the judgement would condemn it as unfit.
The Hercules by Glicon has all its parts finely fitted for the purposes of the utmost strength, the texture of the human form will bear. The back, breast, and shoulders have huge bones and muscles adequate to the supposed active strength of its upper parts; but as less strength was required for the lower parts, the judicious sculptor, contrary to all modern rule of enlarging every part in proportion, lessened the size of the muscles gradually down towards the feet. For the same reason, Glicon made the neck larger in circumference than any part of the head, otherwise the figure would have been burdened with an unnecessary weight, which would have been a drawback from his strength, and in consequence of that, from its characteristic beauty.
These seeming faults, which show the superior anatomical knowledge, as well as judgement of the ancients, are not to be found in its leaden imitations near London’s Hyde Park. These saturnine geniuses imagined they knew how to correct such apparent disproportions.
These few examples may be sufficient to give an idea of what I mean, and would have understood, by the beauty of fitness, or propriety.
Of Variety
How great a share variety has in producing beauty may be seen in the ornamental part of nature. The shapes and colours of plants, flowers, leaves, the paintings in butterflies’ wings, shells, etc. seem to be of little other intended use than that of entertaining the eye with the pleasure of variety.
All the senses delight in it and are equally averse to sameness. The ear is as much offended with one even continued note, as the eye is with being fixed to a point, or to the view of an empty wall. Yet when the eye is glutted with a succession of variety, it finds relief in a certain degree of sameness, and even plain space becomes agreeable when properly introduced and contrasted with variety, thus adding to it even more variety.
I mean here, and everywhere indeed, a composed variety; for variety uncomposed and without design is confusion and deformity.
Observe that a gradual lessening is a kind of varying that provides beauty. The pyramid diminishing from its basis to its point, and the scroll or volute, gradually lessening to its centre, are beautiful forms. So, also, objects that only seem to do so, though in fact they do not, