another proof of the peculiarity o f the cluctns or hand o f each given
period comes also from an unexpected field: the field of art fakes. It is not
at all true to say, as Leo Larguier once rem arked in an otherwise delightful
little book calculated to appeal to all art-lovers, Les Tresors de Palm yre,
that time works to confer a patina on fakes which are too evident nowa-

17

school of

R a p h a e l : Portrait of Giovanna d Aragona. Canvas, ca. 1 5 1 8

34

M N EM OS Y N t: II

days, so that these after many yew s will be the. pride o f the museum of
some town 111 Am erica or Czechoaiovalg.fi.
that Tim e unveils truth

Hath.ejft', the hackneyed saying

is never so pimetuall\ verified a s in the case of

lakes. And this is not because fakes are detected in due course, or because
modern processes enable us to lix the age of the m aterials of a work of art.
X rays, chem ical tests, the quart/ lam p all these are fine inventions, but
there is another factor, much sim pler and equally infallible, which conies
into play.
E very aesthetic evaluation represents the meeting o f two sensibilities,
the sensibility of the author of the work of art and that o f the inteipreter.
What we call interpretation is, in other words, the result ol the filtering of
the expression of. someone else through our own personality. T his is
evident in a m usical perform ance, but no less evident in am form of
imitation. It is evident, but not necessarilv so to contem poraries, and this
is the point. Because the interpretation o f a work of art consists of two
elem ents, the original one supplied by the artist of the past and the one
which is superim posed by the later interpreter, one m ust wait until the
latter element also belongs to the past in order to see it peep through, just
as would happen with a palim psest or a m anuscript written in sym pathetic
ink. Contem poraries are as a rule not aw are of this superimposed element,
because it is the common w ay of feeling at the time, it is in the air one
breathes; they are no more aw are of it than a healthy person is o f his own
physiological functions. But let a few years pass ( they need not be m an y),
and the point o f view changes insensibly but inevitably; historical and
philological research alters the data of a problem; and certain aspects of
the personality of an artist, not apparent before, are brought into the light,
with the result that we no longer feel as our fathers did. or as we ourselves
felt yesterday.
Now the im itator o f a work o f art crvstallizes the interpretation and the
taste of the time in which he is working. With the passing of years the
second of those two elem ents which I have mentioned is em phasized and
exposed; and just as, in the film inspired bv Stevensons fam ous story
Je k ylls profile pierces through the face o f the dead Mr. Hyde little by little,
so in forgeries the profile of the faker gradually em erges from underneath
the disguise. Since every epoch acquires iresh eyes." M ax J . Friedlander

Time Unveils Truth

35

has acutely remarked, "Donatello in 19 3 0 looks different from w hat he did

in 18 7 0 . That w hich is worthy of im itation appears different to each
generation. Hence, whoever in 18 7 0 successfully produced works by D ona
tello, w ill find his perform ance no longer passing m uster with the experts
in 19 3 0 . We laugh at the m istakes of our fathers, as our descendants will
laugh at us.6 How m any today when confronted with D ossenas sculptures
can help wondering how it w as possible for renowned experts to be de
ceived by them !
No great flair is needed nowadays to see through M acphersons pastiche
of O ssians poems, which caused so m uch discussion at the time, or
through the poems attributed to an im aginary Rowley but actually written
by Chatterton (who paid for his forgery indirectly by killing h im self). The
castle Horace Walpole built in the Gothic style at Strawberry Hill in the
middle years of the eighteenth century strikes us today not so m uch as
Gothic as, rather, Rococo in a Gothic travesty. The painting of Ju piter and
Ganym ede w hich W inckelm ann adm ired as a genuine antique, w hereas it
had been executed by his contem porary Mengs, reveals itself to us clearly
as a neoclassical composition. We detect the languid art nouveau flavor in
certain antique Sienese and Florentine paintings forged bv Icilio Federico
Joni [19 ]. Jon i h im self rem arked about his own forgeries in his m em oirs:

rg

i c i l i o f e d e r i c o j o n i : Narcissus at tin- Spiing

36

M X I MOSVNF

-II

'The illusion w as perfect .it the time," and; "The illusion, even if not
perfect was good enough loi the time.

Even tl tin lorger s u t u v d s in

i+ntaung p e rfe u h tin * technique of the ancient painu i the craqusjure of

the p.inning, the details of eostumc' without anachronism *

even tl he

succeeds in producing 11 painting not put together by copying details from

dais and that old cam as, but recreated i n wh.it he b c lirw s to he the s p u n
of the remote artist; well, granted a l l this, there is one ehiiicn t which will
alw ays betray him : lus own idea of beauty, that is his taste, which will
fatally bear the stam p ol the forgers own time. Botticelli. as the d e c a d e n t s
saw' him , is not the painter we see fifty years later nor the one seen bv the
celebrated Jap an ese art critic Yukio Yaslhro. who illustrated his hook on
the Florentine painter with photographs of details of Botticellis work so
exquisitely and perversely isolated as to look almost like Jap an ese composi
tions.
Consider the insertion of classical elem ents in eighteenth-centun and in
Em pire fu rn itu re: in each case w hat catches the eye first is the character
of the im itating, not the imitated, period; or consider the im itations of
Em pire furniture m ade at the end of the nineteenth century , they h a\e a
fin de siecle, art nouveau touch. A R enaissance applique like the one in the
Kress Collection (N ation al G allerv of Art, W ashington) and an Em pire
one inspired by the sam e m otifs betray a different m anner of seeing the
antique. W hat you call the spirit of past times, m y dear sirs. Goethe has
said, "is after all nothing but your own spirit, in which those times are
reflected.
In the light of this, we should conclude that the type of art criticism
advocated bv W illiam Hazlitt is not art criticism proper but m ereh a
variation of artifex artifici additits. Hazlitt m aintained that

the critic, in

place of analysis and an inquiry into the causes, undertakes to form ulate a
verbal equivalent for the aesthetic effects of the work under considera
tion.'' The transm utation of a painting or some other work of \ isual art
into a literary composition im plies the registering of the writer's own
emotions in front of that work of art: this approach w as introduced by
Diderot and cam e to a clim ax with Oscar W ilde's T h e Critic an Artist. A
fam ous instance is W alter Pater's passage about Leonardo's La G ioeonda,
w hich interprets that elusive figure on the lines of the fatal woman of the

Time Unveils Truth

37

Rom antics. But the description of the fagade of St. M arks given by Ruskin
in T h e Stones of V enice is even more telltale:
A multitude of pillars and white domes, clustered into a long low
pyram id of coloured light; a treasure-heap, it seem s, partly of gold, and
partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into five great vaulted
porches, ceiled with fair m osaic, and beset with sculpture of alabaster,
clear as amber and delicate as ivory, sculpture fantastic and involved, of
palm leaves and lilies, and grapes and pom egranates, and birds clinging
and fluttering among the branches, all twined together into an endless
network of buds and plumes; and in the m idst of it, the solemn form s of
angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across
the gates, their figures indistinct am ong the gleam ing of the golden ground
through the leaves beside them, interrupted and dim, like the m orning
light as it faded back among the branches of Eden, when first its gates
w ere angel-guarded long ago. And round the walls of the porches there are
set pillars of variegated stones, jasper and porphyry, and deep-green ser
pentine spotted with flakes of snow, and m arbles, that h alf refuse and h alf
yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, their bluest veins to kiss the
shadow, as it steals back from them, revealing line after line of azure
undulation, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand; their capitals rich
with interwoven tracery, rooted knots of herbage, and drifting leaves of
acanthus and vine, and m ystical signs, all beginning and ending in the
Cross; and above them, in the broad archivolts, a continuous chain of
language and of life angels, and the signs of heaven, and the labours of
m en, each in its appointed season upon the earth; and above these, an
other range of glittering pinnacles, m ixed with white arches edged with
scarlet flowers, a confusion of delight, amidst which the breasts of the
Greek horses are seen blazing in their bi'eadth of golden strength, and the
St. M arks lion, lifted on a blue field covered with stars, until at last, as if in
ecstasy, the crests of the arches break into a m arble foam , and toss
them selves fa r into the blue sky in flashes and w reaths of sculptured
spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before
they fell, and the sea-nym phs had inlaid them with coral and am ethyst.
T his kind of description, apart from the fact noted by Peter Collins, that
as an architectural appraisal [it] clearly suffer[s] from the defect o f being

38

M N E M O S 1* N r

tl

concerned unly with the external Sirrl'accs not to i\ superlic iwJ decorative
veneer

conjures up before our eyes lViters prose pocm an tin Cincondti

and its model W inekelniann's description ol the Di'Ucdcrc I'ors'o. rather

than the actual building in question. .lust as Ruskm thinks ol the morning
light as it faded hack am ong the branches ol Eden, when first its gates
were angel-guarded long ago. and of m arbles, that h alf refuse and half
yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, their bluest: veins to kiss. and the
shadow, as it steals hack from them, revealing line after line o f a/ure
uudulation, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand,

just so, to \\ inckel-

niann, the left, side of the ribs ol the Torso, with the m uscles nim bly
twined together as in a smooth im erplay of levers and rods, offered the
image of the sea w hen it begins to stir and its surface sw ells little In little
and produces a dim tum ult of its w aves, which urge each other and are
pushed on by others still, and the sight of the back shows him

like a

broad expanse of happy hills, varied and m agnificent hillocks of m uscles

round which, often, im perceptible glades twist like the course of winding
M eander more sensed by feelin g than perceptible to the eyesight."11
Such am plifications and em broideries seem to me to bear witness to the
rom antic taste of these interpreters rather than to the character o f the
work of art that has given rise to them, and it is not u n fair to conclude
with the words of Robin Boyd regarding R uskins passage on St. Mark's
Square:
With every respect for the Venetian m agic we do not see St. Mark's
Square today through R uskin s eyes. Even in his own day he was criticized
for insisting on using the words beauty and ornam entation interchangea
bly. and his rhapsody on Venice as a series of ornam ented boxes finds little
response with us, who are more im pressed bv the spaces, perspectives and
relationships between the buildings and their two paved squares and the
vertical exclam ation m arks and the great open vista to the sea. R uskins
m etaphysics succeeded onlv in doing what m any earlier architectural
theorists had done: in building an order upon the moist foundations of his
special private delights, preconceptions, and prejudices in building.
We m ay be as precise as Ruskin w as about the things we adm ire in
Venice, and no doubt a future generation, reading the v arious apprecia
tions of St. M ark's Square still being written in the twentieth century, will

Time Unveils Truth

39

respect our reasons for adm iring it, as we can respect Ruskins. . . . The
beauty of the square m ay w ell be attributed by a future generation to
qualities unperceived by us, and not consciously intended by its creators.12
W hile W inckelm anns description of the Belvedere Torso betrays in
retrospect the neoclassical appreciation of qualities in ancient art which
appealed to that generation, so m uch so that the outcome o f this type of
appreciation w as the smooth, delicately modulated surface o f C anovas
statues; while Paters prose poem on the Gioconda ( She is older than the
rocks am ong which she sits; like a vam pire, she has been dead m any times,
and learned the secrets o f the grave. . . . The fan cy of a perpetual life,
sweeping together ten thousand experiences . . . ) transfers to Leonardos
portrait all the fan tasies which the Gautier-Baudelaire-Flaubert-Swinburne
tradition had been w eaving around the fatal woman, a tradition which we
can follow down to Rider H aggards popular rom ance of the eighties, She;
in the same w ay R uskin s minute, curious elaboration of details m akes us
think of the horror vacai and stuffiness of a Victorian draw ing room. The
passing of time has revealed the contem porary flavor of each of these
descriptions in other words, the type of ductus or handw riting proper to
each single period ju st as it betrays the taste o f the period in the case of
forgeries.
On the other hand, if we take an instance where a painting is transposed
into words by a contem porary of the painter, that is, by a person belonging
to the sam e phase of taste, Hazlitts plea for a verbal equivalent of the
aesthetic effects of the work of art under consideration has more chance of
convincing us. H uysm ans, when he sees in a sacra conversazione attrib
uted at the time to the fifteenth-century painter Bianchi Ferrari sinful and
gruesome im plications, unspeakable lusts and subtle perversions, seem s to
us so fa r gone astray as to provoke our mirth. But his verbal paraphrase of
Gustave M oreaus T h e Apparition [20], notwithstanding the protests of
some of the painters adm irers, who tried to clear him of the accusation of
decadence, seem s close enough to the spirit of the painting: L a face
recueillie, solennelle, presque auguste, elle commence la lubrique danse
qui doit reveiller les sens assoupis du vieil Herode; ses seins ondulent et, au
frottement de ses colliers qui tourbillonnent, leurs bouts se dressent; sur la
moiteur de la peau les diam ants, attaches, scintillent; ses bracelets, ses

40

M N F M US Y N F 1 1

ceintures, ms b agues, cradacnt des ctincelles

sm sa robe trjomphaJe,

eoutuiee de perles, raraagee d'argent. l.miee d'or. In c u ira isr des orftfvre
rics dcmt chaque m aille est unS pierre, entre en oomtrustian, croise des
sc.i penteaux de feu, grouille sur la chair mate, sm la peau rose the. ainsi
que des insectes splendides aux elvtres eblouissants, omrbres de cajnun
ponctues de jaim e aurore, diapres de bJcu dacier, tigres ile vert paon
T in s passage, in fact, brings out clearly the art nouveau element in .Mo
reau's inspiration; it has caught its spirit so well as to he at the sam e tune
an imitation ol his handw riting and an interpretation o f it.
One would think, then, that if an artist is at the sam e time a writer, we
should be likely to find in his work the surest test of the theory o f a parallel
between the arts. Bui according to Wellek and W arrens T h eory oj Litera
ture, we are bound to be disappointed:
Theories and conscious intentions mean something very different in the
various arts and say little or nothing about the concrete results o f an
artists activity: his work and its specific content and form .
How indecisive for specific exegesis the approach through the authors
intention m ay be. can best be observed in the rare cases when artist and
poet are identical. For exam ple, a comparison of the poetry and the
paintings of Blake, or o f Rossetti, w ill show that the character not merely
the technical quality o f their painting and poetry is very different, even
divergent. A grotesque little anim al is supposed to illustrate T v g e r! T vger!
burning bright. T hackeray illustrated Vanity Fair him self, but his smirky
caricature of Becky Sharp has hardly anything to do with the com plex
character in the novel. In structure and quality there is little comparison
between M ichelangelos sonnets and his sculpture and paintings, though
we can find the sam e Neo-Platonic ideas in all and m ay discover some
psychological sim ilarities. T h is shows that the m edium of a work of art
(an unfortunate question-begging term ) is not m erely a technical obstacle
to be overcome by the artist in order to express his personality, but a factor
pre-formed by tradition and having a pow erful determ ining character
which shapes and modifies the approach and expression of the individual
artist. The artist does not conceive in general m ental terms but in terms of
concrete m aterial: and the concrete m edium has its own history
quently very different from that of any other m edium .1*

fre

42

M M v M O S Y N K II
Of course one cannot deny that

them selves contain the

seeds

loi instance, certain tnotrical form s

<>t theii luturc development that the sonnet

and the heroic couplet progress through successive stage* like live genera,
and that Pope brought to perfee tion cliarac teristics which bad been notice
able in the heroic couplet since the time of Drayton. Paul Valery confessed
to F. Le F erre that the decas\llabie ib w h m of the Cim etiere rnariif'
haunted him before the subjec t and the verbal elem ents of the poem had
taken form in his m ind.15 Pope was also something of an artist (he had
taken painting lessons from his friend Charles Jerv is), and he planned his
own garden at Tw ickenham [2 1. 22] and advised friends on their gardens.
Now, his principles of gardening were v e n close to the pattern of his
heroic couplet. Let us hear what Edward Matins has to sa\ about them in
English Landscaping aiul Literatu re, 16 6 0 - 18 4 0 : "How did Pope m anage
to put into practice, in so sm all an area as his estate, his R ules 'Con
trasts, the m anagem ent of Surprises and the concealm ent o f Bounds'? It
seems that he achieved contrasts through varied planting in irregular
patterns and serpentine lines: surprise by the tunnelled entry into the
grotto under the Hampton turnpike road . . . and by placing temples and
other architectural features to confront one suddenly on turning a corner;
and the concealm ent of bounds by giving the eye an uninterrupted view to
infinity by ingenious planting leading through vistas down to the Tham es.
The lights and shades he m anaged by disposing the thick grove work, the
thin, and the openings in a proper m anner. As a painter, he writes, you
m ay distance things by darkening them, and by narrow ing the plantations
more and more towards the end. 10
Nowr, if you think of the various devices he employed to prevent the
heroic couplet (a narrow enough unit of verse) from sounding monot
onous, through a skillful use of the caesura and of various rhetorical figures
the figura sententia (lik e Dam n with fain t praise, assent with civil
leer ), the antim etabole or inversion, and so 011 w hich result in the
typical pattern of antithetical wit, you will find that Pope had alreadv put
into practice that correspondence between the art of gardening and scan
sion w7hich C apability Brown stressed in a fam ous explanation of his
principles: N ow th ere, said he. pointing his finger. I m ake a com m a, and
there, pointing to another spot where a more decided turn is proper, I

21

A Plan of Mr. Popes Garden as it ivas left at his Death, Taken by Mr. Serle his
Gardener ( 1 7 4 5 )

22

w illia m

k en t:

A Viezv in Popes Garden. Drawing, ca. 17 2 0 -3 0

}.J

M N M OS YN f - I I

make a colon; at another pan (w here an interruption is desirable- to break

the view ) a parenthesis now a lu ll stop, anti then I begin another sub
ject."17
If one exam ines the verse of minor poets, one finds that in em ploying
different m etrical form s they come recognizably under the influence of the
poets who stamped these form s with their own c haracter: Vincenzo Monti
writes terza rim a in the m aim er o f Dante and of the latters eighte&nctrcentury revivalist Alfonso Varano, but when he writes blank verse, liis
model is different, since Carlo lnnocenzo Krugoni was his m aster in this
m etrical form. So that the objection formulates! b\ Wellek and Warren
about the difference of m edia would apply not onh to two difTerent arts,
but would also work within the boundaries of the sam e art. The \au o u s
genres had their own rules and traditions, and when John Singleton
Copley composed in the heroic m anner he followed different models than
when lie painted portraits.
A ctually, then, the objection that one cannot com pare the various arts
because each of them has a tradition o f its own has less weight than might
at first seem to be the case. On the other hand, the instances put forward
in the T heory of Literature to show that artists who are at the sam e time
poets express them selves in very different, or even divergent, styles ac
cording to the m edia they use, can be qualified to some extent.
M ichelangelo w as suprem e as an artist and only of middle stature as a
poet, but can we actually m aintain that there is such a gap between his
work as a painter, sculptor, and architect on one side, and his sonnets on
the other, as to make a com parison futile? Erwin Panofskv, in

The

Neoplatonic Movement and M ichelangelo, observed that each o f his fig

ures is subjected . . . to a volum etric system of almost Egyptian rigidity
But the fact that this volum etric system has been forced upon organism s
of entirely un-Egyptian vitality, creates the impression of an interm inable
interior conflict. And it is this interior conflict, and not a lack o f outward
direction and discipline, w hich is expressed by the brutal distortions
incongruous proportions and discordant com position o f M ichelangelo's
figures. . . . Their m ovem ents seem to be stifled from the start or para
lyzed before being completed, and their most terrific contortions and m us
cular tensions never seem to result in effective action, let alone locomo

Time Unveih Truth

45

tion.ls This sense of m an struggling under a weight that he contrives to

support but never succeeds in overthrowing, expressed by the twisted
postures of M ichelangelos heroes and by the roughly hewn portions of
some of his statues, is evident also in the harsh and jagged style of the
sonnets. In this respect M ichelangelo stands out as unique in the Italian
tradition of Neo-Platonic sonneteers. The only compositions which offer
some sim ilarity to his are Donnes Holy Sonnets: in both poets the devout
fitts come and go aw ay / Like a fantastique Ague ; faith has proved such
a difficult conquest for them, that they are continually afraid o f slackening
in zeal; both of them try to overcome the aridity of their hearts, they feel
between their hearts and God a barrier which only God can break. In his
peculiar m ixture of' realism and Platonism , in the dram atic turn of his
genius as well as in his laborious yearning for beauty and religion, in that
double character of half-baffled, half-trium phant struggle, in his power of
depicting the horrors of sin and death and the terrible effects of the wrath
of God, Donne is perhaps nearer to M ichelangelo than to anybody else.19
As for Blake, if we do not restrict ourselves to com paring the poem The
T yger to the grotesque little anim al intended for its illustration, but take
into consideration the whole range o f Blakes m ythical figures, there are
plenty of fearsom e, awe-inspiring beings which can vie with the tiger of
the poem in intensity and power: see for instance the title page to M ilton,
T he House o f D eath, or N ebuchadnezzar [23]. There is certainly some
exaggeration in J. H. H agstrum s contention that Blake molded the sister
arts, as they have never been before or since, into a single body and
breathed into it the breath of life, and that no m atter that . . . [Blakes
figures] are often form ally distorted and plastically outrageous . . . Blakes
strong sense that his symbolic figures were the living persons of a cosm o
gonic dram a gave them a solid fiesh that no other personifications o f the
period possessed.2' But surely one cannot deny that the sam e ductus is
discoverable both in the eclectic work of the painter, which drew on such
heterogeneous sources, ranging from the m edieval Books of Hours to the
m annerist draughtsm en, from the sixteenth-century artist Hendrick Goltzius to Blakes own contem porary H enry Fuseli, from the sublime com posi
tions of Raphael and M ichelangelo to Flaxin an s flat illustrations; and in
his poetry, which derived from such various C astalian springs as the clear

.}C>

MNEMOSYNE II

Elizabethan songs and the muddy Mow ol the Gssim uc poems. The sam e
difference tli.it is to lie found between the title pages >f the S o n /s of
Innocence [2.}| or the Book o f ThfL on the one side, and the illustration*
Jcnt^oh'nt or lia r and Hrua B alk in g AtU uded by Min ilia |5|, on the
other, is also to be found between the two strains ol poetn just mentioned,
and the dilheulty of bringing together the poetry and the paintings of
Blake is no greater than that of recognizing the sam e hand within each of
those fields.
It is only a superficial judgm ent that would conclude that since Rosset
ti's poetry derived from the eailv Italian poets (but also trom Robert
Browning, u liose poetry w as totally different m character) and his paint
ings from Italian m asters o f the Renaissance (p articu larh the V enetians),
the two arts as he practiced them were not on the sam e level, or even
followed divergent paths. It is more difficult to reconcile the sonnets of T he
House o f L ife with Sister H elen.' or My Sister's Sleep. or Antwerp and
B ruges, than to admit that Rossetti's poetry and paintings are products of

23

w illia m

b la k e :

Nebtichachrezzftr. Color-printed drawing, 17 9 5

25

b l a k e : Har and Heva Bathing Attended by. Mnetha.

Design illustrating Tiriel, ca, 178 9

w illia m

26

d a n t e g a b p .if.i

R O SSET T I:

The Daydream. Canvas, 18So

Time Unveils Truth

49

the sam e inspiration. One of the high lights of the poems are the sonnets
under the heading W illowwood, in which elements borrowed from the
stil nu vvo gain in com plexity and refinem ent, and achieve a vision of
sensuous and m elancholy sym bolism. But is not this the character of Ros
settis paintings [26 and 27], of his blessed damozels and m erciless ladies,
Astartes and sibyls? These are twin allegories which, instead of represent
ing now goodness, now evil, are the two-faced im age of the sam e morbid

27

d a n te g a b rie l R o sse tti:

The Bower-Meadow. CHnvas, 1872

50

MNEMOSYNE

II

and yearning sen su alm

He pen neat us wi t h scnsualit\ the idealization

w liitli characterized the work of Dante and Ins tn cle . and instills a m t.ip ln sical m eaning into Venefiari looking portraits ol women 2S|.
In the case of IahUj Lilith [29], a modern impression is created in terms
o f Venetian st\li/.ation. Although Rossetti was, on the whole. vei\ severe
with all the modern I rcnch painters with whose work he became ac
quainted during his visit to Francc. he did not fail to be duly impressed by
Courbet."' Now Courbets T h e W oman with the Mirror [ 3 0 ] s e e m s to have
suggested the pose of Lady Lilith.

But Courbet's n il haired woman is a

portrait from real life; she is dressed according to distincth mid-mnctccnth-century fashions, and her lace could not be said to conform to a
recognized pattern of beauty; there is som ething abstract about Lady
Lilith, and in fact, w hereas she w as at first inspired by Fanny Cornlorth.
she w as later redrawn from a different model. The result is as am biguous
as that in W illowwood. Ju st as those sonnets remind us of the sfU nnovo
and at the sam e time, seen in this light, sound sophisticated and spurious.

28

T IT IA N :

Venus with the Organ Player. Canvas, ca. 15 4 6 -4 8

29

d an te gabriei. r o s s e t ti: Lady Lilith. Canvas, 1 86468

5 2

M NEM O SYNE

II

.so Ltidi/ I,ihih has not the* purity ol style found in Titians Horn [3 1], of
whom one may he reminded at first, and at the sam e tune lacks also the
truth to life which strikes its 111 Courbets T h e W oman u ilh the Mirror.
Then there is the case of Victor Hugo, whose pen and ink draw ings jja ]
and iioiiachcs show contrasts ol light and shade which have parallels ijj his
literary technique. Gautier wrote of him in his Uistoire dn rom antism e:
"S ll netait pas poete, |il) serai I un peintre de premiei ordre; il ftxcdle a
meler, dans des fantaisies sombres et farouches, les tf'Fets de clair-obscur
de Goya a la terreur architecturale de Piranese.-'1
Other cases of artists active in various fields, which would bring more
support to the contention o f the authors of the Theory o f Literature, could
be quoted. One m ay question, in fact, what common link there is between
Degas's poems and his draw ings, paintings, and sculptures inspired by the

30

nusTAVE co u rb e t: The Woman with the Mirror (La Belle Irlamlaise'). Cam as,
1866

3i

titia n :

Flora. Canvas, ca. 1 5 1 5 - 1 6

mn E ; mo 9 y n e it

54

sam e themes. Degas as a poet is a mere follower within the Handel.minn

ti.idnion whcrea* he is a genuine creator in the visual arts in the latter he
u n ie s in Ins own handw i m ug, whereas in the poem he is like a hegimier
practicing in the Cyrillic alphabet

But take other eases m which there is

an equalh great discrepancy between the at Ineveinents oi m artist in the

various Ju ts take, lor exam ple, the case ol Qanova as a painter

there is

the sam e accent ol deliquescent sweetness in bis group oi I ros ami Vs'yi he
as there is in his mediocre painting (Ahiseo Correr. V enice) on the same
subject.
To conclude, it can he m aintained that there is a general likeness
am ong all the works of art oi a period which later imitations conhrm b\
betraying heterogeneous elem ents; that there is either a latent or a m ani
fest iniitv in the productions of the sam e artist in whatever field he tries
his hand; and that traditions exert a differentiating influence not onh
between o re art and another, but also Within the sam e art, so that there is
nothing in the contention o f Wellek and W arren, any more than there is in
Lessing's objections form ulated in Luokoon. to discourage us from search
ing for a common link between the vaiious arts.

32

v ic to r h ugo;

Huuteville House. Guernsey. Drawing. 1866

C H A P T E R

III

Sameness of Structure in a
Variety ot Media
T I I E reasons why one should not speak of a time spirit determ ining and
perm eating all art seem to be of the sam e order as those brought forw ard
against the possibility of a bumblebees flying: the volum e and weight of the
insect, the sm allness of its w ing surface, rule out the possibility; still, the
bumblebee flies. Or think of how Bertrand Russell m ade fun of the tradi
tional representation of angels: with such large wings they ought to have a
chest projecting like the prow of a ship; still, angels are im agined with
norm al hum an bodies. Of such angels theology, literature, and the visual
arts are full, and nobody seem s to find them preposterous. Angels are of
course m etaphysical beings and as such they hardly offer a convincing
exam ple; but bumblebees do exist, and they are by no m eans the sole
instance in natural phenom ena of a physical im possibility overcome in
some m ysterious w ay. Perhaps the whole subject of the correlation of the
arts has been wrongly approached in most cases.^m en have sought for
resem blances where there could be none, and have overlooked an obvious
fact which w as there all the time for the seeing but which, like Poes
purloined letter, nobody noticed. One wonders whether som ething has
happened here corresponding to w hat Vladim ir Ja . Propp encountered in
the field of fairy tales.
T his R ussian professor, whom the structural critics of today have recog
nized as a pioneer in their method, noticed that in a series of R ussian fairy
talcs on the common theme of the persecution of the stepdaughter there
w as identity of action, though some o f the figures appearing in them were
different. W hile a Crocean philosopher would have m aintained that the

56

MNI

MOSYNI'

III

variety of contents resulted m a \ariet\ of aesthetic sw uln s e s and iinprc v

sions, eac h one possessing a singularity of its own Propp conc lude cl th.it
the difference of actois should riot obscure the fact that \\c are m the
presence of the sam e plot. He form ulated in consequence .1 m oipholo \ of
the fairy tale. Characters and ihcii attributes vary but actions and lunc tions
rem ain the sam e, ju st as was the case when the charac teristics a id iunctions of the pagan gods were transferred to Christian saints. Uniformity
and repetition are at the bottom of a number of phenomena whicJS strike
us at first as endowed with a surprising variety and a pit turesque hetero
geneity. Thus Propp was able to reduce all

m agic" tales to flinty-one

functions and seven characters, and suggested that one could trace them
all to a single archetype.1
Moreover, certain fa iry tales, like that of the princess and the frog, are
common to ethnic groups between which historians can find no possible
relation; so that one wonders whether, just as all children at certain stages
of their development show the sam e reactions and accom pl'sh the sam e
acts, as all hum an com m unities, in the foundation of cities, resort to a
quadripartition of space, and as certain sexual anom alies give rise to the
sam e im ages and find a spontaneous expression in the sam e symbols, all
hum an com m unities thus eventually form ulate, each independenth from
the other, the sam e m yths.
In the sam e w ay one m ay ask oneself whether, irrespective of the media
in which works of art are realized, the sam e or sim ilar structural tenden
cies are at work in a given period, in the m anner in which people conceive
or see or. better still, m emorize facts aesthetically, and whether a basis for
the parallels between the arts can be found here. The various m edia, then,
would correspond to the variety of characters in fairv tales: the proposition
that the characters vary, while the function rem ains the sam e, would find
a counterpart in another proposition: the m edia vary, the structure re
m ains the sam e.
Perhaps this is the right w ay to find a sound basis for the parallels
between the various arts, to prove that it is not a pseudo-scientific fantasv
like the theorv current during the seventeenth century,' according to which
all the species of terrestrial anim als had counterparts in the faun a of the
sea.

Structure in a Variety of Media

57

Antonio Russi. an Italian philosopher, who at one time taught at an

Am erican University, having established in his book on L Arte e le Arti that
in norm al experience every sense contains, through the m edium of m em
ory. all the other senses, applies this form ula to aesthetic experience, and
m aintains that in every art, through m em ory, all the other arts are
contained.2 This m ust not be understood in the sense either of an actual
translation of one art into another (w hich, as Lessing has shown in his
Laokoon, is m anifestly im possible) or of one work of art into another
within the sam e mode of artistic expression (literature, painting, and so
o n ). The colors and shapes that a m usical experience m ay suggest are not
to be confused with the colors and shapes that painting and sculpture can
suggest directly. While in practical experience an object, realized through
one of the senses, can alw avs. w henever the necessity or opportunity offers
itself, be realized through all the other senses, this is not the case in art. A
state o f m ind expressed through one of the arts cannot be fu lly realized
through the direct and sim ultaneous em ploym ent o f all the other arts.
H aving excluded the possibility that the concom itant sensations awak
ened in us by the direct perception of a work of art m ay be realized
through the senses, and having further excluded the possibility that they
m ay be realized through the arts taken as aesthetic substitutes lor the
senses, Russi concludes that they are only realized through m em ory. M em
ory therefore does not assum e in art a subsidiary or ancillary function as
happens in norm al life, but is, itself. Art, in which all the various arts are
united without residua. Ancient mythology saw this clearly, in a w ay,
when it im agined that Mnemosyne w as the mother of the M uses.3
Modern aesthetics has cleared up the m isunderstanding arising from
the conception of the senses as being present in art in the sam e w ay they
are present in practical experience, but it has not cleared up other m isun
derstandings w'hich derive from conceiving of memory as operating in art
in the sam e w ay it intervenes in sensorial experience. The object, which in
the old aesthetic theory of imitation w as external, offered to the senses,
has proved to be an internal one, that is, a state of mind. But once the
senses are excluded, this internal object Russi argues can only be of
fered by memory. And he m ight have added at this point W ordsworths
fam ous definition in the preface to the Lyrical Ballads, the m anifesto of

58

M N K M OS V N K

the English roSnantits m ovement

Icctcd 111 tranquillity

III

poetry Inis its origin 111

emotion tsc.ol-

(it.dies m in e).' Art tbsmrists have given to ) uiCy

all the attributes which Kussi considers proper to ' aesthetic memorv

.mtl

he m aintains that 111am m isunderstandings about tlie unitv ol tin1 irts

would have been avoided it people had spoken of memory rather thm of
fan cy .
And what are the characteristics of aesthetic memory in art? Its inca
pacity to be realized says K u ssi on the level o f the senses. The t oncoimtant sensations which offer them selves to m em on through the perception
of a work of art cannot but rem ain memor\ and can never be lived other
than 111 memorv. The work of art is an allusive object: accordin, to the
various m aterials employed for expression, it appeals directly now to one
side of the soul, now to another, and suggests, through memorv, all its
other aspects. The various arts do not co-operate as the senses do; each art
works, in its proper field, and a characteristic o f aesthetic experience is that
through a single art one succeeds in expressing art as a whole, w hereas all
the arts, joining their efforts, succeed only in ham pering each other. Ju st
the contrary happens in sensorial experience, where an object can be
realized onlv on condition that all the senses intervene. The greatness o f a
work of art alw ays consists in the facu lty left to m em ory of establishing
starting from the sensorial data offered b\ a given art a certain m argin
o f indeterm ination for all the rest. And this is the difference between
practical m emorv and aesthetic m em orv: that whereas in the form er the
corresponding actual sensation can substitute for the im agined sensation,
aesthetic m em ory is instead alw ays substantially m em ory, because no
actual sensation nor any sum of actual sensations can substitute fo r the
sensations it offers to consciousness.
As the distinctions am ong the arts are distinctions am ong the sensorial
directions of aesthetic expression (sight, speech, hearing'), the visual arts
crvstallize a state of mind at its farthest point, where it borders on the
im ages of things. The verbal arts seem instead to arrest the uncertain
impression which a state o f mind produces in us before it assum es that
sim plification which is able to reconcile it with space and m ake it a visual
im age. One is reminded of w hat M atthew Arnold said, that "poetry is more
intellectual than art, more interpretative . . . poetry is less artistic than

Structure in a Variety of Media

59

the arts, but in closer correspondence with the intelligential nature of

m an, who is defined, as we know, a thinking anim al, poetry thinks and
arts do not.5
A fitting illustration seems to me to be offered by a parallel that R. F.
Storch draws between W ordsworth and his contem porary Constable: they
both engage their im agination in nature, without having recourse to a
mythological or heroic m edium .0 There is no numinous imposition from
the outside, as there is, for instance, in Claude Lorrains landscapes. The
sense of som ething holv emerges from nature itself as it is seen in the light
of common day, but Constable conveys this sense im plicitly, in the shapes
of the clouds, in his rendering of the grass and fresh foliage, and in his
perception of a building, be it a cottage or Salisbury Cathedral; W ordsworth
conveys it by describing the motions stirred in the soul by landscape, or the
aura of infinity radiating from the scene. The grandest efforts o f poetry,
said Coleridge, are where the im agination is called forth not by distinctive
form , but by a strong working of the m ind.7 The m edia of expression
employed by the painter and the poet are different, but the two have in
common a taste and a m essage.
The affinities between W ordsworth and Constable are, then, writes
Storch, very real, though not where they are usually looked for. The loving
description o f natural objects (in the Ruskinian sen se) together with a
Victorian uplift, a delight in cottage life and sim ilar hum ble subjects, they
are all accessories to the true achievem ent o f cither poet or painter. They
both engage their im agination in n ature, but for them this m eans the
prim ary dimension of experience, and prim ary is perhaps best explained
as that dimension where the energies of life assum e a religious quality.
The painter uses design, color, and shape, together with the perceptions of
m eadow, sky, cottage, or cathedral, in order to body forth the delight and
the m ystery at the very center of our terrestrial experience. The poet
narrates occasions of energy and motion, linking natural forces within and
outside m an, and conveys the aw ful stillness at the center of things.
N either W ordsworth nor Constable are rom antic in the usual sense, for
they do not find the m ysterious origin o f light and energy on a distant
horizon : R their vision em braces the world of common experience. But we
have to add that the common experience they reveal is their own discov
ery,

Go

M N E M O S Y N E

- III

Both poet and painter are illustrations ol that "im m ediate^ \ision on
which Geoffrey H, Hartm an wrote a rem arkable book, Different m edi .tie
em ployed to convey the sam e interpretation of the im m anent fecAincss of
nature. Constable e n sta lli/e s this feeling at the point wlit re it b o rd e r on
the images of things, Wordsworth sets down in words the vague unpres
sions that this feeling produces in us before a#sumtiig that simplification
which m akes it a distinct visual im age. Certain lines o f the poem on
Tin ter

/1 Abbey

(em phasis m in e) seem indeed to stress the common b a s s

o f inspiration that W ordsworth and Constable shared:

T h e sounding cataract
H aunted m e like a passion: the tall rock,
T he m ountain, and the deep and gloom y wood,
T h eir colours and their form s, w ere then to me
An appetite; a feelin g and a Love,
T hat had no need of a remoter charm .
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unbom nved from the eve.
J
But then the interpretative nature of poetry crops up in that well-known
passage of the poem which seem s to m ake articulate w hat one feels in
front of Constable's landscapes [ 3 3 ] :
a sense sublim e
O f som ething fa r more deeply inter fused.
W hose d u e llin g is the light o f setting suns,
A nd the round ocean and the livin g air.
A nd the bine sky, and in the m ind o f m an:
A motion and a spirit, that im pels
A ll thinking things, all objects of all thought.
A n d rolls through all things.
W hat the painter has conveyed in a visual im age, the poet renders in a
language which vaguely hints at the im plications of the n atural scene.
W hen speaking o f sim ilarity of structure in a variety o f m edia, a wellknown case from remote antiquity comes to mind. A study of the dim en
sions and proportions of Greek tem ples10 has revealed, besides certain

Structure in a Variety of Media

61

deliberate deform ations calculated to produce optical adjustm ents, some

other irregularities, equally intentional but more difficult to exp lain par
ticularly in the diameters of the colum ns and the distances between the
columns. In a num ber of Greek m onum ents, the Parthenon and the Propylaea am ong others, it has been found that the disposition of the columns
on the basem ent or stylobate is apparently regulated by numbers which are
rigorously proportional to the elements of the Pythagorean scale [34],
taking the width of the basem ent as canon ( a m usical string, the length of
which is m ade to vary by m ovable bridges in order to obtain different inter
vals and pitch). We are made to understand that Greek art was ruled by
Pythagorean and Platonic ideas of eurvthm y to such an extent that one is
subconsciously aw are of this even i f certain parts are disguised or sup
pressed. The vanishing profile of a woman, a portion of a shoulder, the
curve of a hip, a fragm ent of a distant silhouette are sufficient for the sub
conscious to reconstruct or guess the harm ony of the whole. A Greek statue

33

JO H N c o n s t a b l e

Branch Hill Panel, Hampstead ( ? ) . Canvas, ca. 18 2 1

62

MN'IMOSYNI

III

ol the golden age m uul.iied and reduced to a fragm ent vvliieh would nor
nudlv be shapeless (a s lias befallen m arbles from the l\irili( non

md

others), reveals the melody expressed at its Creation in its mie^ntv because

AF
BC
AB
DE
CD
BD
AD

1 2 intercolumnar space at base of columns

= overhang of the abacus
= 1 2 distance between the abaci
Vfe diameter at base of columns
1 2 distance at top ot columns
-= 1 2 width of abacus
= module, or half-lintel

VII = 2 AF; V = BC, VI - 2 AB:

III = 2 DE; IV = 2 CD: II = 2 BD;
I = 2 AD
AD
BD
34

BD AB 4 -2 BD _ 9 DE
C D ~~ 2 DE
AF

Triangulation of the order of the temple of Hera Argiva. Paestum

AB
BC

17

Structure in a Variety of Media

63

the architectural, or tonic, or plastic rhythm is perceived as a whole. The

fact that some tracts of proportion are m issing or obliterated does not in
general affect the rhythm ic unity of the whole, nor the awareness of it; the
reconstruction in the perceiving mind is, so to say, automatic. In the sam e
way, in the incomplete odes of Pindar, the m issing parts m ay be recon
structed in a close enough approxim ation of the original, once the m etrical
pattern is established. Such coherence is m irrored in Leon Battista Alberti's
definition of beauty in Dc re acclificaturia: The harm ony and concord of all
the parts achieved in such a m anner that nothing could be added or taken
aw ay or altered except for the worse. 11
In a world so controlled by definite laws of rhythm , of which the golden
section w as the suprem e flower, the parallels among the arts would find
their ideal ground; in fact the sam e ductus prevailed in all m anifestations
of art in this age. The structure of a Greek temple has been equated to m u
sic,12 and could with no less propriety be compared to the structure o f a
Greek tragedy, with its equidistant intervals of dialogue and choric song,
the choric song being divided into set portions and the dialogue often dis
posed in entries of one line each (stichom yth ia), like a frieze.13 In these
Pythagorean norms, then, is to be found the reason for the extrem e fitness
which strikes us in the decoration of the Greek temples, in the proportions
between the sculptures and the architectural elements, and no doubt in the
paintings too, had they been preserved. Perhaps there never was such
consistency of ductus in any period of art.
The Pythagorean tradition passed on, through the practices of architects
and stonecutters, to the builders of Gothic cathedrals, as is witnessed to by
a thirteenth-century text of Cam panus of N ovara, in which this canon of
Paris, while com m enting on Euclids principles of geometry, pays hom age
to the golden section: proportionem habentem m edium duoque ex
trem a.11 On the other hand, relations between m usic and Rom anesque
sculptures have been studied by M arius Schneider, who has pointed out
that the idea of interpreting m usic in terms of sculpture, already in
existence in India, continued in m edieval Europe, as can be seen from the
capitals at Cluny, which represent tones, and from those of the C atalan
cloister of S. Cugat del Valles, which record in stone the melodic structure

G. }

MNI

MQSYN I

III

of the hymn Istt Can ft's son in a special version followed by that tlo istir
for the Feast ol St. C ucuphaui>.

In the eloi-Ui of Gctrant ( .nlircir.il

tiie c a p it a l seem to have been arranged in analog) with the rhythm of a

rosary or a litany.
Both C am panils appreciation of the golden section and the staging Of
the stones should be seen in the Light ol medieval principles, whit.li aimed
at a spiritual significance in all aitistie expressions. W orks of art as well
as the scriptures, lent them selves to a fourlold interpretation literal
tropological, allegorical, and an alogical as is well known to all r e a d e r s of
the D ivine Com edy. The abstra c tion suggested by the phvsical as pet t w a s
considered more beautiful than the object itself, which had onh the 1 mic
tion o f attuning the soul to a supersensible h aim om

Alongside this m eta

physical standard, another standard prevailed in the applet iation of works

of art: the skill o f execution, which related a work of art to the other
rarities and curiosities of nature. (W e must bear in mind that in the carh
m useum s, the W iindevkuu im ern , natural wonders such as ostrich eggs,
coconuts, fossils, and bezoar stones were exhibited side by side with gold
and silver artifacts and paintings and sculptures.) The idea that art was
the expression of an artists personality took a long tune to develop it onh
broke through with Dante. Petrarch, and Viliam in tiie bourgeois milieu ol
the culture that developed in the free cities of' Italy. Before this time onh
the m anual skill of the artist w as appreciated, not his creative power,
which was credited to God.
All this accounts for the aspect o f m edieval literature which strikes
modern times as very peculiar: nam ely, its monotony, its flatness and
prolixity, and its apparent disregard o f the most elem entary principles of
narrative efficiency, ft m ay be surprising to find so m ain different atti
tudes and expressions within a conception of art w hose product* bore the
stam p of anonym ity, and which called for standardized representation
inspired by an idea rather than by a close study of real phenomena. Thus,
for different reasons, the art of the ?>Iiddle Ages, no less than Greek
classical art, reveals sim ilarities of structure calculated to achieve certain
aim s. N ancy Lenkeith, speaking of the organic unitv o f the Church,
reflected in its cone-shaped hierarch y, has said that this doctrine found
expression in m ediaeval art, and particularly in the sym bolic conception of

Structure in a Variety of Media

65

the Gothic cathedral,lfi and has stressed the search for unity in philosophy
(unification of knowledge) and in alchem y (reduction of all m etals to a
basic constituent) no less than in political doctrine (the theory of a
universal state patterned after the universal C h u rch ).17 In fact, the com
parison of the D ivine Com edy to a Gothic cathedral has been frequently
m ade, and could be worked out in detail by com paring the episodes of the
various cantiehe to the bas-reliefs adorning the portals of a cathedral; the
diversity of language found am ong the various characters (down to the
Pape Satan, Pape Satan aleppe ascribed to dem ons) to those singing
stones of which M arius Schneider speaks; and the piling up within a canto
of the single units of verse, the terzine, to the fleurons scoring the pin na
cles of a Gothic church tower.
Architecture, the art which was least tied to the currents of religious and
philosophical thought, cam e to be the most typical expression of the ideal
principles of the Middle Ages through a happy coincidence. There is no
doubt, as Paul Frankl has shown in his fundam ental work on the Gothic,18
that the Gothic style was born out of the solution to the technical problem
involved in the construction of the vault, and developed when the other
members of the building were m ade to agree with the new structural
principle by taking the shapes of ribs, buttresses, pinnacles, up to that
trium phal conclusion (once reputed, erroneously, Paul Frankl m aintains,
to be a form of decadence), the final phase of flam boyant Gothic with its
m ultiplication of sym m etrical laces; so that no other single style rem inds
us to the sam e extent of the natural process seen in the life of insects and
in the form ation of crystals, a natural process that has no need of the help
of scholasticism and poetry in order to be perfectly followed and under
stood [35]. No m etaphysical culture could have been of any use to the
workm en, and on the other hand the skill of an architect in building a
vault could not m ake him progress by one step in the discussion of
philosophical theses, whether nom inalist or realist.w There is no point in
speaking of the influence of the Crusades, which w as felt at a date later
than the first appearance of the Gothic, or of the influence of liturgy or
philosophy all external considerations in comparison with the interior
process of the evolution of a style.
The introduction of the ribbed vault created an im pact, set in motion a

00

\I N I M O S V N K

sequence of surprises

III

with the final result, that the Gothic cathedral

became that type o f edifice which seems to u> to incarnauc the religious
ideal of the Middle* Ages its aspiration to a spiritual, mei iphvsicd king
dom : a springboard from wliic h to tine into space, a yearning to he free of
matter, a nostalgia for infinity A Gothic cathedral i> a fragm ent of a \ ast
entity which transcends it. it integrates itself with the cosm os, w hereas a
R enaissance building is shut up in itsell, complete anti perleet in its
isolation. Thus the Gothic cathedral, following a different pad), the path
created bv ihe skill til engineers and stonecutters, cam e eventualh

to

express the sam e m essage as did a literary work born under the direct
influence o f philosophical and religious thought, the D ia n e Com edy. and it
has been possible for Willi Drost anti Erw iu Panofsk\ to see a p ellett
correspondence between the Gothic cathedral and scholastic philosoph\
The sam e spirit inform s all the products of a culture, owing to a cause no
less m ysterious than the one controlling the growth of natural organism s
It should not be thought, however, that the spirit of an epoch perm eates
all its artistic productions sim ultaneously* The paradox o f the Middle Ages
is that its spirit asserted itself first o f all in the art which was the most
independent of cultural suggestions: born out o f a purely technical prob
lem . developing logically according to lines determined by the solution,
m edieval architecture soon reached a perfect and typical expression
(Gothic sculpture, on the other hand, reached the standard o f architecture
only by about 13 8 0 .) No modern art historian would dare to suggest cuts
and omissions in an architectural work of the period : there is 110 portion of
it which strikes us as monotonous or superfluous.
Such an unqualified adm iration does not seem possible for literan
works o f the sam e age. One critic. Croce, has seen a perishable sitle even in
the D ivine Com edy, the theological rom ance." While the allegorical fig
ures we read on the facad e o f Gothic cathedrals often deeply im press our
im aginations, it is difficult to feel the sam e degree o f interest for the
allegories in literary works; the sam e allegories which stand out so power
fu lly on the buildings become mere verbal abstractions. Ju liu s von Schlosser's observation that "there is a powerful structure of thought behind
every m ediaeval work of art"-' hardlv applies to literature. Onh the build
ers of cathedrals fu lly responded to the ideas of Hugh of Saint Victor, who

35

Rouen Cathedral, Portail des Libraires. Thirteenth century

68

M N EM O SYN E

111

supplied the theoretical basis for the taste for brilliant colors and stained
glass, and stressed a concern with craitv in M ukipjicity and multiplu itv in
unity.
K ru m Rosenthal, in a fam ous study of Giotto published in 19 2 j has
given a convincing explanation of the affinity between Dante and the great
painter who was bis contem porary, an affinity frequently ascribed to a
direct influence of the poet on Giotto: 111 both artists the earthlv element
and the supernatural are combined in a sim ilar synthesis. Already as early
as 18 9 2, Jan itsch eck had written that Giotto has discovered for painting
the nature of the soul, as Dante had discov ered it for poctn

and in 19 2 3

U ausenstein had concluded that Saint Thom as Aquinas, Dante and Giotto
are the theological, the poetical and the figurative expression respectively
o f the sam e thought. For Rosenthal. Giottos art, like Dantes poetry,
represents the highest moment of a process of indiv iduahzation

consist

ing "011 one side in the rise and progress of so-called naturalness, on the
other in the progressive em bodiment o f the supernatural in a single
hum an life, a process which is supposed to have begun in Prance towards
the m iddle of the twelfth century and to have been concluded in Italy at
the beginning of the fourteenth. According to Rosenthal, the affinity be
tween the poet and the painter is revealed first of all in the allmitv o f the
types they present, as, fo r instance, the angels, the nuovi a m o r f into
w hich the eterno am ore has expanded (Paradise, x x ix . 18 't, and then in
the discovery and representation of certain states of mind, certain situa
tions of' spiritual and psychological in tim acy as for instance Giotto's
m using figure of Joachim slowly advancing am ong the shepherds, in the
fresco of the A rena Chapel [36], com pared with certain attitudes of
D ante's Virgil ( . . . E qui chino la fronte / e pin non disse, e rim ase
turbato. Purgatory, 111, 444 5 ) . Giottos affinity to Dante is then to be
understood not as a consciously parallel tendency, but as a necessarily
analogous w ay of becom ing form , in a definite historical m oment, of
sim ilar historical and spiritual prem ises."
By the time Chaucer began to im itate the grete poete of Y taille
( Monks T ale, 3 6 5 0 ), the unity of the m edieval world which w as at the
back of D antes inspiration was crum bling, and Chaucers unfinished con
struction of the Canterbury T ales is evidence o f this decay. I f and this is

36

Joachim Wandering Among the Shepherds. Fresco, 13 0 3 -0 5 . Arena

Chapel, Padua

g io tto :

70

MNKMOSYNl

III

possible, as I have tried to show rlsewhens

in bringing too ther the

various talcs written in different periods Chain n thought to follow in a

wav Dantes schem e in the Dietin' Q om tSy he had the episodes o f the
Italian poem in mind, not its strut tine. All kinds of charautsrs from all
stations o f life, the lowest to the highest, appear and talk to Dame during
his pilgrim age through the realm s of the dead

all mo de s and s h a d e s of

hum an souls find expression in Dante's dram a. Hut a pilgrim age to the
other world was not am ong the bourgeois Chaucei s possibilities. He
clings to the dear everyda\ world, and brings down to the homely plane of
common sense the situations he finds in his model, Though trained in the
school of French allegory, lie was for the concrete, and understood in
terms of reason the visions of philosophers and divines. No pilgrim age to
the kingdoms o f the other world for the man who was no d i\in istre. but
an earthly pilgrim age to the shrine o f the national saint. On this pilgrim
age there were no demons or angels to be met. but all varieties o f hum an
folk, and Chaucer cared only for hum an beings. In this w ay Chaucer
succeeded in being Dante in yn glyssh, a hum an instead of a di\ine
Dante, sum m arizing, like the Florentine, the Middle Ages in the com pass
of a dram atic epos. But w hat aspect of the Middle Ages?
The period of the Middle Ages in which Chaucer lived was in a wa\ an
overripe and decadent one: its Gothic was flam boyant Gothic, in which
structure had been subordinated to decoration.-1 In literature, the counter
part of this (on a m uch lowTer artistic level, of course) is to be found in the
elaborate m etrical schem es of the followers of Guillaum e de Lorris. Guil
laum e de M achaut, and Je a n Froissart. In the Fontaine anioureiisc. for
instance. M achaut writes down a lovers com plaint and then checks it in
order to be sure that he has not repeated the sam e group of rhym es; he is
pleased to find that no pattern of rhym e recurs. Rhetorical devices such as
am plificatio, dilatutio, expolitio helped to beat out the discourse into a fine
em broidery of phraseology.
This is the period o f the great unfinished cathedrals, and. as I have said,
the C anterbury Tales is itself an unfinished building. Feudalism , having
reached a stage of well-being which had cost centuries of hard work, was
dissolving into tournam ents and pageants; it w as a brilliant, stylized
epoch, whose representative painter w as no longer Giotto, but, for in-

37

Saint George and the Princess of Trebizond. Fresco, 14 3 3 - 3 8 . S. Ana

stasia, Verona

p isa n e llo :

I'd N EM.OS YN 1; 111

72

Stante, AJtichjero da Verona reinarkabl# loi liis exaggerated lovu ol cos

tunic and tnniv. Ins d elijh t 111 trivial detail, and In- jueoccupadon with
local color; or Pisanello [37], who holds up an idealising m irror to the
sunset of chivalry.
Now, il you look at C haucers characterization of the pilgrim s, vou at
once perceive the affinity with those painters

his characten/ation is doiu

from the outside, he dwells an their dress, although there

alw ays a

psychological im plication in such descriptions. The portrait of the W ife of

11

Bath, or this one of the Prioress, also from the Prologue ( . 1 5 1 - 6 2 ) , are
good exam p les:
Fu l scm yly h ir xcympyl pynchecl runs,
Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,
Hir month fu l snull, and therto softe and reed;
But sikerly she hadde a fa ir forh eed:
It was almoost a spanne brood, 1 troivc;
F o r, hardily, she ivas nat u n dergrow e.
Fn l fetys ivas hir clohe, as I teas war.
O f sjnal coral aboate hiere arm she bar
A peire o f bedes, gauded al with qrene.
A nd theron heng a brooch o f gold fu l sheene,
On w hich ther ivas first w rite a crow ned A,
A nd a fter Am or vincit omnia.
This is a description worthy o f a painter of m iniatures [38], which, how
ever, succeeds in creating that m iracle of truth to life that in the following
age w as to be the great achievem ent o f the Flem ish m asters, a Van Evck or
a M em ling. Chaucer lovingly gives us every detail of the Prioress's appear
ance, as Ja n van E yck w as soon to do in the portrait of his w ife [39] and in
that of Arnolfinis spouse, or, later, as M em ling did in the pan trait of
Barbara Moreel [40]. Such care for detail is never found in Dante and
Giotto. With Chaucer the interest is shifted from the wider issues to the
episodes: see how in rendering the Ugolino story he m isses its point and
omits the final invective against P isa with the apocalyptic vision o f divine
revenge which follows, thus transm uting a cosm ic tragedv into a pathetic
genre painting.

38

Tarot card. Ca. 14 2 8 -4 7

74

M N E M . 04 v N E - I I I

The loose construction ol the Q m te rb w y Talus becomes almost a sym

bol.

1 have

mentioned Van I yck and M em ling. Bill the looseness of con

struetion, the stress on the accessories, the hurimrou>ncss o f the situation-*

(a result of C haucers aw areness of (lie relative value of evervitting) make
one think also ol 1ieter Bruegel

though he Lived two centuii s later.

In Saint joint tlw BaytiSt Prtaxihing a crowd of people liom everv social
class is assemblc'd in a forest, within sight of a pleasant river m which is
mirrored a distant town [rjt]: there are townsmen, artisans

peasants,

gypsies, monks of various orders, and our eye runs over the pic turesque
throng until, in the midst o f it, quite m the background it picks out the
figure of the m an who should be the protagonist of the picture. The
pilgrim age to Canterbury is only an occasion for a social gathering, and
although am ong the tales there arc a pious legend and a moral treatise,
this is just for the sake of variety. The spirit which anim ates that asscm-

39

v a n e y c k : Portrait of Marguerite van

Eyck. Panel, 14 3 9

ja n

40

h a n s m e m lin g :

Wood, ca. 14 7 8

Portrait of Barbara Murcel.

Structure in a Variety uf Media

41

p ie te r b ru e g e l,

75

the Elder: Saint John the Baptist Preaching. Wood, 15 6 6

blage of people is not a religious but a secular one. There is no longer a

common center; instead of a pilgrim age, you have a pageant.
In Bruegels Fall o f Icarus [42] you see a tract of sea bathed in an
enchanted light, and on land, in the foreground, exquisite details like those
found in a Book of Hours: a plowm an wrapped in sunlight, and, on the
promontory am ongst his sheep, a shepherd raising his face towards the
sky; lower down is a fisherm an intent on his line; in the blue sea a caravel
sails by, and in the shadow of the caravel there is a flicker of white legs
am ongst the curling w aves and that is Icarus. The little m arginal figures
from Ovid ( M etam orphoses, v m , 2 i y f f . ) are the ones that stand out
conspicuously; and Bruegel has even m anaged to slip an old m ans corpse
into the wood on the left, to illustrate a Germ an proverb.2-' The bourgeois
anecdotal and m oral bias has reduced the heroic theme to a mere pretense.
In the Procession to Calvary [43], also, although the group of sorrowing
M arys is figured in the foreground, Christ is barely discernible am ong the
picturesque crowds which, with a profane, holiday-m aking air, dominate
the scene. W. H. Auden, in his Musee des B eaux A rts, comments forcibly
on this aspect of B ru eg el:

76

M N E M O S Y M

III

About suffering then wt're ncuer wrong

The Old Masters, how w ell they understood
Its hum an position; how it takes place
W bde som eone else is eutnu) or opening a u indow or just w alking
dully along;
How, w hen the aged are reveren th i, passionately m u tin y
For the m iraculous birth, there ahrays must be
C hildren w ho did not specialty want it to happ<n skating
On a pond at the edge o f the wood:
T h ey never forgot
That even the dreadfu l m artyrdom must run its course
A nyhow in a corner, som e untidy spot
W here the dogs go on with their doggi/ life and the torturer's
horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

42

p ie te r

1544-55

b ru e g e l,

the Elder: Landscape with the Fall of Icarus

Canvas, ca.

Structure in a Variety of Media

43

p ie te r b ru e g e l,

77

the Elder: Procession to Calvary. Wood, 15 6 4

h i Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: hoiv everything turns away

Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughm an may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it ivas not an im portant failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
W ater; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Som ething am azing, a boy fallin g out o f the sky,
Had som ew here to get to and sailed calm ly on.
Chaucer had not traveled so fa r as Bruegel along the path of this
disenchanted view of hum an destinies. He stuck to the old m edieval
conception of Fortunes fickleness and the fa ll of princes, which w as
certainly a step in that direction, though still imbued with Christian

11

hum ility. But the lines about the death of Arcite in The Knights T ale ( .

78

MNEMOSYNE III

28o<}fT.), containing w hat is probably an allusion to Dante, show clearly

enough that the world to w hich he belonged w as no longer the hierarchi
cally arranged cosmos of the Divine Comedy:
His spirit channged hous and wente titer,
As 1 cam nevere, 1 kan nut tellen ivher.

Therfore I stiynte, 1 nam no divinistre;

Of soules fynde I nut in this reqistre,
Me me ne list thilke opinions to telle
Of hem, though that they writen wher they dwelle.
Arcite is coold, ther Mars his soule gye!
This is not in the spirit of Dante, but of Jean de Meun. whose no-nonsense
attitude called in question so m any tenets of the m edieval world. Such
difference of outlook would necessarily result in a difference of structure.
There being no longer a firm center to fix the w riters attention, aspects
which were once m arginal acquire a new im portance: hence the discon
nected. desultory, shapeless, though here and there extrem ely lively, flow
of the second part of the Roman de la Rose, and the uneven, variegated,
unpretentious surface of most of C haucers works. Beatrice has receded, or
appears in the domesticated form of Dorigen; Criseyde and the W ife of
Bath (anticipated by de M euns la V ieille") come to the foreground.
Dante held up the m irror to a world of eternity, Chaucer to an age of
m utability.

C H A P T E R IV

Harmony and the Serpentine

Line
TH ERE

have been in recent times m any discussions about the time-

hallowed division between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, some
(like C. S. Lew is) m aintaining that this division w as sim ply an invention
of hum anist propaganda, others (like Erw in Pan ofsky) resorting to a
common-sense proof like the one devised bv Dr. Johnson to show that,
contrary to Berkeley's contention, m atter existed. Panofsky com pared Our
Ladys Church at Treves (o f about 12 5 0 ) with Palladios Villa Rotonda
(about 1 5 5 0 ) , and concluded that the Rotonda has more in common with
the Pantheon than either of these buildings has with Our Lady's Church at
Treves, although only three hundred years separate Palladio's villa from
the Germ an church, w?hereas between the latter and the Pantheon there
elapsed more than eleven centuries. Even a slow-watted m an could not help
being aw are that something rather decisive, then, must have happened
between 12 5 0 and 15 5 0 . There had been, adm ittedly, two short-lived
periods o f renascence during the Middle Ages, under Charlem agne and in
the twelfth century; the Renaissance, on the contrary, cam e to stay, was
total and perm anent, and differed from its forerunners not only in scale
but also in structure. Both m edieval renascences approached the classical
world not historically, but pragm atically, as som ething far-off yet, in a
sense, still alive ; they lacked that perspective distance which the men of
the Renaissance possessed to such a degree that they projected antiquity
onto an ideal plane and made it the object of a passionate nostalgia.
Therefore the m ediaeval concept of the Antique w as . . . concrete and at
the sam e time . . . incomplete and distorted; whereas the modern one
w as com prehensive and consistent but, if I m ay say so, abstract.1

M N ! M () S 'i \ I'

8o

Another scholar has lnaiitt.uiu'cl that Hmckhardt's interpretation of the

R enaissance is basically soundei and more balance d than that ol Certain
modern scholars who find m edieval England 'im plicit in 1 ltz ihethan
England. "*
Ia u ia l readjustm ents fail to disprove that the cultural values of the
R enaissance differed radically from those of the Middle Ages. To illustrate
this point W atson has traced the history of the concept of honor in
classical antiquity, especially am ong the Rom ans: not a single thinker,
with the sole exception o f M arcus Aurelius, held in disdain the desire for
fam e and honors. Passing on to the Middle Ages. Watson has shown that
St. Thom as took a stand m idw ay between the classical cult of glory and the
ascetic Christian thirst for hum ility (in St. Francis, however, we see the
first rejected altogether), putting honor among those things held to be
transitory and im perfect but not to be condemned. Finally, m the Renais
sance. a study of the N ichom achcan Ethics independent of the m edieval
interpretation transform ed Aristotle from an ally of Christianit\ into its
greatest enem y (as Henri Busson says in Les Sources et ic developpcm ent
da ra iio n a iism e); that work of Aristotle and Cicero's De ojficiis arc the
fundam ental texts of the R enaissance ethic, repeated and imitated as they
w'cre ad nauseam in a scries of treatises, first Italian, then floieign, which
form a vast library of volum es beautifully printed and bound, but whose
contents arc monotonous to a degree. This body o f literature, which today
am azes us by its squalid aridity, was a didactic force o f m ajor im portance
in the Italian R en aissance and in the age of Shakespeare; this aspect of its
influence w as em phasized in m atters of theory by all authors, including
Shakespeare him self, when, in the second scene of the third act o f H amlet,
he said that the goal of dram atic art is to hold, as 'twere. the m irror up to
nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own im age, and the very
age and body of the time his form and pressure. In practice, however, this
didactic aim w as m ixed with som ething else: in Shakespeare it was his
burning interest in the protean hum an soul and its emotions, and in other
authors (such as C astiglione) som ething much more lim ited, a graceful
turn of speech, an elegance of m anner. It is this som ething else which
helps to keep their works alive, but this does not m ean that those works are

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

81

not children of their own time or that they did not possess the features
common to the age.
As fa r as m oral principles were concerned, Shakespeares epoch follows
a pagan-hum anistic pattern, setting as its goal a m oral perfection oblivious
of the cardinal virtues of piety and hum ility, as well as of the cardinal
Christian doctrine regarding m ans sinful nature and fall from grace. How
can one reconcile this attitude with Christian religion? In Castigliones
T h e Courtier, as its latest editor rem arks, one has a sense of a hum anity
molded for action and looking for worldly glory, the sense o f a w orldly
culture by no m eans directed towards the salvation of the soul, let alone
m ystical ecstasy, but rather towards serving m ans concrete and vital
interests. The position o f religious dogma within the fram ew ork o f the
Cortegiano is peculiar in this regard. Castiglione, as we know from his
other writings and from what can be inferred from this very work, was a
pious m an, narrow ly and rigidly orthodox, and yet, except for certain
fleeting references, religion is firm ly excluded from the whole construction
o f his dialogues. As one finds with all the hum anists, the plane o f w orldly
wisdom and that of religious dogma (this latter accepted b asically as a
m atter of faith, but perhaps more as tradition than fa ith ) are kept severely
separate. The philosophy of the Cortegiano is on a terrestrial, exclusively
hum an, plane.4
It is our lack of fam iliarity with this am bivalent position and with the
facility with which people of that time shifted from a system o f pagan-hu
m anistic values to one derived from the Christian tradition, without at
tem pting to reconcile the contradictions, it is our failure to take this
am bivalence and facility into account that has led some of Shakespeares
critics to assum e that he never lent him self to the support of a definite
point of view. It is this that has induced some to find in K ing L ear a m es
sage o f disconsolate nihilism, some to read it as a Christian parable, and
m any others to believe that the ideologic substratum o f the Elizabethan
age w as inconsistent, or downright decadent.
But there is a hierarchy of values upon which Shakespeares world rests,
although the dram atic form itself, with its am b'guities, prevents us from
seeing it clearly, as we do in the case of Edm und Spenser. The ethical

82

MNEMOSYNE

IV

principles o f Shakespeare are not suspended

they are, rather, conipk \

His heroes have the virtues and cultivate the i d e a l s common to the pagan
hum anistic culture; and the Christian element which is not absent does
not come into the foreground

it is lim ited to the spirit oi unexpected

forgiveness, penitence, and com passion which char.icten/es I he Tamptst

and a few o f the comedies. It has been rem aiked by E. I . Stoll that
Shakespeares heroes and heroines are not sustained in their suprem e
moments by thoughts of a life beyond or by faith in God and his inscruta
ble w ays,

l'hey rely upon their own interior fortitude rather than on God

without, however, being stoical, as is claim ed by T. S. Eliot:' how indeed

could one describe as stoical the im passioned participation in tragic events
which we find in these characters?
A strong sense of the social hierarchy, the virile virtues of strength and
constancy ( which did not exclude bursts of m agnanim ous an ger), a thirst
for honors and m agnificence, the desire for continuity both through perpet
uation of ones kind and posthum ous fam e ( a recurrent theme of the
S o n n ets), apotheosis accepted as a poetic convention, exaltation o f loy alty
and friendship, public ignom iny considered the worst disgrace that could
befall a m an. justification of suicide and the duel, and the obligation to
meet death in an exem plary w ay: these arc the positive values which,
directly or indirectly, Shakespeare absorbed from the culture of his age.
T his is w hy Cleopatra w ishes to show h erself to M ark Antony, at their final
m eeting, in all the regal splendor of queenly pom p: not out o f exaggerated
vanity, but as an instance of that virtue of m agnificence which the epoch,
imbued with Aristotelian precepts, expected in a sovereign.
In this world o f the R en aissance where religion, though continuing to be
a m ain source o f inspiration for artists, had in fa c t paradoxically enough
become peripheral, m an w as actually the m easure o f the universe:
T u om o e m isura del mondo. as Leonardo put it. Behind this blunt state
m ent there lies a trend of philosophic thought, the com plex Pv thagoreanPlatonic theory of which wre have already spoken, whose chief m an ifesta
tion w as in architecture, though all the other arts, including literature,
w ere perm eated by it. Here is to be found the m ain structure, the ductus of
the age; first of all, as is natural, in the country which w as the cradle of the
R en aissan ce: Italy. In his A rchitectural Principles in the A ge o f H um an

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

83

ism Rudolf W ittkower has exhaustively shown how R en aissance artists

firm ly adhered to the Pythagorean conception 'All is Num ber and, guided
by Plato and the Neo-Platonists and supported by a long chain of theologi
ans from Augustine onwards, they were convinced of the m athem atical
and harm onic structure of the universe and all creation, that With the
Renaissance revival of the Greek m athem atical interpretation of God and
the world, and invigorated by the Christian belief that Man as the im age of
God embodied the harm onies of the Universe, the Vitruvian figure in
scribed in a square and a circle [44] becam e a symbol of the m athem atical

44

Man inscribed in a square and a circle, from Cesare Cesarianos

edition of Vitruvius (Como, 1 5 2 1 ) .

8 .}

M N E M O S Y N K

IV

Sympathy between microcosm anti nuctocusin, How could tIn' lelation of

Man to C.od be better expressed we feel now justified m asking, than In
budding the bouse of Cod in accordance with the lu n d n n cn t il geometry of
square and circle?" lien ee perfoqf geom etu is essential in buildings even
if accurate ratios are hardly m anifest to the eye. In Ins Stinnna de cvrithmt
ticu, published in Venice in i.jq.}. Lucia Paeioli m aint.lined r clist VI, tract
i, art 2 ) that divine functions are of little value if the church has not been
bin It can delnta proportions. These proportions depended 011 the Pnhagorean-PLitomc division of the m usical scale. Leon Battista Alberti discussed
the correspondence o f m usical intervals and architectural proportions:
\\ ith reference to Pythagoras he stated that the numbers by m eans of
which the agreem ent o f sounds affects our ears with delight, are the very
sam e which please our eyes and our m inds. and this doctrine rem ains
fundam ental to the whole R enaissance conception of proportion. . . . For
Alberti, harm onic ratios inherent in nature are revealed in m usic. The
architect who relies 011 those harm onies is not translating m usical ratios
into architecture, but is m aking use of a universal harm ony apparent in
m usic: Certissim um est naturam in omnibus sui esse persim ilem .
A passage from D aniele B arbaros com m entary o f 15 5 6 on Vitruvius is
explicit enough: N ature, our m aster, teaches us how to have to proceed in
the m easures and proportions o f the buildings consecrated to God, as she
does not w ant us to learn the sym m etries which we have to adopt in
temples, from any source other than the holy temple m ade in God s im age
and likeness, that is Man, in whose composition all the other m arvels o f
nature are contained, and thus the ancients were well advised in deriving
all criteria o f m easuring from the parts of the hum an bodv."' Francesco
Giorgi gives detailed m easurem ents, based on the Greek m usical scale, for
S. Francesco della V igna in Venice, and considers the cappclla grande at
the fa r end of the nave to be like the head of the hum an body. The fact
that the three m en who were consulted about Giorgi's m em orandum the
painter Titian, the architect Serlio, and the hum anist Fortunio Sp ira
showed no undue surprise at his num ber svmholism and m ysticism , m akes
it clear that this esoteric knowledge w as fairly widespread, and that the
unity of all arts and sciences m ade every initiate a trustworthy judge m
these m atters.9 Architecture was not conceived as an isolated discipline.

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

85

hut as one of the innum erable m anifestations of the hum an m ind which
all follow the sam e law.
The builders of the Middle Ages planned their churches in the shape of
the Cross; their Latin Cross plan w as the symbol of Christ crucified. But
with the R enaissance the im age of Christ trium phant (o f the type of
M ichelangelos Resurrected Christ in the church of S. M aria sopra Mi
n erva) takes the place of the M an of Sorrows, parallel with the new
conception of the dignity of m an; and the church fagade is modeled on the
trium phal arch, as the facade of Albertis S. Andrea at M antua [45], for
exam ple, w as inspired by the Arch of T rajan at Ancona [46]. The system of
the facade is repeated in a continuous sequence in the interior: a system of
spanning arches (the chapels) alternating with closed w alls according to
the rhythm a -b -a . Now if you invert the direction, and proceed from the
nave to the fagade, the latter represents the final bar of the whole move-

45

1,e o n B a t t i s t a a l b e r t i : Facade,
S. Andrea, Mantua. 14 70

46

Arch of Trajan, Ancona,

a d.

8G

m n k m

o s \

r: 1 v

11 id 11, and voil are lem m dcd Of die strut lure of the sonnet To both form*
Albertis definition ol beauty could be npplied

die harm onv and concord

of .ill die parts achieved in such a m anner tli.it nothing could he added or
taken a\\a\ or altered except foi the worse.
We must note that Alberti wanted the buildings proportioned to the
hum an scale, harmonized with m an's size and integrated with the urban
surroundings, and therefore endowed with that m ediocritas which would
not stand out am ong them. The aesthetic rule was at tlie sam e time an
ethical one, and rem inds us o f Castiglione's principles for a perfect cour
tier: the surest w ay in the w orlds is, for a m anne m hvs lyving and
conversation to governe h im self alw aies with a certeine honest m eane,
whych (no doubt) is a great and moste sure shield againste envie, the
whiche a m anne ought to avoide in w hat he is able."' There is a parallel
also between Albertis definition o f beauty and the behavior of the com
plete gentlem an as set forth by T h e Courtier: . . . and not oneh to set Iris
delite to have in him self partes and excellent qualities, but also to order
the tenour o f his life after suche a trade, that the whole m av be answerable
unto these partes, and see the selfc sam e to bee alw ayes and in every thing
suche, that it disagree not from it selfe, but m ake one body o f all these
good qualities, so that everye deede o f his m ay be com pact and fram ed of
al the vertues. as the Stoikes say the duetie of a wisem an is: although not
w ithstanding alw aies one vertue is the principall, but all are so kirit and
linked one to an other, that they tende to one ende. and all m ay be apphcd
and serve to every purpose. 11
The close connection o f this rule o f conduct with the arts is shown by
what follow s, for Castiglione noes on to say that the courtier must throw
his virtues into relief by contrast, as the good peincters with a shadow
m ake the lightes of high places to appeere, and so with light m ake lowe the
shadowes of plaines,

and m eddle divers coulours

together, so that

throughe that diversitie bothe the one and the other are more sightly to
behoulde,12 and the placing of the figures contrarie the one to the other is a
helpe to them to doe the feate that the peincters im n d e is to bring to
passe.13
While the principle of harm ony by contrast is applied in these precepts,
a final effect of diapason is never lost sight of. Spherical form s seemed

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

87

particularly calculated to achieve it. Hence the cupola becam e the crown
ing feature of a church, and Leonardo obtained a captivating sm ile in his
Gioconda by m olding the line o f the mouth on the arc o f a circle whose
circum ference touches the outer corners of both eyes [47].14 In the group of
T h e Virgin and Child xuith St. A nn e the contrasting motions o f the figures
are brought to a close as they culm inate in the head o f St. Anne, which is
the vertex of a triangle [48].15
The octave became a favorite m etrical form in Italian poetry because of
y\

the final rhym ing couplet ( rim a baciata), and the sam e m ay be said o f the
sonnet because o f the crowning effect of the tercets. Of the m any passages
of the Orlando Fnrioso that could be quoted in this connection, the wellknown one on the theme of the loss of virginity ( Canto I, 4 24 3 ) m ay be
chosen as a good in sta n ce:

47

La Gioconda
(Mona Lisa). Canvas, ca. 150 3. Detail,
with a superimposed geometrical design
L eo n ard o da v in c i:

48

L e o n a r d o d a v i n c i : The Virgin and Child

with St. Anne. Canvas, ca. 15 0 7 13

88

MNKMOSYNI

IN

I a wcrginitUa e sim ile alio rosa,

ch'in bel yini'iliii sv la im tira spm a
n u n a e solo c sicnra si riposo
ue gregye tie pastor sc le acicnta:
l'avra soave e 1-alba rngiadosa,
I'acqna, la terra al sno favor s inchina:
qioveni vAghi e donne inamorato
am aiio avcrne e sent o tompie ornate.
These three parallel m ovem ents (a first group ol four lines, followed In
two p airs) are contrasted m the follow mg stanza, and concluded with the
sim ile and the m oral:
Ma non si tosto dal nnitcnio stelo
rnnossa rien e, c dal sno ccppo verde,
d ie qnanto a rea djagli uonnni e dal ciclo
favor, grazia c bellezza. tutto perde.
La vergiue ch el fw r, di d ie pin zelo
d ie de begli occlii e dc la vita aver de\
lascia altn ii corre, il pregio ch'avea inauti
perde nel cor di tutti gli altri am anti.
The movement follows closely the Latin model ( Catullus. Vesper
adest.

11. 3 g f f .: Ut flos in

saeptis secretus nascitur h o rtis; e tc .), but the

rhym es em phasize the scansion and bring about an effect which is related
to that produced by the structure of Leonardo's group o f St. Anne and her
kindred. A sim ilar structure o f contrasted m ovem ents, brought to a close
with a m oral, is found in Shakespeares fam ous Sonnet 12 9 :
T h ' expense o f spirit in a w aste o f sham e
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is p e rju r'd , m u rd roiis. bloody, fu ll of blam e,
Savage, extrem e, rude, cruel, not to trust;
E n joy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had.
Past reason hated, as a swalhm ed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

89

M ad in pu rsuit, and in possession so;

Had, having, and in quest to have, extrem e;
A bliss in proo f and provd, a very ivoe;
Before, a joy proposd; behind, a dream .
All this the ivorld w ell know s; yet none knoivs ivell
To shun the h eaven that leads men to this hell
T his tracing of parallels between the structure of a poem and that of a
painting or a building cannot, however, ignore a judicious w arn in g uttered
by W ittkower: In the eyes of the men of the Renaissance m usical conso
nances were the audible tests of a universal harm ony w hich had a binding
force for all the arts. This conviction was not only deeply rooted in theory,
but also w hich is now usually denied translated into practice. It is true,
that in trying to prove that a system of proportions has been deliberately
applied by painter, sculptor or architect, one is easily m isled into finding in
a given work those ratios which one sets out to find. Com passes in the
scholars hand do not revolt.10 I f w e want to avoid the pitfall of useless
speculation we m ust look for practical prescriptions of ratios supplied by
the artists them selves.17
T hese prescriptions, common enough among architects, are only
rarely provided by other artists. But the common aim s of architecture and
poetry are clearly stated in D aniele B a rb a ra s com m entary on V itruvius:
Every work of art m ust be like a very beautiful verse, which runs along
according to the best consonances one followed by the other, until they
come to the well ordered end.18
This passage seems to fit very w ell the poems we have ju st read. In fact,
while it would be useless to try to find in poets such strict rules as those
practiced by architects,11' it can h ardly be denied that the R enaissance and
particularly the Italian Cinquecento saw an unprecedented blossom ing of
prescriptions for all the arts. So-called violations and improprieties were
often blamed in poets in Dante, for instance, whose renown w as at its
lowest in this period obsessed by fo rm alities;20 rules were enforced for all
literary genres, and extravagant ones were dictated for the im presa or
device.-1 That belated hum anist Milton adhered to T assos precepts as
expounded in his Discorsi dell'arte poetica and Discorsi del poeina e ro ic o 'with particular attention to mayi/ific-eiiza and musica, so that a long pas

sage towards the end oi the second act oi I assys tragedh TQrrismoftdv
can lie said to contain the pattern of Miltons style in ParQilisc Lost

I lie

sam e principles Milton found in I'asso. Nicokis Poussin absorbed during

bis stay in Rome where C assiano dal Poz/.o that enthusiastic collector of
antiques, acquainted him with Giosefio Z arlinos htitu.tioni harrrumichs
( published in Venice in 1 5 5 8 ) . irom which lie derived ideas that cause
his pictorial work to appear to us as a visual counterpart of Milton's epos.
Poussin found in

2 ai:linos

treatise support for his kind o f painting, since

for him painting, like m usic, had to be a transposition of states ol mind

For him the Iloratian precept nt pictnnt pocsis acted in reverse; his creed
was nt pocsis pictnru, r and poetry was for him. as for Milton, first o f all
m usic.
In the course of time, as Professor Wittkmver has shown,1" the unit\ of
the arts m aintained by Renaissance theorists ceased to be a common
belief. By the middle of the eighteenth century it rem ained a living force
only with isolated artists such as Bernardo Antonio Vi ttone,2 for whom the
basic elem ents of an Attic colum n were equivalent to a concert of four
voices within the lim its of an octave, and even the fillets between moldings
were com pared to the m elodic passages which m ake the essential notes of
the accord more agreeable. The Pythagorean justification o f the kinship
between the two languages of architecture and m usic has, however, been
substituted for here by a psychological and sensoiial one.
But the possibility of objective truth, which w as the foundation of
Renaissance aesthetics, cam e to be generally denied P articularly in En g
land the whole structure of classical aesthetics collapsed, owing to Ho
garth. Hume ( Beauty is no quality in things them selves: It exists m e re ly
in the m ind which contem plates them ; and each m ind perceives a different
beauty ), Lord Kam es, and Alison (fo r whom the beauty of form s was
produced solely by association ), until Ju lien Gaudet, in Elem ents ct thcoric
de Iarchitecture declared that m athem atical ratios were chim erical and
les proportions, eest linfini.'-*
But already the anti-Renaissance m ovement which goes bv the nam e of
m an n erism ,' attracted as it w as by the picturesque, the bizarre, and in a
w'ord the particular, rather than bv the Platonic ideal and the universal,
had sought effects which implied a reversal of classical usage, and resulted

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

91

in disquieting arrangem ents in literature and the visual arts. W ittkower

has rem arked that m annerist architects were enchanted with the unfin
ished appearance of the rusticatcd order, and has recorded other stock
features of m annerist architecture as exem plified in certain buildings of
Palladio in that phase of his development when he w as discovering the
u nclassical tendencies in ancient architecture'" (fo r instance in the Porta
de Borsari at V eron a). M ichelangelo had set the exam ple for such oddities
in the anteroom of the Laurentian Library [49]: the slender grace of
rectangular hollows over the tabernacles form s a playful contrast with the
solemn character of the rest of the fram ew ork; sm all grotesque heads peep
over the moldings of the capitals o f the colum ns; frieze and architrave are
abolished, and the entablature is reduced to a thin and elegantly profiled

49

M ic h e la n g e lo :

Anteroom of the Laurentian Library, Florence

t)_>

MNKMOSYNl

IV

band full Of tension; isolated ittig typhus je einplo\ed in a qfTite unorthodox

wav to suppoit the corbels o f the tabernacles.

1 lie unusual relation of

equivalence between the lower and the upper order creates an effect of
[vertical tension. The wavelike staircase connec ting the Kieetto with die
Heading Room counterbalances the centrifugal motion of the compressed
w alls. Tension and counterpoint are the m ain features of m annerism :
their most common form ula is the luwa sarpciitim ita. which is a recurrent
pattern of so much m annerist art (see, for instance. S a h ia ti's I.a Carita
[50] at the Uffizi, Bronzinos An A llegory [5 1] at the National Gallery,
London, and Giam bolognas s t a t u e s ) .J
A picture like B aihsheba Betaking H erself to Dai id [52] In Salviati is
typical. A figure in the foreground 011 the right, seen from the back

is

shown in the favorite pose o f the m annerists: head turned to one side,
arm s to the other, pivoting with a slow grace as if to start a dance. Another

50

sa lv ia ti:

La Carita. Canvas, ca. 15 4 0 -5 0

51

B ro n z in o :

An Allegory. Wood. ca. 1 5 5 0 - 5 5

52

s a l v i a t i : Bathsheba Betaking Herself to David.

Fresco, 1 5 5 2 -5 4 . Palazzo Sacchetti, Rome

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

95

figure, setting her foot on the stair, also turns her head aw ay from the
direction in which the body is thrust; a third figure at the top of the stairs,
is also turning her head to the side, aw ay from the direction of her
intended movement. All these twisted motions are com m unicated to the
stairs, which are spiral with a suggestion of precariousness and caprice.
Another typical m annerist composition is Giorgio V asaris A llegory of
the Im m aculate C onception, in which Adam and Eve tied to the tree and
the Devil coiled around it all conform to the serpentine pattern [53].
In m annerist paintings the color as well is frequently unsteady, passing
from one hue to another through the technique of cangiantism o; vases
take serpentine form s embossed with strange swellings, as i f instinct with
anim al life. Even space is pervaded by am biguity: there are often two
different spaces in the sam e painting, somehow unrelated, shot through
with am biguity. In Jacopo da Pontormos Joseph in E gypt [54] different
scenes of the Joseph story are combined. This device had precedents,"3 but
what most strikes the onlooker here is the presentation of unrelated spaces
as a unique vision.31 The two statues on pillars hardly give unity to the
com position: the spiral staircase on the right borders on a central scene
whose figures, though painted sm aller as if at a greater distance, actually
appear to be closer to the foreground than the figures at the top o f the
staircase; this is because although the staircase seem s to end beyond the
central scene, the figures at its top are, oddly enough, bigger than those in
the center of the painting. A tendency to abstraction,)rather than pure
imitation o f nature, is common to painters like Pellegrino Tibaldi, Rosso
Fiorentino, Parm igianino, and Beccafum i, with the result that reality is
seen, so to say, m etaphorically, and compositions often acquire an aspect
which appeals to the surrealists of our time. Allusive form s partake now of
the flexibility of snakes, now o f the im passive splendor of sem iprecious
stones (as, for instance, in Bronzinos A lleg o ry); deform ation o f shape
reaches its clim ax with Luca Cam biasos cubic m en and Arcim boldos
anthropomorphic still lifes [55 and 56]. I11 his rem arkable study of the
Depositions by Rosso Fiorentino and Pontormo, Daniel R. Row land has
observed that Rossos colors are often fran k ly dissonant, and that Pon
tormo carries this tendency to an extrem e. In his Deposition the eye can
never come to rest on anything, but is kept constantly traveling around

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

97

and around the composition following the curving lines of drapery until a
sense of nausea is produced,3 and Rowland com pares this effect to that
produced by ccrtain m adrigals of the m annerist m usician Carlo Gesualdo,
which convey a sense of unsteadiness and m usical seasickness.30
I f one considers the tortuous pattern of Joh n Donnes lyrics, one cannot
help concluding that his chief characteristic does not lie in his conceits
and witticism s, although these are bound to arrest ones attention first.37
His chief trait is the nervous dialectic of his im passioned mind, a trait
which Odette de Mourgues has noticed/ It finds parallels in the poetry of
M aurice Sceve in France, -and can be traced ultim ately to Petrarch. Donne
uses the elements of the Petrarchan subject m atter, but in a bizarre,
unorthodox w ay that recalls the use of classical elem ents by M ichelangelo
in the anteroom of the Laurentian Library. I have noticed elsewhere
certain affinities of Donne with the proceedings of m annerist painters, in
particular in the prom inence given to an accessory detail, thus turning
upside down w hat in other poets would have been the norm al pro cess.10
Donnes tortuous line o f reasoning frequently takes the form of a state
ment, reversed at a given point by a but at the beginning o f a line. Thus
in The undertaking, after declaring that it would be of no use to teach
how to treat a m atter which is no longer in existence (like the specular
stone, a sim ile for a sublim ated lo ve), Donne proceeds: But he who
lovelinesse within / Hath found, all outward loathes . .

in Aire and

A ngels, after: Still when, to where thou wert, I cam e, / Some lovely
glorious nothing I did see, he goes on: But since m y soule, whose child
love is, / Takes lim m es of flesh . .

in The A nniversarie, after: Alas,

as w ell as other Princes, wee . . . M ust leave at last in death, these eyes,
and eares, comes the reversal: But soules where nothing dwells but love.
. .

In The D ream e, I thought thee . . .

an Angell, at first sight, is

im m ediately gainsaid b y: But when I saw thou sawest m y heart / A n d

knew st m y thoughts, beyond an A ngels art . .

in A nocturnall upon S.

Lucies D ay the watershed o f the poem is reached w ith: But I am by her

death . . .

Of the first nothing, the E lixer grown ; in W itchcraft by a

picture the second stanza, beginning But now I have drunke thy sweet
salt teares, contradicts what has been said in the first. In A Valediction:
Forbidding M ourning two parallel movem ents arc each reversed by a

55

g iu se p p e a r c im r o ld o :

Whiter. Panel. 15 6 3

56

g iu s e p p e a rc im b o i.d o :

The Librarian. Wood, ca. 1580

I OO

M N E M O S Y N E IV

but" at the beginning ol a Subsequent line: "M oving of tlfe a iih biings
haim es and fcares . . . But trepidation of the sphesrak

Dull sublunary

lovers love . . . cannot admit Absence . . . But we by a love, so much

refin'd . . . Care lease, eyes, lips, and hands to missfe.'* The sam e m anner
of proceeding can be shown in some o f the Ih dy Sonnets
made me ( But our old subtle foe so teinpteth me . .
earths im agin'd corners . .

in Thou hast

m At the round

( Hut let them sleepe. Lord, and nice

mourne a space ); in Spit in m y face" ( But by my death can not be

satisfied / My sinnes ); in Batter my heart, three per seind Cod" ("B ut is
captivd . . . . But am betrothd unto your enem ie").
If this kind o f dialectic can be traced back to Petrarch, as I have said, a
com parison of Donnes poetry with that of one of the most elegant follow
ers of Petrarch in the Cinquecento, Pietro Bembo, will clearly show hov.
far Donne has traveled from the orthodox pattern." Take this sonnet lrom
Bem bos Rim e:
Bella gnerriera mia, perche si spesso
v annate incoutro a me d'ira e cforgoglio,
d ie hr atti et in parole a voi m i soglio
portar si reverenta e s) dim esso?
Se picciol pro del inio gran danno expresso
a voi torna o piacer del inio cordoglio,
ne di langnir ne di m orir mi doglio,
ch'io vo solo per voi caro a me stesso.
Ma se con Iopre, ondio mai non mi sazio,
esser vi pb d'onor qnesta mia vita,
di lei vi caglia, e non ne fate strazio.
L'istoria vostra col mio stam e ordita
se non mi si dara pin Inngo spazio,
quasi n el com inciar sara fm ita .4The sam e conclusion is transform ed thus in Donnes Loves exchange :
For this, L ove is enragd w ith mee,
Yet kills not. If I mast exam ple bee
To fntnre R eb ells. If th'nnhorne
M ast learne, by my being cut up. and tom e:

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

ioi

Kill, and dissect v ie, Love; for this

Torture against thine ow ne end is,
R ackt carcasses m ake ill A natom ies.
Instances of rhetorical patterns in literature parallel to the linea serpentinata in the visual arts are easier to find in prose than in verse, although
Giovanni Della C asas reform of the sonnet through the introduction of
enjam bm ent or run-on lines, to replace end-stopped ones, is a clear enough
instance of the prevailing m annerist taste. Della C asa was contem porary
with the blossom ing of the m annerist vogue in French art, introduced
there by Prim aticcio, Niccolo dellAbbate, and Luca Penni.43
The exquisitely decorative character of the School of Fontainebleau can
be best realized by com paring the A llegory [57] by an unknown painter
with Botticellis Prim avera, of which it looks like a late and more voluptu
ous version; or by envisaging together the delightful M aitre de Flore [58]
and R onsards fam ous ode M ignonne, allons voir si la rose, instinct with
lum inosity and sweet perfum e. The pervasive presence of flowers in the
most attractive compositions of the Fontainebleau School puts us in mind
of the closing line of Ronsards sonnet Comme on voit sur la branche au
mois de M ay la rose :
Afm que v if et mort ton corps ne soit qne roses.
And as the abstract and elegant art of the French m annerists found its
most congenial application in em blems (M aurice Sceves D elie being an
exquisite instance of the combined resources of poet and pain ter), the
general coloring of the prose of L yly and Sidney has the sam e emblem-like
quality.
The latter especially, in the second version of his Arcadia modeled on
Heliodorus Hellenistic rom ance, offers a good instance of serpentinato
style in prose, m aking his sentences tortuous through the use of subordi
nate clauses, in order to obtain a subtler analysis o f em otions:'14 But when
the m essenger cam e in with letters in his hand, & hast in his countenance,
though she knew not what to feare, yet she feared, because she knew not;
but she rose, and went aside, while he delivered his letters and m essage;
yet a fa r of she looked, now at the m essenger, & then at her husband: the

57

1590

sch ool

o f

F o n ta in e b le a u :

Mythological Scene: Allegory of Love. Canvas, ca.

58

m a itre de f lo r e :

Triumph of Flora. Canvas, ca. 156 0 65

10 . |

m n e m o s y n h

IV

saane feare, which made her loth 10 have cause of I can e. \rt m aking her
seeke cause to nourish her leare. And wel she luunnd tht're was some*
serious m atter; for her husbands countenance figured some* tesoJutia*!
beiweene lothnesse and liecessitie: and once his eie cast upon her

&

finding hers upon him, lie blushed: 8c she blushed, because he blushed: and
vet strcight grew paler, because she knew not why he had blushed. But
when he had read, & heard. & dispatched awa\ the m essenger f like a man
in whom Honour could not be rocked on sleepe bv A ffection) with promise
quickly to follow

he cam e to P a ith ciiiii, and as sorie as might be for

parting, and vet more sorie tor her sorrow he gave her the letter to reade.
She with fearfu l slownes tooke it. and with fearefull quicknesse read it; and
having read it. All my A rgakis (said she) . .

(B k. Ill, Chap. 12 , 5 ).

This style, which Sidney derived from the study o f Greek and Spanish
rom ances, with its but" and yet m aking a continuous transition from
one mood to another, follows a tortuous course typical o f m annerism .
Sidneys delight in this play of twists and turns rem inds one o f the closely
worked, elaborate em broideries of the Elizabethan period, precious and
barbaric at the sam e time.
Although m annerism w as the m ost typical phenomenon o f the sixteenth
century, it by no m eans exhausted all the aspects o f the visu al arts and the
literature of the period. Some of its features are present in m any artists
and w riters, its dialectical elem ents are noticeable in Tintoretto and El
Greco; but the R en aissance ideals o f svm m etrv and serenity were still
holding the field. The smooth, unruffled style of Bcmbo can achieve effects
that Titian wras able to attain in painting, and in a period in which the
visual arts loomed large it is only too natural that w riters should tend
toward luscious descriptions, vyin g with the palette in their appeal to the
taste o f the rulin g class. Yet should we try to illustrate this aspect we
m ight easily fa ll into the fa lla c y of taking for fundam ental sim ilarities
w hat is only a common patrim ony o f themes.
A popular theme w as the description of fem ale nudes. Francesco Colonna, in his H ypnerotom achia, caressed with words all the details o f a
sleeping nym ph, and we are rem inded that Giorgione cam e out of the sam e
circle of Venetian culture. Bandello in the third novella o f his First Book
also conjured up a naked beauty in bed for the eyes of courtiers to gloat

Harmony and the Serpentine Line

105

upon, just as Titian created for them his nudes.411 Ariosto described Angelica
tied to the rocks o f Ebuda, a victim offered to a m onster, and we are nat
urally referred to the m any Androm edas displayed in paintings to pander to
the taste of voluptuous and perverted gen tlem en : particularly T itian s Per
seus and Androm eda [59] and Tintorettos painting of beautiful slaves being
freed by knights in arm or [60], where the contrast of nudes with chains
and steel plates seems calculated to stir special sensibilities.
The same m ay be said of Shakespeares T h e Rape o f Lucrece. The taste 1
for K9paoeis according to the old recipe ut pictura poesis and for women
in pathetic circum stances is indulged in by Shakespeare in his early poems
to an extent equaled only bv M arino in Italy. But although it has been
m aintained that Shakespeare saw T itian s Venus and A donis ,17 com m is
sioned by Philip II while he w as the husband o f Bloody M ary, he must
have responded to a taste widely diffused in literature rather than to the
im pression of a special painting. The model w as as old as the Ariadne
episode in C atullus sixty-fourth poem. The fact that one critic has thought
o f Titian, and another has com pared Shakespeares treatm ent to Rubens,
shows that the common w ay of approaching the parallel between the
various arts m ust be wrong.
One could with equal and probably greater justification com pare Shake
speares fam ous description o f Cleopatras barge in A ntony and Cleopatra
to the m annerist panels which decorate the Studiolo o f Francesco I de
Medici in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence. In fact, both this description
and, on a lower artistic level, those in the early poems show the same
attention to m inute details, the sam e engrossm ent in rare and curious
form s that Vasari displayed in his Perseus and A ndrom eda, Allori in his
Coral Fishing in the Studiolo, and Zucchi in another painting [61] on the
sam e subject in the Borghese G allery all m annerist painters who had felt
the influence of Northern European m a s t e r s .N o t h in g in these panels or
in the passage by Shakespeare I have mentioned suggests the broad,
serene. Platonic m anner of the great Italian m asters, or Rubens tum ul
tuous feast of colored m asses; we find rather the m inute preciosity, the
delight in curious shapes and in rare m aterials typical of the m annerists.
The poet who wrote those descriptions belonged to the sam e phase of
English taste as Sidney and the m iniature painters o f the court o f Eliza
beth.

59

60

titia n :

Perseus and Andromeda. Canvas, ca. 15 6 2

T in to re tto :

The Rescue of Arsinoe. Canvas, ca. 15 5 6

61

ja c o p o

z u c c h i:

Coral Fishing. Copper, ca. 15 7 2

CHAPTER V

The Curve and the Shell

A R C H IT E C T U R E

and costume, being the arts which are closest to

everyday life, offer the clearest indications of the temper of an age. Paint
ing, sculpture, m usic, even literature, prominent as they are, and im por
tant as embodying the chief expressions of artistic genius, have a rel
atively limited appeal compared with the arts which involve the satisfac
tion of practical needs common to all m en: houses to live in, public
buildings which stand for such fun dam en tal institutions as religion and
governm ent, clothing for everyday w ear and for state ceremonies. And it is
in architecture and costume that, side by side with clear indications of new
tendencies, we find a persistent undercurrent of classicism , whose power
ful influence on European civilization never completely died out but rather
reasserted its presence in the very heart of the baroque period, and, kept
alive in the long tradition of English Palladianism , fought its w ay to the
foreground in the second h a lf of the eighteenth century with the neoclassi
cal revival fostered by the discoveries of Herculaneum .
If we consider how men dressed during the period in which m annerism
prevailed in literary and artistic expressions, we shall find it hard to
reconcile the predilection for black, unadorned, severe clothes for men
with the delight in variegated surfaces and the cangiantism o of the
painters, and with the polychrom y in the decoration of churches and
monum ents and the sam ples of m arbles and sem iprecious stones so com
mon in tombs, altars, and cabinets of the period. In the vogue, in both
wom ens and m ens clothing, for cuts in the sleeves and for extrem e]v
elaborate shirt-collars (w hich in due course developed into ru ffs), we do
indeed find a counterpart of m annerist features in the arts. Precious stones
employed for adornm ent and as sym bolic language, the use of mottoes and

110

M N B M O S V N K

devices, are recorded in C hapm an's O nds Banquet o f S e m e (stan /as 70

and 7 1 ), where Ju li gives a heart shaped arrangem ent to her h.nr.
A v d then v ith l e w i s ctf d< nitc it <irared:

One was a Snnnq gram >1 at Ins Eeunns depart.

And 1 nder that a Mans huge shadthnr j)laeed,

Wherein was writ, in s&bte chfrreetry,

D escrescente lictblljtatel crescnnt obscurt
An other was un E ye in Saphire set,
A nd d o se vpon it a fresh l.a w rd ! spray,
I he shill nil Posie teas. Medio caret.

To showe not eyes' but: me a rues uinst truth display.

T h e third was an Apollo with his temc
About a D iall and a Tcorlde in way.
T h e motto teas. Teipsum et orbeni.
C ranen in the D iall; these exceeding rare
A nd other like accom plem ents she w are.
The im pression conveyed by this description is the sam e as that we receiv e
when confronted with the m anner of allegorical portrait painting which
w as in vogue in England during the seventeenth century, in most cases the
work of Flem ish artists. Such a one w as Antwerp-born Hans Eworth, who
supposedly painted the portrait of Sir John Luttrell,1 a rendering in pic
torial terms of the allegorical verses inscribed on the picture [62]:
M ore tha[n] the rock adm ydys the raging seas
T h e consta[n]t hert no da[n]ger dreddys nor fearys.
Sir John is represented naked, w ading waist-high in ragin g seas; a ship
wrecked by storm and lightning is in the background, its su n iv o rs being
overwhelm ed in little boats. On his wrists are bracelets inscribed in L atin:
Money did not deter him, / nor danger wreck. and he gazes up confi
dently at a vision in the sky, from which a naked figure of Peace reaches to
succor him ; more remote attendant figures hold his spear, his arm or, his
charger, and his m oneybags: probably an allusion to his dual role of
w arrior and m erchant-adventurer.*111 another portrait by Ewortli (this one

62

hans

ew o rth :

Sir John Luttrell. Wood, 15 5 0

112

M N I M OS Y N I

painted about iS S jO , I ad\ Daere i$ rftprejeniBd agtin st a background full

of accessories, \\hieh give the effect ol a Hat arabesque, che sam e ( ffrc i we
note in so m any Stanzas ol Spensers The Faerie Qiiferu:, where the
crowding of detads seem s to imitate the painstaking technique of that
branch of painting Which dominated all others during Queen I li/abcths
reign, the m iniature. In another of I w orths paintings ( 1 5 6 9 ) , also akin
to Spenser in spirit, we see Queen ELizaberh confounding Ju n o . M inerva,
and Venus bv receiving the golden apple in their stead [63]. just as she did
in the verses of the Spenserian Richard Barnheld s Cynthia, written at a
later date ( 15 9 5 )." T be term m annerist. applied to such I leiuish painters

ri*

as ! worth, tits English authors like Spenser and Sidney equally well.

63

hans ew o rth :

Queen Elizabeth I and the Three Goddesses. Panel. 156 9

The Curve and the Shell

64

ja c o p o da p o n to rm o :

ii3

Double Portrait. Wood, ca. 1 5 1 6

But the prevalence of unadorned black in m ens dress throughout the

sixteenth century in Italy and Spain (the latter country is wrongly sup
posed to have originated this fashion, but in fact its origin w as V e n e tia n )1
that severe fashion, praised by Castiglione at the beginning of the
century and by Francesco Sansovino"' soon after its middle, illustrated in
m any portraits of men by Pontormo [64], Salviati, and other painters of the

114

MNEMOf i VNK

m annerist tendency corresponds to the ideals of gravity ami majesty

advocated for prose.

11ns

may bo seen tn num beil<ss oiii.cs in Italian

literature, and in English in the writings of Milton. T a\lor. Bacon Hooker

in the Bible translations, and even the work of writers like Donne and Sir
rhom as Browne, who have a strong m annerist component in their artistic
inspiration. T ake Browne, for instance: his way of sh&wing im ages in all
their facets, his setting them in his prose with the exquisite skill of a
goldsmith setting precious stones, are without doubt m annerist traits.
With all tins, his predilection for long words of Latin origin, and for a
solemn flow of sentences, recalls the gravity of the Bible and of the Book o f
Com m on Prayer. In this passage from Brownes Christian Morals (P art

Sec. 2 4 ), the im aginative contents leave unruflled the surface of the

traditional, solemn prose of Latin origin: T o well m anage our Affections,
and W ild Horses of Plato, are the highest C ircenses; and the noblest
Digladiation is in the Theater of our selves: for therein our inward Antago
nists, not only like common Gladiators, with ordinary W eapons and down
right Blows m ake at us. but also like R etian and I.aquearv Com batants,
with N ets. Frauds, and Entanglem ents fall upon us. W eapons for such
combats are not to be forged at L ip <9 A V ulcans Art doth nothing in this
internal M ilitia: wherein not the Arm our of A chilles, but the Arm ature of
St. Paul, gives the Glorious day, and Trium phs not Leading up into Capi
tols, but up into the highest H eavens.
In architecture hum anist ideals were never com pletely elim inated by the
all but sweeping fashion for the Baroque. It is a well-known fact that 111 his
later years Bernini him self as a sculptor turned to "an austere and, one is
tempted to say, classical fram ew ork for his com positions. and this "shows
that he was not independent of the prevalent tendencies o f the period ; as
for the colonnade of St. P e ters, according to W ittkower no other Italian
structure of the post-Renaissance period shows an equally deep affm in
with Greece.1 It is this sam e turn we find in the later compositions of
Poussin and Milton, that classical strain which is so m arked in some of the
painters as to m ake us wonder whether neoclassicism w as not already at
hand. Guido Reni, when asked by his pupils where he found models as
beautiful as the figures of his paintings, replied by pointing out casts of
ancient statues. His Girl u ith a W reath [65] is concehed after the antique.

The Curve and the Shell

65

g u id o

kkni

115

: Girl with a Wreath. Canvas, ca. 16 3 5

The tendency is already observable in R aphael, whose last works show

signs of his preoccupation with archaeology. Annibale C arraccis Farnese
Gallery is closer to the second h a lf of the eighteenth century than to
Rubens or even to M ichelangelo, some of whose Sistine figures he adopts
and transform s; and Dom enichino followed Belloris classical theory so
closcly as to actually anticipate Thorw aldsen in some of his compositions
[66]. Domenichinos classicism is exem pt from rhetoric: he w as for a
harm ony of temperate tones, a rhythm of everyday acts such as those

Il()

M N H M () S Y N 1 \

shown iii the antique has reliefs whftse resii.im t lie imitated to the point
of appearing

troppo n ian n o m i, piohl.ito e >t<ntarello

t-0

so u k

of his

contem poraries, He influenced .ill the ethically in* pi reel 1 rench painting oil
the seventeenth c('ntnr\ from Poussin to Le Sueui and oontcibutf-d to the
m ovement o f reaction against the Baroque. A lo llo u u of loussifl, Jicq u tri
Stella ( 1 5 9 6 - 11 6 5 7 ) ol Lyons showed in a painting of C h h a and Her
Com panions Crossing the T ih tr [67] that he had taken his models from
Domenichino and ancient statues. Domenii hino was uo isolated phenome
non, because Diana's Hunt (Borghese Gallery, Home) gives us a synthesis
of the Italian literary and m usical taste of the early seventeenth centu n
A curious fact, indeed, one which illustrates the persistence of tradition,
is the relative tam eness of Italian seventeenth-centurv literature 111 com
parison with the daring innovations in the arts. Marino, the k alian repre
sentative of sccentism o, develops certain tendencies already apparent in
T asso, and enounces one of the principles of the Baroque* in the phrase
del poeta il fin la m araviglia ; but none of the really essential characteris-

66

d o m e n ic h in o :

St. Cecilio Refuses to Worship the Idols

dei Francesi. Rome

Fresco, 1611-14 S Luigi

67

Jacq u es

16 3 5 -3 7

s te lla :

Clelia and Her Companions Crossing the Tiber. Canvas,

1 18

M N K Mf O S Y N E

tics Of t l i s t y l e linds a perfect illustration in him. Ills th ief poem Adotie.

is little more than ail inventory o f delights and elegancies

very close in

spirit to Ja n Brueghel?* overcrowded Allegories Of the Setist s which w n e

destined to stim ulate the languishing appetites of those mo*t m elancholy
o f sovereigns, the kings o f Spain, with a display of fine and rare things.
M arinos paradisiacal garden, inhabited bv Venus and

Cupid

>> m

spirit one o f the paradises o f Ja n Brueghel, who was nicknam ed after

them. It is divided into five sections, each sym bolr/m g one of the five
senses. Adonis, after listening to a learned dissertation on the organ of
sight from the lips o f M ercurv, his guide, enters a garden full of merrv
dances and gam es. The arcades are decorated with paintings representing
love scenes, and the poet seizes the opportunity to celebrate the greatest
painters of the period: C aravaggio, Veronese, Titian. Bronzino, the C ar
racci. W hile the pair w anders in the garden, a beautiful peacock comes
their w ay, and the poet tells its m ythical story. Sim ilarly, in The A llegory
of Sight [68] Brueghel displays paintings bv the most celebrated artists of
his time hanging on the w alls or leaning on easels or pieces o f furniture,
and shows a peacock fram ed in the window-space. In M arino's poem,
Venus then leads Adonis into the garden of the sense o f smell, and
M ercury expounds upon the flowers and scents that are found there:
cassia, am aracus, am om um . anet. spikenard, thyme, serpille. helichrvsum .
cytisus, sisym brium , cinnam on, terebinth, m vrrh, privet, am aranth, n ar
cissus, hyacinth, crocus flowers throng M arinos verse as well as Brue
ghels painting. In the sam e w ay the peacock surpasses all other birds of the
garden in beauty, so the passionflow er excels all other flowers, and Marino
sings its praises in nine stanzas. In the seventh book of the poem, after a
discourse on the sense of hearing and a description of its garden, a
sym phony of forty-four birds, each one described by the poet, is intro
duced, and the episode concludes with the fam ous competition between
the nightingale and the lutanist derived from Fam ian us Strada, the sam e
source C rashaw drew upon for M usicks Duell.
We neednt continue our brief survey of the poem, which is modeled on
Tasso and Ovid. It w as published in Paris in 16 2 3 and had circulated in
m anuscript long before then, and it is possible that Brueghel, who painted
his A llegories in 16 1 8 , m ay have been acquainted with it; but this is not of

The Curve and the Shell

1 19

prim ary im portance. Both the poet and the painter represent in a very
sim ilar w ay the sam e mom ent of taste, and a fashionable subject: cata
logues which are almost scientific are turned into poetry; the current
notions about the senses and the objects which im press them are arranged
into elaborate and dizzy sym phonies. Sensuous things display all the splen
dor of their outward appearance and become almost m ystical species,
though without losing anything of their terrestrial nature. M arino and
Brueghel create an apotheosis o f the still life. M an, in this spectacle of
things intended for the pleasure of his five senses, alm ost disappears.
Venus and Adonis pass like shadows through M arinos m agical gardens;
Brueghel took so little interest in m an that he asked other painters to paint
in those hum an figures w hich would have distracted his attention from
that universe of objects in which he loved to take shelter. A step further
on, we shall find with M arvell that ecstatic love of gardens in which things

68

ja n

B ru egh el

: 77 ie Allegory of Sight. Wood,

ca.

16 18

120

M N I M O S V N !

\'

are adored for their own s.ikes, and thcii practical purposa tliat Of minis
tering to the senses, is nearly lost sight o f: the adoring spirit becomes one
w ith nature,
A nnih ilating all that s made
To a green Thought in a green Shade.
If Baroque m eant onl\ an overcrowding ol details a display of luscious
im agery, then Marino could certaiulv be termed baroque, hut then even
rasso , for his description of A rm idas garden, m ay be said to belong to the
sam e category of poets, and indeed Arm ida has been com pared with the
Cleopatras of seventeenth-century artists.7 There is in that description,
however, a hint which is more indicative of a new turn in m atters of taste
than all the other alleged antecedents to be found in T asso s G enisalcm m e
liberata. In the sixteenth canto of this poem (stan zas 9 and 10 ) we read
the following description o f the character o f A rm idas g a rd en :
L'arte, bhe tntto fa, nulla si scopre.
Stiini ( s) misto il culto e co'l neglettu)
sol naturali e gli ornam euti e i siti.
Di nalura arte par, d ie per diletto
Iiiuitatrice sua sclierzando iim ti*
This passage, which owes not a little to Longinus' On the Sublim e
in which, however, the sam e principle was applied to eloquence is not
only a first step towards the creation of the n atural or picturesque garden
that becam e an English specialty during the eighteenth c e n t u r y I t indi
cates a revolution in taste that is lightly hinted at in H errick s delightful
little poem Delight in D isorder. which followed in the wake of Ben
Jo n son s passage in T h e Silent W om an ( 16 0 9 ), which in its turn w as an
English version of a Latin poem presum ably by Jea n Bonnefons.' Now
w'hen we read Herricks poem we are instantly reminded of Berninis
treatm ent of drapery, and o f a characteristic of baroque art m uch more
revealing than that m ere crowding of details we have exam in ed :
A sw eet disorder in the dresse
K indles in cloathes a u antounesse:

The Curve ancl the Shell

111

A L aw ne about the shoulders throivn

Into a fine distraction:
A n erring L ace, w hich here and there
Enthralls the Crim son Stom acher:
A C uffe n eg lectfu ll, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A w in n in g w ave ( deserving N ote)
In the tem pestuous petticote:
A carelesse shooe-string, in w hose tye
I see a w ilde civility:
Doe m ore bew itch me, then xvheu Art
Is too precise in every part.
All this m ay seem a frivolous mood, in com parison with the deep
emotions Berninis draperies are m eant to suggest. The artistic result is,
however, of the sam e kind: a significant m ovement instead o f beautiful
stillness. Of the Ponte S. Angelo angels Professor W ittkower writes that
their grief over Christs Passion is reflected in different w ays in their w ind
blown d rap eries: The Crown of Thorns held by one o f them is echoed by
the pow erful, w avy arc of the drapery which defies all attempts at rational
explanation. By contrast, the more delicate and tender mood of the Angel
with the Superscription is expressed and sustained by the drapery crum
pled into nervous folds which roll up restlessly at the lower end [69 and
70]. The tendency toward what W ittkower calls dynam ic ornam entalization o f form is developed to its utm ost lim it in the garm ents of the
bronze angels on the altar of the Cappella del ss. Sacram ento ( 1 6 7 3 7 4 )
in St. Peters: Parallel with this went an inclination to replace the diag
onals, so prominent during the middle period, by horizontals and verticals,
to play with m eandering curves or to break angular folds abruptly, and to
deepen crevices and furrow s. 11
Of the use of such com positional devices to support an em otional ten
sion we find an instance, parallel from a structural point o f view, in the
variety of rhythm s employed by Dryden in his Pindaric ode A lexanders
Feast. On the whole it can be said that the favor enjoyed by the Pindaric
ode, first adopted in England by Ben Jonson in his poem in honor o f Lucius

69

g ia n lo re n z o b e rn in i:

Marble, 16 6 8 -7 1

Angel with the Crown of Thoms.

7i

g ia n lo re n z o

b e rn in i:

David. Marble, 16 2 3

The Curve and the Shell

125

Cary and H. Morison, then naturalized by Cowley, is to be attributed to its

irregularity of rhythm , which allowed fbr dynam ic effects and the expres
sion of the fury of in sp iratio n : Chez elle un beau desordre est un effet de
lart, (Boileau, L Art poetique, Chant II, I.7 2 ). An Italian composition
almost contem porary with Drydens A lexanders Feast, Francesco Redis
dithyram b Bacco in T oscan a, is another instance of the sam e tendency.
T he freedom of movem ent implied by the elegant disorder in dress
described by Herrick m av be contrasted to the idol-like im m obility enjoined
by the stiff, complicated clothes worn by women in the preceding century
cloth-o-gold and cuts, and lacd with silver, set with pearls down sleeves,
side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel.12 This is, in
the field of fashion, a reflection of the sam e tendency one finds in the
higher arts. To quote W ittkower again : One need only compare Berninis
D avid [71] with statues of David of previous centuries, such as Donatellos
or M ichelangelos, to realize the decisive break with the past: instead of a
self-contained piece of sculpture, a figure striding through space almost
m enacingly engages the observer.1'5
Another little poem by Herrick, Upon Ju lia s Clothes, reveals a delight
in the glittering silk of women's dresses, and this time a pictorial, rather
than sculptural, parallel comes to m ind:
W hen as in silks my Ju lia goes,
T hen, then (m e th in k s) hoxv sweetly floives
That liquefaction o f h er clothes.
N ex t. when I cast m ine eyes and see
That brave Vibration each w ay free;
O hoiv that glittering taketh me!
Gerard Terborch ( 1 6 1 7 - 8 1 ) , a contem porary of Herrick ( 1 5 9 1 16 7 4 ) ,
delighted in reproducing the silver-gray shades of silk and the pulpv
softness o f velvets [72]: The light comes mostly from the front and stops
at the glossy surfaces of the costumes and other textures.11
W hen the reaction to the Baroque cam e, and principles o f classical
beauty were reasserted, it followed as a m atter of course that the chief
features on which seventeenth-century artists relied for novelty and sur
prise had to be reversed. Sim plicity was opposed to overcrowding, noble

126

MNEMOSYNK

72

gerard terb o rch :

The Parental Admonition. Canvas, ca. 1 6 3 4 - 5 5

calm to passionate m ovem ent, order to disorder (or w hat seemed su ch ),

perfect beauty to the unusual and the bizarre, and the straight line to the
curve. This last feature, w hich w as the real core of the baroque revolution,
we shall consider later on.
As for the unusual and the bizarre, the greatest innovation lay in the
m anaging of the point o f view from which objects had to be seen, and of
the kind o f light in which they had to be seen. Wit in poetry, illusionism in
painting, and the tenebroso m anner initiated by C aravaggio and brought
to its extrem e consequences by Rem brandt are all so m ain aspects o f the
sam e phenomenon. As arguzia or agudeza (w it) was. in the words of
Sf'orza Pallavicino, a m arvellous observation condensed into a brief sen

The Curve and the Shell

127

tence, it is easy to understand why the literary form that most appealed to
the m ind of a seventeenth-century m an should be the epigram , which, by
suggesting a foreshortened tertium q u id , was the poetical counterpart of a
false perspective like that of the fam ous Borrom ini colonnade in the
Palazzo Spada [73], or Berninis Scala Regia [74] in the V atican : the
form er appears to be very long, but as soon as you proceed to w alk inside
the statue at the end dw arfs into a pigmy, and the different sizes of the
columns reveal the trick; in the latter, Bernini, By placing a colum nar
order within the tunnel of the m ain flight and by ingeniously m anipulat
ing it, . . . counteracted the convergence of the w alls towards the upper
landing and created the impression of an ample and festive staircase.13

73

f r a n c e s c o B o r r o m i n i : Colonnade with false perspective, Palazzo Spada, Rome. 16 3 5

74

g ia n lo re n z o

b e rn in i:

Palace, Rome. 16 6 3 -6 6

Scala Regia, Vatican

128

jMNI m o s v n i

Berninis Cornaro and Pio chapels may aUo he quoted, and the rnarfsc
effect of the supernatural scene lie created around the lln o rie of Si Peter

by the combined powers of sculpture, architecture, and lighting 75] one

luirdly need mention the most iaiao u s of all illtisioiiisiic effects

that of

Andrea Pozzo's ceiling of S. lgna/io I7C)]. What Km m anuele Tesauro says of

m etaphor in II Ctnmomchiale Aii.stnteH.cd reveals the kinship between wit
and artistic llh isio n ism : 'M etaphor packs tightly all object* into one word:

75

b e r n i n i : Throne o f St. Peter. Gilt, bronze, marble,

and stucco, 16 5 7 66. Apse, St. Peter's, Home

g ia n lo re n z o

The Curve and the Shell

129

and m akes you see them one inside the other in an almost m iraculous way.
Hence your delight is the greater, because it is a more curious and pleasant
thing to watch m any objects from a perspective angle than if the originals
them selves were to pass successively before ones eyes.113
One understands, then, w hy only in a period in which this point of view
had become widespread could there be a chance of popularity indeed, of
an enthusiasm for the kind of decoration of church ceilings and cupolas
first practiced in the second decade of the sixteenth century by Correggio,
in S. Giovanni Evangelista [77] and the Cathedral of Parm a. These trium
phal flights, am ong dawn-colored clouds, of angels and saints gyrating in
the coil of a celestial m aelstrom did not find an im m ediate following. It
w as only a century later, in the baroque period, that Giovanni L an fran co s
decoration of the cupola of S. Andrea della Valle after the m anner of
Correggio ( 1 6 2 8 ) caused a real sensation, and the exam ple of church
decoration thus set by the Theatines w as followed by the Oratorians with
Pietro da Cortonas frescoes in the Chiesa N uova ( 1 6 4 7 ) and by the
Jesu its with B aciccias decoration of the Gesii ( 1 6 7 5 ) and Andrea Pozzos
form idable trompe-Vceil [76] in the Church of S. Ignazio ( 1 6 9 1 - 9 4 ) , and
for a century and a h alf became the fashionable style of church decoration
in Catholic Europe, particularly in Italy and the Germ an countries.17
Light playing on certain singled-out points of a scene has a dram atic
effect sim ilar to wit, insofar as it creates a tension, and dram atic contrasts.
The painter m anipulating light can be likened to an alchem ist bent on
finding the philosophers stone:
I assure you,
He that has once the flow er of the su vne,
T he perfect ruby . . .
. . .

by its vertue,

Can confer honour, lone, respect, long life,

Giue safety, valure: yea, and victorie,
To ivham he w ill.1*
From entin, in Les Maitres d'autrefois, saw Rem brandt thus: Rem
brandt at work had the air of an alchem ist: secrets were asked to his brush
and his burin which cam e from a far; his principle w as to extract from

76

The Glory of St. Ignatius. Fresco, 16 9 1-9 4 . Ceiling

of the nave, S. Ignazio, Home

ANDREA p o z z o :

77

co rre g g io :

Chust in Glory.

Fresco,

15 2 2 -2 4 .

Cupola, S. Giovanni Evangelista, Parma

132

MNEMOSYNE V

tilings an d em en t above nil others; err rather to abstract lrom ill elements
except one. "I hits in all his works ho has behaved like an an.tlvs!

likt a

m etaphysician rather than a poet. To see the u a\ m which lu treated

bodies one m ay doubt whether the envelopes interested him

lie decom

posed and reduced everything, color as well as light in such a wav that, by
elim inating from appearances all that is m anifold, condensing what lies
scattered, he succeeded in draw ing without contours in painting .1 portrait
almost without visible traits, in coloring without color, in concentrating
the light of the sun into a beam. He substituted moral expression to
physical beau ty, the almost total m etamorphosis of things to their im ita
tion. T hanks to this faculty of double sight, to this som nam bulists intui
tion, he sees deepei than anybody else into the supernatural.1
By the m agic o f light, that suprem e elixir, that wit of the sun. Rem
brandt m ade ugliness acceptable to the vision of art. This was his great
discovery, which w as also C aravaggios : that nothing is so vulgar and uigh
that art cannot redeem it.*0 And this was also, in a w ay. C en antes" and
Shakespeare's discovery: Don Quixote and Sancho are grotesques in the
baroque m anner, F a lstaff and Caliban could hardly have been exhibited on
the classical stage o f Fran ce, though, considered from another point of
view, even Corneille m ay be defined as baroque-1 indeed, France had to
w ait until Hugo's preface to Cro'imceli to conceive of such freedom .
Rem brandt not only dares to show men as they are that is. 011 the
whole, as fa r from handsom e but he actually chooses his models from
am ong the most ordinary and unprepossessing of them. He represents the
celebrated women of the Bible and of heroic legend as endowed with
deplorable anatom ies: live flesh, no doubt, but pitifully throbbing with the
life of coarse hum anity; though certainly he was not pursuing aim s sim ilar
to those of the authors o f Lo S ch em a degti dei or Vircjilc tru iesti,** or of
those followers of M arino who sang the praises of women attractive in
spite of their deform ities, or even of Shakespeare, when lie professes in
Sonnet 13 0 his partiality for a fa r from beautiful m istress. Rem brandt
represents D iana as a flabby, m ature m atron bathing [78], Bathsheba as a
stripped m aid servant, Susannah with flesh as white as cheese, her ges
tures clum sy as she covers her womb and puts on uncouth slippers, and
Ganym ede being carried off by the eagle as a blubbering urchin.

The Curve and the Shell

78

rem brandx:

*33

Diana at the Bath. Etching, ca. 16 3 1

Ju st as he could produce light out of darkness, so that the words of

Sophocles A ja x could be made h is: Oh, darkness, m v light! ; thus, too,
Rem brandt knew how to seize the quintessence of live, passionate, and
suffering hum anity in its less attractive specim ens, in graceless creatures
and in the very people despised in his own times, the Jew s. These hum an
types, too, claim ed admission at the door o f art. C aravaggio had perceived
this, and chose his models from am ong the populace; Rem brandt felt it
even more, and, more daringly still, picked his own up from the haunts of

134

m n e m

s y n i

bflgglts and th ghetto. To find something corresponding to this in liter.iture, one must wait until the nineteenth ccntur\ when George 1 hot. in the
wake of W ordsworth, answered tbe objection What a low phase of life!
what clum sy, ugly people!" in the seventeenth chapter of Admit 1U d r: Hut
bless us, things m ay he lovable that are not altogether handsom e. 1 hope
. . . Y es! thank God; hum an feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the
earth: it does not wait for beautv, it flows with resistless force, and
brings beauty with il. All honour and reverence to the divine beaiuty of
form ! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men women, and children. . . .
But let us love that other beauty too. which lies in no secret of proportion,
but in the secret of deep hum an sym pathy. She had already asked,
apropos of ordinary men. in T h e Sad Fortunes o f the Rev. Arnos Barton
Is there not a pathos in their very insignificance, in our com parison of
their dim and narrow existence with the glorious possibilities of that
hum an nature which they sh a re ?
A nticipating George Eliot by two centuries. Rem brandt too felt the
appeal of the m any hum an souls who look out through dull grey eyes/'
and speak in a voice of quite ordinary tones. His anticlassical cam paign
w as anim ated by an intent of truthfulness to nature. Words used by
W ittkower of C aravaggio could be applied also to Rem brandt: It is pre
cisely the antithesis between the extrem e palpability of his figures, their
closeness to the beholder, their uncom eliness and even vu lg arity in a
word, between the realistic' figures and the unapproachable m agic light
that creates the strange tension. . . .-3
Rem brandt did not attempt to improve upon the ugliness he found in
nature ( his etching of D iana bathing shows all the sm all furrow s which
an elaborate, habitual costum e garters, stays, sleeve-bands leave on the
soft su rface of the flesh ) ,24 and he also reduced to the level of ordinary
hum anity the ideal figures of Italian art, in such a w ay as to m ake them
unrecognizable. It has needed the ingenuity o f Sir Kenneth Clark to find in
Sam sons W edding Feast traces of R em bran d ts study o f Leonardo's Last
Supper, to read as in a palim psest Raphael's Attila in The S iq l:t
W atch. In the etching of Christ Presented to the People we recognize the
patterns of both B andinellis M artyrdom of St. Lau rence (bv way of an en
graving by M arcantonio) and Antomo da Salam anca's engraving of M i

The Curve and the Shell

135

chelangelos m onument to Ju liu s II; Rem brandts self-portrait is modeled

on T itian s so-called Ariosto portrait and R aph aels C astiglionc; the Sacri
fice o f Manoah is based on a lost Adoration o f the Shepherds by Leonardo,
reproduced fairly accurately in a work by his Spanish followers; in the
etching of T he T h ree Crosses we are astonished to find Pisanellos portrait
of Gian Francesco Gonzaga. Such influences, completely assim ilated, have
an interest that reaches beyond source hunting. R enaissance art had
utilized Gothic m otifs, subm itting them to the selective principle of classi
cal ideals of beauty. Rem brandt follows the opposite course: he appropri
ates Renaissance m otifs and translates them into the language of a period
in w hich the artistic expression of m oral and spiritual dignity w as inde
pendent of physical perfection: the Middle Ages.2" Like m any revolutions,
his revolution consisted in a return to the past. In him the poetics of the
Middle A ges of ugliness as a possible content for art reasserted its
validity.
Rem brandts treatm ent of classical models is parallel to the use to which
baroque architects put the traditional orders. Bernini as a sculptor availed
himself' of classical models in the sam e w ay Rem brandt utilized his studies
of Italian m asters of the Renaissance. W ittkower has drawn attention to
the fact that the A ngel with the Superscription is derived from the socalled Antinoiis in the Vatican. Bernini him self referred to this in his
address to the Paris Academ y: In m y early youth I drew a great deal from
classical figures; and when I w as in difficulties with my first statue, I
turned to the Antinous as to the oracle. W ittkower com m ents: His
reliance on this figure, even for the late Angel [with the Superscription], is
strikingly evident in a preparatory draw ing showing the Angel in the nude.
But the proportions of the figure, like those of the finished m arble, differ
considerably from the classical model. Slim, with extrem ely long legs and
a head sm all in com parison with the rest of the body, the nude recalls
Gothic f i g u r e s . H e r e we are m ade aw are of the sam e return to the taste
of the Middle Ages that Sir Kenneth Clark noticed in connection with
Rembrandt. The sam e tendency can be observed in Borrom inis Church of
the Collegio di Propaganda Fide, where The coherent skeleton-structure
has become all-im portant hardly any w alls rem ain between the tall
pilasters! and to it even the dome has been sacrificed. . . . No post-

136

M N 1 MOSYNI \

RenaissHifiOe building 111 Italy bad come so close 10 (ioilnc s tm e iu r d prin

ciples

For thirty vi'ais Borromini had been groping 111 tins direction

These are sonic1 instances ol tjie revolution brought about bv borocjiw;

ideals; the m odular system , which implied an anthropom orphic conception
ol architecture, has been Abandoned, and architects use the various ele
ments in deliance of classical rules. The sam e gram m ar of architectural
form s serves entirely different purposes and conveys vastly different ideas
in the churches Bernini designed when he was almost sixiv veais old than
it had form erly: S. Andrea al Quirinale, and the churches at Castelg nidolto
and A riccia.8
But Bernini never challenged the essence of the Renaissance tradition.
It w as Borromini who actually threw overboard the classical anthropo
m orphic conception o f architecture. The extent o f this revolution can be
appreciated by studying Borromini's com parativch short career, from the
sm all but all-im portant church of S. Carlino alle Quattro Fontane [79], in
which he renounced the classical principle of planning in terms of mod
ules (i.e.. in terms of the m ultiplication and division o f a basic architec
tural u n it), to the late fagade of the Palace of the Collegio di Propaganda
Fide [80], in which nothing is orthodox. T h e capitals are reduced to a few
parallel grooves, the cornice is without a frieze, and the projecting pair of
brackets over the capitals seem s to belong to the latter rather than to the
cornice. The central bay recedes over a segm ental plan, and the contrast
between the straight lines o f the fagade and the inw ard curve is surprising
and alarm ing. No less startling is the juxtaposition of the austere lower
tier and the piano nobile with its extrem elv rich window decoration.^'9
The m ain feature of this revolution, a feature which led to extrem ely
com plex schem es and to such m arvelous developm ents as the domes of S.
Carlino alle Quattro Fontane [81] and S. Ivo, and to S. Lorenzo and the
Capella della ss. Sindone in Turin [8a], is the curve. The curve induces
movem ent, it articulates the fagade of a church like a fugue,

with volutes,

concave and convex surfaces, broken pedim ents: a ceaseless throbbing

transform s the solidity of the stone into the m obility of the wave. The
curve helps in the creation o f an illusory space; the interplay of convex
and concave form s causes the sm all piazza of Pietro da Cortonas S. M aria
della Pace to appear much wider than it actually is. a device belonging to

The Curve and the Shell

137

the kind of false perspective employed on the stage.32 Angels w ings, the
sphere, the sun, the cloud, wind-blown draperies and hair, the palm branch
all curved form s are ubiquitous; they are often invested with a sym bolical
m eaning, as in the case of the soap bubble, an emblem of hum an life, or
the egg, the heart,"1 the tennis ball. It is significant, for instance, that the
im age of m ans utter incapacity to resist destiny, or the w ill of a supernatu
ral power, w hich most appealed to the seventeenth century was that of a
ball used in a game. It seemed to happen to me that I saw the devils
playing tennis with m y soul, wrote St. T eresa (V ida, X X X ); and Solorzano
Pereiras Em blem ata (M adrid, 1 6 5 1 ) has an emblem in which God is
represented dealing with kings as with tennis balls. John W ebster, taking
up by w ay of Book V of Sidneys A rcadia M ontaignes sentence Les dieux
sesbattent de nous a la pelote, et nous agitent a toutes m ains (in its turn
indebted to Plautus Captivi, Prol. 2 2 ) , puts it in the mouth of Bosola in his
own D uchess of Malfi (V , iv, 6 3 - 6 4 ) : We are m erely the starres tennysballs (strooke, and banded / W hich w ay please them ).
As could be expected, the predilection for the curve is evident in cos
tume, both in the shape of the garm ents them selves and in the em phasis
on volum e: wigs, breeches, sleeves all speak a curvilinear language. One
fashion in m ens shoes produced an oval hollow at the extrem ity, the tip of
the shoe frequently jutting out in two little horns.35
The culm ination of the curved figure is the spiral, which the last of the
baroque artists, Piranesi, w as later to invest with a hallucinatory character
in the spiral staircases of the Carceri.
The baroque artists used the suggestion o f infinity conveyed by the
curve as a vehicle of religious sublim ity and for the exaltation of terrestrial
m ajesty. While painting offers any num ber of parallels to this apotheosis
of the curve in the frescoed ceilings of baroque churches, and parallels
with m usic m ay be pointed out in Borrom inis architecture,37 it is not so
easy to find illustrations in literature. There is, however, a case in which
the correspondence seem s all but perfect: R ichard C rashaw .38
C rashaw learned how to turn surprising concetti in M arinos school, but
there is nothing either in M arino or in the Jesuit poets whose Latin verse
C rashaw studied and imitated to suggest that m arvelous energy o f soaring
im agination which associates the English poet with the m asterpieces of

_----------------------------------------- -----79

F R A N C E S C O B O R R O M IN I:

Fagade, S. Carlino alle Quattro Fontane, Rome.

i 665-67

80

PRAN C ESC O BO R R O M IN I:

Home, 16 6 2

Facade, Palace of the Collegio di Propaganda Fide

Si

F R A N C E S C O P .O R K O M IN I

Rome. 163&-41

View into dome, S. Carlino alle Quattro Fontane,

82

g ita k in o

g u a k in i:

View into dome, CapeJla della SS. Sindone, Turin, 16 6 7-9 0

1 42

MNEMOSYNK

the \ isual arts. Of poetic inspiracian Crashaw speaks thus in T o the

Morning. Satisfaction for Sleepc :
. . . nim ble rapture starts to He eaten and hrtriys
Enthusiasm ke flam es. such as cun give
Marroiv to m y ph unpe Genius, m ake it lice
Drest in the glorious uiadnesse of a Muse,
W hose feet can w alke the mi Ik if w ay, and ch vsc
Her starrg T h ro n e; w hose holy heats can u urine
T h e C ra ve, anil hold tip an exalted a n n e
To lift me from my lazy Vrne to ctim be
Vpon the stooped shoulders o f old T im e;
A nd trace Eternity.
Such an inspiration (thus described in a sw ift succession of m ixed m eta
phors whose incongruity is nevertheless swept aw ay b\ a frenzied motion,
like the disparate elem ents in an overdecorated baroque altarpiece ) can he
defined, in the poets own words, as a sweet inebriated extasv.30 an
ecstasy which breaks forth into dithyram bs and hym ns of m am -hued
splendor, now nim ble, soaring up in dizzy spirals, now solem n, wrapped in
the silken folds o f azure singing robes, veiled by clouds of incense. A
Rubensian opulence sw'ells the hym n "To the N am e above ev e n N am e, the
N am e of Iesvs. as perhaps no other poem of the Carm en Deo Nostro.
Crash aw s hym n is a dizzy sequel of variations on the Latin text of the
Ju bilu s de nom ine Je su attributed to St. Bern ard : the English poet
envelops the spare structure of the Latin hym n in the folds o f his inebri
ated rhetoric, ju st as Bernini transform ed the classical statue of Antm ous
into the wind-blown A ngel w ith the S uperscription. And in the ill-welded
final portion of the Hymn to Saint T eresa. the poet's inspiration soars
dizzily into an im passioned invocation ( O thou vndanted daughter of
desires! ): his yearning fo r ecstasy is so intense and desperate that lie
seem s almost to have reached it. In the whole course of seventeenth-cen
tury literature there is no higher expression of that spiritualization of the
senses which is here condensed into a portentous flight of red-hot im ages.
The voluptuous rapture of L an fran cos and Bernini s ecstatic sain ts St.
M argaret surprised by the celestial Spouse. St. Teresa pierced by the

The Curve and the Shell

143

angelic archer, the Blessed Lodovica Albertoni in the throes of expirin g

and the paradisal languor of so m any saints, m artyrs, and blessed women
whose effigies people Italian and Spanish churches and art galleries, those
im ages wre hesitate whether to term holy or profane, become suddenly
clear, as if we had been given a com m entary on them and were reading
them in the light of those few lines of a great ' m inor English poet, which
transcend them and seem to contain in nuce the quintessence of the whole
seventeenth century.
The circular m agic of a baroque ceiling, centering on the apotheosis of a
hero or a saint, can be illustrated by D rydens rifacim ento of that very
passage of Shakespeares Antony cincl Cleopatra which we m entioned ear
lier in connection with m annerist preciosity. There is nothing of Shake
speares m eticulous concentration on detail in Drydens passage in the
third act of A ll for Love (em phasis m in e ) :
She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,
A nd cast a look so langidshingly sweet,
As if, secure o f all beholders hearts,
N eglecting, she conld take them : boys, like Cupids,
Stood fan n in g, with their painted w in g s, the zuinds,
That played about her fa ce: but i f she sm iled,
A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad.
That m en s desiring eyes w ere never w earied,
But hung upon the object: To soft flutes
T h e silver oars kept tim e; and zuhile they played,
T h e hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;
A nd both to thought. Tzuas heaven, or som eivhat more:
For she so charm ed all hearts, that gazing crowds
Stood panting on the shore, and w anted breath
To give their w elcom e voice.
Shakespeares picture is not focused into a single vista, w hereas in D ry
dens fresco we see the darting glory of Cleopatras smile blazing abroad
from the very center of the scene, and gazing crow'ds m assed along the
m argins, much as Tiepolos onlookers, in the shadow, people the edge of a
ceiling [83] whose center is heaven, or somewhat m ore.

144

M N liMQSV N K V

Tiepolo is a nine li later artist than Dry den but i he* ceiling decoration of
the rococo period continued the baroque tradition The cm rent opLnion
that the age ol the Rococo is merely a development of ilie Baroque has
been challenged bv Philippe Mmguet in his Esthetiqtut da Rococo."' The
baroque architects, even when they dissociate structure from ornam ent
never drown the articulations, because this would defeat their aim of
creating architectural tensions. In a baroque interior, spaces never realh
blend together; they certainly interpenetrate, and in most cases counteract
each other, but even when unity is aim ed at heterogeneity prevails. In the
Rococo, the lim itation of space is, instead

unperceivable: the aim is to

create a unity which cannot be decomposed [84J. In a word. Rococo is the

invention of decorators: rococo ornam ents are Hat they cover a gliding
surface with their thin lace; they tend to the infinitesim al, consisting as
they do o f sm aller and sm aller elem ents, o f interpenetrating C and S
curves, of: flam elike shapes which dwindle into little flam es and sparks, of
flowerdike shapes which are reduced to peials and pistils, of watery form s
which flow into w aterfalls and drops. The C and S curves are perceptible
also in com positional schem es o f paintings, as in J.-F . de T roys Uuc
Lecture de M oliere ( 1 7 2 7 ) . The very subject of T he R ape o f the Lock a
spiral lock o f hair, a cu rl seems to condense into a symbol the essence o f
a whole century of Rococo. By an inverse m etam orphosis the curl, a
symbol of the Rococo, becomes hum anized in a w om an:
This N ym p h , to the Destruction of M ankind,
N ourish'd two Locks, w h ich gracefu l hung behind
In equal Curls. . . . [Canto I, 3 5 - 3 7 ]
The Rococo renders any attempt at a Pythagorean explanation o f its
space absurd from the outset; nothing about it can be translated into terms
of geometry. It is a fem inine stvle. so fem inine indeed that its chief figure,
the shell, with its cozy concavity, suggests exactly what Verlaine saw in
one o f the shells in his poem Les Coquillages" (from Fetes g a la u tes) when
he wrote, M ais un, entre autres, me troubla. Rococo interior decoration is
rem iniscent of trim m ings 011 women's dresses, and its character persisted
even in early neoclassical decoration, fo r Horace W alpole said of Robert
Adam 's Adelphi Buildings.- What are the Adelphi buildings? warehouses

83

g i o v a n n i b a t t i s t a t i e p o l o : Apothfbsis of the Pisani Family. Fresco,

completed 17 6 1 62. Ceiling of the ballroom. Villa Pisani, Stra

i j6

m n i m o s y ,\ r: v

laced down Uift scam s, like a soldiers null in a regimentri.l old co.it." Ont
feels teni|)ted to liken the succession of styles from the Ron.iKs.m ce to the
Baroquft and the Rococo to the em phasis one might give to the various
parts of a woman s body in turn liom the head and thouldars to the waist
and Hanks, and finally to the lower portion o f it. Reason finds little
nourishm ent in Rococo, hut imagination, on the contrai\

revels in it

How, then, is this artistic style to be reconciled with the literature of the
Age of Reason? The gull seem s at first unbridgeable, and certainly if one
takes Addison and Johnson as representative authors one roav casilv see
m their style a counterpart of English l alladianism hut lrardlv a Link with
Rococo. There is. however, an elem ent in S w ilt m agn ifying and dwarfing
used with a satirical aim in G ulliver c T ra vels that almost foreshadows
that aspect of the Rococo to which Minguet. using a Voltairian term has
referred as the cornplexe de M icrom egas."- A common feature ol rococo
decoration is the abolition of normal limits for a given m otif, which can be
m ade as big or as sm all as one lik e s: arr element, either figurative or
abstract, m ay be repeated in a dim inishing series. Minguet has pointed out
the hybridism o f cartouches, in which architectural elem ents m ix with
branches, shells, and hum an and anim al figures of different sizes. He has
compared rococo decoration to the style of M arivaux, who was fond of
bizarre connections and a m ixture of different tones and shades, and has
referred to Georges Poulet's definition of the literary m anner inaugurated
by M arivau x: du rien qui se reflechit a linterieur de rien, des reflets dans
un m iroir,43 an aerial play alnrost destitute of action.
The artist who inaugurated the new rococo style of interior decoration,
who exploited chinoiserie, singerie, and the decor frais et leger of the Italian
m asks, w as W atteau, the painter of fetes galantes, and his nam e has been
frequently coupled with that of M arivaux. He is the boudoir reduction of
Rubens. The curve of Rubens is that of the cloud and the w ave, the curve
of W atteau is that of the shell, which is stamped em blem atically in his
treatment of draperies: ravissante rocaille des plis. as the Goncourts
rem arked.11
But the smooth gliding from one subject to another, the flow m ade up of
the scintillation of innum erable little w a v e s m ain features of rococo
decoration are m irrored in the dialogues o f Diderot and in the sty le o f his

84

Rococo paneling, Hotel de Seignolay, Paris. Ca. 17 4 5

148

M N I M O S Y N l

m aster Sterne,, who m llueneed also othoi I rciich wrklTS such as Mlks do
Lespinasse. In Lc Net e n dc Ram eau, digressions and subsidiary convorjatioiis are inserted incidentally into the main dialogue, iivn t'in an

is w d J as

real scenes are recorded, the speaker apostrophizes him self. In the $vppLtm eiit an Voyage dc B ou gainville, the lirst and second interlocutors report
hits of conversation 111 their repartees, and the lirst one sketc lies the scene
of a quarrel between an actor and his w ife; the author ln m self mtei w n cs
in the dialogue the strangest trait of all since the first interlocutor is
introduced as the author o f the Pere dc fam ille, i.e.. Diderot him self, who
in this case is split into two characters. Ja cqu es le fatalistc is a novel which
is really not a novel at all: its model is, of' course, Tristram Shandy. On the
one hand, Sterne broke the fram e o f the traditional narrative by discard
ing the idea that the subject m ust be an im portant one. just as the Dutch
painters, by taking everyday life as the theme of their canvases helped to
disestablish the grand goal of historical painting: for him, for the first time
in literature, a girl with a green silk bag was more im portant than the
Cathedral of Notre-Dame. Details from everyday life were introduced even
into heroic painting. B y the end o f the century Hubert Robert did not
scruple to show, in a view of Roman buildings, a clothesline hanging from
the horse of M arcus Aurelius.
Sterne went even further, he repudiated all subjects as a pretence, an
im purity, and in this foreshadowed not only Joyce, but also the modern
idea that the suprem e triumph of im agination consists in a form of art
which represents nothing; on the other hand he w as the suprem e m aster
of the arabesque in the rococo m anner. Events assum e the lightness of the
arabesque also in Voltaires Contes, and in that fireworks display o f Orien
tal enorm ities, inspired partly by Voltaire him self, partly by T h e Arabian
N ights, Beckfords Vathek.
These parallels by no m eans exhaust the close relationship among the
various arts during the eighteenth century. We have already spoken earlier
of Pope and the art of the English garden, and we may add here that
Popes pruning Homer of all coarse or unseem ly details finds an echo in
Capability Brow ns rem oval of all im perfections from a landscape; that
landscape gardening and Thom sons T he Seasons both took their cue from
Claude Lorrain, as has been so m any times pointed o u t;1'' that the coupling

The Curve and the Shell

149

of the nam es of Hogarth and Fielding, Joseph Highmore and Richardson is

almost a com m onplace; and that the conventional treatm ent of trees and
rocks in Gainsborough has been likened by Roger Fry to the poetic diction
fashionable at the time.'16
The vestal fire of classicism , kept alive in England thanks to the Palladian style in architecture that had become the outward expression of the
upper class (buildings inspired by the temple had their counterpart in
Reynolds deification of noble women as Juno, M inerva, Venus, etc.),
blazed anew with the momentous discoveries o f H erculaneum and the
m essage of W inckelm ann.
The disavowal of the curve brought about an exclusive taste for straight
lines. But the predilection for the curve had not been so self-conscious as
the adoption of the straight line w as to be. Aesthetics and m orals com
bined in the new cult, and m any an artist and writer, conform ing to the
neoclassical creed, m ight have repeated with Spinelli in Thom as M anns
short story T ristan: There are periods in which I sim ply cannot do without
the Em pire style, in which it is to me unconditionally necessary in order to
reach a modicum degree o f well-being. It is obvious that one feels in one
mood am ong soft furniture, com fortable to the point of voluptuousness,
and in another in the m idst of these straight-lined tables, chairs, and
curtains. . . . This splendor and hardness, this cold and astringent sim
plicity, this self-contained strength im parts to me composure and dignity.
In the long run that style has as a consequence, an inner purification and
restoration: it lifts me up ethically, without any doubt.47
T he baroque period had delighted in technopaignia like George Herberts
Easter-w ings, and indulged in such heraldic fan tasies as the church
(n ever executed) that Pietro da Cortona planned in honor of the Chigi
pope, Alexander VII, with superim posed cupolas im itating the mountains
of the Chigi coat of arm s, so that the building would have resem bled a
Hindu temple [85],4S or Borrom inis S. Ivo, whose shape w as an allusion to
the bee in the Barberini coat of arm s. N eoclassical inventions took a less
im aginative and more geometrical turn, as could be expected from a
return to the anthropomorphic canons of architecture.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century Thom as de Thom ons plan
for the new center at Poltava w as conceived according to the hierarchy of

85

d a c o r t o n a : Church inspired by the CJtiyi arms. Project,

period of Pope Alexander VII, 16 5 5 67

I i e t r o

The Curve and the Shell

151

the R ussian Em pire, with the num ber of columns in the front o f the
houses proportioned to the ranks of the residents. The governors house
had six columns, with a triangular pediment separated from the entabla
ture by an attic, and this colonnade w as flanked by two sm aller porches of
two columns each; the house o f the vice-governor had six columns but no
sm aller porches, and no attic between the pediment and the entablature;
the house of the com m ander in chief, a sm aller one, had six columns but a
balustrade without pediment; the house of the head of the police four
colum ns; and the postm aster generals only a porch of two columns,
w hereas the houses of clerks, m erchants, and ordinary citizens were distin
guished by sim pler architectonic devices.19
My giving of this instance is not intended as a caricature of neoclassi
cism, to which, on the contrary, I am rather partial, but only to show how
easy and com paratively uninteresting it m ay be on the whole to draw a
parallel between the arts in a period so self-conscious about its aesthetic
principles."'0

C H A P T E R VI

Telescopic, Microscopic, and

Photoscopic Structure
W E H A V E so fa r been able to ascertain a coordination o f modes and
expressions which im plies a deep structural affinity, an underlying order
in the arts and letters well into the eighteenth century. This order was
chiefly m anifest in architecture: thus we have seen the golden section
echoed also in literary and pictorial compositions o f the R en aissance: we
have seen that the fascination of the curve inspired not only baroque
architects, but poets and painters as w ell; we have noticed that Pope's The
R ape o f the Lock had for its theme a roccdlle object, a curl, a m otif which
at about the sam e time was to become a feature of W atteau's conception of
interior decoration.
But by the end o f the eighteenth century architecture seems to have lost
its power as a leading art. As the century progresses we are aw are o f a
gradual infiltration of literary elem ents into architecture: buildings were
planned whose purpose was to convey ideas of the sublime and the pictur
esque, the two new categories of the beautiful about which thinkers and
literary men were w riting. Fonthill Abbey tries to translate the poetic
emotion o f sublim ity into stone. During the Renaissance and the grand
siecle of Louis XIV, architecture used to project its geom etrical law on the
surrounding landscape: hence the form al garden, and Le N otres regular
park. But with Capability Brown the roles were inverted: architecture
cam e to be envisaged as part o f a picturesque composition whose principal
component w as nature. Brow ns buildings The w as also an architect) were
theatrical paraphernalia, N ash s were conceived like stage settings: they
w ere intended to convey an idea o f stateliness, as in Regent's Park, no

154

M N E M O S Y N E

VI

m atter how careless they might be 111 sam e d< tails W ith N ash the building
becam e not unlike the wing on a stage, just lor show

I hi* was even more

the case m A nieuca, in the m oclasM cism of the Louisiana plant ition
houses, which displayed colonnudt d liidnts behind which an ordinary
house was hidden. The garden gained on the house to sue h an extent that
it entered into it: in the Regency period large French windows were
opened on the ground iloor. designed almost to cancel any gap berwecn
interior and exterior, and to allow' people to step oyer from the real carpet
to the grassy one.
Moreover, there rose in Fran ce at about the middle o f the eighteenth
century a group of architects (Ledoux, Boullee. Lequeu ) who considered
architecture as a succession of form s whiqh developed, and tried to hasten
this process them selves by inventing revolutionary form s. Those form s
accentuated the geom etrical features of architecture: pure cylinders and
spheres were offered as ideal shapes for buildings, but this predilection
w as not dictated m erely by a love o f pure volum es. The eruption of cubic
volum es which took place in France between 17 6 0 and 17 9 0 fa s a rule
only on paper) was generally cam ouflaged by picturesque exteriors, and
claim ed to serve sym bolical purposes. Ideas of sublim iiv and fitness to die
personalities of the inhabitants were responsible to a large extent for the
unusual shapes. The idea of the severity of the law, o f restriction of
freedom , had to be conveyed by the very aspect of a prison (L ed o u x s
Prison at Aix-en-Provence [86]), a m onum ent to an astronom er had to
suggest his calling by its shape (Boullee's cenotaph for Newton [871 ), and
so on. Together with this literary intrusion went another disturbing ele
m ent, studied by Sedlm ayr.1 The m erits of asym m etry had been already
stressed as early as 16 8 5 . with Louis le Comtes praise of the qualities of
Chinese gardens, particularly the element of surprise, which in this
connection received in England the preposterous nam e o f sharauadqi.The principle enforced bv Leon Battista Alberti, that there should be such
a harm ony between the various parts of a building that nothing could be
added or taken aw ay except for the worse, w as jeopardized In the new
taste for asym
m etry:
hence the loss of the m iddle." which according
j
*
o to
Sedlm ayr represents a definite break in the tradition. Art becomes eccen
tric in every sense of the word.

LEDOUX:

Prison clA ix Project of ca. 17 7 0

86

c la u d e -n ic o la s

87

EHSNNE-LOUB b o u ll k iI Neivton Memorial Project of 17 8 4

15 6

M N H M O S V M

VI

T he taste for n u n s is an outspoken refusal to sec* architecture as the

expression of a perm anent law of liannoii\

instead it was invested with

the capricious character of the I nglish gludcn, and valued as an expres

sion of the picturesque. Sedlm avr sees Goya as the lust artist who drew
inspiration from the world o f the' illogical Bui

Piranesi s

C areen also take

us away from those' harm onious sym m etries which had hecn the dominant
mode of European art [irevious to the eighteenth century

I11 the C areen

as M arguerite Yourcenar has pointed out- it is im passible to discern an

organic plan, we never have the impression of heing 111 the axis of the
building, hut only 011 a radius vector; we feel as if we were in a dminually
expanding, eenterless w orld .5
Architecture ceased, then, to speak that language of form s which had
been proper to it up until, and including, the baroque and rococo styles. Its
language becam e one of destination, and different historical s n le s were
applied according to the character o f a building: whether a town hall a
palace, a church, a m useum , or a parliam ent; in a word, architecture
ceased to stand for itself, as an art controlled by inner rules, and became
subservient to external purposes.
Thus architecture can no longer be taken as a guide in pursuing the
parallel between the arts in the nineteenth century. The very fact that the
nineteenth century has been often criticized for not possessing a style of
its own is a confirm ation o f the thesis that architecture is a reliable point
of reference in the study of the Underlying structure of all the arts of a
given period. The situation of the arts henceforth could be dramatically
represented by the words of U lysses' fam ous speech in Shakespeares
Troilus and Cressida (I, iii. io g ff.. 1 3 5 ! ! . ) :
Take but degree a w ay, untune that string,
A nd hurl: w h a t discord follow s!
This chaos, wluen degree is suffocate,
Folloivs the choking.
or by the concluding lines of the D unciud:
Physic o f M etaphysic begs defence,
A nd M etaphysic calls for aid on Sense!

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

157

See Mystery to M athem atics //;/.'

In vain ! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
N or hum an Spark is le ft, nor G lim pse divine!
Lol thy dread Em pire, CH AO S! is restord;
Light dies before thy uncreating xcord:
T h y hand, great A narch ! lets the curtain fall;
A nd U niversal D arkness buries All.
If we apply this last passage to the state o f the arts from the beginning of
the nineteenth century on. we shall find that it fits to a surprising extent,
once we have m ade a few necessary substitutions: we shall then see
Painting asking support from Literature, and vice versa, and Architecture
calling on both for aid, but in vain. Death w as certainly not the result, not
at least in that century, which on the contrary strikes us as instinct with a
feverish vitality; but if we consider the state of the arts today, we m ay feel
much less sure whether the final outcome m ay not be just this, and m ay
wonder whether the great Anarch, Chaos, is not 011 the point of letting the
curtain fall.
I f architecture, with the nineteenth century, ceased to be the leading
art, is m usic to be considered the artistic expression which best represents
the tendencies of the period? It has been ju stly said that the analogies
between m usic and literature are the most fraught with danger and diffi
cult to ascertain ;1 and certainly the nam es of writers and artists that come
to m ind for comparison in this respect are few : E. T. A. Hoffm ann and De
Quincey among writers, W histler am ong painters, M ailarm e am ong poets,
are instances so rare and distant from one another as to appear almost
exceptions. It is, however, in the nineteenth century that m usic w as pro
claim ed the highest form of art by Schopenhauer (D ie Welt als W ille und
Vorstellung, Bk. III. 5 2 ), and hailed by Pater (T h e School o f Giorgione')
as the art to whose condition all the other arts constantly aspire. Ortega v
Gasset, in T he Dehum anization of A rt. has said that after Beethoven all
m usic became m elodram atic; but even if one grants this sweeping state
ment, no convincing parallel could be m ade with the other arts ( Schopen
hauer, in fact, recognized m usic as standing quite apart from her sister

158

M M M O S Y N K

VI

aits, insofar as music does not express iile.is |>ut the will itM'lf, its objectivatiofi), apart iroin the general com Iumoii that music, like painting, be
came permeated In literature and psychology during the nineteenth c m
turv, sincc operatic music underlines the passions and the themes of a
libretto.
M any critics have studied the reasons for this break with tradition a
break which is universally reeogni/ed. O nega \ Gasset has s p o k e n of lac k
o f stylization. Hut the fact that we are unable to find a c ommon denom ina
tor for the styles of. say. a W akhniiller and a D elacroix, does not allow us
to conclude that the nineteenth century, as has so often been maintained,
lacked style; rather, it should induce us to ti\ to find the characteristics of
the century elsewhere.

If \vc reflect that the more uniform ity of sty c* there is. the less room
rem ains for expression of the individualitv o f the single artist; that that
freedom which in previous centuries was possessed onh by the \erv great
artists became during the nineteenth een tun

accessible also to minor

ones; that a certain uniform ity of m anner is surely still to be found at the
beginning of the century in David's school, whereas in the sixties and
seventies we are confronted with the greatest variety of artistic expres
sions, particularly in painting, we shall conclude that the heart of the
matter lies in the developm ent of personality which has taken place with
the advent of the rom antic era. The critic who seem s to have come closest
to solving the problem of detecting the structures underlying the develop
ment of the arts and letters in the nineteenth century is Rudolf Zeitler, in
his recent volum e Die Kunst des ncinizchntcii Ja h rh u u d c rts.
Zeitler, in fact, starts from that well-known feature o f the rom antic era,
the developm ent of the individual, and its natural consequences, introver
sion and psychological outlook: hence the yearning for what is beyond and
unknown, som ething vague and indefinite, the rejection of traditional
rules, the response to calls of various kinds, and, in a later phase, the
w ithdraw al to a m aterial reality which is close at hand these, in brief, are
in general outline the attitudes of artists and w riters during the centm v.
In the L yrical Ballads ( 1 7 9 8 ) , that m anifesto of English rom anticism
which covers also the m ain aspects of European rom anticism . Coleridge,
as is well known, proposed to deal with the supernatural, w hereas Words-

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

159

worth aimed at giving the charm o f novelty to everyday things. This

division of the field between the two poets foreshadows the twofold atti
tude o f nineteenth-century artists, am ong whom Zeitler distinguishes two
great classes: dualists and m onists.
In Anglo-Saxon countries, particularly, there is a distinct aversion to
generalizations of the kind known to art historians

as typologies.

Wolffiins fam ous characteristics of Renaissance and Baroque, and the

later category o f m annerism , are looked on with no less distrust and
suspicion than they aroused in Benedetto Croce. We m ust, however, bear
in m ind that the contribution of Croces sound philosophy to art criticism
has amounted to next to nothing, w hereas W olffiins questionable catego
ries have done excellent service as working hypotheses.
Zeitler has called attention to the dualistic structure of a number of
paintings of the early nineteenth century. A foreground form ed by every
day circum stances, or in any case related to the phenom enal world, serves
as a runw ay for a yearning, a dream , which is projected into a distance full
of m ystery, a m agical beyond: it m ay be only a vista from a window, or the
faraw ay ship seen by the shipwrecked sailors o f the M eduse. The painting
falls into two planes, like El Grecos T h e Burial of Count Orgaz (one m ay
say that all religious paintings of the past contain a heavenly counterpart
to an earthly one, but in most of them there is hardly any distinction of
treatm ent in the representation of hum an beings and of divinity, whereas
in E l Greco that distinction is most conspicuous). But there is a better
exam ple still: Hieronymus Boschs painting [88], in the Doges Palace,
representing the attraction to the em pyrean through a cylinder as dark as
a cave, whose exit opens into infinity, into that im m ense essential light
of which Ruysbroeck speaks in the T h e A dornm ent of the Spiritual M ar
riage. The rom antics use this very sam e structure for the expression not of
an actually religious aspiration, but o f a dream , an expectation, a hope
beyond the sphere of everyday events. The elements o f escape are no
longer offered by the divine, but by n ature: their vision, to use Geoffrey H.
H artm ans term,'1 though with a som ewhat different connotation, is no
longer mediated through faith, but is the result of an unmediated experi
ence, a direct sensuous intuition.
London as Wordsworth sees it from W estm inster Bridge in his fam ous

88

The Ascent into the

Empyrean. Wood. 1 5 0 5 - 1 6

h ie ro n ym u s b o sch :

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

161

sonnet, quoted by Zeitler, appears like a m irage, steeped in supernatural

serenity:
N eer sau> I, never felt, a calm so deep!
T he river glideth at his own sw eet w ill:
D ear God! the very houses seem asleep;
A nd all that m ighty heart is lying still!
The rush of the flowing river is the fram e of reality; the m agic city lies
beyond, bathed in the m orning light. Sim ilarly, in a view of Rome by the
Danish painter Eckersberg [89], the city appears in the distance through
the arches of the Colosseum. Zeitler gives another instance, this time from
architecture: the sense of a far-off space achieved by Christian Fredrik
Hansen in the apse of the Church of the Virgin at Copenhagen [90],
through the use of a constructional device which prevents the onlooker

89

C H itiSTO K j-ER w i l h e l m

eckersberg:

of the Colosseum. Canvas, 1 8 1 5

View Through Three Arches

go

C h ristia n fr e d r ik h a n se n :

1 8 1 1 - 2 9 . (L ith o g ra p h .)

Church of the Virgin, Copenhagen.

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Pfiotoscopic Structure

163

from seeing the lim it between the nave where he stands and the apse, so
that therefore he cannot estim ate t i e distance between his position and
the wall o f the apse. This duality between the 'here and the 'there is the
theme of Keatss Ode to a N ightingale. The poet listens in the shade,
among the flowers he can smell but not see; the foreground is the em
balmed darkness, but also the place where men sit and hear each other
groan, the invisible bird sings in a vague vicinity, and his song evokes past
ages and fairyland s and a world of ease and happy im m ortalitv. In W ords
worth's The Solitary R eaper the dualistic note is sounded both in the
sense o f space ( the evocation of the Arabian desert and of the farthest
Hebrides) and of time ( Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow / For old,
unhappy, far-off things. / And battles long ago. . . . The m usic in m v
heart I bore, / Long after it w as heard no more ). This dualistic aspect of
paintings, poems, and church interiors m ight also be termed telescopic
structure.
The yearning for another world does not. however, alw ays take this
shape. There is a form of exoticism which represents to itself as actually
present the land o f the heart's desire. Such is the case with Joseph Anton
Koch, who gives us a vision of an enchanted w orld, in his landscapes
everything, no m atter whether near or far. is treated with the sam e m in ia
turist's precision, and there is no season or time o f day. but an eternal
clim ate which ignores death and decay. In poetry, Keats's To Autum n
conveys a sim ilar impression of an ideal clim ate and no definite time ol
day, a compound o f whatever enchanting features of the season the poet
can recollect. Such is the case with two French painters who in m anv
respects arc poles apart from Koch, D elacroix and Gustave M oreau; tliev
bring im m ediately before our eyes in the one instance visions o f passion
and dynam ic intensity, in the other scenes o f languor and exotic precios
ity. They are not visionaries, but rather voyeurs. I f we use here a term
which has a psvchopathological connotation, there is some justification for
doing so. because these artists are highly representative o f the two periods
of rom antic sensibility which existed at the beginning and at the end of the
century respectively/ All the literary exoticists like Gautier (M adem oiselle
de Man pi 11, etc.) and Flaubert ( Saluinm bo, etc.) belong to this sam e
category.

164

^1

MO SYN I

\ I

Interioritv and psychological interpretation prevail in the portraits: men

are no longer represented 111 then social personalities
class or .1 rank

is < xpressions of a

they 110 longer look the viewer in the I.ice

M ld.nm de

Senonnes, in the portrait bv Ingres [91] looks bevond him

cnmpare thK

with Bronzinos I ucrezia Panciatiehi [92], who appears verv conscious of

her social Stan.lt. Or if thcv turn their eves in the onlooker'-* direction thev
show faces ravaged bv interior conflicts the m irrois of intense interior life
( Self-Portrail by C aspar David Friedrich (9 3]), not of behavior towards
other men.
Psychological inquisition invades what was in the first part of the
century the most respected type of pictorial com position: historical paint
in g .' Painters are not so m uch interested in representing action as. rather
the reactions revealed in the faces of the historical characters; in this wav
a typically modern element perm eates scenes of the past, and this element
jars against the m eticulous, archaeological study o f historical costume,
m aking it next to impossible for the onlooker to reach the state o f "suspen
sion of disbelief. Zeitler quotes as an instance T he Crusaders on Jordan bv
Friedrich Lessing, but there are even more conspicuous and unprepossess
ing exam ples, such as P hedre [94] by Alexandre Cabanel. in which the
attitude o f the protagonist seem s to anticipate that o f a film star.
Few were the artists who continued the old tradition o f painting action
without a m eticulous study of costume and without psychological accuracy
in the m odern sense: Fuseli in painting (a belated m an n erist) and in
poetry Kleist, for his Pcnthesilea, are rare exceptions: thev treated classical
themes with the fu ry of the S tiin n c r m id D rdnger. looking forward to
modern expressionism .
The intrusion o f a definite psychological bias did not n ecessarily follow
a m elodram atic course; even its opposite, an exaggerated restraint. ma\
betray a modern outlook. Take Landor s The Death of Artem idora":
A rtem idora! Gods invisible,
W hile thou art lying faint along the couch,
H ave tied the sandal to thy slender fe e t,
A nd stand beside thee, ready to coni cij

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

165

Thy w eary steps ivhere other rivers floiv.

R ef reshing shades ivill ivaft thy w eariness
Away, and voices like thy ow n come near,
A nd nearer, and solicit an em brace.
Artem idora sighd, and ivonld have pressd
T h e hand now pressing hers, bat tv as too w eak.
Iris stood over her dark hair unseen
W hile thus E lp eno r spake: He lookd into
Eyes that had given light and life erew hile
To those above them , but now dim ivith tears
A nd w akefidn ess. A gain he spake o f joy
Eternal. At that word, that sad ivord, joy.
Faith fu l and fond her bosom heavd once more,
H er head fell back: and noiv a loud deep sob
S w elld through the darkened cham ber: twas not hers.
In V irgil Reading from the A eneid Ingres, representing the episode of
Virgil reading aloud the passage of the A eneid which refers to M arcus
Claudius M arcellus, the intended successor of Augustus who had untim ely
died, shows the poets audience, composed of the Em peror, Livia (w ho was
rumored to be partly responsible for M arcellus d eath), and Octavia, who
has swooned at the narration [95]. The swooning of the young wom an
seems hardly to concern the other two. Livia in particular m aintains her
pose unruffled, and Augustus rem ains im passibly statuesque; in fact the
whole group puts one in mind of figures in a w ax m useum . In this case
Ingres followed W inckelm anns ideas concerning the expression of emo
tion in Greek art: the sculptor of the Apollo B elvedere had to register on
the face of the god his indignation against the serpent Python killed by his
arrows, and at the sam e time his contempt of his victory over the m on
ster; indignation is hinted at in the slightly swelling nostrils, and contempt
in the lifting of the lower lip and consequently of the chin. Now, W inckelm ann asks, are these two sensations capable of altering beauty? No,
because the glance of this Apollo is serene, and his forehead is perfectly
calm .9

gi

j.A.D. ingres: Madame la Vicomtesse de Senonnes. Canvas, 1 8 1 6

92

k ro n z in o :

Lucrezia Paneiatichi. Wood, ca. 15 4 0 50

93

c a sp a h david F r ie d r ic h ;

Self-Portrait,

Black crayon 011 paper, ca. 1 8 1 0

94

Alexandre Cabanel: Phedre. Canvas, 1880

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

171

Degas w as more successful in obtaining a suspension of disbelief in

his Serniram is Founding a Toivn [96]. N either historical costume nor the
expression of emotions is obtrusive in this painting. The painters atti
tude is, in fact, not unlike that of Piero della Fran cesca in his Arezzo
frescoes [97], and Degas has been able to follow his model not only in the
composition ( the grouping of Sem iram is, her women, and the two attend
ants with the horses reproduces that o f the Queen o f Sheba kneeling at the
bridge, the onlookers, and the men attending the horses nearby, only in a
reversed order), but also in spirit.
The statuesque ideal which was present to Ingres in Virgil R eading from
the A eneid has been present also to Nicolas Poussin, but in him the expres
sion of emotions is contrived according to certain physiognom ical patterns
whose m asklike appearance affords enough stylization to avoid a jarrin g e f
fect of modernity. In fact, we are not aw are of anv jarrin g note in painters
of the previous centuries (fo r instance, rubens) who represented historical
or Biblical events without any pretence at historical accuracy. Stylization
is, however, to be distinguished from stylishness, the slick elegance which
causes Leightons and Alm a-Tadem as reconstructions of the classical
world to strike us as the last word in dandified Hellenism , attitudinizing to
such an extent that it has been said of Leightons figures [98]: If only
someone would pinch them or make them sneeze and ju m p.10
W hile painters tried to vie with writers in the psychological interpreta
tion o f the hum an beings represented in their canvases, writers tried to
achieve pictorial effects in their descriptions. This tendency becomes ob
sessive with Flaubert and the Parn assian s; N athalie Sarrautes rem arks in
this respect are much to the point: The task set us by Flaubert and the
Parnassians is one of fabricatin g m ental pictures, and no doubt the hostil
ity that Flauberts style has so frequently encountered comes from the
effort he demands of us as well as from its results. For our recollections of
triremes and ivory horses dashing through foam are, alas, both flat and
conventional. T hey are like paintings of dubious quality: their beauty of
form and their brilliance give us the sam e sort of pleasure. Only subjective
description, one that is distorted and purged of all im purities, can keep us
from m aking it adhere to a preexistent n ecessarily conventional picture.11
If C abanels Phedre m akes us think o f the ravings of a film star, Flauberts

172

M N I MI O S V N I

VI

ih scripticms of the classical world may stir 111 us only momorn s oJ I'homas
Coutirfes T h s Homans of the D ecadence [99] or

15i\u llov s

/<,sf Dai/s of

Pom peii ( 1 8 3 3 J or worse, while Gautier's description', are supposed to vie

in gorgeous and somber effects with the spectacular John M am n.
Although

Gautier exulted over

the lact

that

une foule d'ohjets,

d'im ages, de c o n p jra iso n s, quon crovait irrcductibles au \erb e: sont

entres dans le langage et y sont restcs, la sphere da la htterature s'est
clargie et r e n fa m e m aintenant la sphere de la it dans son orbe im
m ense, 1 ' the close alliancc of: the sister ai ts 111 the nineteenth century on
the whole was fertile in im perfect sym pathies. particular^ 111 the fields of
historical painting and the historical novel.
There is, however, another area in which their collaboration pro\ed
more congenial, the field which coincides with what Zeitler calls mon
ism ." He has noticed the appearance of a m onistic structure in painting 111
about 18 30 . This m onistic structure we m ay call it ^'microscopic is
common to most Biederm eier painting, and finds a counterpart in the
m inute descriptions adopted by the novelists f Balzac. for exam p le), in
which all the items form ing an interior are inventoried regardless of
n arrative economy or the reactions of the characters. The horror xacm of
nineteenth-century architecture, particularly o f Victorian

architecture

(but see also the Grand Staircase of the Paris Opera House, built in 1 8 6 1
74 by Charles G arn ier), and the stuffiness o f mid-Victorian interior decora
tion are paralleled not only in the most typical poems o f the Spasm odic
School, choked with detail and em otionally supercharged, but also in the
poems o f m ajor poets like Brow ning (see, e.g.. "The Englishm an in Italy )
and Tennyson ( The Palace of Art ), and in a later poet who combines the
Victorian taste for overcrow ding with a wealth of m etaphvsical im ageiv,
Francis Thom pson ( A Corym bus for A utum n "). The sam e parallel is
clear in

paintings

like

Holm an

Hunt's T h e

A w akening

Conscience

( 1 8 5 2 - 5 4 ) , where m irrors aid in the m ultiplication of objects (R uskin , in

M odern Painters, spoke of this picture as an exam ple o f painting taking
its proper place beside literature ), and in his T h e H ireling Shepherd, or in
W illiam Bell Scott's Iron and Coal, where we can read a whole article on
Garibaldi in Italy in a new spaper dated M arch 1 1 . 1 8 6 1 . which occupies
the lower right-hand corner of the painting.

96

edgak degas:

Serniramis Founding a Town. Canvas, 1861

97

p i e r o d e l l a F R A N C E S C A : The Queen of Sheba and Her Retinue.

Fresco, 1 4 5 3 / 4 - 6 5 . S. Francesco. Are/./o

174

M N 1 NI o s Y N 1

\ 1

1 he difference between the microscopic .m m idc ol a nlid-centujy paiim r

and the contem plative outlook of a painter whom /.eiiler considers

dualist can be appreciated by eom paim g John Bratrs I In Stom bn aher

|io o l and Venetsianovs Sleepin g Sin pin id's l)oi/ h o r j. In both cases a
peasant hoy is shown in the foreground

a subject to which no pAiuler

before the nineteenth century (un less perhaps Le Nain or Murillo) would
have felt attracted. One cannot sav that Vene/ianov paints the

grass

and

flowers o f the foreground carelessly, but the dominant note's in this p nut
ing are the perfect stillness ol the sleeping bov and the infinite stretch of
the Russian plain: the scene breathes religious awe, causing

this

common

boy to appear not only a brother of W ordsworths humble folk hut also a
not-so-distant kin of the m ythical creatures of Giorgione. \ o such im pres
sion is m ade by Brett's T h e Stonehreuker: the foreground is so cram m ed
with detail that our eye is not led back to wander on Box Hill shim m ering
on the border of the skyline. Of course the kind o f rem ark which comes
n aturally in the face o f this tour de force o f m inutiae is one like Ruskin's:
"If he can m ake so much o f chalk flint, what will he not m ake of mica
slate, or gn eiss?" Ruskin wrote also: Here we have, by the help of art the
power of visiting a place, reasoning about it. and knowing it. as if we were
there. . . . I never saw the m irror so held up to N ature, but it is M irrors
work, not M ans.11
For an art historian like W erner H ofm ann, who, despairing of finding in
artistic processes a clue to the m aze of nineteenth-ccntuiy art, thinks he is
on safer ground exam inin g the subject m atter of the paintings, the ex
treme wealth of the nineteenth-century artistic production is reducible to a
few constant them es: in these themes, according to H ofm ann, the ccn tun
between Goya and Cezanne finds its real unity.1 From this point o f view it
is a com paratively easy task to show howf, in the course of this century,
m undane reality takes the place which in other centuries had been re
served for religious subjects: the everyday event receives a sym bolical
dimension. The m useum is invested with the solem nity of a sanctuary, the
religion of progress celebrates its rites in the universal exhibitions, the
Crystal Palace and the Bayreuth Opera House become substitutes for the
church. There is a constant effort to replace the old symbols by new ones.
A com parison of Courbet's A telier and Ingres's Apotheosis o f Homer

99

th o m as c o u tu rk :

The Romans of the Decadence. Canvas, 18 4 7

17C)

MNEMflSVNE

* VI

tlnOws light on Ilie conn asi Init WOOD the new -.pint |n d ihe tradiUOfla]
contents. The School o f Alin us and the Dispute C onn m in y the Holy
SacvumtfTil are still present in Ingres's exquisitely drawn but theatric al and
lifeless composition w hereas in Courbet's painting one has the confused
impression at a crowd in a w aiting room, in which, little by little

we

succeed in distinguishing tlie various social classes; while the naked

woman near the painter, who is busy with a landscape, is not a model, as
we might have thought at first, but the bearer o f a symbol

a muse, a

mother, the m atrix o f all fecund it \. Although there are mans portraits in
the crowd, including Baudelaire's, the general impression is o f an anony
mous crowd.
The crowd, the m ass, is one o f the favorite subjects of the realist school
of painting; but rather than men partaking of the sam e entertainm ent (as
in M anets Music at the T u ilcrics, or Monet's Grenoiitlh re ), they are men
involved in a collective act of violence (D elacroixs 'Liberie guulant le
p en p le) or in a collective tragedy (G cricault's Radeon de la M ed u se). or as
in Goyas Pilgrim age o f S. Isidro [10 2 ], men staring in a hopeless stupor, in
the absence of an aim. or. as H ofm ann suggests, because o f the absence of
Cod. Thus the subject o f a collectivity without history crops up at the
beginning of the nineteenth century as an expression of an xiety. as if Gova
had foreseen, a century ahead, the desperate final conclusion of modern
m an : Beckett's W aiting fo r Godot. The parallel between this representa
tion of the m asses in painting and the m ain trend in the nineteenth-cen
tury novel is striking. We can follow this trend from M anzonis 1 Pronicssi
sposi, where the sym pathy of the author lies with the victim s, the op
pressed. and the hum ble, those obscure sacrifices o f downtrodden com
m unities which are ignored by the professional historian, to Tolstoy's W ar
and Peace, with its insistence on the anonymous crowd on the acts which
history fails to record. For Tolstoy only unconscious activity bears fru it:
the sam e dem ocratic creed that George Eliot embodied in F elix Holt (Vol.
I, Chap. x v i).
However, the study of form and technique by fa r exceeds in interest the
exam ination of subject m atter; its im portance in the development o f nine
teenth-century painting is not inferior to that o f the studv o f m aterials and
engineering processes for the appreciation of architecture. We watch.

io i

a le k se x G a v rilo v ic h

v e n e tsian o v :

Sleeping Shepherds Boy. Wood, 1820

17 8

MNEMOSVNI

VI

indeed, a parallel development 111 these two fields throughout the ewmurv
out of the bone, heap o f histodoal styles exhumed

blended

together, there arose giad u ally, as the s o il reliable b a s i s

and mixed

mere structure

the work of the engineer; in the sam e way, out of the bone heap of
traditional contents, the painter found a last hope in pure technique thus
reaching m the end that nonrepresentational standpoint m which art is
still entrenched nowadays.
T he invention which completely unhinged the traditional structure of
painting was photography. This new w ay o f fixing the appearance of the
external world may be considered responsible for the new patterns ol
pictorial composition which became current after the middle of the cen
tury, for the preference given to fragm ents rather than to grand composi
tions. for the interest in glim pses of humble life, peasants, nam eless folk,
and landscapes with 110 special distinction to recommend them, seen as in
a snapshot. A section of a landscape (Courbet's Landscape near La Source
blcue [ 10 3 ] ) , a fleeting motion ( D egass M ile La La at the C in jiie Fernando
[10 4 ]), an effect of lighting (M onets series of paintings of Rouen Cathe
dral at various times of d ay) are instances chosen at random out of a
num ber of others. This kind of structure m av be called photoscopic.
A few com parisons m ay help us to realize the change which came about,
from the point of view o f the earlier painters, as a consequence of the
influence o f photography. Take H obbem as T h e A ven u e, M iddelharnis
[10 5 ]

and Ivan Shishkin's T h e R yefield [10 6 ]: the form er is composed ac

cording to the old rule of sym m etry, the latter has the haphazard look of a
snapshot. Goya's V ieiv o f the Pradera o f S. Isidro [10 7 ] and Ford Madox
Brown's A n English Autum n A fternoon [108] offer a contrast of a different
kind: there is a certain sym m etry in Brown's picture, but the eye o f the
painter rests im partially on everything, like the eye of a cam era, whereas
Goya concentrates his attention 011 certain parts of the scene, and deals
with others sum m arily. A Bridge in a French T ow n by Stanislas Lepine
[109] accepts the view as it would offer itself to the cam era, whereas Van
W ittels V iew o f the Isola Tiherina [ n o ] and Hubert Roberts The Old
B ridge [ i n ] though both including also a foreground, are the work of a
selecting m ind.16
W hile in the first portion of the nineteenth century painters were

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

179

steeped in literature, and writers tried to em ulate painters, the im pact of

im pressionism caused painting to draw inspiration no longer from litera
ture but from photography. Painting took the lead henceforw ard, and
em barked on a series of experim ents which were taken up by the other
arts. We m ay perhaps say that when Architecture was a guide, she be
haved like a wise virgin, whereas Painting, in the last hundred years, has
shown herself a foolish virgin, to judge from the present state of the arts.17
A fter the first Art Nouveau flourish of unshackled im agination, writes
Nikolaus Pevsner in An Outline o f European Architecture, the basic
principles [of architecture] were rediscovered. This happened a very
hopeful sign not only in architecture, but also in painting and sculpture.
Cubism and then abstract art were the outcome, the most architectural art

102

goya:

Pilgrimage of S. Isidro (detail). Canvas, 1 8 2 1 - 2 2

104

edgar degas : La La at the Cirque

Fernando. Canvas, 18 79

106

IVAN IVANOVICH S H IS H K IN

The Ryefield. Canvas, 18 7 8

107

goya: View of the Eradera of S. Isidro. Canvas, 1788

108

fo rd

m adox b ro w n :

An English Autumn Afternoon. Canvas, 18 5 2 54

io g

sta n isla s

le p in e

: A Bridge in a French Town. Canvas, ca. 18 70

in

H ubert ro b ert:

The Old Bridge. Cam as,

prob.

1775

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

185

that had existed since the Middle Ages. . . . For over a hundred years no
style in that sense had existed. . . . Can we not take it then that the
recovery of a true style in the visual arts, one in which once again building
rules, and painting and sculpture serve, and one in which form is ob
viously representative of character, indicates the return of unity in society
too? In a later edition of the book he adds: When building activity got
going again after the six or seven years pause of the First World W ar and
its im m ediate afterm ath, the situation was like this: a new style in archi
tecture existed; it had been established by a num ber of men o f great
courage and determination and of outstanding im agination and inventive
ness. . . . Their daring appears alm ost greater than that of Brunelleschi
and Alberti; for the m asters of the Quattrocento had preached a return to
Rome, w hereas the new m asters preached a venture into the unexplored.ls
W hatever the m erits of the both technical and im aginative originality of
such architects as W right, Perret, G am ier, Loos, Hoffm ann, Behrens,
Gropius, Mies van der Rohe, and Le Corbusier, it m ust be admitted that
m any of them were prim arily concerned with the element of surprise.
Apollinaire had said: It is by the im portant place given to surprise that
the new spirit distinguishes itself from all the artistic and literary m ove
m ents which have preceded it not knowing, or not rem em bering, that
M arino had written in the seventeenth century that the aim of the poet
w as to astonish: del poeta il fin la m araviglia. But in concentrating on
the surprise element, m ost architects neglected to consider the relation
of these buildings to their surroundings.
This has been deplored by Peter Collins in his rem arkable book on
C hanging Ideals in M odern A rchitecture, 1 7 5 0 - 1 8 5 0 , and he lays the fault
at the door of the influence of painting and sculpture on architectural
design.1 With the invention of abstract sculpture and abstract painting,
architecture cam e to be considered as the creation of sculpture big
enough to w alk about inside,-1 and, on the other hand, architects such as
Le Corbusier made no m ystery of the fact that abstract painting was the
basis of their architectural creativity. Painting and sculpture now lead to
the idea of a building as sim ply an object in space, instead of as part of a
space. They thus accentuate the evil . . .

of considering architecture as

something isolated from its environm ent, and from the other buildings

MNKMQSYNI

VI

among \\ hit h it must find its place. I his danger dul not exist before 17 50,
because painting and sculpture were still thought of largely .i'- arehitectural decoration. . . . Today it is rare for an abstract painter or sculptor to
actually create a work of art with a specific emiroiiment in mind (other
than the blank wall of an art gallery). . . .21
But not only is the rule o f fitting a building to its surroundings ignored;
in direct antagonism to the practice of preceding ages, particularly the
nineteenth century, which stressed

the relation of st\le to pm pose,

churches are built nowadays in shapes invented for industrial construc

tions, such as dikes, han gars for planes, viaducts.

What it [architecture5

cannot be," writes Pevsner, "is irresponsible, and most of to-day's struc
tural acrobatics, let alone form al acrobatics im itating structural acrobat
ics. are irresponsible. That is one arguem ent against them/'
Frivolity is the chief characteristic o f the first st\le that represented a
clean break from the m im etic nineteenth-century academ ical practice. In
one o f the best surveys o f art nouvean that has been written recent]y that
o f Robert Schm utzler. we read : Ilorta thus adapted to an elegant (own
house features that m ake us think of riveted m etal plates on cargo ships or
of a factorys m achine rooms. Horta w as not unreceptive to this contrast
ing effect, as we shall see elsew here: in the sam e w ay, he also banished all
artificial decoration from his own house . . . such as lam ps that electric
blossoms and pleated frills transform into a glass bouquet; instead of this,
he treated his ceiling like the vault o f a subway station and coated his
w alls with brightly glazed tiles.- The exam ple of Gaudi, the creator of a
public park in Barcelona which is like a pixieland. with elfin grottoes that
look as if modeled in plasticine, is well known.
In art nouveau the links between the various arts were so close94 that no
end of parallels can be draw n. The nam e o f Aubrey Beardsley will occur at
once to anyone reading this passage from Laforgue's M oralitcs legendatres: Persee monte en am azone, croisant coquettement ses pieds aux
sandales de byssus: a 1argon de sa selle pend un m iroir; il est imberbe, sa
bouche rose et souriante peut etre qualifiee de grenade ouverte. le creux de
sa poitrine est laque dune rose, ses bras sont tatoues dun coeur perce
d'une fleche. il a un lys peint sur le gras des mollets, il porte 1111 monocle
d'em eraude. .

25

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

187

The reaction to realism brought about a return of certain rom antic

features, particularly attempts at a synthesis of literature, painting, and
m usic to be achieved on the level of ornam ent: sw irling weeds and ara
besques pervade architecture, painting, and sculpture, and in literature
find a belated counterpart in the sophisticated style o f Ronald Firbank,
who defined him self as a dingy lilac blossom of rarity untold. Two
fam ous stanzas of Fiodor K. Sologubs lyric Playing with Light Love try
to reproduce through assonance and alliteration the languid arabesques of
art nouveau paintings (Khnopff, Toorop, K lim t):
Ec dvd gloobokiye bokdla
Eez tonko-zvonchevo stikld
T y k svietloy chashi podstavlydla,
E e pienoo sladkooyoo leeld,
Leeld, leela, leeld, kachdla
Dva tyelno-dliye stikld,
B elyey leelyey, alyeye lala,
Bela byld ty ee aid .2'1
Effects of im pressionist painting were aimed at by Verlaine and some of
his English followers, by Arthur Sym ons, for instance, whose Im pres
sion, from his Silhouettes, m ay serve as an exam p le:
T h e pink and black of silk and lace
Flu sh ed in the rosy-golden gloxv
Of lam plight on her lifted face;
Poxvder and w ig, and pink and lace.
This kind of ut pictura poesis is, after all, common to m any ages. As
Ariosto in verse and Aretino in prose tried to em ulate Titian, the form er
in his descriptions of naked beauties, the latter in his landscapes, thus
Sym ons and Davidson adopted the subject m atter of Degas, Seurat, and
other painters of the period: the demimonde, cabarets, m usic halls, -ballet
dancers, and the rest. The sam e m otifs were widespread throughout E u
rope in the early part of the twentieth century from France (R . Radiguet,
Le B al du Comte dOrgel, 19 2 4 ) to R ussia (Y u ri Karlovich O lesha).

M N 1 MO SV M

\ 1

Instances ol deliberate attempts at expressing in words whut ionprcssionist painters conveyed with their brushes have been noticed in Proost
( lo r example, the description ol water lilies in the ponds formed In the
Vivonne, in Sicutuis Wat/, lecalls Monets !\ i i i i i j ) I i < u>)

a fid m Henry

Jam es.-' Other instances are frequent in the works of Virginia Woolf
particularly in The Waves
Peter and Margaret

a number of these have been pointed out In

1hn ardW illiam s,

to whose essay

I refer the reader

for further details 1 lere are a few .

Sharp stupes of shadow lay on the grass, and the dew dancing on the
tips of the flowers and leaves made the garden like a mosaic of single
spar ks not yet formed into one w hole. . . .
The sun laid broader blades upon the house. . . . Everything became
softly am orphous, as it the china of the plate flowed and the steel o f the
kniic were liquid.
The sun fell in sharp wedges inside the room. W hatever the light
touched became dowered with a fan atical existence. A plate w as like a
white lake. A knife looked like a dagger of ice. Suddenly tumblers revealed
them selves upheld by streaks of light. Tallies and chairs rose to the surface
as i f they had been sunk under water and rose, filmed with red, orange,
purple like the bloom on the skin of ripe fruit. . . . A ja r was so green that
the eve seemed sucked up through a funnel by its intensity and stuck to it
like a lim p .:t0
These and sim ilar passages are to be found in the nine prologues of The
Waves, which are hung at intervals throughout the novel like as m am
im pressionist paintings translated into words. The earty portion of the first
quotation ( a m osaic of single sparks . . . ) rem inds us o f pointillism. To
quote the H avard-W illiam ses: This ability to perceive objects in terms of
paint constitutes an analogy in itself, and shows how intim ately the psy
chology of artistic creation is connected, for Virginia W oolf, with contem
porary developments in the visual arts, for the techniques of Im pression
ism and Post-Im pressionism depend greatly on the sim plification o f iorm
and the intensification of colour.
On the other hand. Virginia W oolf offers in To the Liqhthnuse one of the
few exam ples of a successful application o f m usical technique to litera
ture. As Harold From m has rem arked, she was aw are that the onlv

Telescopic, Microscopic, and Photoscopic Structure

189

significant sim ilarities worth achieving between m usic and literature are
em otional ; through her use of leitm otifs she has been able to produce the
extraordinary emotional effects that we have come to experience in W ag
ner ; she uses also other m usical devices the three m ovements of the
novel as a whole, the outer m ovements cyclical, like Franck and Chausson
symphonies, m aking use of the sam e themes, the inner movem ent vio
lently contrasting with the outer ones, not only in length, but in its
occupation with im personal Nature, as opposed to psychological Reality.
Fromm concludes : :u On close re-exam ination of the novel we find that it
sustains a pitch o f excitem ent for which few , if any, parallels can be cited
in English literature] It is essentially a m usical experience and does not
com m unicate ideas; it com m unicates a m eaning which transcends m ean
ing.
The technique of the stream of consciousness, though having different
origins ( Stendhal hinted at it, Tolstoy applied it in Anna Kareninas inte
rior monologue preceding her suicide, and finally W illiam Jam es gave it a
scientific foundation), is related to im pressionism in painting, as the
Russian critic Chernvshevski, saw clearly enough. As in the case o f the
church ceilings of Correggio, which found success only in an age more
prepared to receive his innovation, one m ight say that the technique of the
stream o f consciousness could develop only in an age initiated to im pres
sionism, though the idea of the stream of consciousness had dawned
before on a few7 isolated geniuses.

C H A P T E R VI I

Spatial and Temporal

Interpenetration
T H E general panoram a offered by the first h alf of our century is one of
such a variety of experim ents that it would be easy to lose oneself among
them. However, parallel lines of development can be observed in the
various arts. There has been an anti-art with the Dada movem ent, an
anti-architecture with Le Corbusier, an anti-novel in France with RobbeGrillet and the n ouvelle vague. The sam e problems face writers, sculptors,
and architects. To give expression to the sense of nothingness, of the void,
has been attempted to quote only a few n am es by Rothko in painting,
Antonioni in the film, K afk a in the novel, Beckett on the stage.1 Cezanne
told Em ile Bernard to see in nature the cylinder, the sphere, the cone.
Picasso has represented a figure both en face and en profil in the sam e
view; architects have spoken of a fourth dimension. Giedion (on whom
Picassos paintings doubtless had an influence) sees the history of archi
tecture as a progression from the bidim ensional to the three-dimensional
and so on, without knowing, of course, that a parody of pluridimensionality had already been written in the Victorian era by Edwin A. Abbott,
in Flatland.
Interpenetration of planes in painting, sculpture, and architecture; in
terpenetration of words and m eanings in the language of Joyce; an at
tempt, in Law rence D urrells T h e A lexandria Quartet, at a stereoscopic
n arrative obtained by m eans of passing a common axis through four
stories' ( to intercalate realities . . .

is the only w ay to be faith fu l to

Tim e, for at every moment in Tim e the possibilities are endless in their
m ultiplicity3). In the films of Alain Robbe-Grillet ( Last Year at M arienhad

1 C)2

M N KM OS Y M

VI I

and 1. 1m in o rtelle), as Uruce M unissette has remarked, "two or more

characters appear twice in different parts ol a panoramic cam era move
ment, or eating a strange effect of oontinaft'j between two moments of nine
and two spatial locations which on a realistic level could not he proxim ate
. . . a w illingness to accept, in fiction, some of the sam e form al liberties
and absence of conventional justifications that prevail in modern pictorial
style (from abstract to op) and uiusieal compositional methods (from
serial to c h a n ce ). Quotations which seem to lloat like alien bodies in the
sentences ol K/ra Pound's Cantos and I liots T h e W aste L a n d ,-5 c:ollage in
the paintings qf Braque, M ax Ernst. and others. T h e noises of waves,
revolvers, typewriters, sirens, or airplanes. explained Erik Satie, the m usi
cian contem porary with the Cubists, in com m enting on his ballet Parade,
subtitled Ballet Realiste, are in m usic of the sam e character as the bits of
new spapers, painted wood grain, and other everyday objects that the
Cubists frequently employ to localize objects and m asses in N atu re.'
Picasso's career could be put side by side with Jo y ces, in the m anner of
Plutarch's Parallel L ives o f Greeks and Rom ans. The painter also started
with spirited im itations of traditional styles: lie could be as civilized as
Ingres.7 as prim itive as an A frican sculptor, as solemn as an archaic Greek,
as subtle in color effects as Goya. In both painter and w riter we find the
general contraction of the historical sense and that intoxication with the
contem poraneity of all historical styles' which can be compared to the
experience of drowning, a giddy sim ultaneous rehearsal of one's whole
life. Picasso's Les D em oiselles d'A vignon [ 1 1 2 ] attempted. Ion " before
Joyce, the elaboration of a new language through the fusion of unreconcilable m anners. The left-hand figure in that picture speaks the language of
Gauguin, the central section is conceived according to the flattened planes
of Iberian sculpture, the right-hand portion betrays the influence of A fri
can m asks with their saw teeth and sharp spines: whereas Cezanne is
responsible for the hatching filling the space between the figures. But this
contam ination of styles is by no m eans confined to Joyce and Picasso:
Picasso is not alone am ong modern painters in his ability to be at the same
time R aphael and Cimabue. Incidentally, a trait common to Joyce. Picasso,
and another representative genius of our time. Stravinsky,9 is that while
they have derived from m any sources, nearly everybody since has derived

IC)|

from diem.

M N K M O S Y M

1 /ia

\ I I

Pound could hr both Chinese and P row n val

ind I S

Kliot could write sententious I li/abeth.tn I nglish as well .is music.il com
edy songs, as be demonstrated, in "Sw eeney Agonist.es.

The W aste I ami >s

an even more composite product ib.m Les I huioiselh s d'Avignim Viewed

as pastiches, all these works of art take us back to the atm osphere of the
circus and to the perloim auces o f the tightrope w a lk e r:" there is a dehlx 1
ate m asquerading and prancing with the constant danger o f losing one's
balance and falling from the living trapeze into the void, or m ereh into the
sawdust o f the arena. There lurks behind all these experim ents the suspi
cion that the aitist is just "shoring fragm ents against his ruins.*" There i>
110 proper succession governing the episodes of Ulysses but rather simul
taneity and juxtaposition, just as in cubist paintings the sam e form reap
pears. m ixin g with others, the sam e letter of the alphabet or the sam e
profile popping up here and there in a perpetual rotation whose final result
is imm obility [i 1 3 , 1 1 4 , and 1 15 ]. All ibis helps to give the structure of the
book the appearance of the spatial and temporal interpenetration aimed at
by futurists and cubists.
However, the juxtaposition of different languages was for Joyce only a
first step toward the creation o f an ultrasonic language, a language that
falls on d eaf ears as fa r as common m ortals are concerned. In Finnegans
W ake Joyce, having com pletely freed him self from the tyranny o f m im e
sis.12 has m ade a Dublin publican, Earw icker, the recipient of the whole
past history of m ankind, and a universal linguist in his dream language as
well, which on an incom parably larger scale repeats the experim ent of
Lewis C arrolls Jabberw ocky"i:i C est" rem arks J.-J. M avoux in L h eresie
de Jam es Jo y ce une langue de lapsus, ties exactem ent, eest a dire de
g l i s s e m e n t s The demon of association, conjured up by Lew is Carroll for
fun. has received from Jo yce the chrism of psychoanalytical science; the
artist has dived into the night of dream psychology, revealing a phantas
m al world that m ight have been one of the discarded alternatives at the
beginning of things. But this is exactlv what Picasso has done with form s
in his escape from the accepted patterns of beauty.1 Behind the world of
form s as it exists, ju st as behind the world of words with which we are
fam iliar, there is an infinity of unrealized possibilities that God or nature,
or w hatever you like to call the suprem e vital principle, has rejected. By a

1 T3

GKORGES B R A Q U E :

Canvas, 19 10

Viulijt

lllld Pull'ttC.

i ' m
V

l A

i U

tatt

115

um b erto

BoccxoNi: The Street Enters the House. Canvas, 1 9 1 1

I C)8

MNKMOSYNC

VI I

perversion ol ihe process described I>\ MichdartgcJp in liis l.imoiis sonm't

Non ha l'otumo artisita

hJ cujti

concetto

Joyce and FicassO have scan lied

tn tlie marble block i'oi all the unlikely and illegitimate forms hidden
within its entrails; theirs has been an anti-creation in the same sense that
the gospel preached by the Antichrist was an inverted gospel. No wonder
Mavoux says of Joyce's work: Le neam

l'esprit dn neant penetie tout,

and calls him iils spintuel du Mallarme du Coup des des; chercheur
d'ahsolu. enchanteur malefique, puissant et sterile, engendreur de lantoines et d'incubes.
To take die relatively sim ple instance from Fhiriecjans W ake that Ed
mund Wilson exam ines iirst: Am engst m enlike trees w alking or trees like
angels weeping nobtrdy aviar soar anw ving to eagle it! ; the last seven
words represent the sentence Nobody ever saw anything to equal it
telescoped into an ornithological sim ile. Picasso, repeating a process which
can be traced to Giuseppe Arcim boldi, represents a lady's hat like a fish,
giving an iehthyological turn to the hat. ju st as Joyce reads an ornithologi
cal content into a plain sentence. Salvador Dali sees a ladys hat like a
shoe, and im agines Mae W ests face utilized as a room, with her lips as a
sofa and nose as a fireplace; he telescopes Velazquez' infan ta into the
sum m it of a Hindu temple, whose shape the in fan tas farthingale has
recalled. Picasso sees a stork with forks for legs, a shovel for w ings, a nail
for beak, and the blade-shaped head ol a screw for a comb; out of an old
weathered bicycle seat and a rusty handle bar lie m akes an im pressive
bulls head; a toy motor car becomes the muzzle of a m onkey. No doubt
Freud's influence has to be taken into account in these developments of
suggestions w'hich we find first in Rim baud and Lautream ont and later in
Raym ond Roussel, the author of Im pressions d 'A friqu c and Locus Solus.
In spite o f its shortcom ings, the chief of which is its monotony, F in n e
gans W ake, according to W ilson, has succeeded in one respect: Joyce has
caught the psychology of sleep as no one else has ever caught it. laying
hold on states of mind w hich it is difficult for the w aking intellect to
re-create, and distinguishing with m arvelous delicacy between the differ
ent levels of dorm ant consciousness.10
No such delicacy can be found in the fashionable offshoots of Dali's
surrealism , which also purports to be based on dream psycholog}

In 'Die

Spatial and Temporal Interpenetration

199

Secret L ife o f Salvador Dali we read of a m asquerade at the Coq Rouge

which had as its theme A surrealist dream : at a certain moment a huge
slaughtered ox w as brought into the ballroom , its belly kept open with
crutches and stuffed with a dozen gramophones, and Gala, D alis wife,
appeared in the role of cadavre exquis, carrying on her head a doll repre
senting a real baby with its entrails eaten by ants and its brain clawed by a
phosphorescent lobster. Most of D alis compositions are actually such
cadavres exquis, and what else but a cadavre exqu is17 is Jo yces ornithologi
cal sentence we read a mom ent ago, and a thousand others? And Gertrude
Steins fam ous sentence Toasted susie is m y icecream is sim ilarly a
cadavre exquis of the first m agnitude.18
In his T he D ehum anization of Art Ortega y Gasset observes a change of
perspective in most m odern artists: From the standpoint of ordinary
hum an life things appear in a natural order, a definite hierarchy. Some
seem very important, some less so, and some altogether negligible. To
satisfy the desire fo r dehum anization one need not alter the inherent
nature of things. It is enough to upset the value pattern and to produce an
art in w hich the sm all events of life appear in the foreground with monu
m ental dimensions. Here we have the connecting link between two seem
ingly very different m anners of m odern art, the surrealism of m etaphors
and w hat m ay be called infrarealism . Both satisfy the urge to escape and
elude reality. Instead of soaring to poetical heights, art m ay dive beneath
the level m arked by the natural perspective. How it is possible to overcome
realism by m erely putting too fine a point on it and discovering, lens in
hand, the micro-structure of life can be observed in Proust, Ram on Gomez
de la Serna, Joyce. . . . The procedure sim ply consists in letting the
outskirts of attention, that which ordinarily escapes notice, perform the
m ain part in lifes dram a.19
T he sam e mesmerized attention to m agnified m inutiae that we find in
Salvador Dali we come across in m any a modern w riter as well. W illiam
Em psons critical method as expounded in Seven Types o f A m biguity
( I 9 3)> by exploring all possible m eanings of the words and thus opening
strange vistas through the pages of a classic, has im parted to these words a
tension, a dram atic irony, not unlike a surrealist effect (as when, for
instance, Dali combines two figures of women in seventeenth-century

200

Dutch

MM

costumes

M0SYN1C - V I I

111 |uch a way that they l'ornj together the head o f Vol

taire: a well-known optical trick ol the end ol li< nineteenth century

frequently comhiiHd w ith eitYtiC and m aeahre details, e.g., bodies of naked
women form ing a sk u ll). Em pson s love ol m isprints

which he finds

illum inating because they suggest huried m eanings, can aiso be paralleled
with the deliberate surrealist cult fur solecism in the f or m s o f things ( wt i
watches, limp cellos, telephone receivers used as grills, etc .). When I mpson rem arks that the practice of looking for ambiguity rapidly leads to
hallucinations," he seem s to be form ulating the very process ol surrealist
inspiration, as illustrated, for instance, in Raymond Roussel's Comm ent
fa i cent certains dc mcs litres. Another aspect ol this m esm en/ed atten
tion to m inutiae is offered by the hairsplitting analyses o f structural
criticism , an extrem e and indeed preposterous instance o f which is Roland
Barthes System e cle la M o d e where the analysis of clothes takes the form
of a m inute survey of the tailoring language. It is in fiction, however, that
we are likely to find obvious parallels with surrealist technique. W illiam
Sansom s T h e Body offers a num ber o f illustrations o f experim ents which
are verbal counterparts of the techniques of Dali. M ax Ernst, and Eugene
Berm an. Take, for instance, this scene, which is uncannily like a halluci
nation in the m anner of M ax E rn st: But in that house there w as a third
figure and this I saw suddenly through the French windows. I stopped,
stooped rigid searched for this figure which suddenly I knew was there,
but could not exactly see. A second before I seemed to have seen it. Then
again I caught it in the detached glass windscreen o f a car propped
against the sundial there stood reflected, motionless, the figure of a m an.
Dark and glassy in the windscreen lay reflected blue o f the sky and a
picture o f the fagade of the house above though mostly o f the verandah
rail ju st above that garden room itself . The figure w as standing with its
hands on its sides, right against the white curled iron and creepered rail, it
wrore a dressing gown; its face seemed to stare directly down into m ine; it
was Bradford.21
This second passage illustrates Sansom s attention to m agnified m inu
tiae: In the fresh m orning air. in the still room without fire or light, in
that motionless new- grey daylight I sat and stared at the blacklead. After a
few m inutes, long m inutes. I rem em ber m y eyes m oving nearer to my

Spatial and Temporal Interpenetration

201

boots. Nothing stirred but in the stoneset solitude I suddenly grew con
scious of m y living body. Inside those black boots there were feet and toes
and on the toes greyish-yellow hairs. There w as a corn on one toe, a patch
of hard skin along the side of the other foot. Inside the boot, inside the
sock, there w as life. And in this knowledge I understood clearly how all the
time, motionless in a motionless room, m y body w as slowly, slowly fallin g
to pieces. A gradual, infinitesim al disintegration w as taking place. Nothing
could stop it. Pores that once had been young were now drying up, hairs
were loosening in their follicles, there was an acid crusting the backs of
my teeth and m y stomach. And what horrors persisted in the unseen
entrails, am ong all those unbelievable inner organs? My fingernails were
growing, phlegm accum ulated itself on the m em branes o f m y throat and
nose all the time steadily, relentlessly, a quiet change w as taking place,
the accelerating decadence of forty-five years.
From Henry Green (though, generally speaking, the counterpart of
Greens w riting is to be found rather in abstract art), we take this vision
rem iniscent of D ali; while the last portion seem s to be in the m anner of
M eredith: He looked down on a girl stretched out, whom he did not know
to be Merode, whose red hair was streaked across a white face and m atted
by salt tears, who w as in pyjam as and had one leg torn to the knee. A knee
which, brilliantly polished over bone beneath, shone in this sort o f pool she
had m ade fo r h erself in the fallen world o f birds, burned there like a piece
o f tusk burnished by shifting sands, or else a wheel revolving at such speed
that it had no edges and was white, thus com m unicating life to ivory, a
heart to the still, and the sensation o f a crash to this girl who lay quiet,
reposed.-2
Desolate landscapes [ 11 6 ] of a kind which surrealist paintings have
vulgarized are a salient feature o f Eliots The W aste Land:
A rat crept softly through the vegetationD ragging its slim y belly on the bank
W hile I was fishing in the dull canal
On a w in ter even in g round behind the gashouse
M using upon the king m y brothers xvrech
A nd on the king m y fa th ers death before him .

202

M N K M O S Y N K * VII

White bodies uaki d on the hue damp <irottnd

And bones cast in a htth low dn) guni t.
Rattled hi/ the nil's foot only, near to near.
Another trait Flint has in common with the $u'i:rea lists particutady Max

1 rust with

His loudness fm collage, is the practice oi quoting aclassic

.mapparently unrelated

in

context, in the passage we have just read, we inul

a quotation i'roai Lite Tempest and 111 the lines that follow a conglom era
tion of quotations from M arvell's "To his Coy M istress '* Day's The Rarlmmrnt of Rees, a modern A ustralian ballad, and Verlaine. Picasso's quota
tions are more cryptic. In his (inis hij the Seme the pattern of Courbet's
fam ous painting of the sam e title can be dimly descried, like a wire

contrivance supporting a firework. Georges Braque's quotation |i 1 7 of the

portrait of Sim onetta Vespucci by Piero ch Cosimo [ 11 8 ] has partly re
versed the color pattern, m aking the prolile o f the girl black against a
white, moonhke face, w hereas in the earlier painting the white profile is
outlined against a black cloud. In M ax Faust's Une Seinaitie de bonte the
sphinx appears at the window o f a nineteenth-centur\ train compartment,
within which a lion-faced gentlem an wearing a bowler is seated, and one
sees the naked legs of a corpse. In one of Hans Erni s photomontages one
of the Magi as painted by a fifteenth-century Swiss artist, Konrad Witz,
appears against the background o f a sanatorium , a modern corridor with a
view on Sw iss m ountains.
In the fifth section of T h e W aste L and we come across another surreal
ist landscape:
W ho are those hooded hordes su arm ing
Over endless plains, sitnnhlnig in cracked earth
R in g ed bij the flat horizon onh/
W hat is the city over the m ountains
Cracks and reform s and bm sts in the violet air
Falling tDivers
Jeru salem A thens A lexandria
Vienna London
Unreal


ji6

yves tan gu v,

Peinture. Canvas. 19 28

ii7

georges braque:

Face et Profit. Canvas, 1942

n8

pieho di cosimo: Simonetta Vespucci. Wood, ca. 1480

206

MNEMOSYNE VII

r h e n there c o m e s to the fo r e g r o u n d a figure w h ic h r e m in d s us o f Dalis

Cauchemar de violoncelles mons

liigj:

A woman drew her long black hair out tight

And fiddled whisper music on those strings.T h e c h a o tic l a n d s c a p e d escrib ed in the next p a s s a g e b ea rs the m ark o f
sterility a n d is peopled w it h n ig h t m a r e s , a g a in a typical surrealist treat
m ent:

And bats with baby faces in the violet light

Whistled, and beat their icings

119

S a lv a d o r d a li:

Cauchemar de violoncelles mons. Canvas. 1940

Spatial and Temporal Interpenetration

207

A nd craw led head dow nw ard down a hlackcncd wall

A nd upside down in air xvere towers
Tolling rem iniscent hells, that kept the hours
A nd voices singing out of em pty cisterns and exhausted w e lls .21
The revolt against the traditional perspective that had prevailed in
European painting since the Renaissance-'' produced the well-known in
tersections of time and space in c u b ism : Picassos sim ultaneous presenta
tion of the side and front view of a face. A parallel to this revolutionary
change is to be found in the dislocation of the time sequence in fiction,2"
the most conspicuous exam ple of which is W illiam Faulkners The Sound
and the F u ry .-7 In 19 3 9 Sartre hailed in Faulkners novel the introduction
of the fourth dimension into literature, and then him self produced, in Le
Sursis ( 1 9 4 5 ) , a narrative based on the technique of the Am ericans Dos
Passos and Faulkner. This technique has since been popularized, for in
stance by Anouilh in L Alouette.
In few modern writers can the parallel with painting be followed so
closely as in Gertrude Stein. Her tricks of repet tion and childlike sen
tences belong to the sam e current of innovation which made M atisse
discard the traditional syntax of painting in favor of a return to infan tile
vision, an extrem e sequel to W ordsworths address to the best Philosopher
. . . E ye among the blind. The close contact of Gertrude Stein with
avant-garde painters, particularly M atisse and Picasso, is well known, as is
Picassos contact with Apollinaire and M ax Jacob; at the time of The
M aking of A m ericans Gertrude Stein stated that she was do;ng in writing
what Picasso w as doing in painting. On the other hand, one of M atisses
nudes [120 ] might easily be a fit illustration for these lines from a poem by
Gertrude Stein:
I f you hear her snore
It is not before you love her
Yon love her so that to be her beau is very lovely
She is sweetly there and her curly hair is very lovely
She is sweetly here and I am very near and that is very lovely
She is my tender sweet and her little feet are stretched
out w ell w hich is a treat and very lovely.

208

M N K M O S V M

-VII

M atisses synthetic childlike simplicity is also present in this passage

1 t om Ida;
Ida returned more and more to he Ida, She even >aid she was Ida.
W hat, they said. Yes, she said. And they said why do you say ves. Well
she said I say yes because I am Ida.
It got quite exciting.*
And just as the man in the street wonders whether M atisse can draw so
the press where Gertrude Stein had I'hrec L ives printed sent to enquire
whether she really knew English.
For Donald Sutherland, it can be said that the difference between
Gertrude Stein and Proust is the difference between Cezanne and the
im pressionists. The com plexities o f accident, light, and circum stance are
reduced to a sim ple geom etrical structure, a final existence addressed to
the m ind.
He continues: Allowing certainly for his analytical gift and his splen
dors o f construction, the presented continuity in Proust is a continuity of
perception, of registration, like the surface of an im pressionist painting;
while in T h e M aking o f A m ericans the continuity is one o f conception, of
constant activity in terms of the mind and not the senses and emotions,
like the surface of a cubist painting. . . .
As the three-dim ensional abstractions of Cezanne were flattened into
the two dim ensions o f cubism , so the biographical dimension o f M adam e
Bovary w as flattened into the continuous present of T h e M aking of A m eri
cans. As in straight narrative art the story functions as a plane, the
continuous present of interior time was for Gertrude Stein a flat plane of
reference, without concern for depth. Solids and depth concerned both
Flaubert and Cezanne, but not at this time Gertrude Stein or Picasso. The
change to plane geom etry w7as an advance in sim plicity and finality, to
absolute elem entalism . It contains some interesting m otifs for future writ
ing and painting, as for exam ple the use of the letters o f the alphabet, the
sim ple juxtaposition of heterogeneous objects, the use of a concrete recog
nizable object in the midst of abstractions. But the m ain sim ilarity be
tween cubism and this period of Gertrude Stein's writing is the reduction

Spatial and Temporal Interpenetration

209

of outward reality to the last and simplest abstractions of the hum an

mind. . . .
A Curtain R aiser happens to correspond to the extrem ely simple and
dry and tense cubist drawings done by Picasso at the sam e time ( 1 9 1 3 ) .
. . . Gertrude Stein said much later that her middle writing was painting,
and this is true even when no objects are mentioned [Everybody's Autobi
ography, p. 180].
She seriously created, in the m idst of our world, which w as fallin g

1 20

HENHi

m a t is s e

The PivJt Nude. Canvas, 1935

210

MNKMOSYM

VI 1

away undei habits and memories and inechailism s o f words and ideas a
new reality. Ihe elem ents of that reality were ttujalieil in the Life of the
2-oth century the intense isolation of anyone and anything, the simple
gratuity of existence, the fan tastic inventiveness, and the all but total la< k
of m em ory but it was Gertrude Stein who made that implicit reality most
distinct and positive and com pletely real to the reading mind, as Picasso
made it clear to the eye . . . Gertrude Stein and Picasso have isolated
quality and m ovement and m ade them articulate, she in words, and he in
line and color. . . . T hey are . . . classical in their insistence on an
absolute present free o f progress and suggestion, and their use o f the flat
plane. 9 Gertrude Stein herself, in T h e Autobiography o f A lice B. T ohlas.
has m oreover acknowledged a sim ilarity ol aim w ith Ju a n Gris [ 1 2 1 ] :
Gertrude Stein, in her work, has alw ays been possessed by the intellec
tual passion for exactitude in the description of inner and outer realm
She has produced a sim plification by this concentration, and as a result the
destruction o f associational emotion in poetry and prose. . . . Nor should
emotion itself be the cause o f poetry or prose. They should consist of an
exact reproduction of either an outer or an inner reality.
It w as this conception of exactitude that m ade the close understanding
between Gertrude Stein and Ju an Gris.
Ju an Gri9 also conceived exactitude but in him exactitude had a m ysti
cal basis. As a m ystic it was n ecessary for him to be exact. In Gertrude
Stein the necessity was intellectual, a pure passion for exactitude. It is
because of this that her work has often been com pared to that of m athe
m aticians and by a certain French critic to the work o f B ach .30
N ext to the m annerism of repetition, which finds illustration in Ger
trude Stein, comes the m annerism o f telegraphic language, with suppres
sion o f parts o f speech, elliptical constructions, and so on. Before Pound
advocated economy of speech by the suppression o f articles and pruning of
adjectives, the Italian futurists had given abundant instances o f this, and
M arinetti in the 1 9 1 2 T ech n ica l M anifesto o f Futurist Literature declared Syn tax w as a kind o f monotonous cicerone. We m ust suppress this
interm ediary, so that literature m ay directly become one thing with the
universe. After free verse, here we have at last loose words. . . .
Get yourself ready to hate the intellect, by reaw akening in yourselves

2 I2

M N I MOSYNI

VI I

(jivin# m tuitiouj thrcxijjh w hith wo shall overcome the iippareiujy irreduci

ble Iiostdny which separates oui huiinui llcsli from the metal of engines
Anoihcr Italian who belonged for a time to the futurist mo\ement
Ardengo Soffici, assum ing in his First Principles o f Futurist Aesthetics
( J 9 2 0 ) that the function o f art consists in refilling and sharpening the
sensibility, concluded that the artistic language was n nchng to become a
slan g which needed only the slightest hints to be understood therefore the
inodes of expression could grow more and more concise and synthetic,
taking on a more intim ate and abstract character to the point of becoming
a conventional script or cipher. The artist and the public would find
satisfaction no longer in yvorking out a detailed representation of Ivrical
reality, but in the sign itsell that stands lor it. Therefore a fcyv colors and
lines in painting, a few form s and volum es in sculpture, a few words in
poetry yvould be able to set in motion yvide repercussions, infinite echoes. A
m eeting of tyvo colors on a surface, a single yvord on a page yvould give an
ineffable joy. He foresayv the ultim ate destiny of art in the abolition of art
itself through a suprem e refinem ent of sensibilitv such as would render its
m anifestations useless. One need only look at Piet M ondrian's com posi
tions or listen to W eberns m usic to see hoyv w ell the Italian futurist
m ovem ent coincided with the trend of abstract art. Apollinaires Calli(p'ummes ( 1 9 1 8 ) and Sofficis Chiiiiisnti lirici ( 1 9 1 5 . second edition 19 2 0 )
yvere already a form of abstract art. violent dissociations of the sentence
from any subject m atter, its reduction to a m ere pattern for the eye and
patter for the ear. Sim ilar devices yvere used bv Gertrude Stein: m ysterious
initials, m istakes and corrections in the midst of sentences, cryptogram s.
E. E. C um m ings poems (in which Ezra Pounds ideas about the appear
ance of the w ords on the printed page and W illiam Carlos W illiam s theory
that "the poem, like every other form of art. is an object reach their
extrem e developm ent)"2 put one in m ind of the achievem ents o f Mondrian.
Kandinsky, and Klee in pain ting: they elaborate a free technique in which
the very signs take the place of im agery. Cum m ings technopaiqnia are
indeed poetry and painting at the sam e time, a neyy application of the
A lexandrian principle tit pictura poesis, as can be seen in the folloyying
instance, which I choose not because of its particular m erits but for its
brevity:

the
sky
was
can

dy

lu

ruinous
edible
spry
pinks shy
lem ons
greens

coo

I choc

olate
s.
un der,
a lo
co
mo
tive

s pout
ing
vi
o
lets33

But the closest approach to M ondrian is represented by Gertrude Steins

set of statem ents abstracted from reality, by her celebrated poem A rose is
a rose is a rose is a rose, and by Are there Six or Another Question : 3* she
developed a sense past rhythm , past movem ent, past vibration of
sheer happening as an absolute.
The nearest the art of fiction comes to abstract art is in the novels of
Henry Green.35 He applies to prose an essentially poetic technique which
has derived m any hints from Hopkins and Auden: for instance, the con
centration on a few significant features, the abolition of the article, the
telegraphic language. The very titles o f his novels are models of concision:
L ivin g, Party Going, N othing, C on clu din g single words in the m iddle of a
page, almost taking on the function o f a dot of color in an abstract
painting. A passage from L iving m ay rem ind one, on the other hand, of
C h agall: Here pigeon quickly turned rising in spirals, grey, when clock in
the church tower struck the quarter and away, aw ay the pigeon fell from

214

MN E M O S \ N 1

-VII

this noise in a diagonal from where church w is built and that man who
leant on his spade. '" The vary atmosphere of C.reen's novels, the suhsriru
lion o f a m uch subtler arabesque o f conversations and m eon ilusive epi
sodes (not without a c en aiii resem blance to Ronald

1 irhank's

elegant

distortions) for a plot in the current sense o f the word, the flattening o f
personal traits in the characters, so that they m ay be molded upon the
arabesque and become almost indistinguishable from the pattern itself
the placing of the story almost outside a definite time and space (as in
C o n clu d in g), and in some cases ( in S o th iu g , for instance) the nearlv total
absence o f descriptive p a ssa g es all these features contribute to the im
pression of abstract art. O ccasionally, as in the following passage from
Back, a fain t echo o f Gertrude Stein m ingles with a surrealist sense o f the
m acabre: B u t as it was he went in the gate, had his cheek brushed bv a
rose and bec;an
aw kw ardlyJ to search for Rose,7 liu o u gc*b roses,* in what
O
seemed to him should be the sunniest places on a fine day, the warm est
when the sun cam e out at twelve oclock for she had been so warm , and
am ongst the new est m em orials in local stone because she had died in time
of w ar, when, or so he im agined. Jam es could never have found m arble for
her. of whom, at no time before this mom ent, had he ever thought as cold
beneath a slab, food for worm s, her great red hair, still growing, a sort of
m oist bow'er for w orm s.37
H enry Greens novels seem to belong to the kind o f divertissem ents
translating everything into subtlety and elegance"' which are typical of
every m annerist phase in the history of literature and art.39
On a lower artistic level, the sam e characteristic is to be found in
Christopher Frys plays. The artist seem s to give h im self up to private
ju ggling in a wrorld wThose sole significance is as a storehouse of possible
patterns.40 As an Italian follow er of Laforgue. Aldo Palazzeschi. had put it
as early as 1 9 1 0 in the conclusion of a poem, i.a sciatem i Divertire (Canzonetta), in which he indulged in verbal clow ning:
i tem pi sono ccimbiati,
gli iiWrnrni non dim audano piu nidhi
did poeti:
e lasciatem i dh ertire!

Spatial and Temporal Interpenetration

215

The purpose of art as stated by Green in Pack My Bag, quoted below, is

very near that outlined by Soffici in his First Principles o f Futurist
Aesthetics: Prose is not to be read aloud but to oneself alone at night, and
it is not quick as poetry but rather a gathering web of insinuations which
go further than nam es however shared can ever go. Prose should be a long
intim acy between strangers with no direct appeal to w hat both m ay have
known. It should slowly appeal to feelings unexpressed, it should in the
end draw tears out of the stone. 41
It is not difficult to see how closely this aim ing at the greatest possible
rarefaction of style coincides with the aim o f abstract art. A gathering
web of insinuations, an intim acy able to draw tears out of the stone :
there are people who can be intensely moved by a geometric pattern of
M alevich or M ondrian; Plato him self had acknowledged the spell of pure
geometric figures. Schoenberg worked in the sam e direction in the m usical
field, and a parallel can be drawn, as Melchiori draws it, between Greens
later novels (N othing and D oting) and Schoenbergs final stage in the
atonal method, the affirm ation of an abstract classicism based on pure
form, the perfect and perfectly em pty m usical construction of the hero of
Thom as M anns Doctor Faustus. But such abstract reflections of the mod
ern w orld the rem ark is again M elchioris have a peculiar poignancy,
due perhaps to despair: for these artists are tightrope w alkers, and the
surrounding void endows their ju ggling with an aura of tragedy.
Klees abstract art indicated to R ain er M aria Rilke the solution of a
problem with which he was absorbed: the relation between the senses and
the spirit, the external and the internal. H erm an Mever, who has studied
Rilkes affinity to Klee, both in attitude and in the m eans of expressing it in
art, has drawn a parallel between Klees abstract art and Rilkes symbolic
language in the Duino F Jeg ies .4'2 The symbol does not develop out of
elem ents derived from reality, but is a m essage in cipher. Such are, for
instance, in the tenth elegy, the figures of stars used as signs; here there is
a close analogy with Klees enigm atic language in cipher. Rilke has de
scribed this process of abstraction in a letter to the painter Sophy Giauque,
in speaking of Japan ese poetry: Le visible est pris dune m ain sure, il est
cueilli comme un fruit m ur, m ais il ne pese point, car a peine pose, il se
voit force de signifier linvisible. 13

2 16

MNEMOSYNE

VII

have refrained, except for a lew hints, horn draw ing parallels between

modern nuiKic and the other arts panl\ because as 1 have already had
occasion to say, sim ilarities between m usic and literature; are often decep
tive.*4 As Edm und Wilson aptly rem arked apropos of the supposed musical
character of Finn&gan:s W ake: "N or do

1 think

it possible to di lend the

procedure o f Joyce on the basis of an analogy with m u sic.1 It i- true that

there is a good deal o f the m usician in Jo y ce : Ins phonograph record of
A nna I.ii iti is as beautiful as a fine tenor solo. Hut nobody would listen for
h alf an hour to a com poser o f operas or sym phonic poems who yvent on
and on in one mood as monotonously as Joyce has done in parts ot F in n e
gans W ake, who scram bled so m any m otifs in one passage, or who re
turned to pick up a theme a couple o f hours after it had first been stated
when the listeners yvould inevitably have forgotten it. 10
Parallels betyveen the visual arts and literature, on the contraiv. seem to
me very appropriate: here the fields are closer, and this can be argued as
yve have seen from cases of painters who are also good writers and
w riters yvho can drayy. But whereas, as I said at the beginning, parallels of
this sort seem to be alm ost obvious in past ages, they are not so ob\ ious in
modern art, because the enormite devenant norm e and the sauts
d'harm onie inoui's are violently striking yvhen expressed on a canvas or in
m etal and stone: on the printed page they are not so staggering. Even a
page of Fin n egan s W ake is more accessible than most abstract painting:
one can guess w hy that page yvas yvritten, but the first reaction to most
modern painting is precisely to yvonder yyhy it has been done at a ll.!T The
V ictorians, as yve know, could enjoy Jabben voeky but they yvould have
packed M ondrian, M alevich, and Kandinsky off to the lunatic asylum , and
yvould hay e seen no difference between Klee's pictures and those made bv
m ad crim inals. I feel, hoyy ever. that there is a close relationship between
the developm ent of art and literature also in the modern period one may
even say. chiefly in the modern period, yvhen creation goes hand in hand
with an overdeveloped critical activity debating problems which are com
mon to all the arts.

Notes

Notes
I.

UT

PICTURA

POESIS

1. Two Cheers for Democracy (London: Edward Arnold, 1 9 5 1 ) , p. 10 1.

2. (London: Faber and Faber, 19 5 8 .)
3. (University of Chicago Press, 19 5 8 .)
4. Earlier essays on the same subject: A. Fontaine, Les Doctrines clart en France;
peintres, amateurs, critiques de Poussin a Diderot (Paris: H. Laurens, 19 0 9 ); A. Lom
bard, UAbbe Du Bos; Un Initiateur de la pensee moderne (16 7 0 1 7 4 2 ) , (Paris:
Hachette, 1 9 1 3 ) ; W. Folkierski, Entre le classicisme et le romantisme (Cracow:
Academie polonaise des sciences et des lettres, 1 9 2 5 ) ; Rensselaer Lee, Ut Pictura
Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting, Art Bulletin, X X II:4 (December
19 4 0 ); B. Munteano, Le Problem e de la peinture en poesie dans la critique frangaise du XVIII' siecle, Atti del quinto Congresso Internazionale di Lingue e Letterature Moderne (Florence: Valmartina, 1 9 5 5 ) , pp. 3 2 5 - 3 8 ; J. Seznec, Essais sur
Diderot et Iantiquite (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19 5 7 ) .
5. See Ian Jack, Keats and the Mirror of Art (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19 6 7 ).
6. Timber, or Discoveries, in Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century, ed. J. E.
Spingarn (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19 0 8 ), I, 29. The Merchant of Venice, V, i,
8 3-8 8 .
7. In CEuvres comiiletes de Diderot, ed. J. Assezat and M. Tourneux (Paris: Garnier, 1 8 7 5 ) , I. 374. On the popularity of emblems with writers see my Studies in
Seventeenth-Century Imagery (2nd edn.; Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura,
19 6 4 ), pp. 2 0 5 - 3 1 .
7a. Giulio Romano was responsible for the decorations of the funeral of Federigo
Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua (June 28, 15 4 0 ). Cf. Winters Tale, V, ii, 95ff.
8. Cited in Isabel W. U. Chase, Horace Walpole: Gardenist (Princeton University
Press, 19 4 3 ) , pp. io o - io i.
9. See Ian Jack, Keats and the Mirror of Art.
10. E. Wind, Hunianittitsidee und heroisiertes Portrat in der englischen Kultur des
18. Jahrhunderts (Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg, Leipzig. 19 30 3 1 ) . Queen Chris
tina of Sweden had also been represented as Minerva, in a painting by D.-K. Ehrenstrahl (portrait bust with allegorical figures of Sculpture, Poetry, and Painting in the
Nationalmuseum, Stockholm ), as well as in medals by E. Parise ( 16 5 0 ) and by G. F.
Tavarini (after 16 6 5 ), and in a statue by Millich. See Queen Christina of Sweden.
Documents and Studies, ed. Magnus von Platen (Stockholm: Norstedt, 19 6 6 ), pp.
354ff. Owing to the Queens unprepossessing appearance, such a Minerva would have
had very little chance in the judgment of Paris.
1 1 . LArt religieux apres le Concile de Trente (Paris: Colin, 1 9 3 2 ) , chiefly pp. 3831!'
12. Untersuchungen zur Iconologie des Cesare Ripa (Hamburg: Procter, 19 3 4 ) ;
Italian trails., offprint from BUAiofilia, Vol. XLI (Florence: Olschki, 19 3 9 ).
13. Chester F. Chapin, Personification in Eighteenth-Century English Poetry (N ew
York, 19 5 5 ) , p. 56; cited by J. H. Hagstrum, The Sister Arts, p. 14 5.
14. Ibid., p. 290.
15 . See Ian Jack, Keats and the Mirror of Art, pp. 1 1 0 1 1 , 129.
16. See Raymond Escholier, Delacroix; peintre, gravenr. ecrivain (Paris: Floury,
19 2 7 ) , II, 8 4-8 7.
17. Theory of Literature (N ew York: Harcourt Brace, 19 5 9 ), pp. 13 4 - 3 5 -

220

M N K M0S1 M

1 8. Literatiue through Ait, A Sen Apj)roach to T m toh Literature (New York Otlri'SN, 19 5 2 ) , p 2U3.
llarochtheincn. Erne Aits-wahl m u Vcrzt'ii hniss* 11 zur lUauagtaphu dt s
ttul
18. Joluliniidcits

fonl Umversit\

19.

17 1
(Budapest: Verlag ii*r Ungarisi lien Ak.idc mie dcr \\ isseiisc h.iftcn,
1956; Berlin: Hi>ftschelvorla,g Kunst mid Cesellschaft. 19.56).

20. Thioty ol Litemtiire, p. 127.

21 .L a Conespondanct* des arts; cU incuts d'esthi tique comparce (P an s 1 lannnarion, 19 4 7)22. Coutantftj, II FifiTtxo ouero del Fine della pittura (Mantua, 1 3 9 1 ) , pp. 3 8 - 5 3 ,
1 3 5 , 2445; cited by Benno Geiger), / ilipinti ghiritrmzosi di Ciitscppe Arciml)oldir pittore
iUusionista del Ciiuinccento (Florence: Vallecchi, 19 5 4 ) , pp. 82 85.
23. Batteuxs treatise is little more than a collection of commonplaces, imitation of
nature is the most common object of the arts, which differ onh in the media em
ployed to achieve that imitation. Batteux speaks of painting and music in only a
cursory way.
24. (Euvrcs completes de Diderot, ed. Assezat and Tourneux, I, 385.
25. Sec P. Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture. 1 7 5 0 - 1 9 5 0 (London
Faber and Faber, 19 6 5 ) , pp. 2 7 3 - 7 4 .
26. 1 have been unable to see Thomas Munro, The Arts and Their Interrelations
(New York: The Liberal Arts Press. 19 4 9 ); Calvin Brown. Music and Literature, A
Comparison of the Arts (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 19 4 8 ). Among more
x'ecent works, a correct view of the relations among the various arts is found in
Wylie Syphers Four Stages of Renaissance Style; Transformations in Art and Litera
ture 1400170 0 (New York: Doubleday, 19 5 5 ) .
27. La Correspondatice des arts. pp. 97ff., 2 10 .
28. Souriau, with the traditional carelessness of the French in foreign languages,
writes Pintelli, ibid., p. 107.
29. Ibid., p. 108.
30. Peivtnre et Societe. Naissance et destruction d im espace plastique, de la renais
sance au cnbisme (Paris: Gallimard, 19 6 5 ) , p. 13 3 .
3 1 . Vasari had already remarked ( Le Opere di Giorgio Vasari, con nuove annotazioni e commend di Gaetano Milanesi [Florence: Sansoni, 19 0 6 ]), VII, 7 2 7 : "insegna
la lunga pratica i solleciti dipintori a conoscere . . . non altramente le \arie maniere
degli artefiei, che si faccia un dotto e pratico cancellierc i diversi e \ariati scritti de
suoi eguali. e ciascuno i caratteri de suoi piu stretti fam iglian amici e congiunti.
( Long practice teaches the diligent painters how to distinguish . .
the \arious
styles of the artists in the same way in which a learned and experienced registrar
knows the various and different hands of his equals, and everybody knows the char
acters of his close friends and relatives. )
32. Benedetto Croce, Estetica come scienza deliespressione e linguistica generate
teoria e storia (3rd edn., rev.; Bari: Laterza, 19 0 8 ), Part I, Chap. IX, p. 78.
II.

TIME

UNVEILS

TRUTH

1. Style in Costume (London: Oxford University Press. 19 4 9).

2. ( London: Kegan Paul, 19 2 4 .)
3.
L. Pisetzky, Storia del costume in Italia (M ilan: Istituto Editoriale italiano.
19 6 4 ) III. 18.
Style iii Costume,
5. Les Tresors de Palmyre. Curieux, collectionneurs. amateurs d'art. etc. (Paris:
Plon, 19 3 8 ) , p. 239.
6. Oji Art and Connoissenrship (London: Bruno Cassirer, 19 4 2 ) , pp 2606 1.
7. Le memorie di tin pittore di quadri antichi ( San Casciano, Val di Pesa: Societa
Editrice Toscana, n.d. [c. 19 3 2 ] ) , pp. 108, 13 5 . The figure of Diana in the painting

R.

4.

p. 6.

221

Notes for pages 20-57

reproduced here is clearly derived from that of the same goddess in the center of
Domenichinos D ianas H unt in the Borghese Gallery, Rome.
8. Cited by Collins in Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture, p. 257.
9. See M. Praz, The Romantic Agony ("London: Oxford University Press, 19 3 3 ; and
later editions), Chapter IV, The Belle Dame sans Merci. (All citations hereafter are
from the 19 5 1 edition.)
10. Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture, p. 259.
1 1 . Translated from Winckelmann, Opere (Prato: Giachetti, 18 3 0 ), VI, 52off.
12. The Australian Ugliness (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, i9 6 0 ), p. 19 1.
13. See The Romantic Agony, pp. 2 9 1 93, 399.
14. Theory of Literature, pp. 12 8 29.
15 . Matila C. Ghyka, Le Nombre dor, Rites et rythmes pythagoriciens dans le developpement de la civilisation occidentale (Paris: Gallimard, 1 9 3 1 ) , I, 109.
16. English Landscaping and Literature, 1660-1840 (London: Oxford University
Press, 19 6 6 ), p. 37.
17 . Hannah More to her sister, 3 1 December 17 8 2 . Memoirs of the Life and Cor
respondence of Mrs. H annah More (London: Seeley and Burnside, 18 3 4 ) , I, 267.
18. Studies in Iconology (N ew York: Oxford University Press, 19 3 9 ) , pp. 1 7 6 - 7 7 .
19. I am quoting from my essay, Donne's Relation to the Poetry of His Time, in
The Flam ing Heart (N ew York: Doubleday, 19 5 8 ) , pp. 2 0 1, 203.
20. W illiam Blake, Poet and Painter, An Introduction to the Illum inated Verse (Uni
versity of Chicago Press, 19 6 4 ), pp. 140 and 20.
2 1. See Letters of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, ed. Oswald Doughty and J. R. W ahl (Ox
ford: Clarendon Press, 19 6 5 ), II, 526ff.
22. The identity of the pose would seem, however, due to chance, if we were to
accept for Rossettis oil painting the date 1864, given by the painter. Courbets La Jo,
Femme dlrlande (here reproduced in his own identical copy dated 18 56 , in the
Metropolitan) was originally painted at a single sitting at Trouville in 18 6 5 when
Courbet borrowed from Whistler the Irish girl who was the American painters
model. Courbet had possibly met her at Whistlers studio in Paris when Whistler
was working on The White Girl, for which Jo posed. The 18 6 5 date is supported by
a letter of Courbet of that year in which he mentions a superb red-haired girl
whose portrait he had started (P. Borel, Le Roman de Gustave Courbet [Paris,
19 22], p. 99, n. i ; Charles Sterling and Margaretta M. Salinger, French Paint
ing; A Catalogue of the Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, II: XlXth Cen
tury [Greenwich, Conn.: New York Graphic Society, 1966], pp. 12 8 29.) However,
Lady Lilith (of which there exist replicas dated 18 6 7 ) was not painted until 1866.
Rossetti wrote to his mother in August of that year: I have been working chiefly on
the Toilette picture [i.e., Lady Lilith] and at the one with the gold sleeve [Monna
Vanna], both of which I think you know (see H. C. Marillier, Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
An Illustrated Memoir of His Art and Life [2nd edn., abridged and rev.; London: Bell,
19 0 1], pp. 77, 99, 10 5; and Letters, II, 6 0 2). Rossettis visits to France took place
much earlier than 18 6 7, when Courbets painting was shown at his exhibition at the
Rond-Point du Pont de lAlma. But Whistler traveled to and from London between
18 5 9 and 1884, and Rossetti might have heard of Courbets painting from him.
2 3 . Histoire du romantisme (Paris: Charpentier and Fasquelle, 18 9 5 ) , p. 130 .
III.

SAM ENESS

OF

STRUCTURE
OF

IN

VARIETY

MEDIA

1. Vladimir Ja. Propp, Morphology of the Folktale, ed. with an intro, by Svatava
Pirkova-Jakobson (Bloomington, Ind.: Ind. U. Research Center in Anthropology,
Folklore, and Linguistics, 19 5 8 ).
2. LArte e le Arti (Pisa: Nistri-Lischi, i9 6 0 ), pp. 18 , 37, 43, 45, 46, 49, 10 5.
3. Ibid., p. 39.

MNKMOSYN6
4- In a different sense, I'etraich defined poetry i*- remembrance of tilings experi
enced and proved (h tte r c scutli II 3 ) . Ietranli li.id in iniiitl the example of tingreat classical authors anil defined poitu.il activity accordingly
5. M Arnold in his introduction to Volume 1 ol ilic U tuu lud (;rvatt \t Man (Lon
don Sampson Low 18 7 9 ).
6. In Wordsworth and Constable, Studies in Romanticism, V (Spring ig(>0),
12 1- -38.
7. Coleridge, Shakespeare Criticism, ed. T M. Raysor (London 1 venm an I dition,
i9 6 0 ), 11, 106; as cited by Storeh. Wordswoith and Constable," p 13.;
8. See, however, what is said about the sonnet Westminster Bridge a fid about
The Solitary Reaper," Chap. VI, pp. *59#, 1 6 3.
.The U nmediated Vision, An interpretation of Wordsworth, Hop}ms, Riihtf, and
Valery (New Haven: Yale University Press, 19 5 4 ).
10. By Ath. Georgiades, quoted by Matila C. Ghyka, Lt Sombre dor. Rites et
rytfitrnes pijthagoricims duns le dereloppement de lu civilisation occidrntale, 1, 69 70.
The conclusion of Ghykas study of Pvthagoreanisin ( 1, 32 3 3 ) is worth quotmg:
Intercaler le ternie moyen dans un syllogisme, moJlter une eliame de syllogism rs
en 'sorite' et jeter ainsi 1111 pont entre deux ilots de la connaissaiiee. re her par l'eclair
de la metaphore juste deux images baignant dans le Hof du r\thine prosodique,
joindre par leurythmie basee sur lanalogie des formes les surfaces et les \olumes
architectoniques, comme le dit le meme Platon dans le Theetete et le Tbitee. et comme
le detaille ties claim nent Vitruve . . . toutes ees operations sont paralleles. ana
logues a la creation de lhannoniq musicale quo les p\ thagoriciens ehoisissent de
preference comme modele ou cqmme exemple.' See, however, the remarks on Ghyksrs
theories in Souriau, La Correspondance des arts, p. 2 32, 11. 1.
1 1 . Bk. VI, Chap. 2: Ut sit pulchrittido quidem eerta cum ratione coneinnitas
universarum partium in eo, cuius sint ita ut addi aut diminui aut immutari possit
nihil, quin improbabilius reddatur. Cf. Aristotle, Poetics. V llf, 4: . . . the component
incidents must be so arranged that if one of them be altered or removed, the unity
of the whole is disturbed and destroyed. For if the presence or absence of a thing
makes no visible difference, then it is not an integral part of the whole (translated
by W. Hamilton Fvfe [Loeb Classical Library edn., 19 27], p. 3 5 ) .
12. Hans Kayser, Die Nomoi der drei altgriechischen Tempel zu Paestum (Heidel
berg: Lambert Schneider, 19 5 8 ) , has deciphered the hymns of the temples of Paestum
by examining the relationships of height, width, and depth among the \arious ele
ments he elicits the notes of male and female hymns according to destination and
cult. See also, by the same author, Akrousis, Die Lehre von der llurm onik der Welt
(Basel: Benno Schwabe, 19 4 6 ).
13 . See what Jacob Burckhardt (Griechische Kultnrgeschichte [Stuttgart: Alfred
Kroner, n.d.]. II, 29 8 ) has to say about the ancient Greek tragedy: As for the
structure of the performance, in the later tragedy there have gradually appeared
secrets which one could neither see nor notice in the theatre itself, which nevertheless
must have had their meaning. Certain tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides so di ide
themselves quantitatively, according to the number of lines of the parts in dialogue,
that the middle is a principal scene, in relation to which the other scenes equalh on
one side ascend, on the other fall out. so that they approach the middle symmetrically,
like the figures of a pediment. This no mans eye has been able to see. and no man s
ear to hear, and it is nevertheless pointed out; there are things which for the present
have not yet been made clear to us, which however show us the supreme skill of the
poets.
14. Ghyka, Le Nombre dor, I, 64, quotes the work of the Norwegian archaeologist
F.-Macody Lund, Ad Qnadratum ; A Study of the Geometrical Bases of Classic &
Medieval Religions Architecture (Eng. edn.; London; Batsford. 1 9 2 1 ) .
15 . M. Schneider, Singende Steine (Kassel and Basel: Barenreiter-Vcrlag, 1955 );

Notes for pages 58-66

223

see also Jurgis Baltrusaitis, Les Chapiteaux de Sant Cngcit del Valles (Paris: Ernest
Leroux. 1 9 3 1 ) .
16. Dante and the Legend of Rome (London: Warburg Institute, 19 5 2 ) , p. 74.
17 . See Rocco Montano, Dante's Style and Gothic Aesthetic in A Dante Sympo
sium, In Commemoration of the 700th Anniversary of the Poets Birth ( 1 2 6 5 1,965),
ed. W. De Sua and G. Rizzo (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press,
19 6 6 ), pp. 1 1 - 3 4 , on the essence of the Gothic aesthetic which is the same strong
intellectualism which characterized the theological speculation of the age (p. 16 ).
Prof. Montano stresses the fact that starting with the beginning of the 12th century
until the first half of the 14th century the Western world knew one of the most rich
and intense developments of studies on logic in its whole history. . . . Theology was
now a rigorous intellectual construction (pp. 262 7 ) . We have the extremely com
plex organization of thought of the medieval Summae. Gothic art is the result of this
latter attitude. It shows the same rigorous structure, the intellectual force, the com
plexity of organization, the multiplicity of elements which we find in the great
constructions of St. Thomas and St. Albertus Magnus. . . . This art is fully consistent
with the aesthetic ideals which supported the literary production of the age. The
search, also here, is for the extreme articulation of elements, the subtlety and
intricacy of forms, the great number of correspondences, the strenuousness and
ingenuity of the construction. The work was always the result of an extreme intel
lectual tension and of a characteristic, profound ambition to create something diffi
cult, subtle, high (p. 2 8 ). And again: The ambition of the time was toward height,
arduousness, culmination together with multiplicity and concatenation of elements

(P- 3 i)-

18. Gothic Architecture, Pelican History of Art ( 19 6 2 ) .

19. There is nevertheless a connection (studied by Panofsky in Gothic Architect tire
and Scholasticism [Latrobe, Pa.: Archabbey Press, 1 9 5 1 ] ) between Gothic architecture
and scholasticism. Gothic architecture has been defined by Frankl as a visual logic.
St. Thomas Aquinas to some extent equated perception with reason nam et sensus
ratio quaedam est from which one can conclude that he saw an analogy between
the current systematic scholastic method and Gothic architecture. Panofsky gives
convincing proofs that a whole series of scholastic terms can also be fruitfully used
to describe Gothic works built between about 114 0 and 1270 . Certainly the same, or
at least a similar, form of thought governed both the scholasticism and the Gothic
style of these four or five generations (Frankl, op.cit., p. 2 6 3 ). I find, however, that
the proof Sergio Bettini (Le pitture di Giusto deMenabuoi nel Battistero del Duomo di
Padova [Venice: Neri Pozza, i960], p. 4 3 ) produces of the close connection between
Gothic architecture and scholasticism is somewhat forced. He says: In Villard de
Honnecourts sketch book one finds for instance the plan of an ideal chevet of a
Gothic church, which he and another master, Pierre de Corbie, had drawn inter se
disputando as one reads in the slightly later caption which accompanies the drawing.
Here we see then two architects of high Gothic who discuss a quaestio no doubt in
the manner of schoolmen, because there is a third master who refers to the discussion
using the specific scholastic verb disputare instead e.g. of colloqui, delil>erare, or such
like. Certainly Giusto deMenabuoi before getting to work must have disputed a good
deal in this manner be it merely, perhaps, with himself. There is a definite contrast
with Frankls point of view in what Bettini says apropos of French high Gothic
architects, who were chosen, rather than for strictly technical capacities, propter
sagacitate ingenii, and planned their cathedrals like scholastic summae.
20.
Romanische und gotische Baukunst
5
Gothic Architecture and
Scholasticism, p. 2 1.
2 1. Die Kunst des Mit'telalters; the passage is translated from the Italian edition,
LArte del Medivero (Turin Einaudi, 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 82.

Willi Drost,
(Potsdam: Akademische
Verlagsgesellschaft Athenaion, 1944), P- - Panofsky,

224

M N E M () S V N

22. H Janitscheck /)< Ktuittlahr# Dantes innl Giotty* Knurt V\ llauscnsicin

Giotta; Rosenthal Giotto in tbrr milti laltn in hen ( .cisti'scnt it ick hn w cited by 1 nio
Carli. I).into e larte del suo tempo " Ihuiti ed V P uiit ( hi ( Koine De I ul;i, t*><)^ ).
p.
However. Dante could benefit I f tile lilt rain tradition ol tlu- autfieuL wyrlfl
( Lucpctius, VirgiJ), where:)* such gnicles in the ledm icpe of painting were not
available to Giotto. hence there is some jj round in Saverio I5( ttmellis CyUttniiou th it
in that period letters were far ahead of the arts See Giovniuii PrevitaLi. CiotLi e la <hi
hottcyu (Mil,ui Fabbri, 19 6 7 ), p. 13 PievitaJj finds, however, a parallel ketwpau the
Alle gories in the Lower Church of St Francis at Assisi and passages of Paradise. \ \ \
42, XXXI 3 4, 130 3 5 : Here the firm stance of the figures, the rationality of the
spatial connexions, the perspicuous display of the simple enough allegories are a
visual, peculiarly Giotto-hke transposition, of ideas and fantasies somehow (lose to
Dante's."
23. "Chaucer and the Great Italian Writers of the Treccnto, in The Flamatut Heart
24. Cbntrary to what Paul Frankl maintains 111 Gothic Anhitectare. see above, p 65
25. Es bleibt keiu Pllug stehen lira canes Mcnschen willen. der sterbt. (Literally
"N o plow comes to a stop for one man's sake who dies. )

IV .

HARMONY

AND

THE

SER PEN T IN E

LINE

1. E. Panofsky. Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art, Gottesman Lectures

of the University of Uppsala. Vol. VII (Stockholm: Alinqvist & Wiksell i9 6 0 ). Part I,
PP- 39 -4 0 , 1 1 0 - 1 3 .
2. Curtis Brown Watson, Shakespeare and the Renaissance Concept of Honor
(Princeton University Press, i9 6 0 ), p. 63.
3. See. among others, Rocco Montano, op.cit., who maintains (p. 1 4 ) that the
opposition to the Middle Ages did not stem from an attitude of revolt against
Christian transcendentalism, but against the intellectualism of the scholastic dialec
tics. The same reaction . . . took place in the world of art and poetry: it was not a
turn toward secularism, but a revolt against intellectualism" (p. 1 5 ) .
4. Castiglione, II lihro de] Cortegiano, ed G. Preti (Turin: Einaudi, i9 6 0 ), p. xiii
5. Stoll. Shakespeare and Other Masters (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
19 4 0 ): as cited by Watson, Shakespeare and the Renaissance Concept of Honor.
p. 362.
6. Shakespeare and the Stoicism of Seneca," Elizabethan Essays (London: Faber
and Faber,
33 54
7. Wittkower, Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism, Studies of the
Warburg Institute, Vol. XIX (19 4 9 : new edn., London: Alec Tiranti, 1 9 5 2 ) ; quotations
here and below are from the latter edition, pp. 24ff., 1 5 , 2 5, 97.
8. Quoted (in Italian) ibid., p. 89, n. 2.
9. Ibid., p. 93.
10. II Cortegiano, Bk. II, Chap. xli. English translation from The Booh of the
Courtier . . . done into English by Sir Thomas Hohy Anno 1 5 6 1 , intro, by Walter
Raleigh (London: D. Nutt, 19 0 0 ), p. 15 2 . adunque securissima cosa nel modo del
vivere e nel conversare governarsi sempre con una certa onesta mediocrita. che nel
vero e grandissimo e fermissimo scudo contro la invidia ( Preti, pp. 16 9 -7 0 ) .
1 1 . Bk. II, Chap. vii. Hoby, p. 1 1 1 . . . . Non solamente ponga cura daver in se
parti e condizioni eccellenti, ma il tenor della vita sua ordini con tal disposizione, che
1 tutto corrisponda a queste parti, e si vegga il medesimo esser sempre ed in ogni cosa
tal che non discordi da se stesso. ma faccia un corpo solo di tutte queste bone
condizioni: di sorte che ogni suo atto risulti e sia composto di tutte le virtu, come
dicono i Stoici esser officio di chi e savio: benche pero in ogni operazion sempre una
virtu e la principale: ma tutte sono talmente tra se concatenate, che \ anno ad 1111

1934), PP-

Notes for pages 68-90

225

fine e ad ogni effetto tutte possono concorrere e servire (Preti, p. 12 0 ).

12. Cf. Leonardo da Vinci, Trattato della pittura: Ciascun colore pare piu nobile
ne confini del suo contrario che non parra nel suo mezzo. ( Each color looks more
noble on the border of its contrary than in its middle portion. )
13 . Bk. II, Chap. vii. Hoby, pp. m - 1 2 . . . . come i boni pittori, i quali con
lombra fanno apparere e mostrano i lumi derilevi, e cosi col lume profundano
lombre dei piani e compagnano i colori diversi insieme di modo, che per quella
diversita luno e laltro meglio si dimostra, el posar delle figure contrario luna
allaltra le aiuta a far quellofficio che e intenzion del pittore (Preti, p. 12 0 ).
14. See Maurice H. Goldblatt, Leonardo da Vinci and Andrea Salai, Sec. One,
Part II, in The Connoisseur, CXXV (M ay 19 5 0 ), 7 1 75.
15 . H. Wolfflin, Die klassische Kunst, eine FAnfiihrung in die Italienische Renais
sance (3rd edn.; Munich: Bruckmann, 19 0 4 ). ( Classic Art, tr. Peter and Linda
Murray [London: Phaidon, 19 5 2].)
16. As can be seen, for instance, in Charles Bouleau, Charpentes, La geometrie
secrete des peintres (Paris: Aux Editions du Seuil, 19 6 3 ).
17 . Wittkower, op.cit., p. 110 .
18. Ad Vitruvium, I, ii, 3; cited in Wittkower, op.cit., p. 1 2 1 .
19. This has been tried, though, by Professor George Duckworth in the case of the
Aeneid, which, according to his complicated mathematical operations, would appear
to be written with the golden section in mind.
20. See A. Vallone, Un momento della critica dantesca nel tardo Cinquecento, in
Filologia e letteratura, Vols. V III-IX ( 19 6 2 6 3 ) ; V. Limentani, La fortuna di Dante
nel Seicento, in Studi secenteschi ( 1 9 6 4 ) ; L. Martinelli, Dante (Palermo: Palumbo,
19 6 6 ), in the series Storia della critica, ed. G. Petronio.
2 1. See M. Praz, Studies in Seventeenth-Centur?/ Imagery, Chap. II.
22. See M. Praz, Milton and Poussin, in Seventeenth-Century Studies Presented to
Sir Herbert Grierson (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19 3 8 ) , pp. 1 9 2 - 2 1 0 ; and also Tasso
in England, in The Flaming Heart, pp. 30847.
23. See The Flaming Heart, pp. 3 2 6 30.
24. Cf. L Origine de la lettre de Poussin sur les modes dapres un travail recent, a
report by Paul Alfassa on a thesis of A. Blunt, in Bulletin de la Societe de VHistoire de
VArt Frangais
12 5 -4 3 .
25. In fact, for Poussin art was not an imitation of nature or of an idea, but an
imitation of history in the Virgilian sense: recollection and promise. See R. Zeitler,
Zwei Versuche iiber Poussin, in Friendships Garland, Essays Presented to M. Praz
on His Seventieth Birthday (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 19 6 6 ), I, 2 2 1.
26. Wittkower, op.cit., pp. i2 4 f f .: The Break-away from the Laws of Harmonic
Proportion in Architecture.
27. See Paolo Portoghesi, Bernardo Vittoiie, Un architetto tra illum inism o e rococo
(Rome: Edizioni dellElefante, 19 6 6 ), p. 28.
28. David Hume, Of the Standard of Taste, Essays Moral, Political, and Literary,
and Gaudet, Elements et theorie de Varchitecture, as cited in Wittkower, op.cit., pp.
13 2 -3 5
29.
The nowadays widespread notion that mannerism represented an anti-Renais
sance movement has been qualified by Mario Salmi in his article Rinascimento,
classicismo e anticlassicismo, published in the magazine Rinascimento, XVII (De
cember 19 6 6 ). Salmi shows that this notion has its origin in a false idea of the Ren
aissance, which did not, in fact, adhere to a rigid classicism, as the work of Donatello
the very initiator of the Renaissance in sculpture (p. 16 ) shows clearly enough. Re
marks to the same effect can be found in Sir Kenneth Clark, A Failure of Nerve,
Italian Painting 1,52015 3 5 , H. R. Bickley Memorial Lecture (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 19 6 7 ), particularly p. 5 : But throughout the period [i.e., the Renaissance]
there is plenty of evidence for what has been called the tragic insufficiency of hu-

(1933), PP-

226

M N I. M O S V N

n i.im sm , artd tins is true o f tlic finld w h e re the classic ai \ lin e s of h u m a n i s m wt-rt
thought to h a v e s h o w n th e m se lv e s more eonlid< m lv Alm ost
(lie gie.it artists o f
the fifteenth c e n flir y t in n e d a w a y at som e point from the belief in h u m a n p e t f c i t n n
id eal propo rtio n or r a t io n a l s p a c e ." C la rk gives ihe e x a m p le s o f D onate llo and Man
tegna.

<11

30. Wittkower, op.eit., pp. 7f,ff.

3 1 . See Paolo Portoghesi and Bruno Zevi Miehelaiuiiolo architctto (Turin I- inaudi.
19 6 4 ), pp. 3 16ff.
32. The merits of the linea serpcntiruda had already been stressed bv Qudrrrili 111
apLopos of figures of speech. Sec J. Shearman 'Mannerism ( larmondsworth Penguin
Hooks, 19(17), pp. 8.j 85. where the relevant passage is quoted v\ >th reference (o the
Discobolus of Myron: A similar impression of grace and charm is produced bv rhe
torical figures, whether they be figures of thought or figures of speech lo r they in
volve a certain departure from the straight line and have the merit of variation from
the ordinary usage.
33. See for instance Joseph panel by Lorenzo Ghiberti (Gates of Paradise,,
Baptistery, Florence) where the circular building in the middle gives the impression
of a spectacle being progressively revealed on a rev olv mg platform
34. The difference between a mannerist composition and a traditional one is evi
denced by a comparison between Pontormo's Joseph in Egypt and Andrea del Sartos
Joseph in Egypt panel, executed in the same period ( 1 5 1 7 - 1 8 ) for (he same room of
Pier Francesco Borgherinis house in Florence.
35. M annerism Style and Mood, Am Anatomy of Four Works i?i Three Art Forms
(N ew Haven and London: Yale University Press, 19 6 4 ). p. 15.
36. See Alfred Einstein, The Italian Madrigid (Princeton University Press, 19 4 9 ),
11, 7 1 5 . Although Gesualdos compositions belong to the beginning of the seventeenth
century, "his music shows the same centrifugal qualities which we have seen in Kosso
and Pontormo. Gesualdo seems equally anxious to break through the stylistic systems
of his day, like them he never constructed a new system, but built his madrigals out
of the fragments of what he had destroyed, fragments put together with consummate
skill into a delicate structure (Rowland, op.eit., p. 2 3 ) .
37. For instance. Donald L. Guss, John Donne, Petrarchist. Italianate Conceits and
Love Poetry in the Songs and Sonets (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 19 6 6 ),
sees Donne as belonging to the current of witty, courtly Petrareliism represented in
Italy by Serafino Aquilano, Cariteo, and Tebaldeo.
38. Metaphysical, Baroque, and Precienx Poetry (Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1 9 5 3 ) ,
p. 10.
39. Baroque in England, Modern Philology, LX 1 3 (February 19 6 4 ), 16 9 -79 .
40. See Chap. III. The stress on accessory elements w hich we ha\e notiecd already
in medieval poets like Chaucer is one of the traits that mannerism has in common
with the late Middle Ages, and represents a continuation and revival of some aspects
of this period. This characteristic has been exhaustively illustrated by Georg \\ eise,
Manierismo e letteratura, Rivista di letterature moderne e comparate, X I 1L 1 - 2
(June i9 6 0 ), with special regard to certain oxymora and forced antitheses developed
by fifteenth- and sixteenth-eentury Petrarchists. These are. however, stock phrases
and commonplaces rather than structural characteristics.
4 1. John Shearman, Mannerism, considers Bembo and his school as mannerists,
because of the artificial character of their stylistic ideal (p. 38 : Bembo argued that
it was right for every man to write in his own language, but he did not mean the
spoken language, which he despised for its corruptness, but a dead language revived
the language of classics ). But 011 that score Milton ought to be termed a mannerist
also, which would manifestly lead to a definition of mannerism so wide as to be prac
tically useless as an historical category. In fact, Prof. Shearman, by denying on one

Notes for pages 9 1-10 0

227

side what modem critics have considered the distinctive traits of mannerism (anxiety
and instability, and an opposition to Renaissance ideals; see pp. 19, 13 5 , 1 7 1 ), and on
the other including within the frame of mannerism all kinds of preciosity and arti
ficiality, has cast a net of such loose mesh as to enable any fish to swim in and out.
His definition of mannerism fits both the style of Bembo and that of Serafino, against
which Bembo reacted (p. 1 7 6 ) : "The elegant stylizations of Mannerist literature are
related not only to the classicizing tendencies of Bembismo, but also to the courtly
forms of the fifteenth century: the Petrarchism established long before Bembo, the
contorted word-play of the sonnets of Serafino dellAquila. . . . He thinks (p. 14 6 )
that Ariostos variety in the Orlando Furioso has much in common with mannerist
art. It would no doubt be attractive to see in Ariostos interweaving of multiple nar
ratives a phenomenon parallel to the delight in variegated surfaces and polychrome
compositions (the mosaics of pietre dure, the cabinets composed of various materials:
wood, metal, tortoise shell, semiprecious stones, etc.), or to musical polyphony, or to
Pirro Ligorios composite architecture, all of which are characteristic aspects of man
nerist art. But the interweaving of multiple narratives was already there in Ariostos
sources, the medieval romances of the Arthurian cycle, where one constantly comes
across the formula Mes a tant laisse li contes a parler de . . . et retorne a . .
the
fractioning of the narrative was a consequence of the plurality of actions. Boiardo in
his Orlando lnnamorato had introduced a selective rule of art into this time-hallowed
method by adopting the technique of suspension: he shifts to a new subject at the
very moment when he has stimulated the readers curiosity, and Ariosto has taken
this tantalizing device from him (sec Pio Rajna, Le fonti dellOrlando Furioso [2nd
edn., corrected and augmented; Florence: Sansoni, 1900], pp. 1 4 3 f t ). W as Boiardo
also a mannerist, then? And are we to include also the authors of Lancelot, Tristan,
and Palamedes in the category? For Professor Shearman the dramatic genre of pastorali (p. 9 1 ) is a typical mannerist invention, because of its total artificiality and its
technique of three or four concurrent affairs interwoven and resolved in a polyphonic
manner (p. 9 2 ). But here again, the same characteristics are to be found in the
Hellenistic romances of Longus and Heliodorus, and if this is mannerism, it is not
mannerism in the peculiar form it assumed in the sixteenth century. In conclusion,
Professor Shearmans point of view favors a universal scheme like that contemplated
by E. R. Curtius in European Literature and the Latin Middles Ages (N ew York:
Pantheon [Bollingen Series], 1 9 5 3 ) according to which there are moments of man
nerism, i.e., of preciosity of style for its own sake, in almost all phases of European
literature, including antiquity and anticipated by Walter Friedlander in Hauptstromungen der franzosischen Malerei von David bis Cezanne (Bielefeld and Leipzig:
Velhagen & Klasing, 19 30 ). On the other hand, Shearmans parallel for Tasso's
Aminta (p. 9 2 ) : It is like a bronze by Giovanni Bologna: tiny, polished, exquisitely
interlaced yet balanced and gracefully at ease, conveys no more than a vague im
pression, like the hackneyed comparison of Mozart to Watteau. Hardly less vague is
the equation (p. 1 0 1 ) between Luca Marenzios madrigals and Bronzinos paintings:
both are polished and passionless.
42. Fair warrior of mine, why so often do you arm yourself with wrath and pride
against me, who in acts and words behave so reverently and humbly toward you? If
you derive a little advantage out of my harm, or some little pleasure out of my pain,
I will smart and die without regret, because I only care for myself for your sake. But
if my life can promote your honor through my relentless works, do not make havoc
of it. If you don't grant me a longer span of life, your story I am spinning with my
lifes thread will be nipped in the bud. The same theme is treated by Sir Philip Sid
ney in Astrophel and Stella, Sonnet 40: Yet noblest Conquerours do wreckes avoid. /
Since then thou hast so farre subdued me, / That in my heart I offer still to thee, /
O do not let thy Temple be destroyd.

228

MNIMOSYVV

Milton took over Irc/m Delia Ctasa the use of the run-on line in his sonnet , so
th.it liis rhythm is staccato and irrt^nl.ir. Jt m.iki s ^rcut' j>) \ with the plu.iM' unit
or sentence unit which brums m the middle of one line and ends in the middle of
another, therein cutting ;u.t o s s the metrical unit' (Patrick Cruttwill ! he I n<ih*h
Sonnet, in the series Writers and Their NNork. pub tor the l!riti>h Council [London.
Longmans, 1966], p. 31 ). It must liowe#r b< kept in iniml that Miittm's adoption of
the union line was suggested by Tasso's remark 011 l)i 11a C asa s soinu 1 Qnijytu \it.i
mortal ("I czione sopra 1111 sonerto di Monsignor Della Casa ' 111 Prase diverse, ml
C. Guasrti [1 loivuee: Sncccssori Le Monnier. 1875], II ia 6 ), to the elleei that the
breaking of the lines, as it is taughi by all the masters, greath contributes to gra\it\
and the reason is that the breaking of the lines slac kns the course of the oration
and causes tardiness, and tardiness is proper to gra\it\ therefore tardiness both of
motions and words is ascribed to magnanimous men. who are very grave Hut it is
not 111 the- sonnets only that a serpentine element is noticeable 111 Milton's sryle. Tlu>
has been remarked by William Fmpson ( The sliding, sideways, broadening nunement. normal to Milton ; Some Versions of Pastoral [London: Chatto and Wi-ixlits
19351 - P- 16 a ), by C. Hicks ( The more closely one looks it the style, the clearer it
seems that Milton writes at his very best only when something prevents him from
writing with total directness : Milton's Grand Style [Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1963.
pp. 1 4 7 - 4 8 ) , and by A. Bartlett Giamatti ("This allusive, elusive technique allows
Milton full scope for his \asi literary resources, and sources, and for the breadth of
verbal ambiguity needed to maintain multiple perspectives, and the suspense, neces
sary for a successful account of the Fall : The Earthly Paradise and the Renaissance
Epic [Princeton University Press, 1966], p. 2 9 7 ).
44. Georg Weise, in Manierismo e letteratura. //, Rivista di letteratnre moderne e
comparate, X IX: 4 (December 19 6 6 ), identifies with mannerism the unprecedented
vogue for oxymora in the lyric poetry of the mid-sixteenth century (W yatt Barnes,
and others in England, Desportes in France, etc.). Admittedly the antithetical de\ice
based 011 witty contraries is already in use in the Middle Ages, and Petrarch greatly
contributed to its establishment; its recrudescence in the Cinquecento was certainly
favored by the dialectical bias of mannerism. In the Middle Ages, also, are found the
roots of another literary form which is usually connected with mannerism,
euphuism," a style which can be traced to Cicero. Seneca, and, among later
writers. Boccaccio and Guevara; but Professor Weise makes a distinction between
parallelism and balance as employed by Lyly after academic models, and the
antithetical manner of the later followers of Petrarch. The only passage of Enphnes
and His England in which he detects a mannerist handling of oppositions occurs in
R. W. Bonds edition of the Complete Works of John Lilly (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1902 ), II, 84L, and in M W. Croll and H. Clemons edition of Eujihnes: The Anatomy
of W it; Euphnes and His England (London: Routledge, 1 9 1 6 ) . p. 2 9 1. We quote from
the latter: She was ready of answer, yet wary: shrill of speech, yet sweet; in all her
passions so temperate as in her greatest mirth none would think her wanton, neither
in her deepest grief sullen . . . : oftentimes delighted to hear discourses of love, but
ever desirous to be instructed in learning; somewhat curious to keep her beauty
which made her comely, but more careful to increase her credit, which made her
commendable. . . . There is a close similarity of style between this passage and the
passage we quote from Sidney's Arcadia. For J. Shearman (M annerism, p. 3 9 ),
Enphnes is directly linked in style with Beinhismo, and therefore to be considered a
mannerist work. See note 41 of this chapter.
45. For further remarks 011 Sidneys style see M Praz. Ricerche anglo-italiane
(Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratuia, 19 4 4 ). pp. 63 78,
46. Aretino wrote in one of his letters: "I believe our belo\ed messer Jacopo San
sovino will decorate your room with a Venus so true to life as to fill wnh lust the

Notes for pages 10 1-12 0

229

mind of whomsoever gazes at her. Parmigianino executed for Aretino a Madonna of

the Rose who, with her divine child, looked rather like Venus with Cupid, owing to
her gesture and the comeliness of her limbs.
47. J. J. Dwyer, Italian Art in the Poems and Plays of Shakespeare (Colchester:
Benham, 19 4 6 ). See M. Praz, Machiavelli in Inghilterra ed altri saggi (2nd edn.;
Florence: Sansoni, 19 6 2 ), pp. 18 9 -9 1.
48. Such as P. de Witte ( il Candido ); Von Achen, who visited Florence; and
prints by Sadeler, Cort, and Goltzius. See G. Brigand, La maniera italiana (Rome:
Editori Riuniti, 19 6 1 ) , p. 6 1.
V.

TH E

CURVE

AND

THE

SHELL

1. See Frances A. Yates, The Allegorical Portraits of Sir John Luttrell, Essays in
the History of Art Presented to Rudolf Wittkower, ed. D. Fraser, H. Hibbard, M. J.
Lewine (London: Phaidon Press, 19 6 7 ), pp. 14 9 -60 .
2. See E. K. Waterhouse, Painting in Britain, 15 3 0 1790, Pelican History of Art
( i 9 5 3 ), P- 16.
3. See Frances A. Yates, Queen Elizabeth as Astraea, The Journal of the W ar
burg and Courtauld Institutes, X ( 1 9 4 7 ) , 2 7 -8 2 .
4. Spain merely reinforced this taste in the second half of the century, when Italy
became a Spanish dominion politically. See R. L. Pisetzky, op.cit., Hi, 2 1 7 23.
5. Dialogo del Gentiluomo vinitiano (Venice, 15 6 6 ). He advises a young man to
wear buoni habiti piu tosto gravi che pomposi.
6. Rudolf Wittkower, Art and Architecture in Italy , 1 6 007750, Pelican History of
Art ( 1 9 5 8 ) , pp. 100, 129.
7. Ferruccio Ulivi, II Manierismo del Tasso e altri studi (Florence: Olschki, 19 6 6 ).
Ulivi, however, considers Tasso a mannerist and finds affinities with Tintoretto,
though for Tassos delight in describing semiprecious stones in the Sette giornate del
mondo creato he might be considered closer to Jacopo Zucchi (see Chap. IV, p. 10 5 ).
But in his use of the idea of pleasure in pain, evidenced in the episodes involving
Olindo and Sofronia or Clorinda and Tancredi in the Gerusalemme liberata, and Silvia
and the satyr in Aminta, Tasso heralds already the ambiguous sensibility of the ba
roque, and even of the romantic, period; actually his yearning for the unknown, the
non so che, the exotic, and his sense of the solitude of man, are romantic traits.
Tassos ductus lacks homogeneity: he reminds us now of Tintoretto and now of Bartholomaeus Spranger; perhaps a psychoanalytical critic would find the reason for
this variety of moods in the fact that Tasso was a schizophrenic.
8. Art, which does everything, remains hidden. There is such a mixture of cul
ture and negligence, that you imagine that the ornaments and the arrangements are
only natural. It seems as if nature were playing at imitating her own imitator, art.
9. See E. Malins, English Landscaping and Literature, 1660-1840. Robert Castell, in
The Villas of the Ancients (London, 1 7 2 8 ) , reported that Pliny had a garden in which
hills, rocks, cascades, rivulets, woods, and buildings were thrown into such an agree
able disorder as to please the eye from several points of view, like so many beauti
ful landskips (p. 1 1 7 ) .
10.
Here are the two poems: Semper munditias, semper, Basilissa, decores, / Sem
per compositas arte recente comas, / Et comptos semper cultus, unguentaque sem
per, / Omnia sollicita compta videre manu / Non amo. Neglectim mihi se quae comit
arnica / Se det, et ornatus simplicitate valet. / Vincula ne cures capitis discussa
soluti, / Nec ceram in faciem: mel habet ilia suum. / Fingere se semper non est
confidere amori; / Quid quoque saepe decor, cum prohibetur, adest? from Pnhlii Virgilii Maronis Appendix, ed. J. C. Scaliger [Lyons, 15 7 3 ]; Ben Jonson, E picn-ne or
The Silent Woman, 1, i, 9 1 - 1 0 2 : Still to be neat, still to be drest, / As, you were

M \ I \) O S \ \ 1

230

going to a faast
Si ill to Ih pondiod, still pr rfnrft'rt
l.ady. it is to be presum'd,
1 hough arts liid causes are not lomuL All is not s'wcaft all is not sound (.me uu
a looke, guie me a face,
1 hat makes sniiplit itic a giace; Robes loo*cl\ Rowing
lim e as tree,
Such sweet neglect nioie nLkUi me.
I lien all tli aduln m s of irt
They strike mine eves but not my heart."
Art and ArohiLecture m Unlit, p loo.
l a. Shakespeare, Much Ado About Sothing 111 i\ if)ll Such -nil dresses, imhtd.
that Rrantonie tells
that when the niece ol 1 rancis 1 of 1 lance w.is m irried to the
Duke of Cleves at twelve years of age, she had to be carried ia the amis of an assist
ant to the nuptial ceremony, being unable to walk so great was the \\i ight of her
jewels and of the gold and silver doth of her garment.
13. Arl and Architect 11re m Italu, p. 98.
14. Jakob Rosenberg, Seymour Slive, IL 11 ter kuile Duti h Art tiud A nhitei tun-.
1G00-1800, Pelican History of Art (19 (16), p. 128.
15. Witjkower, Art and Architecture in Italii. p. 127.
16.II Canuocchiale Aristotelico (Venice, 1 6 5 5 ) . p 3 10 . See Pra/ The Flaming
Heart, pp. 207ff.
17. Sec Marie Christine Gloton, Trompe-I n il et decor pUifonuaut dmms les eghses
roinames de fiifje baroque (Rome: F.di/iom di Storia e Letteratura. 19 6 5).
18. Ben Jonson, The Alchemist, 11. i. 4 6 -5 2 .
19. E. Fromentin, Les Maitres dautrefois (Paris: Garnier, 19 3 9 ) , p. 3 13 .
20. Although, in the case of Caravaggio, people at the time were shocked to find
prominence given to realistic details, such as the dirty feet in the First St ^1attlieu
and the M adonna di Loreto, or the swollen body in the Death of the Virgin, and not
only in his own time, since Berenson too. in his Caravaggio, His Incongruity and His
Fame (London: Chapman and Hall, 1 9 5 3 ) , shows his disgust at such features
2 1. See Jean Roussct, l a Litteratare de I age baroque en France ( Paris Corti,
I 9 5 3 )> PP- 204ff., particularly p. 2 1 7 : "Le heros cornelien est un personnage d'ostcntation, qui se construit a la maniere dune fagade baroque, disjoignant let re et l'apparence comme l'architecte baroque disjoint la structure et la decoration et donne
a celle-ci la primaute.
33. Though a satirical intent is obvious in such details as. in the etching of the
Good Samaritan, the dog crouching while intent 011 a natural function: that verdog which, in an engraving of Michelangelos Ganymede by Nicole Barbizet, is repre
sented as only barking.
23. Art and Architecture in Italy, p. 39.
34. Kenneth Clark, Rembrandt and the Italian Renaissance (London: Murray,
19 6 6 ), p. 13 .
35. Ibid., p. 186.
36. Wittkower, Art and Architecture in Italy, p. 1 1 1 .
27. Ibid., p. 145.
38. Ibid., p. 116 .
39. Ibid.. p. 150.
30.
On the character of the rhythmical progression of baroque buildings Matila C.
Ghyka, Le Sombre dor, I. 89. writes: "Ici aussi nous pouvons poser a premiere vue
qu'cn realite la projection, meme oblique, meme repctee. du n ensemble rythme sur
un plan ou sur plusieurs plans successifs. donne encore unc image rythince. . . .
Ceci sapplique tout specialement aux cascades musicales baroques, celles, par exeinple, dun edifice comme Iabbaye de Melk: lorchestration magistrate de ces volumes
chante de quelque part que l'on approche limmense symphonic de pierre, et ceci
s'applique a bien dautres abbaycs baroques dAutriche ou dAllemagne. de meme
qu a leur archetype, l'abside de Saint Pierre de Rome par Michel Ange. See also
Baroque, Italie et Europe cevtrale, by Pierre Charpentrat (Fribourg: Office du livre,

11.

us

Notes for pages 1 2 1 - 1 3 7

231

19 6 4 ), p. 9: Depuis longtemps nombre dhistoriens et de critiques, particulierement

en Aliemagne, parlent de musique baroque. C'est en pleine Italie baroque en effet
que se leve la grande generation des Corelli, des Vivaldi, des Scarlatti, nes en 16 5 3 ,
16 78 et 16 85. J.-S. Bach et Haendel ont quinze ans en 1700 : ils sont exactement contemporains des architectes qui ont domra un visage a l'Allemagne du XVIII' siecle,
et en particulier du plus grand dentre eux, Balthasar Neumann. Parallelisme qui ne
se limite pas a la chronologie, si lon admet que linfluence de Vivaldi joua en loccurrance un role comparable a celui que joua a plusieurs reprises, dans le developpement de larchitecture baroque germanique, linluence des maitres du Seicento.
3 1. For a detailed study of the development of the curve in Borromini, see Paolo
Portoghesi, Borromini, Architettura come linguaggio (Rome: U. Bozza, 19 6 7 ) , chiefly
pp. 4849, where Borrominis project for S. Eustachio is compared with Palladios
Church of the Redentore: The main difference between the two naves lies in the
treatment of the corner . . . Palladio had adopted a square pilaster in the point of
intersection of the two orthogonal points of perspective . . . Borromini does not ac
cept the separation of the orthogonal points and blends them into a continuum by
bending one of the minor intervals into a curve . . . A research destined to have its
most significant stages in the Oratorio dei Filippini, in the church of S. Maria dei
Sette Dolori and in the chapel of the Magi at Propaganda Fide.
32. Wittkower, Art and Architecture in Italy, p. 159.
33. See Father Georgius Stengelius Ova Paschalia sacro emblemate inscripta descriptaque (Munich, 1 6 3 4 ), in which all the emblems are egg-shaped, and the conceits
all derive from the egg.
34. One of the favorite emblems of the seventeenth century, when the cult of the
heart of Jesus was revived by Jean Eude and Marguerite Alacoque. See M. Praz,
Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery, pp. i5 if f. Antonius W iericxs plates of Cor
Iesu amanti sacrum were the most popular ones, and appear in several devotional
books.
35. R. L. Pisetzky, op.cit., Ill, 3 5 5 . plate 15 8 : A typical mans attire included knee
trimmings descending in concentric, almost cabbage-shaped flounces down the calves.
Sashes, ribbons, lace contribute to the effect of abundance and restlessness. Honey
combed ruffs recall the myriad geometrical decorations, conveying a sense of infinity,
of the inside of the cupolas designed by Borromini and Guarino Guarini (Giedion has
seen a relation between Guarinis vaults and the method of infinitesimals adopted by
Leibnitz as the foundation of his differential calculus). Womens robes open in front
in two swelling festoon-like curtains, showing the skirt: the shirt emerges at the cuffs
of the sleeves in billowing volumes of white linen, held fast by ribbons. The enormous,
bell-shaped farthingale speaks for itself.
36. See L. Keller, Piranese et les romantiques frangais, le mythe des escaliers en
spirale (Paris: Corti, 1966).
37. Thus Paolo Portoghesi, apropos of the facade of Propaganda Fide and of the
remarks of Sedlmavr, who sees it approaching the condition of music through a tech
nique of variations on a set theme, writes ( Borromini. p. 2 8 6 ) : It is certain that the
total image of the fagade, owing to the conditions of its enjoyment, is entirely en
trusted to a mnemonic summing-up, in the same way as the perception of a musical
performance is wholly entrusted to the acoustic memory, i.e., to the possibility of link
ing together, while evaluating their relations, events which take place in successive
moments. Borromini, genially interpreting these limiting conditions, exploits the in
trinsic possibilities by resorting to variations. Following him step by step, the onlooker
is enabled to enjoy many possible groupings of single images gathered together in the
great framework, while certain totalizing elements invite him continually to knit to
gether in the episodes he has first appreciated in their value of sub-units. And he
speaks of sub-units highly characterized and unified by the continuous reappearance

M N i: M O S \ N V

2; 52

of diagonal dirigents as well as by tin* thoroughbass ol tin magnificent cornice"

38.
TliiS poftt has l)'r_en rightly selected h\ lean Koussi t in Ins 1 liaptiT 011 tin B.i
roque in the llistoire des littertituiev, II I licyclopedie de la Pleiade (P a n s. Callmiard.
i 95 C ). p. y i.
39 "Out of Grotius his Tragedy of Clinsti s sufferin gs Thi /W ins, English Latin
and Grech o\ Riehanl Crashaw, ed I,. C. Martin; (2nd edn ; Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1957 ), P- 399
40. (Paris: Vrin, 19 6 6 ).
4 1. Letter to the Ke\ \\ Mason, 29 July 17 7 3 . Horace Walpole's Correspondence
teith William Mason, ed W. S. Lewis, G CronaB jk , C\ 11 Bennett The Yale Edition
of Horace Walpoles Correspondence, Vol. 28 (New Haven, Yale Unnersity Press,
1955 ). P- 102.
42. Esthftique du Rococo, p. 255.
43 G. Pmdet La distance interieiire (Paris: PI011, 19 5 2 ) , p. 1; quoted by Mmguet
op.cit., p. 250.
44. E. et J. de Goncourt, I'A rt tin XVIW siccle (Paris: Charpentier 1906 >. 1 7.
45. Chr. Hussey, The Picturesque (London and New York. G. Putnams Sons,
1927 ); Malins. English Landscajnug and Literature.
46. R. Fry, Reflections 011 British Painting (London: Faber and Faber, 19 3 4 ), p
7 5 : Gradually his symbol for tree and rock forms became fixed he never enriched
it by new observations: it became one of those typical eighteenth-centurv generalized
summaries of natural form which we accept because of their elegance, and which in
the end bore us by their extreme fluency and emptiness. It becomes like the poetic
diction of the day. which avoids the contact with particular things: for which all
birds are the feathered tribe' and cows a lowing herd.
47. The remark is as old as the eighteenth-century Litre de quatre couleurs, '.\herc
we read: Les moeurs se veloutent a force de ne porter que du velours, comme lespnt
brille a force de voir des brillants. Lame suit les impressions du corps, dit elegamment Platon dans son Livre de l'lmmortalite des Ames, et il faut com enir que les
Russes ont lesprit beaucoup plus agile et plus eleve depuis que Pierre le Grand les fit
raser. et habiller a la Frangoise.
48. See P. Portoghesi, Roma barocca (Rome: Bestetti, 19 6 6 ), pi 200.
49. G. D. Oschepkov, Architektor Tomon (Moscow, 19 5 0 ), p. 90 (in Russian).
50. Valenciennes, for instance, overawed by the academic tradition, forbore to
transfuse into his official paintings any trace of his spirited sketches of buildings,
skies, and trees. A distinction between isolated elements prevails both in painting and
architecture, and in interior decoration as well. This has been remarked by Robert
Rosenblum (Transformations in Late Eighteenth Century Art [Princeton University
Press, 1967], p. 7 1 , n. 7 4 ) apropos of Davids Horatii, whose compositional scheme is
the pictorial counterpart of the new formal systems closely analyzed in architecture
by Emil Kaufmann (Architecture in the Age of Reason [Cambridge. Mass. Harvard
University Press, 19 5 5 ]). Furniture is no longer fused with wall decoration, as in the
Rococo, but regains an independence that soon leads to virtual isolation.
V I.

TELESCOPIC,

MICROSCOPIC,

PHOTOSCOPIC
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.

AND

STRUCTURE

Hans Sedlmayr, Verbust der Mitte (Salzburg: Otto Miiller Verlag, 1948^.
See Malins. English Landscape and Literature, pp. 1 1 - 1 3
M. Yourcenar. Sous benefice d'niventaire (Paris: C.allimard, 1962 ).
Henri Peyre, in Histoire des litteratures, II, Encyclopedic de la Pleiade, p. 1 3 7
(Berlin: Propyliien Verlag. 19 6 6 ), pp. 36ft.

Notes for pages 13 7 -17 8

233

6. The Unmediated Vision; An Interpretation of Wordsworth, Hopkins, Rilke and

Valery (N ew Haven: Yale University Press. 19 5 4 ).
7. See Praz, The Romantic Agony, p. 289.
7a. Of the artists of the past, Rembrandt seems to be almost unique in regard
ing the vitality directed to the outside world and its enjoyment as of little conse
quence beside the more passive qualities of introspection, sympathy and humility :
Jakob Rosenberg, Rembrandt, Life and Work (London: Phaidon. 19 6 4 ), p. 58. See also
Rosenberg's comparison, p. 282, of Rembrandt's Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of
Homer and Guercino's preparatory drawing of the companion piece ordered by Don
Antonio Ruffo: Guercinos scholar announces his profession by gestures and at
tributes, and looks out directly at the spectator. Rembrandts figure, in contrast, is
completely absorbed in its own world of deep meditation and mystery.
8. Rembrandt again may be quoted in this connection. Rosenberg (op.cit., p. 19 3 )
remarks apropos of The Sacrifice of Manoah: Here, for the first time, the inner reac
tion dominates over the outward manifestation of a miracle. . . . the scene is inter
preted in the new spirit of inwardness. And (p. 2 2 2 ) comparing Rubens Bathsheba
in Dresden with Rembrandts Bathsheba in the Louvre, Rosenberg observes that
Rubens used this Biblical motif primarily for the display of feminine charm and
painterly brilliance. Rembrandt, however, not only arouses admiration of the nude
but also makes one aware of Bathshebas feelings. Rembrandt, however, did not aim
at a fastidious reconstruction of the historical costume and setting: like Shakespeare,
he gives us a personal and contemporary interpretation of the past What Rosenberg
writes of Rembrandt could be applied also to Shakespeare: Rembrandts people,
wrapped in their own thoughts, are in communication, not with the outside world, like
those of Rubens, Van Dyck, or Frans Hals, but with something within themselves that
leads, at the same time, beyond themselves. Therefore, an introvert attitude, with
Rembrandt, means the search for the spiritual force in man that conditions his life,
its origin as well as its course (p. 299).
9. Opere. IV, 14 6 -4 7 .
10. William Gaunt, Victorian Olympus (London: Cape, 19 5 2 ) , p. 12 7 .
1 1 . N. Sarraute, Flaubert, Partisan Review (Spring 19 6 6 ), p. 199, apropos of
Salammbo.
12. L. Keller, Piranese et les romantiques frangais, pp. 1 1 8 19 and 1 3 2 3 3 : Jean
Seznec, John Martin en France (London: Faber and Faber, 19 6 4 ).
13 . Histoire dit romantisme, p. 18.
14. The Works of John Ruskin, ed. E. T. Cook and A. Wedderburn (London: George
Allen: New York: Longmans, 19 0 3 1 2 ) , XIV, 234 , 2 3 7 , 172.
15 . Die Kunst des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts (Munich: Prestel Verlag. i96 0 ).
16. Pierre Francastel, however (Peiiiture et Societe, Naissance et destruction d'un
espace plastique, De la Renaissance au cubisme [Paris: Gallimard. 1965], pp. 129ft'.),
maintains that there has been a misunderstanding about the influence of photogra
phy; in his opinion it is not true that the camera, by registering a raw vision (vision
brute) of the universe, has supplied painters with the means of enlarging the explora
tion of objective reality. He points out that the early photographers arranged the field
of vision in such a way as to remind us of pictures; the image offered by photography
is thus 110 less the result of selection than is a painters composition. On the other
hand, it is not the camera, Francastel observes, which first revealed to artists the
possibility of registering raw or unmediated impressions. The importance of photog
raphy lies in the fact that the possibility of a mechanical registration of vision re
sulted in developing the Kunstwollen, the search after style in the artists themselves.
Photography confirmed those who sought after possible new groupings of sensations
( nouveaux groupements possibles de sensations ); it would have confirmed Monet
in his search after the dissociation of forms and Degas in his new schematization of

231

M N 1 M <) S \ N I

outlines In any cast-. Fmncwstel ailimts Uiftt pliotoi;r.|>Ii. has freed pMnttiii; frtm a
w liole senes of compulsory dlftgSaUccs and stini^Iatad it toward* an IntrrpmtKion
ol tin* im m rsi which in not so much subjecth( as ps\( liologu .11 and .uahtic.il As
Walter BeAjmiti puts it, the discovery ol pbotogMph; dest roved tIi> tunc hallow, d
ritual of beauty; not. however, 1 laneasul adds, 111 order to pm reality 111 as pl.u 1
but to open the way for the elaboration oi new incantations 1 he disowciy ol pho
tography assisted the painters til their aspiration tow uds a nidi mng of the universe
not through a renewal of the picturesque -.cttmg, but rather through a di 1 p nnii; of
their acquaintance with its intimate structures The greatest /(traction lies no Lunger
in the appearance, the spectacle, but in the wa\ tilings are contm ed ("les nic am*
m es"). The vision of the Renaissance was a distant one; the modem rision is b< nt 011
the discovery of a secret m the details The great nn-teries of nature have (eased to
be wholesale \isions and Msions at a distance; painters are now ((interned with the
elose-at hand details, and arc interested not so much 111 the objects of sensation as 111
the sensations themselves, the raw data of the organ of perception.
17. This is a pessimistic view of the same phenomenon which Francastel <Pcitmtrf
et Societe. p. 2 0 2 ) has described from a different angle: 11 est remarquablc de constater que, tandis que la littcrature insiste sur le cote tourmemc de l cpoque la peinture exprime davantage le cote conqucrant du sn cle. V aurait il une relation eiitre
cette opposition et le caractere attardc des techniques litteraires, tout entieres domi
nees encore par les poncifs?
18. An Outline of European Architecture (Harmondswonh Penguin Books, 19 5 3 ),
pp. 2 73- 74- The second passage appears in the 19H0 Penguin edition p. 661
19. Oia'iiging Ideals in Modern Architecture, 17 5 0 -18 ,5 0 (London: Faber and Faber,
19 6 5 ), p- 284.
20. See Reyner Banham, Guide to Modern Architecture, quoted by Collins, op.eit ,
p. 207.
2 1. See Chap. 23 in Collins, op.eit.: The Influence of Painting and Sculpture 011
Architecture. Here, p. 284.
22. An Outline of European Architecture ( 19 6 0 ), p. 700.
23. R. Sehmut/.ler. Art So u iea u ( l a w York: Abrams. 19 6 2 ). p. 13 5 .
24. See ibid., pp. 1 0 - 1 1 .
25. Jules Laforgue. Moralites legendaires (Paris: Mercure de France. 19 6 4 ). p 2 14
26. And two deep goblets of delicately tinkling glass you put near a bright bowl,
and poured a sweet foam / You poured, poured, poured, shook two scarlet glasses;
more white than a lily, more red than a ruby, you were white and ru by-colored.
From The Flaming Circle, Vol. VIII of Sologubs Complete Works (Moscow. 19 0 8 i.
27. Princess Marsi Paribatra, Le Rottumtisme contemporain-, Essai sur I'inguictude
et I'evasion dans les lettres frangaises de 18 5 0 a 19 5 0 (Paris: Les Editions Polvglottes. 19 5 4 ) , PP- 8 1-8 2 .
28. By Viola Hopkins. Visual Art Devices and Parallels in the Fiction of Henry
Jam es." PMLA, LXXVI (December 1961"), 5 6 1 - 7 4 : In his view of the interrelated
ness of all experience, of consciousness not as fixed and stable but as ever in flux,
and in his emphasis on the subjective aspects of experience. Jam es had much in
common with the Impressionist painters response to reality" (p. 5 7 1 ) .
29. Perceptive Contemplation in the Work of Virginia Woolf. English Studies,
X X X V :3 ( June 19 5 4 ) , 9 7 - 1 1 6 . Below, p. 114 .
30. The Waves (New York: Harcourt Brace. 1 9 3 1 ). pp. 29. 10 9 -10 .
3 1 To the Lighthouse': Music and Sympathy. in the English Miscellany, , ol 19
( 19 6 8 ) , pp. 1 8 1 - 9 5 .

Notes for pages 179 -19 4

VII.

SPATIAL

AND

TEMPORAL

235

INTERPENETRATIO N

1. See Lucien Goldmann, Pour une sociologie du roman (Paris: Gallimard, 19 6 4 ),

PP- 33 - 3 4 > where a parallel is drawn between the anti-roman, the theatre de Vabsence
(Beckett, Ionesco, Adamov during a certain period of their careers) and certain as
pects of abstract painting. The anti-roman had already been foreseen by Flaubert
when he spoke of writing a book about nothing. See Nathalie Sarraute, Flaubert
(quoted above), p. 2 0 7: Books about nothing, almost devoid of subject, rid of char
acters, plots and all the old accessories, reduced to pure movement, which brings
them into proximity with abstract art, are these not the goals toward which the mod
ern novel tends? And this being so, can there be any doubt that Flaubert was its
precursor?
2. Durrell, Clea (London: Faber and Faber, i9 6 0 ), pp. 1 3 5 - 3 6 .
3. Durrell. Balthasar (London: Faber and Faber, 19 5 8 ), p. 226.
4. The Evolution of Narrative Viewpoint in Robbe-Grillet, Novel, a Forum in
Fiction, I : i (Fall 19 6 7 ), 3 1 , 33.
5. On the pictorial construction of the Cantos the ideogrammatic method, the
procedure of superimposition similar to montage and on the importance given to the
appearance of the object on the page, particularly by one of Pounds disciples, E. E.
Cummings, see K. L. Goodwin, The Influence of Ezra Pound (London: Oxford Uni
versity Press, 19 6 6 ).
6. Quoted by Harold Rosenberg, The Ajixious Object; Art Today and Its Audience
(New York: Horizon Press, 19 6 4 ), p. 6 1. Rosenberg comments: The transformation
of things by displacing them into art and of art by embedding it in a setting of ac
tuality is the specifically twentieth-century form of illusionism. It is also one of the
chief characteristics of Kitsch. See Gillo Dorfles, II Kitsch, antologia del cattivo
gusto (Milan: Gabriele Mazzotta Editore, 19 6 8 ), p. 19 : the displacing of a work of
art from its normal context to an unsuitable setting is instanced by the use of Leo
nardos Gioconda for an advertisement.
7. See Phoebe Pool, Picassos Neo-classicism Second Period 1 9 1 7 - 2 5 , Apollo
(March 19 6 7 ), pp. 19 8 207.
8. See Donald Sutherland, Gertrude Stein: A Biography of Her Work (N ew Haven:
Yale University Press, 1 9 5 1 ) , p. 69.
9. See Constant Lambert, Music Ho!; A Study of Music in Decline (N ew York.
Charles Scribners Sons, 19 3 4 ).
10. See Giorgio Melchiori, The Tightrope Walkers; Studies of Mannerism in Modern
English Literature (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 19 5 6 ).
1 1 . Arnold Hauser, The Social History of Art (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,
^ S 1 )* IL 9 3 5 = Picasso compromises the artistic means of expression by his indis
criminate use of the different artistic styles just as thoroughly and wilfully as do the
surrealists by their renunciation of traditional forms. Already in a cento of quota
tions like the one at the end of The Waste Land we have the first inkling of pop art.
Instead of the Kunstwollen, there is a gesture which may be the expression of either
an obsession or only a whim. It is as if man, oppressed by the machine age, were
making a desperate sign, to affirm the existence of the individual and of the irra
tional in a world where everything is standardized and mechanized. Thus in a paint
ing called Cable there are a few random black letters with a mysterious numeral.
Parallel cases: a performance of Hamlet by an English company (In-Theatre) in
which the speeches were put into the mouths of the wrong characters, e.g., Gertrudes
words were spoken by Hamlet; Queneaus poems, where lines can be substituted for
one another ad infinitum (Raymond Queneau, 100.000.000 de poemes [Paris: Galli
mard, 1 9 6 1 1) a world of universal availability. In Queneaus book every line is

236

M N I M O S i N I

printed on a srrip ijjf light c a r d b o a r d . and there are auirn srr lp s on top o f i ai h other,
to allow i 111111111 <"i;i l)lo c o m b in a t io n s Here I In. U ' t h i v i p t i g i i i m ol tin* nioc- m |mh i
j o in s up w ldi tli.it o f tho se ve n te e n th > cn tiiiy Eryilins PiitraiiiiN w h o sho\\d that the
w ords o f n lint* on the V ir g i* com posed hv tin* J e s u i t li c in a r d \ in B m ib u y s cn < lot
tibi s u n t dotes Vtrgo, fpiot -idei.i c a e l o " ) could hr co m b in ed in
dlftfrrciU w a y s
a s m a n y as the n u m b e r o f the s tars k n o w n at the (jine See Pruz tu.dn \ in S e t c n
t a n t h - C c n t n r y I m a g e r y , p. 2 0. I'or a n o t h e r m o d e 111 tendem \ that o f u s in g poor
ro ugh m a t e r i a ls fn art (A lb e r t o I u r r i ) and \ u l g a r word# mil u n g ia i m n a t i i ,d ja r g o n
111 literature, there i> a p aralle l 111 arc h it e c t u r e C oU ini, C h a n g i n g Ideals irt Modi m
A r c h i t e c t u r e , p. 2 1 7 , s p e a k s ol A d m ire r s o f Le C o r b u s ie r n a i lin g speei.il coarse plank
in g to the interior s u r l a e e s o f their smooth plyw ood fo m n v o i k in order to obtain tin-*
r o u g h n e s s a rt ific ia lly anil at co n sid e ra b le e x p e n s e " ( a propos o f the Nev. Pnutalisti )

12. Revulsion from mimesis is also Picasso's main concern In I langoise Cilot anil
Carlton Lakes Life uith Picasso (New York: McGraw Hill 19(14. pp. 124 2 5 ) he is
reported as saying: When I make a tree. I don't choose the tree I don't even look at
one. The problem doesn't present itself 011 that basis for me I have 110 pre-established
aesthetic basis 011 which to make a choice, f have 110 pre-detcrmined tree, either My
tree is one that doesnt exist, and I use my own psycho-physiological dynamism m my
movement toward its branches, it's not rcalh an aesthetic attitude at all."
13 . Edmund Wilson. The Dream of H C. Ear-wicker." 1 'he Wound mid the Bou
Seven Studies in Literature (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 19 4 1'). p. 2 59 I'his language
has been studied by Freud and his followers, from whom Joyce seems to ha\e got
the idea of its literary possibilities.
14. L'heresie de James Joyce, English Miscellany, vol. 2 ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 2 19 , 222.
15 . It may not be irrelevant that Picasso is a native of Spain, a country w liere, oc
casionally, one notices a complete absence of the creative sense in nature about one
(Hilaire Belloc, "The Relic, Selected Essays [London: Methuen. 1948], p 7 ).
16. The Wound and the Bow, p. 267.
17 . Perhaps not everybody knows what a cadavre exqnis is: it is a composite image,
frequently a very surprising one, resulting from a party game in which each partici
pant executes a portion of a drawing and then folds the paper over it, thus preventing
the next from seeing anything of what he has executed except the two ends which
mark the limits of the figure. The English term for this game is "picture conse
quences.
18. Cf. Sutherland, Gertrude Stein, pp. 9 0 -9 1. The sentence is a metamorphosis of
a popular enough phrase: Sunburnt Susie is my dish." Sutherland remarks: This
metaphoric process, or rather this metamorphosis by words, is, with differences, a
little like the distortions of Matisse in color and line or like the more complete con
versions in the cubist paintings of Picasso. That is, as Matisse seeing a fairly rich
curve or a pleasant spot of color in the subject matter would exaggerate these into a
sumptuous curve or a gorgeous area of color bn his canv as, and as Picasso would
make any approximately flat or approximately angular surface in the subject matter
into a very definite quadrangle on canvas, so Gertrude Stein, intensifying and con
verting the original qualities of the subject matter by isolation and metaphor winds
up w-ith a result that exists in and for itself, as the paintings do. 1 think, however,
that the cadavre exquis provides a closer simile.
19. The Dehumanization of Art (Princeton University Press, 19 4 8 ), pp. 3 5 - 3 6 . See
also, in this connection, Hauser, The Social History of Art, II, 9 3 7 38 : "The sewing
machine and the umbrella on the dissecting table [Lautreamont], the donkey's corpse
on the piano [Dali] or the naked womans body which opens like a chest of drawers
[Max Ernst], in brief, all the forms of juxtaposition and simultaneity into which the
non-simultaneous and the incompatible are pressed, are only the expression of a de
sire to bring unity and coherence, certainly in a very paradoxical way, into the

Notes for pages 194-207

237

atomized world in which we live. Art is seized by a real mania for totality. It seems
possible to bring everything into relationship with everything else, everything seems
to include within itself the law of the whole. The disparagement of man, the so-called
dehumanization of art, is connected above all with this feeling. In a world in which
everything is significant or of equal significance, man loses his pre-eminence and
psychology its authority.
Though apparently in contrast with this point of view, the following passage (from
Sutherland, Gertrude Stein, pp. 19 3 -94) oddly enough confirms the arbitrary charac
ter of things in the modern world (cf. Sutherlands remark, p. 8 5: everything has
been wildly disconnected and at the same time almost anything is made to connect
with anything else ) : It is true that we are more comfortable in the composition of
19th century life and literature, in which an actual or a mentioned cup of tea was
part of an hour which was part of a day which was part of a week, month, season, or
year, which was part of say the annals of Britain, which were part of the general
onward evolution of something that was part of a cosmic order. A sentence was part
of a paragraph which was part of a chapter which was part of a book which was part
of a shelf of books which was part of England or America or France and so on. Some
thing belonged to everything automatically. But nothing now is really convincingly
a part of anything else; anything stands by itself if at all and its connections are
chance encounters. Q: If it is true, it sounds scary. Do you mean to make it sound
exhilarating? A : Officially of course it is scary. But it is a godsend to an artist. It
leaves everything open, and so many realities can still be made. Not dreamed, if you
please, but made.
20. (Paris: Aux Editions du Seuil, 19 6 7 ).
2 1. The Body (London: The Hogarth Press, J9 4 9 ), pp. 11 4 , 128.
22. Green, Concluding (London: The Hogarth Press, 19 4 8 ), p. 56.
23. Even the form of martyrdom chosen for Celia in The Cocktail Party m ay be
due to a suggestion from Dalis frequent insistence on ants.
24. Eliot says in a note that the inspiration for this visioncame to him from
a
passage of Hermann Hesses Blick in Chaos, in which the eastern part of Europe
is shown staggering towards chaos and singing a drunken song on the edge of a
precipice; but there may be also besides a precise reminiscence of the popular thriller
Drac.ida, and an unconscious recollection of the tw'enty-third section and second
canzone of Dantes La Vita Nuoia, in which the poet has a foreboding of Beatrices
death in a vision of certain faces of women with their hair loosened" and other
terrible and unknown appearances, birds falling dead out of the sky, and great
earthquakes. In Rossettis translation of the canzone we read:
Then saw I many broken hinted sights
Meseemd to be I know not in zvhat place,
Where ladies through the streets . . .
Ran with loose hair . . .
And birds droppd in mid-flight out of the sky;
And earth shook suddenly.
25. Mannerism, as we have said, had already started the revolt. Cf. Hauser, The
Social History of Art, I, 3 5 8 : Mannerism begins by breaking up the Renaissance
structure of space and the scene to be represented into separate, not merely externally
separate but also imvardly differently organized, parts. It allows different spatial
values, different standards, different possibilities of movement to predominate in the
different sections of the picture: in one the principle of economy, and in another
that of extravagance in the treatment of space. . . . The final effect is of real figures
moving in an unreal, arbitrarily constructed space, the combination of real details in

M NKMOSVN

.in imaginur? fr.mien oi k the free maiiipiilatirtn ol tin* spatial coi lIu ions pun Iv
according to the purpose ol the moment lhe nearest an dogy it) tins world of rtilzj^Ied
n\ilit\ is i hi' dream Lu w hi all real connec lions an abolished and limits are hmin iglit
into an abstract relationship to one another, hut in wlneh the individual objects
themselves air. described with the gn ate*t ex k titude ort t>i U rm si rtdeltiy 10
nature. It is, at the same time, reminiscent of conli inporary art. is r.\pre.ssd in lhc
descri|ition of associations m surrealistic painting, in Frnnz K alkas dream world
in the montage-technique of Joyce's novels and the autocratic treatment of spare in
the film. \\ ithout the experience of these recent trends, nianncritm could h irdlv have
acquired its present significance for us And ibid, 11, 937. Only mannerism had
seen the contrast between the concrete and the abstract, rhe sensua.1 and the spiritual
dreamiatg and waking in a similarly glaring light.
26. Ibid., pp 939 40: The new concept of time, whose basic element is simul
taneity and whose nature consists in the spatiah/ation of the temporal el erne nr, is
expressed in 110 other genre so impressively as in this youngest art (the lilml. whioh
dates from the same period as Bergson's plnlosoph\ of time. The agreement between
the technical methods of the film and the characteristics of the* new concept of time
is so complete that one has the feeling that the time categories of modern art
altogether must have arisen from the spirit of cinematic form, and one is inclined to
consider the lilm itself as the stylistically most representative, though qualitatively
perhaps not the most fertile genre of contemporary art.
27. See Olga W. Vickery, "The Sound and the Fury; A Study in Perspective. PM LA,
LXIX (December 19 5 4 ) , 1 0 1 7 37.
28. Excerpt above f rom A Valentine for Sherwood Anderson," Portraits and Prayers
(N ew York: Random House, 19 3 4 ), p. 15 5 . Ida (N ew York: Random House, 1 9 4 1 ) ,
p. 146.
29. Sutherland, Gertrude Stein, pp. 12 . 5 4 - 5 5 , 59. 1 1 7 , 2 0 0 -2 0 1.
30. Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein, ed. Carl Van Vechten (New York Random
House, 19 4 6 ), p. 174.
3 1 . The chief contribution of the Italian futurists consists in their manifestoes,
which were usually in French. This is the conclusion which Renato Poggioli arrives
at in his Teoria dell'urte d avanguardia ([Bologna: II Mulino. 1962], p. 2 5 4 ) , a
historical, ideological, and social panorama of modern aeshetic currents, (The Theory
of the Avant-Garde, trans. G. Fitzgerald. Harvard University Press, ig b S). On futur
ism, see Marianne W. Martin, Futurist Art and Theory (Oxford: Clarendon Press.
19 6 8 ).
32. See K. L. Goodwin. The Influence of Ezra Pound, pp. 1 7 2 73.
33. Poems: 1 9 2 3 - 5 4 (N ew York: Harcourt Brace. 1 9 5 4 ) , p. 13 3 .
34. Useful Knowledge (London: Bodley Head, s.d.), p. 83 See Sutherland. Gertrude
Stein, p. j i 6 : as absolute as Mondriaan."
3 5 What follows is based 011 an essay by Giorgio Melchiori on The Abstract Art of
Henry Green included in The Tightrope Walkers, pp. 18 8 -212. For other instances of
abstract tendencies in fiction see Julian Mitchell in The London Magazine,
V
(January 19 6 6 ), 8 3-8 4 .
36. Living (London and Toronto: Dent, 1 9 3 1 ) , p. 199.
37. Back (London: The Hogarth Press. 19 4 6 ), pp. 7 -8 .
38. Hauser, The Social History of Art. I. 3 5 6 -5 7 , stresses the similarities between
mannerism and the art of our time: Only an age which had experienced the tension
between form and content, between beauty and expression, as its own vital problem,
could do justice to mannerism. . . .
39. The abstract tendency, the dissolution of forms in an unreal, undefinable space,
may be observed in El Greco's paintings, for instance in The Visitation* (Dumbarton
Oaks Collection), Washington.

Notes for pages 207-216

239

40. Cf. Sutherland, Gertrude Stein, p. 19 3 (italics m ine): It amused Gertrude Stein
to find that her early arrangements and abstractions, which had seemed to be highly
acrobatic and gratuitous if refined formal exercises, were turning out to be literal
transcriptions of the most evident realities, that is the same abstractions and arrange
ments 011 which life is more and more consciously conducted by people at large. (Cf.
Composition as Explanation, p. 9 .)
4 1. Pack My Bag (London: The Hogarth Press, 19 4 6 ), p. 88.
42. Herman Meyer, Die Verwandlung des Sichtbaren, Die Bedeutung der modernen
Bildenden Kunst fur Rilkes spate Dichtung, Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift. fiir
Literaturivissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte, X X X I: 4 ( 1 9 5 7 ) , 4 6 5505; later pub
lished in book form: Z arte Empiric (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 19 6 3 ), pp. 2 8 7 -3 3 6 .
43. Rainer Maria Rilke, Briefe, II, 192426 (W eim ar: Insel-Verlag, 19 5 0 ), p. 490.
Another analogy between Rilke and abstract art has been pointed out by H. Rosenberg,
The Anxious Object, p. 15 8 : In turning to action, abstract art abandons its alliance
with architecture, as painting had earlier broken with music and with the novel, and
offers its hand to pantomime and dance. . . . Liebesbaum [by Hans Hofmann, 1955],
is a tree danced in the scent of one of Rilkes nymphs: Dance the orange. The
warmer landscape, fling it out of you, that the ripe one be radiant in homeland
breezes!
44. Francesco Arcangeli, Picasso voce recitante, Paragone, No. 47 ( 1 9 5 3 ) , p. 62,
has touched on the relation between cubism and music. How deceptive musical
parallels can be, may be judged, for instance, from the assertion of T. S. Eliot that
while writing his Four Quartets he had in mind Bela Bartoks Quartets. It could be
more convincingly argued that there is an affinity between Proust and Gustav Mahler,
w'hose Ninth Symphony presents a variegated texture without a very pronounced
structure, so that it sounds like a continuous stream full of nuances.
45. Cf. Hauser, The Social History of Art, p. 946.
46. Wilson, The Wound and the Bow, p. 265.
47. For Sutherland, Gertrude Stein, p. 17 8 , the reverse would be true: Gertrude
Stein is more difficult than Picasso because one can more readily take what goes on
in paint qualitatively than one can what goes on in words, words being more habitually
involved than lines and colors are in conveying information about the situations of
real action semantically. One does not understand a Picasso after recognizing the
stray nose or table top, the rest is the simple experience of quality so intense and
dramatic in itself that it holds the attention and excites and satisfies without the
confusion of understanding. But when Gertrude Stein uses words and even numbers
qualitatively, as experiential finalities and things in themselves, our attention is likely
to fail because what normally keeps it up in words is information."

Index

IN D E X

Abbot, Edwin A.: Flatlancl, 19 1

Achen, Johann von, 229**
Adam, Robert: Adelphi Terrace, London,
i 44 f
Adamov, Arthur. 2 3 4 1
Addison, Joseph, 146
Age of Reason, literature of. i4 6 f
Alacoque, Marguerite, 2 3 1 34
Alberti, Leon Battista, 84, 86, 15 4 , 18 5 ;
De re aedificatoria, 63, facade of
S. Andrea, Mantua, 8 5L fig. 45
Albertus Magnus, St., 2 2 3 17
Alexander VII, Pope, 149
Alexandria, 7
Alexandrians, 4, 5
Alfassa, Paul, 2 2 5 21
Alison, Archibald, 90
Allori, Alessandro: Coral Fishing (Flor
ence), 10 5
Alma-Tadema, Lawrence, 17 1
Altenburg, Lindenau Museum: Botticelli,
Sandro, Portrait of a Lady ( probably
Caterina Sforza-Riario), 7
Altichicro da Verona, 72
Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum: Rembrandt,
Night Watch, 13 4
Ancona, Arch of Trajan, 85, fig. 46
Anderson, Sir Colin and Lady, see Lon
don, Trustees of Sir Colin and Lady
Anderson
Andrea del Sarto: Story of Joseph (Flor
ence), 2 2 6 '4
Anouilh, Jean: LAlouette, 207
Antinoiis (Rome), 13 5 . 142
Antonioni, Michelangelo, 19 1
Apollinaire, Guillaume, 185, 207: Calligrammes, 4, 2 12
Apollo Belvedere (Rom e), 16 5
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 68, 80, 2 2 3 17, 19
Arabian Nights, 148
Arcangeli, Francesco, 2 3 9 "
architecture, 109, i5 3ff, 17 6 L 179, 185,
19 1 ; and music, 8gf: and poetry, 89:
anthropomorphic conception of, 136 :
Baroque, 3 1 , 1 1 4 , 13 5 . 13 7 , 144, 230*;
French, 15 4 : Gothic, 63, 6 5L 70, 79,
2 2 3 1!i; Greek, 6ifF; Mannerist, g if, 109;

New Brutalist, 2 3 6 11: Renaissance. 66,

82ff, 136 ; Rococo, 144; Roman, 85;
Romanesque. 63f; Victorian, 17 2
Arcimboldo, Giuseppe, 22, 198: The Li
brarian (Stockholm), 95, fig. 56;
Winter (Vienna), 95, fig. 55
Aretino, Pietro, 18 7, 2 2 8 !
Arezzo, S. Francesco: Piero della Fran
cesca, The Queen of Sheba and Her
Retinue, 1 7 1 , fig. 97
Ariccia,
S.
Maria
dellAssunzione
(Bernini), 13 6
Ariosto, Lodovico, 10 5, 18 7 ; Orlando
Fnrioso, 5, 87L 2 2 7 11; so-called portrait
of, by Titian, 1 3 5
Aristotle: Nichomachean Ethics, 80; Po
etics, 2 2 2 11
Aristotelian precepts, 82
Arnold, Matthew, 2 2 2 5
Arnolfini, Giovanna Cenami, portrait of,
by Jan van Eyck. 72
art: abstract, 179 , 192, 2 12 , 2 14 , 2 15 ,
2 3 9 1!: African, 19 2: Gothic, 2 2 3 17; Op,
192
art nouveau, 35, 40, 179, 186, 18 7
Arthurian legends, 2 2 7 "
arts, correspondence between, 24ff, 54,
55 , 56, 57, 148, 15 3 , i 57 f, 1 7 1 L 176,
17 8 L 18 7, 2 16
Assisi, S. Francesco, Lower Church, 224-*
Athens, 3; Parthenon, 6 1, 62; Propylaea,
61
Auden, W. H., 2 1 3 ; Musee des Beaux
Arts, 75ff
Augustine. St., 83
Augustus, emperor of Rome, 16 5

Bach. Johann Sebastian, 2 10 , 2 3 1 30

Baciccia: Fresco in the Gesii, Rome, 129
Bacon, Francis, 1 1 4
Baltimore Museum of Art: Matisse,
H enri The Pink Nude, 207, fig. 120
Baltrusaitis, Jurgis, 2 2 3 1"
Balzac, Honore de, 20, 17 2
Bandello, Matteo, 104!'

244

MNl

MOSYNI

Bjinlinclli Baccio, sfid Raimondi Man

jtutanio
Banhaiii, RayiiA^, 2 3 4 "
OsPbaro,
D.mielr
toiniucntai \
on
Vitruvius, 84. 89
Barbermi. coat of arms, 1 19
Barbi/et, Nicole: Ganymtde. c-nijreving
alter Michel.mgclo (Iond on ), 230
UarceloiiM, i8t>
Barnes Barnabe, 2 2 8 "
Barnfield. Richard: Cyntliia. 1 1 2
Baroque, 3 1 , 109. 114. ii(>. 120. 12(>, 129,
13 2 , 136 , 13 7 , 142, 14 3, 1 4 4 . 146, 14 9 .
15 3 , 156 . 1 5 9 . 2 2 9 : , 230 ", 2 3 2 ' re
action against, 116 , I j f
Barthes, Roland, 200
Bartok, Bela: Quintets. 2 3 9 "
Basel, Oflentlic he kunstsam m lung: Pi
casso, Pablo, Girls by the Seine, after
Courbet. 202
Batteaux, Abbe: Les Bean \-Arts reiluits
ii
nn meme principe. 24. 2 2 0 -1
Baudelaire, Charles. 20, 24, 25. 39: por
trait of, by Courbet, 176
Baudelairian, 54
Bayreuth. Opera House, 17 4
Beardsley, Aubrey, 186
Beccafumi, Domenico, 95
Beckett, Samuel, 19 1, 2 3 5 1; Waiting for
Godot. 17 6
Beckford, William : Vatheh. 148 : see also
Fon thill Abbey
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 26. 1 5 7 : Emnoftt,
26: Overture to Collins "Coriolan, 26
Behrens, Peter, 18 5
Belloc. Hilaire, 236* '
Bellori. Giovanni Pietro, 1 1 5
Belvedere Torso (Rom e), 38. 39
Bembo, Pietro, 100, 104, 226*'; Rime, 100
Benjamin, Walter. 2 3 3 16
Berenson, Bernard, 230-0
Bergson, Henri, 2 38 -
Berkeley. George. 79
Berlin, Staatliche Museen
Gemaldegalerie
Caravaggio, First St. Matthew (de
stroyed), 230-"
Terborch. Gerard, The Parental Ad
monition, 12 5 , fig. 72
Nationalgalerie
Friedrich. Caspar David. Self-Por
trait, 164, fig. 93

1!' il ium .
B ern ard
B tn M u d
B e n i.lid

I 11 grill/, 200
I mile. 19 ]
St 1 4 ;
Van B . i i i l n i w n . 2 3 6 "

Bernini (.im lm en/o, 1 1 ; 120, 1 21 , 433.

13(1 altar ill Capella del
S .r r 1
ineiito. Bome, 1 21 ; Any*) uith the
Cron 11 of I horn* (Rom e). 121 fig (>9
Angel uith tin Snper-tupturn fRoine),
12 1, T3|, fig 70. angi N for Ponte S
Augi lo. Home sec Angil uith tin
Cron n of Thorns and Antnl uith the
Snpcrsi ription Blesst </ I.iultnica Albertoni ( Home). 14 3 : Cornaro Cli ipel.
S. Maria della Vittoria. Home. 128,
Ecstasy of St Teresa, 142ft David
(Home), 12 5 . (ig. 7 1 : Pio Chapel,
S. Agostino, Rome, 128 S Andrea al
Qnirinale. Rome, 136 . S. Maria dellAssunzione. Ariccia, 136; S. Tomaso,
Castelgandolfo, 13b Scala Regia. Vati
can Palace, Rome, 127, fig. 74; St.
Peters. Rome, colonnade of, 1 1 4,
Throne of St. Peter. 128. fig. 75
Bettinelli, Saverio, 224**
Bettini, Sergio. 2213**
Biedermeierstil, 17 2
Birmingham. Eng., City Museum and Art
Gallery
Brown. Ford Madox An English Au
tumn Afternoon. 17 8 . fig. 108
Millais. John E\erett. The Blind Girl.
22. fig. 13
Blake. William, 40, 45. 46: Booh of Thel,
title page of, 46: liar and Heva Bath
ing Attended by Mnctha, design illus
trating Tiriel (Cambridge, En g.), 46.
fig. 25. House of Death, 45; Jerusalem,
46; Milton, title page to, 45: Xebnchadnezzar. color-printed drawing ("Bos
ton), 45, fig. 2 3 ; Songs of Innocence.
title page of ('London'), 46, fig. 24;
The Tyger, 40. 45
Bloody Mary, see Mary I
Blunt, A., 225-1
Boccaccio, Giovanni, 228': Amorosa
Visione. 5
Boccioni. Umberto: The Street Enters the
House (Hanover'), 194, fig. 1 1 5
Boiardo. Matteo Maria: Orlando Innamorato. ^ 2 7 11

Index
Boileau-Despreaux, N icclas: L'Art poetique, 12 5
Bologna, Giovanni da (Giambologna),
92, 2 2 7 "
Bonnefons, Jean, 120
Booh of Common Prayer, 1 1 4
Book of Hours, 45, 75
Borel, P., 2 2 1-Borgherini, Pier Francesco, 226'!l
Borromini, Francesco, 136 , 13 7 , 2 3 1 s1Collegio di Propaganda Fide, Rome,
chapel of the Magi, 2 3 1 " 1, church of,
i3 5 f , palace of, 136 , 2 3 1 s7, fig. 80; Col
onnade of Palazzo Spada, Rome, 12 7 ,
fig. 7 3: Oratorio dei Filippini, Rome,
2 3 1 ::1: S. Carlino alle Quattro Fontane,
Rome, dome, 136 , fig. 8 1, facade, 136 ,
fig- 79; S. Eustachio, project for, 2 3 1 " ;
S. Ivo, Rome, 136 , 14 9 ; S. Maria dei
Sette Dolori, Rome, 2 3 1 31
Bosch, Hieronymus, Ascent to the Empy
rean (Venice), 159 . fig. 88
Boston, Museum of Fine Arts: Blake,
William,
Nebuchadnezzar
(colorprinted drawing), 45, fig. 23
Botticelli, Sandro, 22, 36: Birth of Venus
(Florence), 5: Calumny of Apelles
(Florence), 5; Portrait of a Lady, prob
ably Caterina Sforza-Riario (Altenburg), 7; Prmiavera (Florence), 5, 20,

101
Bouleau, Charles, 2 2 5 "
Boullee, Etienne-Louis, 15 4 ; Newton
Memorial (Paris), 154 , fig. 87
Box Hill (Su r.), 17 4
Boyd, Robin, 38 f
Brantome, Seigneur de, 230 12
Braque, Georges, 19 2; Face et Profd
(N ew York), 202, fig. 1 1 7 : Violin and
Palette (New York), 194, fig. 1 1 3
Brett, John: The Stonebreaher (Liver
pool ), 17 4 , fig. 100
Briganti, G., 2 2 9 ls
Bronzino, 11 8 , 2 2 7 " ; An Allegory (Lon
don), 92, 95, fig. 5 1 ; Luc.rezia Panciatichi (Florence), 164, fig. 92
Biown, Calvin, 22o-(!
Brown, Capability, 4 2 L 148, 15 3
Brown, Ford Madox: An English Autumn
Afternoon (Birmingham, En g.), 178,
fig. 108

245

Browne, Thomas, 1 1 4 : Christian Morals,

114
Browning, Robert, 46: The Englishman
in Italy, 17 2
Bruegel, Pieter, the Elder, 7 4 ^ ; Land
scape with the Fall of learns (Brus
sels), 75, fig. 42: Procession to Calvary
(Vienna), 75, fig. 4 3; St. John the
Baptist Preaching (Budapest), 7 4 L fig.

41
Brueghel, Jan, 11 8 , 1 1 9 : Allegory of Sight
(Madrid), 11 8 , fig. 68
Bruges, Groenlngemuseum, Mu sec Com
munal des Beaux-Arts: Eyck, Ja n van,
Portrait of Marguerite van Eyck, 72,
fig- 39
Brunelleschi, Filippo, 18 5
Brussels, Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts
Bruegel, Pieter, the Elder, Landscape
with the Fall of Icarus, 75, fig. 42
Ingres, J. A. D., Virgil Reading from
the Aeneid, 16 5, 1 7 1 , fig. 95
Memling, Hans, Portrait of Barbara
Moreel, 72, fig. 40
Bryullov, Karl Pavlovich: Last Days of
Pompeii (Leningrad), 17 2
Budapest, Museum of Fine Arts: Bruegel,
Pieter, the Elder, St. John the Baptist
Preaching, 7 4 L fig. 41
Burckhardt. Jacob, 80, 2 2 2 1,i
Burri, Alberto, 2 3 6 11
Busson, Henri, 80
Byronic, 26

Cabanel, Alexandre: Phedre (Montpel

lier), 164, 1 7 1 , fig. 94
cadavre exquis, 199, 2 3 6 17' ls
Cainbiaso, Luca, 95
Cambridge, Eng., Fitzwilliam Museum:
Blake, William, Har and Heva Bathing
Attended by Mnetha (design illustrat
ing Tiriel), 46, fig. 25
Campanus, Johannes, 63, 64
cangiantisnio, 95, 109
Canova, Antonio, 5, 7, 39, 54; Amor and
Psyche (Paris), 54, (Venice), 54;
Ferdinand IV of Naples as Mineri'a
(Naples, 7, fig. 1; Paolina Borghese as
Voins (Rom e), 18
Caravaggio, Michclangelo Merisi da, 118 ,
12 7 , 13 2 , 13 3 , 134 , 230-"; Death of the

2.) 6

M M M O S') N I

Caravaggio (cant.):
Virgin (I\n is ), 2 3 0 " ; First St Wattht'tt (formerly Berlin), 2 3 0 " : Wdonna (to Loreto (Hume), 230''"
Carat Hjio-like, 3 1
CujJi, I 11/0, aB4 "
Carracci, the, 11 , 118
Carracci, Annibale, Rome. Frescocs in
Hirnpse Gallerf, 1 15
Carroll, Lewis: Jhbberwocky," if).}, 2 16
Cary, Lucius, 121I
Casa, Giovanni della, 101, 2 2 8 '"
Castel, Louis Bertrand; ()]>tiqne des
coiileurs. 24
Castelgandolfo. S. Tomaso (Bernini),

1 6
Castell, Robert, 229
Castiglionc, Baldassare, 80, 8 1, 86, 1 1 3 :
The Courtier, 8 1, 86. 2 2 4 " " , 2 2 5 " 1
Catullus, 10 5: Vesper adest, 88
Cervantes, Miguel de, 13 2
Cezanne, Paul. 20. 17 4 , 19 1. 19 2, 208
Chagall. Marc. 2 1 3
Chantilly, Musee Conde: Piero di Cosimo,
Siinouetta Vespucci. 202, fig. 11 8
Chapin, Chester F., 2 i 9 ,:1
Chapman, George: Quids Bani/uet of
Sence, 11 0
Charioteer (Delphi), 29, fig. 14
Charlemagne, 79
Charpentrat, Pierre, 2 3o :i0
Chase. Isabel \V. U., 2 1 9 '
Chatterton, Thomas, 3 5
Chaucer, Geoffrey. 74. 77, 2 2 6 *; Canter
bury Tales, 68f, 72, 74, 78: House of
Fame, 5
Chausson. Ernest, 189
Chernyshevski, Nikolai Gavrilovich. 189
Chigi, coat of arms, 149
Chopin, Frederic: Nocturne (Op. 9. No.
1 ) , 25
Christian, doctrine, 8 1 ff: humility, 78. 81
Christina, queen of Sweden, 2 1 91"
Cicero, 2 2 8 4'; De officiis, 80
Cimabue, 192
Clark. Kenneth, 13 4 , 13 5 . 225-", 230 "'
Claude Lorrain, 12 . 59, 148 ; Landscape
with Mill (Rom e), fig. 4 see also
Vivares, F.
clavecin ocnlaire, 24
Cleopatra, 25

GlcvclAjul. Coll Mr a n d Mrs A Hi vnolils

.Morse. Dali. S a h a d o r , C a in heinui de
1 i t i h m t r i l e s 1 n o 1/.1. 2 06. fig 1 i<)
C'lr\ r s D uke of, 2 3 0 '

C'luuy, 63
Cole r h o in a s . I he Departure ( W a s h i n g
ton, D C . ) , 1 8 , The Return ( W a s h i n g
ton, I) C. I, 18
Coleridge, S.mini Tuvlor, 59, 2 2 2 ; , Luri-

cal Hallmls

1 58I

Collin s, Ie t r r 3 7 ? , 1 8 5 . 2 2 0
236"

\ 234

II,

Collins William 12, 1 5 f, 17. 18 ; Ode to

Evening. 15
Colonna, Francesco: llupnerotomachia
Polipluli, 104
Comanini. Gregorio: II figino oiero del
Fine della pittura. 22I
Constable, John. 59, 60: Branch Hill
Pond, Hampstead ( ? ) (London), fig.

33
Cooper, Mr. and Mrs Herman E.. see
New York, Coll. Mr. and Mrs. Herman
E. Cooper
Copenhagen
Det Kongelige Bibliotek
Hansen, Christian Fredrik Church
of the Virgin, Copenhagen (litho
graph). i 6 i f , fiu 90
Statens Museum for Kunst
Eckersberg.
Chiistoffer
W ilhelm,
View Through Three Arches of the
Colossen m. 16 1 , fig. 89
Copley, John Singleton. 44
Le Corbusier, 24, 18 5. 19 1, 2 3 6
Corelli, Arcangelo. 2 3 1
Corneille, Pierre, 13 2
Cornforth, Fanny, 50
Correggio, 7, 129, 1S 9 ; cupola fresco,
Duomo. Parma, 129: cupola fresco,
S. Giovanni Evangelista, Parma, 129.

fig- 7 7
Cort. Cornelis, 2 2 9 ;<
costume, 2gff, 72, 109, 1 1 3 , 12 5 , 13 7 ,
164. 1 7 1
Courbet, Gustave, 50. 2 21--: Atelier
(Paris), i7 4 f : Girls by the Seine
(Paris), 202; Landscape near La
Source hleue f Stockholm ), 178, fig.
10 3: The Woman with the Wirror La
Belle Irlandaise (N ew York), 50. 52,
221'--, fig. 30

Index
Couture, Thomas. Romans of the Deca
dence (Paris), 17 2 , fig. 99
Cowley, Abraham, 12 5
Crashaw, Richard, i3 7 f ; Carmen Deo
Nostro, 14 2 ; Musicks Duell, 1 1 8 : To
the Morning. Satisfaction for Sleepe,
102
Croce, Benedetto, 27, 66, 159 , 220 3'-;
Aesthetic, 27
Crocean, 55
Crusades, 65
Cruttwell, Patrick. 22.8iX
Cubism, 179, 19 2, 207, 208
Cucuphatus, St., Feast of, 64
Cummings, E. E., 2 i 2 f , 235''
Curtius, E. R., 2 2 7 '1

Dada, 19 1
Dali, Gala, 199
Dali, Salvador, 19S. 199. 200, 2 0 1, 2 3 6 1",
2 3 7 2:i; Cauchemar de violoncelles mous
(Cleveland), 206, fig. 1 1 9 ; Secret Life
of, ig 8 f
DAnnunzio, Gabriele, 5
Dante Alighieri, 44, 50, 64, 68, 72, 78, 89,
224--; Divine Comedy, 5, 64, 65, 66,
70, 78; Vita Nuova, 237-*
David, statues of, 12 5
David, Jacques-Louis, 15 8 ; Oath of the
Horatii (Paris), 2 3 2 '"
Day, John: Parliament of Bees, 202
Degas, Edgar, 52f, 18 7, 2 33 ; La La at
the Cirque Fernando, Paris (London),
17 8 , fig. 10 4; Semiramis Founding a
Town (Paris), 1 7 1 , fig. 96
Delacroix, Eugene, 18, 26, 158, 16 3 ; Lib
erty Leading the People (Paris), 17 6 ;
Women of Algiers (Paris), 18, fig. 1 1
Delphi, Museum: Charioteer, 29, fig. 14
De Quincey, Thomas, 15 7
Descartes, Rene, 20
Des Esseintes, due Jean (character in
Huysmans, J.-K., Against the Grai)i),
24
Desportes, Philippe, 2 2 8 "
Diderot, Denis, 36, 146!'; Jacques le
fataliste, 148 ; Lettre sur les sourds et
les muets, 6, 24; Neveu de Rameau,
148 ; Pere de famille, 148; Supplement
aa Voyage de Bougainville, 148

247

Domenichino, 1 1 5 , 1 1 6 : Dianas Hunt

(Rom e), 11 6 , 2 2 1 7; St. Cecilia Refuses
to Worship the Idols (Rom e), i i 5 f ,
fig. 66
Donatello, 3 5 , 12 5 , 2 2 5 -'
Donne, John, 45, 97ft, 1 1 4 , 2 2 6 ;i7; Holy
Sonnets, 45, 100: Songs and Sonets,
97f, ioof
Dore, Paul Gustave, 26
Dorfles, Gillo, 2 3 5 1
Dossena, Alceo, 3 5
Drayton, Michael, 42
Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen.
Gemiildegalerie Alte Meister
Parmigianino, Madonna of the Rose,
229
Rembrandt, Rape of Ganymede, 13 2
Sacrifice of Manoah, 13 5 , 2 3 3 s
Samsons Wedding Feast, J3 4
Rubens, Peter Paul, Bathsheba, 2 3 3 s
Tintoretto, The Rescue of Arsinoe, 105,
fig. 60
Drost, Willi, 66, 2 2 3 20
Dryden, John, 14 4 : Alexanders Feast,
1 2 1 , 12 5 ; All for Love, 14 3
Duckworth, George, 225
Diirer, Albrecht, 26: Melencolia (engrav
ing), 17
Durrell, Lawrence: Alexandria Quartet,

191
Dwyer, J. J., 2 2 9 ir
Dyck, Anthony van, 2 3 3 s; Paola Adorna,
Marchesa di Bmgnole Sale (N ew York ),
3 1 , fig. 18

Eckersberg, Christoffer Wilhelm: View

Through Three Arches of the Colos
seum (Copenhagen), 16 1 , fig. 89
Ehrenstrahl, D.-K., 2 1 9 10
Einstein, Alfred, 2 26 :iS
Eliot, George: Adam Bede, 13 4 : Felix
Holt, 17 6 ; Sad Fortunes of the Rev
Amos Barton, 13 4
Eliot, T. S., 82, 194, 2 3 7 1M; The Cocktail
Party, 237-'*; Four Quartets, 2 3 9 " ;
Sweeney Agonistes," 194: The Waste
Land, 19 2, 194, 2 0 if, 202ff, 2 3 5 "
Elizabeth I, queen of England, 10 5, 1 1 2
Elizabethan age. 6, 8 if, 104, 1 1 2 ; songs
of, 46

2.(8

M N I M OS 'i N K

Elizabethan Erjglisli, 194

emblems, literature of (i
Empson, William, iggf, 328*
epigram 127
Erni, I Ians 202
Ernst .Max, 192, 200. 202, 23(>,n; Urn
S e m a i n e tic bo'ntt , 202
Escliolier, Raymond, 219"''
Euclid. (S3
Elide, Jean. 2 3 1 w
euphuism, 2 2 8 11
Knripidt.'s 2 2 2 1
Ewoith, 11 a 11 s : Ludij Dacre <Ottawa),
1 1 of: Queen Elizabeth I and the Three
Goddesses (Hampton Court Palace),
112 ,
fig. 63; Sir John Luttrell (Lon
don ). r 1 o. fig. 62
Expressionism, T64
Eyck, Jan van, 72, 74: Arnolfini, Giovanna Cenami. portrait of, 7 2 ; Portrait
of Marguerite run Eyck (Bruges). 72,
fig- 39
fairy tales, ggf
Faulkner, William: The Sound and the
Fury, 207
Ferdinand IV. king of Naples, portrait of,
by Canova, 7, fig. 1
Ferrari, Bianchi, 39
Fielding. Joseph, 149
fig lira senteutia. 42
Firbank, Ronald, 18 7. 2 1 4
Flaubert. Gustave. 39, 1 7 1 L 208, 2 3 4 1;
Madame Bovary, 2of, 208: Sahuinnho,
16 3, 2 3 3 11
Flaxman, John, 45
Florence
Laurentian Library
Anteroom of, by Michelangelo, g if.
97. fig. 49
Palazzo Pitti
Andrea del Sarto, Story of Joseph,
226'14
Lanfranco, Giovanni. Ecstasy of St.
Margaret of Cortona. 14 2
Palazzo Vecchio. Studiolo of Francesco I
de'Medici, 10 5
Allori, Alessandro, Coral Fishing.
105
Vasari. Giorgio. Perseus and Androm
eda. 105

S IVIicita
Pnntoinio, Jacopo da The I ntoinhnient. 95
SS A pout all
VhsbxL (.iorgio. AUd/oni cf tin hnnuHnlate Com <ption, xi
Uffiri
Botticelli. Sanilro, liirth of IVims, 5
Calumny ol Apelh >, 5
Prima l 1 1a 5, 20, 101
Bron/iuo, Lucreziu Pam latichi, 164,

92
Francesco,
litf- 9

Sahiati

La Cant a

92.

Titian, Flora, 52, fig. 31

l olkierski, W., 219*
Fontaine. A., 2 1 9 1
Fontainebleau, School of, 10 1 Mythologi
cal Scene: Allegori/ of Love (Paris),
10 1, fig. 5 7 : see also Maitra de Flore
Fonthill Abbey (V/Llts), 15 3 ; see also
Beckford, William
Foscolo. Ugo: Grazie. 5
Forster. E. M.. 3
Francastel. Pierre. 26. 2 3 3 '0. 2 3 4 17
Francis I. king of France. 2 30 'Franck. Cesar, 189
Frankl, Paul, 65. 2 2 3 19, 2 2 4 21
Freud, Sigmund. 198. 2 3 6
Friedlander. Max J., K f
Friedlander. Walter. 2 2 7 11
Friedrich, Caspar David: Self-Portrcut
(Berlin), 164. fig. 93
Froissart. Jean, 70
Fromentin, Eugene: Les Maitres d'autrcfois, i2 g f
Fromm, Harold, i8 8 f
Fugoni, Carlo Innocenzo. 44
Fry. Christopher, 2 14
Fry. Roger. 149, 2 3 2 " '
Fuseli. Henry. 45- 164
Futurism, 2 10 , 2 1 2 , 238

Gainsborough. Thomas. 149

gardens, 4 2L 120, 148. 15 3 , 154 . 156
Gamier. Charles: Grand Staircase, Opera,
Paris, 17 2
Garnier, Tony. 18 5
Gaudet. Julien: Elements et theorie de
Iarchitecture. 90
Gaudi, Antoni, 186

Index
Gauguin, Paul, 192
Gaunt, William, 2 3 3 "
Gautier, Theophile, 20, 39, 17 2 : Histoire
du romanticisme. 52: Mademoiselle de
Maapin. 16 3
Geiger. Benno, 220--
Geistesgeschichte, 20
Gelenius, Sigismundus, 3 1
Georgiades, A., 2 2 2 1"
Gericault, Theodore: Raft of the Me
dusa (Paris), 159 , 176
Gerona Cathedral. 64
Gesamtkunstwerll, 24
Gesualdo, Carlo, 97 226
Ghiberti, Lorenzo: Gates of Paradise
(Florence), 2 2 6
Ghyka, Matila C., 2 2 i ir, 2 2 2 10, 1J, 230
Giamatti, A. Bartlett, 2 2 8 13
Giambologna, see Bologna, Giovanni da
Giauque, Sophy, 2 1 5
Giedion, Sigfried, 19 1, 2 3 1 " 1
Gilot, Francoise, 2 36 'Giorgi, Francesco, 84
Giorgione, 5, 104, 17 4
Giotto, 68, 70, 72, 2 2 4 : Joachim Wan
dering Among the Shepherds (Padua),
68, fig. 36
Gloton, Marie -Christine, 2 30 17
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 24, 36
Goldblatt. Maurice H., 2 2 5 11
Goldmann, Lucien, 2 3 5 1
Goldsmith, Oliver: Vicar of Wakefield. 1 1
Goltzius. Henrick, 45, 229'''
Gomez de la Serna, Ramon, 199
Goncourt, E. and J.. 146
Gonzaga, Federigo, Duke of Mantua,

2I97a
Gonzaga, Gian Francesco, portrait of, by
Pisanello, 13 5
Goodwin, K. L., 2 3 5 ', 238*-
Gothic, 3 5 , 65, 2 2 3 17; arch, 29: architec
ture, 35, 63, 6 5L 70, 79: flamboyant,
65, 70; motif's, 13 5 : pinnacle, 29, 65,
fig. 15 ; sculpture, 66
Goya, Francisco de, 52, 156, 174 , 192;
Pilgrimage of S. Isidro (Madrid), 176 ,
fig. 10 2; Viexv of the Pradera of S.
Isidro (M adrid), 178 , fig. 10 7
graphology, 26
Gray, Thomas, 12 ; Elegy Written in a
Country Churchyard, 12

249

Greco, El. 104; Burial of Count Orgaz

(Toledo), 15 9 : The Visitation (W ash
ington, D. C .), 2 3 8
Greece, ancient: architecture, 6of, 63;
art, 6 1, 64, 16 5 ; sculpture, 6 if ; trag
edy. 63
Green. Henry, 2 0 1, 2 i3 ff : Back, 2 14 : Con
cluding, 2 1 3 , 2 14 , 237--; Doting. 2 15 ;
Living, 2 i 3 f : Nothing, 2 1 3 , 2 14 , 2 15 :
Pack My Bag, 2 x 5; Party Going, 2 1 3
Gris, Juan, 2 10 : Still Life xvith Fruit Dish
(Priv. coll.), fig. 12 1
Gropius, Walter, 24, 18 5
Guarini, Guarino, 2 3 1 Capella della
SS. Sindone. Turin, 136 , fig. 82: S.
Lorenzo, Turin, 13 6
Guercino: Aurora (Rom e), 17 , fig. 8;
The Cosmographer (Princeton), 2 3 3 ;
Night (Rom e), 17 , fig. 9
Guevara, Antonio de, 2 2 8 "
Guillaume de Lorris. 70
Guillaume de Machaut, 70; Fontaine
anioureuse, 70
Guss, Donald L., 2 26 ::7

Haggard, Henry Rider: She, 39

Hagstrmn, Jean H., 4, 6, i i f , 45, 2 1 9 13
Hague, The, Mauritshuis: Rembrandt,
Susannah at the Bath, 13 2
Hals, Frans, 2 3 3 '
Handel, George Frederick, 2 3 1 :n
Hannover, Nicdersachsisches Landesmuseum: Boccioni, Umberto. The Street
Enters the House, 194. fig. 1 1 5
Hansen, Christian Fredrik: Church of
the Virgin, Copenhagen, lithograph
(Copenhagen), i 6 i f , fig. 90
Hartman. Geoffrey II., 60, 15 9
Ilatzfield, Helmut A., i8 ff
Hausenstein, W., 68, 223-Hauser, Arnold, 2 3 5 " , 2 3 6 1!l, 2 3 7 -', 2 3 8 :iX,

239i;'
Havard-Williams, Margaret
188
Hazlitt. William, 36, 39
Heard, Gerald, 29
HefFernan, Joanna, 2 2 1 - 2
Heliodorus, 10 1, 2 2 7 "
Hellenism, 1 7 1
hennin, 29, fig. 15
Herbert, George, 149

and

Peter,

250

M N 1 MOS ^ NI

I lerculaneum, 109, 1 jg
Herod, 39
Herrick, Koberi
Dei i f lit 111 D isord er,"
i 2 o f . 1 2-5; " U p o n J u li u s C lo th e s," 1 2 5
Hesse H arm a im />/< /; in C h a o s, 2 3 7 -i
h ie r o g ly p h ic s , |
lli g h m o r e , lo seph, 1 4 9
H ob b e m a, M e in d ert: I lu' At t une, Mi/i
d e lh a r n is ( L o n d o n ), 1 7 8 , tijj. 1 0 5
lloH 'm ann, E. T. A., 1 5 7
H o lfm a i m . J o s e f , 1 8 5
H o fm a n n . M ans: l. i e b e s b u n m , 2 3 9 -
H o fm a n n , W ern er, 1 7 4 , 1 7 6
H ogarth, W illia m , 90, 1 59
H om e H e n ry ( L o r d K a m c s ) , 90
H om er, 5, 1 4 8
Hooker, R ic h a r d , 1 1 4
H opkin s, G e rard M a n le y , 2 1 3
H op kin s, V iola, 2 3 4 *

Horace: Ars poeticu. 4: nt pictnra poesis,

4 - 90
Horia. Victor, 186
Hugh of St. Victor, 66f
Hugo. Victor. 52; Cram well, preface to,
132;
Hanteiille
House.
Guernsey
(Paris), fig. 32 : Sara la baiynetise, 20
humanism, 225-"'
Hume, David, 90, 225-"
Hunt, Leigh, 7, 22
Hunt, William Holman: The Awakening
Conscience (London), 17 2 : The Hire
ling Shepherd (Manchester), 17 2
Hussey. C.. 2 3 2 '
Huysmans, Joris-Karl, 39: see also Des
Esseintes, due Jean

Ingres, J. A. D., 18. 19 2: Apotheosis of

Homer (Paris), I 7 4 f: La Grande Oda
lisque ( Paris), 18. 20, fig. io; Le Bain
tnrc (Paris), 18 : Madame la Vicomtesse de Senonnes (Nantes
164, fig.
9 1: Virgil Reading from the Aeneid
(Brussels), 16 5, 1 7 1 , fig. 95
Ionescu, Eugene, 2 3 4 1
Ionic column, 29, fig. 14
Iste Confessor, 64

Jack, Ian, 2 i 9 - 0 11
Jacob, Max, 207
James I, king of England. 3

Ja n u s H u irv 188 2 5 j
,)s in e s , \\ illiam l 8 g
.l.nniM heck II (>S 22 j
J e a n <lt Menu, 7 8 Roman de hi ro.se 78
.lei \ as. C l i a i l t s
|2
J e s u it s . 1 29, 1 3 7
J o set Hefferii 111 J o .i m ia
J o h n s o n , S a m u e l, 79. 1 j(>

Joni leilio l ednieo.

\<u< isw/\ at
Iht Si>nng. tig. 19
Jonson Bon, 5f. 22 I In A U hi in 1st 129.
2 3 0 '' Silent Woman, 120, 2 2 9
Joyce, James. 148. 191. ig2, ig8, igg,
2 36 ' , 238 Finnegan< \\ aln
194,
198, 199, 21 (>. Ulysses, 194

Kafka, Franz, rgrt, 2 3 8

Kames, Lord, see Home, Henry
Kandinsky, Wassih 2 12 , 2 16
Karlsruhe. Staatliche Kunsthalle
Les
sing. Karl Friedrich Crusaders on Jor
dan, 164
Kaufmann, Emil, 2 32 Ul
Kayser, Hans, 2 2 2 'Keats, John. 5. 7. 18; Ode to a Nightin
gale, 16 3: "To Autumn." 16 . 163
Keller. L., 2 3 1 :ii, 2 3 3 'Kent, William: A View in Popes Garden
(London), tig. 22
Khnopff, Fernand, 18 7
Kitsch, 2 35"
Klee, Paul, 2 12 . 2 15 , 2 16
Kleist, Heinrich von: Penthesilea, 164
Klimt, Gustave. 18 7
Koch, Joseph Anton. 16 3
Kress. Samuel H.. Coll., see, Washington,
D. C , National Gallery of Art
Kunstwollen, 2 3 3 " ;, 2 3 5 :1

Laforgue. Jules. 2 14 , 234MoratUes legendaires, 186

Lake. Carlton. 236'*
Lambert. Constant, 2 3 5 '
Landor, \\ alter Savage: Death of Artemidora," i6 4 f
Lanfranco. Giovanni: Cupola, S Andrea
della Valle, Rome, 129 Ecstasy of St
Margaret of Cortona (Florence), 142
Laocoon Rome), 24

Index
Larguier, Leo, 3 i f
La Tour, Georges de, 20
Lautreamont, Comte de, 198, 2 3 6 1!^ B
Laver, James, 29, 3 1
Le Comte, Louis, 15 4
Ledoux, Claude-Nicolas,
15 4 ;
Prison
dAix (Paris), 15 4 , fig. 86
Lee, Rensselaer, 2 1 9 1
Le Fevre, F., 42
Leger, Fernand: La Noce (Paris), 194,
fig. 1 1 4
Leibnitz, Gottfried Wilhelm von, 231""'
Leighton, Frederick, Lord, 1 7 1 : Captive
Andromache (Manchester), 1 7 1 , fig.

251

Lombard, A., 2 1 9 '

London, 15 9
Adelphi Terrace (Robert Adam ), i4 4 f
Trustees of Sir Colin and Lady Ander
son Hunt, William Holman, The
Axvakening Conscience, 17 2
British Museum
Barbizet, Nicole, after Michelangelo,
Ganymede (engraving), 2 30
Blake, William, Songs of Innocence,
title page of, 46, fig. 24
Elgin marbles, 5
Kent, William, A Vieiv in Popes
Garden, fig. 22
98
Pisanello, Antonio, Portrait of Gian
Le Moyne, Pierre: Pemtufes morales, 6
Francesco Gonzaga, 1 3 5
Le Main, Louis, 17 4
Raimondi, Marcantonio, after BacLeningrad, Russian Museum
cio Bandinelli, Martyrdom of St.
Bryullov, Karl Pavlovich, Last Days of
Lawrence (engraving), 1 3 4
Pompeii, 17 2
Rembrandt, Christ Presented to the
Venetsianov,
Aleksei
Gavrilovich,
People (etching), 13 4
Sleeping Shepherd's Boy, 17 4 , fig.
Diana at the Bath (etching), 13 2 ,
101
134 ,
fig- 78
Lenkeith, Nancy, 64f
The Three Crosses (etching), 1 3 5
Le Notre, Andre, 15 3
Salamanca, Antonio da, Michelan
Leonardo da Vinci, 82, 2 2 5 12; La Giogelos Monument to Julius II (en
conda (Mona Lisa) (Paris), 36, 38,
graving), i 3 4 f
39,
87, 2 3 5 11, fig. 47; Last Slipper (M i
Serle, John, A Plan of Mr. Pope's
lan ), 13 4 ; Virgin and Child with St.
Garden as It Was Left at His
Anne (Paris), 87, 88, fig. 48; see also
Death, fig. 2 1
Llanos, Fernando
Vivares, F., and Woollett, W., after
Lepine, Stanislas: A Bridge in a French
Claude Lorrain, Enchanted Castle
Town (Vienna), 178 , fig. 109
(engraving), 18
Lequeu, Jean-Jacques, 15 4
Courtauld Institute Gallaries
Lespinasse, Julie Jeanne Eleonore de, 148
Eworth, Hans, Sir John Luttrell,
Lessing, Karl Friedrich: Crusaders on
n o , fig. 62
Jordan (Karlsruhe), 164
Crystal Palace, 17 4
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 24; Laokoon,
Hampton Court Palace
54 . 57
Eworth, Hans, Queen Elizabeth I
Le Sueur, Eustache, 1 1 6
and the Three Goddesses, 1 1 2 . fig.
Lewis, C. S., 79
63
Ligorio, Pirro, 2 2 7 11
National Gallery
Limentani. V., 225-"
Bronzino, An Allegory, 92. 95, fig. 5 1
linea serpentinata, 92, 10 1, 2 26 ;!2
Degas, Edgar, La La at the Cirque
Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery: Brett,
Fernando, Paris, 178 , fig. 104
John, The Stonehreaker, 17 4 , fig. 100
Hobbema, Meindert, The Avenue,
Llanos, Fernando and Yanez, Fernando:
Middelharnis, 178 , fig. 10 5
Adoration of the Shepherds, after lost
Manet, Edouard, Music at the Tuipainting by Leonardo da Vinci (Valen
leries, 17 6
cia), 1 3 5
Pontormo, Jacopo da, Joseph in
Loch Lomond, 18
Egypt, 95, fig. 54

252

M N i: M O S

London, Nation,il Gallery (cont ):

Rembrandt, S(ll Portrait Im m my on
a Sill 13 5
Titian Portrait of a Man, 13 5
Regent's Park 153!
Tate Gallery
Rossetti
Dame Gabriel,
Manna
Van no, 2 2 1-2
Victoria and Albert Museum
Constable, John, Branch Hill Pond.
Hampstead ('?). fig. 3 3
Rossetti Dante Gabriel, The Day
dream, fig. 26
Wallace Collection
Titian, Perseus anti Andromeda.
10 5, fig. 59
Westminster Bridge, 15 9
Longinus: On the Snldime, 120
Loiigus, 2 2 7 11
Loos, Adolf, 18 5
Louis XIV. king of France, 3, 15 3
Louisiana, plantation houses of, 15 4
Lucretius, 224-Lund, F.-M., 2 2 2 11
Lviv,
John,
10 1,
2 28 ";
Engines,
2 2 8 4t

Macpherson, James. 35
Madrid, Prado
Brueghel, Jan, AUeuory of Sight, 11 8 .
fig. 68
Goya, Francisco de. Pilgrimage of S.
Isidro, 17 6 , fig. 102
Vieiv of the Pradera of S. Isidro, 178 ,
fig. 107
Titian, Venus and Adonis, 105
Vevns with the Organ Player, fig. 28
Mahler, Gustav: Ninth Symphony, 239*'
Maitre de Flore: Triumph of Flora (V i
cenza), 10 1, fig. 58
Male, Emile, 1 1
Malevich, Kasimir. 2 1 5 , 2 16
Malins, Edward. 42, 2 29 , 2 3 2 43- 2
Mallarme, Stephane, 1 5 7 : Coup des des,
198
Man of Sorrows. 85
Manchester, City Art Gallery
Hunt, William Holman: The Hireling
Shepherd, 17 2
Leighton, Frederick. Lord, Captive A n
dromache, 1 7 1 , fig. 98

NI

liossetti Dante Gabriel 7 hi IlouerMt 1idou li*; 2.7

M mdou k) I 111.1 1 1
Manet I don,ml Music at the Tuih rics
(London), 17(1
Maim Thom.is
Doctor lsajj*tu*, 2 1 5
Tristan 149
Mannerism. 90(1 iogff, ii,j. 159, i(>.j,
2 2 5 '. 226 1
, 2 2 8 " , 2 3 7 , 238
Mantegna, Andrea. 22(> 1
Mantua. S. Andrea. Facade of (Albeiti),
8 5 f, fig. 45
Man/oni Alessandro: I Promt w s/>osf.
176
Marcus Aurelius, 80 horse of, 148
Maren/io, Luca, 2 2 7 "
Marillier, II C., 2 2 1
Marinetti, Filippo Tominaso: Technical
Man ifesto of Futurist Literature. 2 io f
Marino, Giambattista, 6, 105. 116 . 119 ,
i2o ,
13 2 . 13 7 , 18 5 ; A done, 118I'
Marivaux, Pierre Carlct de Chamblain de,
146
Martin, John, 5, 17 2
Martin, Marianne W., 2 3 8 '1
Martinelli. I... 2 2 5 -
Marvell, Andrew, n g f : To His Coy Mis
tress, 202
Mary I, queen of England, 105
Mason, Re\ W., 232'*
Master of the Borromeo Games: The
Game of the Palma ( M ilan), 30. fig 16
Matisse, Ilenri. 207. 208. 2 3 6 ' The Ptnk
Nude (Baltimore), 207. fig. 120
Mayoux. J.-J., 194, 198
M dlhenny, Coll. Henry P.. see Philadel
phia, Coll. Henry P. Mdlhenny
Medici, Francesco I de. Studiolo of ( Flor
ence). 105
medieval, see Middle Ages
Melchiori. Giorgio, 2 1 5 , 2 35- , 2 3 8 c'
Melk. abbey of. 2 30 30
Melville, Herman, 26
Memling. liar s. 72. 74 : Portrait of Bar
bara Mo reel f Brussels), 72, fig. 40
Menabuoi, Giusto de, 2 2 3 ,
Mengs, Anton Rafael, 3 5 ; Jnpiter and
Ganymede (Rom e), 35
Meredith. George. 20 1
Meyer, Herman. 2 1 5 , 2 39 2

Index
Michelangelo, 7, 40, 44, 45, 1 1 5 , 12 5 ,
198; Apse, St. Peters, Rome, 230*";
Monument to Julius II, see Antonio da
Salamanca: Pieta (Rome), 4; Resur
rected Christ (Rom e), 85: Sistine
Chapel, Rome, 3, 2(-i. 1 1 5 ; Anteroom,
Laurentian Library, Florence, g if, 97,
fig- 4 9 : see also, Barbizet, Nicole
Middle Ages, 65, 66, 68, 70, 77, 78, 7gff,
J 35> j 85, 2 2 4 2 2 6 10; architecture of,
63f, 6sf, 70, 79, 85: art of, 64; litera
ture of, 64, 70, 2 2 7 " , 2 2 8 11
Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig, 18 5
Mignard, Pierre, 7
Milan
Casa Borromeo
Master of the Borromeo Games, The
Game of the Palma, 30, fig. 16
Castello Sforzesco
Pietro da Cortona, Church Inspired
by the Chigi Arms (M ilan), 149,
fig- 85
Visconti de Modrone Coll.
Tarot card, fig. 38
S. Maria delle Grazie
Leonardo da Vinci, Last Supper, 13 4
Millais, John Everett: The Blind Girl
(Birmingham, En g.), 22, fig. 13
Millich, Nicolas, 2 1 9 10
Milton, John. 15 , 8gf. 1 1 4 , 226*', 2 2 8 3;
Paradise Lost, go
Minguet, Philippe, 144, 146, 2 3 2 15
Mitchell, Julian, 2 3 8 "
Mondrian, Piet, 2 1 2 , 2 1 3 , 2 15 , 2 16
Monet, Claude, 233 ; La Grenouillere
(N ew York), 17 6 ; Nympheas, 188;
Rouen Cathedral, series of, 17 8
Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de, 13 7
Montano, Rocco, 2 2 3 in, 2 2 4 s
Montpellier, Musee Fabre: Cabanel, Alex
andre, Phedre, 164, 1 7 1 , fig. g4
Monti, Vincenzo, 44
More, Hannah, 2 2 1 17
Moreau, Gustave, 40, 16 3; The Appari
tion (Paris), 3g, fig. 20
Morison, II., 12 5
Morrissette, Bruce, 192
Morse, Mr. and Mrs. A. Reynolds, see
Cleveland, Coll. Mr. and Mrs. A. Reyn
olds Morse

253

Moscow. Tretyakov Gallery: Shishkin,

Ivan Ivanovich, The Rye field, 178, fig.
106
Mourgues, Odette de, 97
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 22. I22741
Munro, Thomas, 22o-':
Munteano, B., 219*
Murillo, Bartolome Esteban, 17 4
Myron, after, Discobolus (Rom e), 2 2 6 :-

Nantes, Musee des Beaux-Arts: Ingres, J.

A. D., Madame la Vicomtesse de Senonnes, 164, fig. gi
Naples, Museo Nazionale: Canova, An
tonio, Ferdinand IV of Naples as Mi
nerva, 7, fig. 1
Nash, John, i 5 3 f ; Regents Park, London,

53f
154
i

neoclassicism, iog, 1 1 4 , 144, i4 g , 1 5 1 ,

Neo-Platonism, 40, 45, 83
Neumann, Balthasar, 2 30 :!1
New York
Coll. Mr. and Mrs. Herman E. Cooper
Braque, Georges, Face et Vrofd, 202,
fig. 1 1 7
Frick Collection
Dyck, Anthony van, Paola Adorno,
Marchesa di Brignole Sale, 3 1 , fig.
18
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
Braque, Georges, Violin and Palette,
194, fig. 1 1 3
Metropolitan Museum of Art
Courbet, Gustave, The Woman with
the Mirror La Belle Irlandaise,
50,
52, fig. 30
Monet, Claude, La Grenouillere, 176
Rembrandt, Aristotle Contemplating
the Bust of Homer, 2 3 3 7
Museum of Modern Art, 24
Picasso, Pablo, Les
Demoiselles
dAvignon, ig 2 , ig4, fig. 1 1 2
Niccolo dellAbbate. 10 1

Olesha, Yuri Karlovich. 18 7

Oratorians, i2 g
Ortega y Gasset. IJose, 15 7 , 15 8 , ig g
Oschepkov, G. D., 2 3 2 "
Ossian, 3 5

254

M NMM OS ^ NI

Ossianic, |(>
Ottawa, National GuLIrry of Canada:
I worth, II jis, l.adji Dacrc, i i of
Oud. J J. P., 2 .\
Ovid, 1 1 S . Wetiunoridioses. 7 5
Oxford. A>.hmoIean Museum
Vasari
Giorgio. Alhyont of the I m maculate
Concept ion, gg, lig. 53

Pacioli, Luea: Sttunna de arithmetica,

84
Padua, Arena Chapel Giotto, Joachim
Wuttdcriny Antony the Shepherds, 68,
fi'i 3 <
PaesTum, 2 2 2 1-; Temple of Hera Argiva,
fig- 34
pagan-humanistic culture, 8 i f
paMting, 109, 17 9 ; abstract, 18 5. 2 16 .
2 3 4 1; allegorical portrait. 1 10: Baro
que, 3 1 ; Bolognese, 12 ; Cubist, 208:
Dutch, 148 ; English, 6f, 1 1 0; Flemish,
72, n o , 1 1 2 : Florentine, forgeries of,
3 5 ; French, 11 6 : genre. 2of. 7 2 : histori
cal, 164; Impressionist. 22. 187, 188,
208,
234-"; landscape, 12 ; Mannerist.
g2ff, 109, 1 1 2 , i i 3 f : miniature, 72,
105, 1 1 2 : nineteenth century. i7 6 f; Ro
man (16 th century), 12 ; Sienese, forueries of. 3 5 : Surrealist, 2 0 1, 202,
2 3 7 - ; Victorian. 22
painting and poetry, correspondence be
tween. 4f, 7, u f , 24, sgf, 68, 89. n 6 ff.
212
Palazzeschi, Aldo: Lasciatemi Divertire, 2 14
Palladianism, English. 109, 146, 149
Palladio, Andrea, 9 1: Redentore. church
of. Venice, 2 3 1 31; Villa Rotonda. near
Vicenza, 79
Pallavicino, Pietro Sforza. i2 6 f
Panofsky, Erwin, 44, 66, 79, 223'"-

2241
Paribatra, Marsi, 2 3 4 s7
Paris
Bibliotheque Nationale
Boullee. Etienne-Louis, Newton Mentnricd. 15 4 , fig. 87
Ledoux,
Claude-Nicolas,
Prison
d'Ai\. 15 4 . fig. 86
Hotel de Seignolay, fig. 84

I o u \re
Camn.i- Antonio. \mor and Pryrhr,

r>1
Cai ,i\agpo. Death at tin Vuqin,
J jo "
Combct t.nstave. Atther. 17 )f
( out me, I liom.is The Roman- of
tht l)t eitd( tin . 172. tig. gg
David, Jncq iu1 Lotii* Oath of the
Ihnatii 2 3 2 "
Degas. Edgar Si mironis Tnurullug
a I'oji n, 1 71 , tig 96
Dilacroix, Eugene. Liberty Leading
the People. 176
Women of Algiers, 18, fig. 11
Fontainebleau, School of, Wythoiogictil Scene: Allejorfi of Loie, 10 1,
f'K- 57
Gericault, Theodore, Raft of the
"Medusa, 159 , 176
Ingres. J. A. D., Apotheosis of Ho
mer, i7 4 f
La Grande Odalisque, 18, 20, fig.
10
Le Rain turc, 18
Leonardo da Vinci, La Gioconda
(\lona Lisa), 36, 38, 39. 87. fig

47

Virgin and Child with St Anne,

87, 88, fig. 48
Moreau, Gustave, The Apparition
(draw ing), 39. fig. 20
Poussin, Nicolas, Et in Arcadia Ego.
12, fig. 7
Raphael. Portrait of Castigliome, 13 5
, School of. Portrait of Giocanna
d'Aragona, 3 1 , fig. 17
Rembrandt. Bathsheha, 132. 2 3 3 '
Stella, Jacques, Clelia and Her Com
panions Crossing the Tiber, 116 ,
fig. 67
Maison de Victor Hugo
Hugo, Victor, Hautexille House,
Guernsey ('drawing), fig. 32
Musee National dArt Moderne
Leger, Fernand, La Nome, 194. fie
11 4
Musee du Petit Palais
Courbet. Gustave, Girls by the Setne.
202
Notre-Dame. 14 8
Opera: Grand Staircase ( G am ier), 17 2

Index
Coll. Jacques Ullman
Tanguy, Yves, Peinture, fig. 1 1 6
Parise, E., 2 i g IU
Parma
Duomo
Correggio, Supola fresco, 129
S. Giovanni Evangelista
Correggio, Cupola fresco, 129, fig. 77
Parmigianino, 95: Madonna of the Hose
(Dresden), 2 2 g ,!
Parnassians, 1 7 1
Pater. Walter, 36f, 38, 39; School of
Giorgione, 24ft 15 7
Penni, Luca, 10 1
Pereira, Solorzano: Emblemata, 1 3 7
Perret. Auguste, 18 5
Perugino, 26
Petrarch, 64, 97, 100, 2 2 2 1, 2 2 8 "
Petrarchan, 97
Petrarchism. 2 26 :i7' !0, 2 2 7 11
Pevsner, Nikolaus, 179 , 186
Peyre, Henri, 2 3 2
Philadelphia, Coll. Henry P. M dlhenny:
Renoir, Pierre-Auguste, Les Grands
Boulevards an printemps, 20
Philip II, king of Spain, 10 5
Philostratus the Elder, 5; Imagines. 5
photography, i7 8 f, 2 3 3 1,!
Picasso, Pablo, 19 1, 192, 194, 198, 207,
209, 2 10 , 2 3 5 11, 2 36 12,
1S; Les Dem
oiselles d'Avignon (N ew York;, 192,
194, fig. H 2 : Girls by the Seine, after
Courbet (Basel), 202
Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni, 4
Piero della Francesca, The Queen of
Sheba and Her Retinue ( Arezzo), 1 7 1 ,
fig- 97
Piero di Cosimo, Simonetta Vespucci
(Chantilly), 202, fig. 1 1 8
Pierre de Corbie, 2 2 3 19
Pietro da Cortona, Church Inspired by
the Chigi Anns (M ilan), 149, fig. 85;
frescoes in Chiesa Nuova, Rome, 129;
piazza of S. Maria della Pace, Rome,

i36f
Pigler, A., 20
Pindar, 63
Pindaric ode, i 2 i f
Piranesi, Giovanni Battista, 52: Carceri
(VI tive nzione y 13 7 , 15 6
Pisa, Dantes invective against, 72

255

Pisanello, Antonio, 72; Portrait of Gian

Ftancesco Gonzaga (London), 1 3 5 ; St.
George and the Princess of Trebizond
(Verona), fig. 37
Pisetzky, Rosita Levi, 2gff, 2 2 0 :1, 2 29 ',
23 j sr.
Plato, 83, 2 r5, 2 2 2 10
Platonism, 45, 6 1, 90, 10 5
Plautus: Capthi, 1 3 7
Pliny, 229
Plutarch, 5; Lives, 19 2
Poe, Edgar Allan, 55
poetry, Japanese, 2 1 5 ; seventeenth-cen
tury, 4, 6
poets, English, 5, 6
Poggioli, Renato, 238 "1
Pointillism, 188
Politian, 22; Stanze, 20
Poltava, i4 9 f
Pontormo, Jacopo da, 95, 226 ; Double
Portrait (Venice), 1 1 3 , fig. 64; The
Entombment (Florence). 95: Joseph in
Egypt (London), 93, 2 2 6 ;l, fig. 54
Pool, Phoebe, 2 3 5 :
Pope, Alexander, 42, 14 8 ; The Rape of
the Loch, 144, 15 3
Portoghesi, Paolo, 2 2 5 "7, 2 2 6 :1, 2 3 i ;u- 37,
2 3 2 ,s
Poulet, Georges, 146, 2 3 2 t:i
Pound, Ezra, 194, 2 10 , 2 12 , 2 3 5 '; Cantos,
19 2
Poussin, Nicolas, 5, 90, 1 1 4 , 1 1 6 , 1 7 1 ,
2 25"'1; Et in Arcadia Ego (Paris), 12,
fig- 7
Pozzo, Andrea: The Glory of St. Ignatius
(Rome), 128 , 129, fig. 76
Pozzo, Cassiano dal, 90
Praz, Mario, 2 1 9 , 220". 2 21 , 2 2 s 21228 *, 2 2 9 ", 230, 2 3 1 34, 233", 2 3 6 11
Pre-Raphaelites, 5
Previtali, Giovanni, 224-Primaticcio, Francesco, 10 1
Princeton, University Museum of Art:
Guercino, The Cosmographer, 2 3 3 7
printing, invention of, 6
prints, invention of, 6
Propp, Vladimir J., 5 5 L 2 2 1 1
Proust, Marcel, 199. 208, 2 3 9 " ; Sivanns
Way, 188
Puteanus, Erycius, 2 3 6 11
Puvis de Chavannes, Pierre, 20
Pythagoras, 84

\l N 1 \1 O S ,i N I

2 $ 6
J vtli.igo ivn m sm . (ii

QuoiRi*ni,
I>IH l i l t ' s

Illiv mo ad

(>j, 82I' S.), 90

i oo uoo.ooo

i.|.;

/<

2 3 ^ 11

Q uin tilian . 2 2 b

Racine. JcanBuptiste, 20: Phrdu 3

Rarmi.in, 20
Radiguct Kaunond: l.a Ha! da tonne
1YOrgel 187
R*imon(Pi, Marcantomo: Martiirdom of
St. l uii rt ncc, eugrnving after Baccio
Bandniclli (London). 13 .j
Majna, Pio, 2 2 7 "
Raleigh. \\ alter. 2 2 4 10
Raphael, 7, 45. 1 1 5 ,
19 2 ; Dispnta
(Rom e), 17 6 : Portrait of Castiglione
(Paris),
13 5 : School
of
Athens
(Rom e), 1 7G: Stanza lYVAiotloro: Attihi
(Rom e), 134
Raphael, School of: Portrait of Gioiaima
d'Aragona (Paris), 3 1 , fig. 17
Realism, 176 , 18 7
Rcdi. Francesco: Bacco in Toscana,
12 5
Regency, 15 4
Remhrandt, 7. 12 7 , i2gfF, 2 3 3 s; Aristotle
Contemplating the Bust of Homer
(N ew York), 2 3 3 : : Bathsheba (Paris),
132 . 2 3 3 s: Christ Presentee) to the Peo
ple, etching (London), 13 4 ; Diana at
t)ie Bath, etching (London), 13 2 . 134 .
fig. 78: The Sight Watch (Amster
dam ), 134 : Rape of Ganipnede (Dres
den),
13 2 :
Sacrifice of
Munoah
(Dresden ), 13 5 . 2 3 3 '; Samson's Wed
ding Feast (Dresden), 13 4 : SellPortrait Leaning on a Sill (London),
135. etching (London), 1 3 5 : Susannah
at the Bath (H ague), 13 2 : The Three
Crosses, etching (London.;, 13 5
Renaissance, 7gfF. 146. 15 3 , 159 . 207,
2 2 5 j!i.
aesthetic theory.
90,
104, 2 2 7 11. 2 37- '; architecture. 66: art,
13 5 . Florentine, 22: Italian masters of.
4. 46. 10 5. 1 3 5 : Venetian painters of,

234"-

82fi.

46
Reni, Guido, 7,
(Rom e), 12,

n,
17,

12, 1 1 4: Aurora
fig. 5; Fortnna

( Hmni),

12

(.ill

nit h

W reath

( Bonn ). 1 1 ; lig (>",

K<11<>11 Ptoi n' AugUstc 20 Les (.ninth
lUuilei aitls
an
pi 111 trmps
PI11I.1
riclplii.i ). 20. Pm, ituts Dicsst d 111 \l
tit nan COstJnne ( lokvo), 18. In; 12
licMiolih Juslm.i 7. i.jcj \/iv Shcitdan
cis St O d /to ( W .iddrsdon Manor ). 7.
I'g 3
Rich 11 dson S limit 1 149
Bn ks, C., 228 '
Rilke, Rumor Maria, a rs, 2 3 0 '
Dituio
l'l( <li< s, 2 1 5
Rimbaud, Jean Nicolas Arthur. 2.}. 198
Ri])a, Cts.irc. Iconolotni, 11 12
Bobbc-C.nllt t. Alain. 191 l ast Year at
Mai ii nlnul, 191 L Tiinnoi tel
191
Robert Hubert, l.jH. Tin Old Budge
(Washington, I). C .). 178, lig. 1 1 1
Rococo, 35. 14-4f1. 156, 2 3 2 Romanesque sculpture, 63
Romano. Giujjo, 6
Romans, ancient. 80
Romanticism. 158, i59fr. 2 2 9 :
Rome: Imperial, 7: Renaissance. 3
Accadcmia di S. Luca
Reni, Guido, Fort una 12. fig 6
Capitoline Gallery
Rcni, Guido, Girl u>ith a Wreath.
1 1 4, fig. 6s
Savoldo, Giralomo. Portrait of a
Lady uith the Attributes of St.
Margaret, 7
Chiesa Nuova
Pietro da Cortona. Frescoes 129
Collegio di Propaganda Fide ( Borro
mini )
Chapel of the Magi, 2 31 1: church
of. 13 5 I: palacc. 136. fig. 80
Colosseum, 161
Galleria Borghese
Bernini. Gianlorenzo, Datid. 12 5 ,
fig- 7 i
Canova, Antonio. Paolina Borghese
as Venus, 18
Domenichino. Diana's Hunt
116,
2 2 17
Zuccln, Jacopo, Coral Fishing. 105.
fig. 61
Galleria Doria-Pamphili
Claude Lorram. Landscape uith
Mill. fig. 4

Index
Galleria Nazionale dArte Antiea
Mengs, Anton Rafael, Jupiter and
Ganymede, 3 5
Gesu, Church of the
Baciccia, Fresco, 12 9
Museo Nazionale Romano
Myron, after, Discobolus, 2 2 6 :2
Oratorio dei Filippini (Borromini),
2 3 1 31
Palazzo Farnese
Carracci, Annibale, Decoration of
Gallery, 1 1 5
Palazzo Pallavicini-Rospigliosi
Reni, Guido, Aurora, 12. 17 , fig. 5
Palazzo Sacchetti
Salviati, Francesco, Bathsheba Be
taking Herself to David, g2f, fig.

52
Paluzzo Spada
Borromini, Francesco, Colonnade,
12 7 , fig. 73
Pantheon, 79
Ponte S. Angelo
angels for, see Rome, S. Andrea delle
Fratte
S. Agostino
Bernini, Gianlorenzo, Pio Chapel,
128
Caravaggio, Madonna di Loreto,
230-
S. Andrea al Quirinale (Bernini), 136
S. Andrea delle Fratte
Bernini, Gianlorenzo, Angel with
the Crown of Thorns, 1 2 1 , fig. 69
Angel with the Superscription, 1 2 1 ,
135 .
fig- 70
S. Andrea della Valle
Lanfranco, Giovanni, Cupola paint
ing 12 9
S. Carlino alle Quattro Fontane (Bor
romini)
Dome, 136 , fig. 8 1: fagade, 136 , fig.

79

S. Francesco a Ripa
Bernini, Gianlorenzo, Blessed Lodovica Albertoni, 14 3
S. Ignazio
Poz/.o, Andrea, The Glory of St.
Ignatius, 128 , 129, fig. 76
S. Ivo (Borromini), 136 , 149

257

S. Luigi dei Francesi

Domenichino. St. Cecilia Refuses to
Worship the Idols, 115M fig. 66
S. Maria dei Sette Dolori (Borromini),
2 3 1 :!1
S. Maria della Pace
Pietro da Cortona, Piazza, i 3 6 f
S. Maria della Vittoria
Bernini,
Gianlorenzo,
Cornaro
Chapel, 12 8 ; Ecstasy of St. Te
resa, I4 2 f
S. Marfa sopra Minerva
Michelangelo, Resurrected Christ, 85
St. Peter's
Bernini, Gianlorenzo, Altar in Capella del SS. Sacramento, 12 1
colonnade of, 1 1 4
Throne of St. Peter, 128. fig. 75
Michelangelo, Apse of, 2 30 :i,1
Pieta, 4
Vatican Palace
Museo Pio-Clementino
Antinoiis, 1 3 5 . 14 2
Apollo Belvedere, 16 5
Belvedere Torso, 38, 39
Laocoon, 24
Scala Regia (Bernini), 12 7 . fig. 74
Sistine Chapel (Michelangelo), 3,
26
Stanza dEliodoro (R ap h ael), 13 4
Stanza della Segnatura
Raphael, Disjmta, 176
School of Athens, 17 6
Villa Ludovisi
Guercino, Aurora, 17 , fig. 8
Night, 17 , fig. 9
Romney, George, 7
Ronsard, Pierre de: Comme 011 voit sur
la branche au mois de May la rose,
1 0 1 ; Mignonne, allons voir si la rose,
101
Rosa, Salvator, 12
Rosenberg, Harold, 235'', 239'*
Rosenberg, Jakob, 2 3 0 " , 2 3 3 : 7i, s
Rosenblum, Robert, 232"'0
Rosenthal, Erwin, 68, 224'-Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. 40, 46fF; Ant
werp and Bruges, 46: The BoicerMeadow (Manchester), fig. 2 7; Dante,
trans. of, 2 3 7 - The Daydream ( Lon
don), fig. 26: House of Life, 46; Lady
Lilith (W ilmington), 50, 52, 2 2 1--, fig.

258

\1 N I

M OSVM

Rossetti ( (umL) :

29; Mamid Vaiuui (London). .>..1

My Sister's Sleep," 46. Sisiei I It leu."
46; \\ illow wood," 49, 50
Rosso Fiorentino, 95P, 226
l)i position
1 Voltena). 95
Rothko, Mark. 191
Rouen Cathedral Iortail ties I ibrnin s,
% 35
Houssel. Raymond: Comment j'ai ccrit
certains de ines Hires, 200; Impres
sions (YAfrigue, 198: I.ocus Solus, 198
Rousset. Jean. 2 30 -1, 232
Rowland. Daniel R., ggf. 220 *
Rowley, Thomas, 3 5
Rubens. Peter l aul, 7. 105. 1 1 5, I46,
1 7 1 . 2 3 3 Batkslwba (Dresden), 2 3 3 '
Rubensian, 142
Ruffo, Don Antonio, 2 3 3 :
ruins, taste for, 156
Ruskin, John. 17 4 ; Modern Painters, 17 2 :
Stones of Venice, 37, 38I', 39
Ruskinian, 59
Russell, Bertrand, 55
Russi. Antonio, 5 7 f
Ruysbroeek. Jan van: Adornment of the
Spiritual Marriage, 15 9

Saeehetti, Filippo, 3 1
Sadeler, Aegidius. 2 2 9 ^
Salamanca, Antonio da: Michelangelo's
Mon ument to Julius II. engraving
(London), 134!'
Salinger, Margaretta, 2 2 1-Salisbury Cathedral, 59
Salmi, Mario, 225'-9
Salviati. Franeeseo. 1 1 3 ; Bathsheba Be
taking Herself to David (Rom e), 92L
fig. 5 2 ; La Carita (Florence), 92. fig.

50

S. Cugat del Valles (Catalonia), 63 f

Sansom, William, 2oof
Sansovino, Franeeseo, 1 1 3
Sansovino, Jacopo. 2 2 8 "
Sarraute, Nathalie, 1 7 1 . 2 3 5 1
Sartre, Jean-Paul, 207: Le Sursis, 207
Satie. Erik: Parade. 192
Savoldo. Girolamo: Portrait of a Lady
uith the Attributes of St. Margaret
(Rom e), 7
Scarlatti, Alessandro, 2 3 1 i0

Sieve, M-iiiriee. 97 Dtht

Si Idosser
von (1(1
S. hmut/h r, Hebert iH(>

Julius

101

Sch n e id e r . M .m u s (>.;t <>}

S hoeub crg, Arnold, 2 1 r,
sch o la s t ic is m . (>(>, 22 } ' \ 22 ;
St hop e n li.m e r
Arthur,
Du
\\ 1 It
Will# untl \ orstt llu tit/,

ah

Scott. Wi l hnn Bell: Iran and Coal f\\ .!

Imutoii Hall), 172
Scriabin Alexander: P01 iti of I <
(Op. 5 4 ), 24
sc ulpture. 109: absii.it t 18^ am it nt,
0 4 , 1 1 6; Iberian, 19 2. Renaissance,
225
Sedlmatr. Hans, 154. 156. 2 3 1
232'
Seignelcys .Marchioness of. portrait of
by Mignaid. 7
Seneca. 2 2 8
Serafino Aquilano (dcll'Aquila). 226
227M
Serlc, John A Plan of Mr Popes Garden
as It Was Left at His Death (London),
fig. 21
Serlio, Sebastiano, 84
Seurat, Georges. 18 7
Seznae, J.. 2 1 9 ', 2 3 3 1Sforza-Riario, Caterina, portrait of. by
Bottieclli, 7
Shaftesbury. Anthony Ashley Cooper CS
Shakespeare, W illiam. 6. 80 8 1. 82, 105,
13 2 , 2 3 3 ': Antoni/ and Cleopatra. 105,
14 3 : Hamlet, 80, 2 3 5 1 King Lear. 8 1 ;
MacJ>eth, 3: Merchant of Venice, 6:
\liu h Ado About Nothing. 2 30 '-; Rape
of I.ucrece. 5. 10 5: Sonnets. 82, SSf
129. 130 , 13 2 : The Tempest, 82. 202
Troilns and Cressida. 1 s6f
Shearman, John. 2 26 - " , 2 2 8 1
Shishkin. Ivan Ivanovich- The Rvefield
(M oscow), 17 8 . fig. 106
Sidney, Philip. 10 1, 104. 105, 1 1 2. 228
Arcadia, io if . 1 3 7 . 2 2 8 " ; Astrophel
and Stella. 2 2 7 Simonidcs of Ceos. 4, 5
Slive. Seymour, 2 3 0 "
Soffiei, Ardengo: Chimismi lirici. 2 12
First Principles of Futurist Aesthetics.
2 12 , 2 1 5
SoloEjub. Fiodor K
Playing with Light
Love." 18 7
sonnet, 42. 45. 87, 10 1

Index
Sophocles, 2 2 2 1"; Ajax, 1 3 3 ; Antigone, 3;
Philoctetes, 24
Souriau, Etienne, 22, 25ft 2202*, 2 * 2 10
Spasmodic School, 17 2
Spenser, Edmund, 5, 7, 22, 8 1, 1 1 2 ;
Faerie Qlteene, 1 1 2
Spenserian, 1 1 2
sphinx, 4
Spira, Fortunio, 84
Spranger, Bartholomaeus, 2 2 g 7
Steele, Richard: The Tender Husband,
Stein, Gertrude, 199, 207, 2o8ff. 2 12 ,
2 1 3 , 2 14 , 2 3 6 ls, 2 3 8 ", 2 3 9 17; Autobi
ography of Alice B. Toklas, 2 10 : Every
bodys Autobiography, 209: Ida, 208;
Making of Americans, 207, 208: Three
Lives, 208
Stella, Jacques: Clelia and Her Compan
ions Crossing the Tiber ("Paris), 11 6 ,
fig. 67
Stendhal, 189
Stengelius, Georgius, 2 3 1"3
Sterling, Charles, 2 2 1 2Sterne, Laurence, 14 8 ; Tristram Shandy,
14 8
Stevenson, Robert Louis, 34
stichomythia, 63
stil nuovo, 49, 50
Stockholm
Nationalmuseum, 2 i g 10
Courbet, Gustave, Landscape near
La Source blene, 178 , fig. 103
Nordiska Mused
Arcimboldo, Giuseppe, The Librar
ian, 95, fig. 56
Stoker, Bram: Dracula, 2 3 7 - 1
Stoll, E. E., 82
Storch, R. F., 59, 2 2 2 7
Stra. Villa Pisani: Tiepolo, Giovanni Bat
tista, Apotheosis of the Pisani Family,
14 3 , fig. 83
Strada, Famianus, 1 1 8
Stravinsky, Igor, 192
Surrealism, 199, 206, 2 14
Sutherland, Donald, 2o8ff. 2 3 5 s, 2 3 6 * 19,
2 3 8 s'1, 2 3 9 '" 17
Swift, Jonathan: Gullivers Travels, 146
Swinburne, Algernon, 39
Symons, Arthur: Impressions, from
Silhouettes, 187
Sypher, Wylie, 220-

259

Tanguy, Yves: Peinture (Paris), fig. 1 1 6

Tarot card (M ilan), fig. 38
Tasso. Torquato, 90, 1 1 6 , 1 1 8 . 120, 2 2 8 11,
2 2 g 7: Aminta, 2 2 7 , 22g 7; D iscorsi
dellarte poetica, 89: Discorsi del
poema eroico,
89:Gerusalemme
liberata, 120 , 2 2 g 7: Torrismondo, 90
Tavarini, G. F., 2 1 9 1"
Taylor, Jeremy, 1 1 4
technopaignia, 4. 149, 2 12 , 2 3 5 11
Tennyson, Alfred Lord: The Palace of
Art, 17 2
Terborch, Gerard: The Parental Admoni
tion (Berlin), 12 5 , fig. 72
Ter Kuile, E. H., 2 3 0 11
terza rim a. 44
Tesauro, Emmanuele: II Cannocchiale
Aristotelic.o, i2 8 f
Thackeray, William Makepeace: Vanity
Fair, 40
Theatines, 12 9
Teresa, St., 13 7
Thomon, Thomas de, i4 9 f
Thompson, Francis: A Corymbus for
Autumn, 17 2
Thomson, James, 12, 15 , 17 , 18 : Sea
sons, 148 ; S u m n lr, 12 , 15 , i6 f
Thorwaldsen, Bertel, 1 1 5
Tibaldi, Pellegrino, 95
Tiepolo. Giovanni Battista, 14 4 ; Apotheo
sis of the Pisani Family (Stra ), 14 3,
fig- 83
Tintern Abbey, 60
Tintoretto, 104. 2 2 g 7: The Rescue of
Arsinoe (Dresden), 10 5, fig. 60
Titian. 5, 7, 84, 104, 10 5, 11 8 , 18 7 ; Flora
(Florence), 52, fig. 3 1 ; Perseus and
Andromeda (London), 105, fig. 5g;
Portrait of a Man (London), 1 3 5 : Por
trait of a Young Lady as Venus Bind
ing the Eyes of Cnj)id (Washington,
D. C .), 7, fig. 2; Venus and Adonis
(M adrid), 10 5; Venus with the Organ
Player (M adrid), fig. 28
Tokyo, National Museum of Western
Art: Renoir, Pierre-Auguste, Parisians
Dressed in Algerian Costume, 18, fig.
12
Toledo, S. Tome: Greco, El, Burial of
Count Orgaz, is g
Tolstoy, Leo, i8g: War and Peace, 176
Toorop, Jan, 18 7

2 Ok)

MN I M O S Y N I

T o u lo u s e . Count
M ig n .n d , 7
T r l ij a n A rch oF.
T rajan

of,

portrait

rtf,

by

.<(

Ancona,

Arqfa ol

144
I'm in

SS. Sifidonft ( G i u r i i n i ,

136 , fig. 82
S.
Lorenzo ( G u a r i n i ) . d|G
T w i c k e n h a m , A le x a n d e r P o p e s

garde n

at, 42

I livi Ferruccio. 229 '

Ullinan. Jacques, sre Paris, Coll. Jacqucs
Ullman
lit piclnrn poesis. 4. 5, 90, 105. 18 7. 2 1 2
lit poesis pictnra. 90

Valencia, Museo de Bellas Artes: I lanos,

Fernando and Yahez. Fernando, Adora
tion of ike Shepherds (after lost paint
ing by Leonardo da Vinci ). 1 3 5
Valenciennes. Pierre Henry de, 2 3 2 "
Valery. Paul: Cimetierc marin, 42
Vallone. A., 225'-0
Varano, Alfonso, 44
Vasari. Giorgio, 4, 2 20 :n; Altegory of the
Immaculate Conception (Florence),
xi, (Oxford), 95. fig. 5 3 ; Perseus and
Andromeda (Florence), 10 5
Velazquez, Diego, 198
Venetsianov. Aleksei Gavrilovich: Sleep
ing Shepherds Boy (Leningrad), 17 4 ,
fig. 10 1
Venice, 38, 84. 90
Conte Cini Collection
Pontormo, Jacopo da, Double Por
trait, 1 1 3, fig. 64
Museo Correr
Canova, Antonio. Amor and Psyche,

54

Pful

187. 202

F f t r t tialanti j

1 I1

I'rGvcs Our I ad\ s Church, 79

'l'roy X T - (It Un I re tun 1It \U>licit

C a p e lla d d l a

Veil.line

Palazzo Ducale
Bosch, Hieronymus. The Ascent to
the Empyrean, 159 . fig. 88
Redentore. Church of (Palladio), 2 3 1 !1
S. Francesco della Vlgna, 84
St. Mark's
facade of, 3 7 ; Square, 38 f

Ver ona
S Anastasia

Pis inalift. Antonio. St llcon/c ami

the Pnncrss oj Irthizond. fig 37
Port* dei Bin sari, qi
Veronese, Paolo, 1 18
Viccn/a Priv coll
M ntre de I lor<'
7 Mi/i/i;>/i 0/ Flora. lo i, fig ^8
V icen /1 (n e a r): Palladio, Aiicbea, Villa
Rotomja, 79
Vickirv, Olga \\ , 2 3 8 '
Vienna, kunsthistorisches Museum
Arennboldo. Giuseppe. U inter, 95, fig

55

Bruegel, Pieter, the F.Ider, Proct xsion

to Cali-aril, 75. fig 43
Lcpine. Stanislas, A Bridge in a French
Tou n, 178 , fig. 109
Wittel. Caspar van, Vien of the Isola
Tibt rina, 178 . fig. 110
Villani, Giovanni, 64
Villard de Honnccourt. 22B1
Virgil, 68. 165, 224--; Aeneid, 165, 225''*
Virgilian. 15 . 2 2 5 -'
Vitruvius, Marcus. 83. 84, 89, 2 2 2 10
Vitruvian figure inscribed in a square
and circle, 8 3 L fig. 44
Vittone, Bernardo Antonio. 90
Vivaldi. Antonio, 2 3 1 "
Vivares. F.. and Woollett. \V .: Enchanted
Castle, engraving after Claude Lorrain
(London), 18
Voltaire, 200: Contes. 14 8
Voltairian, 146
Volterra, Pinaeoteca: Rosso Fiorentino,
Deposition, 95

Waddesdon Manor (B uck s): Reynolds,

Joshua. .Airs. Sheridan as St. Cecilia, 7,

fig- 3
Wagner, Richard, 189
Waldmiiller, Ferdinand Georg, 158
Wallington Hall (N fh b ): Seott. William
Bell, Iron and Coal. 17 2
Walpole, Horace. 1441. Strawberry Hill

35

Warren, Austin. 18, 22, 40, 44. 52, 54

Warton, Joseph, 11

261

Index
Washington, D. C.
Corcoran Art Gallery
Cole, Thomas, The Departure, 18
The Return, 18
Dumbarton Oaks Collection
Greco, El, The Visitation, 2 3 8 "'
National Gallery of Art: Kress, Samuel
H., Coll., Renaissance applique in,

36

Robert, Hubert, The Old Bridge, 178,

fig. h i
Titian, Portrait of a Young Lady as
Venus Binding the Eyes of Cupid,
7,

fig- 2

Whistler, J. A. M., The White Girl,

221
Waterhouse, E. K., 229Watson, Curtis Brown, 80, 2 2 4
Watteau, Jean-Antoine, 22, 146, 15 3 ,
2 2 7 11
Webern, Anton von, 2 1 2
Webster, John: Duchess of Malfi, 1 3 7
Weise, Georg, 2 2 6 10, 2 2 8 11
Wellek, Rene, 18, 22, 40, 44, 52, 54
West, Mae, 198
Whistler, James Abbott McNeill, 15 7 ,
2 2 1 ; The White Girl (Washington,
D.
C .), 2 2 i22
Wiericx, Antonius, 2 3 1 s1
Wilde, Oscar: The Critic as Artist, 36
Wilfred, Thomas, 24
Williams, William Carlos, 2 1 2
Wilmington, Delaware Art Center: Ros
setti, Dante Gabriel, Lady Lilith, 50,
52. fig- 29
Wilson, Edmund, 198, 206, 2 3 6 l:!

Winckelmann, Johann Joachim, 24, 35,

38,
39, 149, 165, 2 2 1 11
Wind, Edgar, 4, 2 19 " '
Witte, Pieter de, 2 2 9 ,s
Wittel, Gaspar van: View of the Isola
Tiherina (Vienna), 178 , fig. n o
Wittkower, Rudolf, 83f, 89, 90, 9 1, 11 4 ,
1 2 1 , 12 5 , I34 , 13 5 , 2 2 5 1s2s, 229 i:,
23c,15-26, 2 3 1 " 2
Witz, Konrad, 202
Wolffiin, Heinrich, 20, 159 , 22& 15
Woolf, Virginia: To the Lighthouse, 188;
The Waves, 188
Woollett, W., see Vivares, F.
Wordsworth, William, 59, 60, 13 4 , 174 ,
207; Lyrical Ballads, preface to, 57ft
i5 8 f: Solitary Reaper, 16 3, 222";
Tintern Abbey, 60; "Westminster
Bridge, i5 9 f, 2 2 2 s
Wright, Frank Lloyd, 18 5
Wyatt, Thomas, 2 2 8 "

Yanez, Fernando, see Llanos, Fernando

Yashiro, Yukio, 36
Yates, Frances A., 2 2 9 1 :i
Yourcenar, Marguerite, 156

Zarlino, Gioseffo: Istitutioni hannoniche,

90

Zeitler, Rudolf, 158 , 159 , 16 1, 164, 17 2 ,

17 4 , 225"
Zevi, Bruno, 226'''
Zucchi, Jacopo: Coral Fishing (Rome),
10 5, 229 7, fig. 61

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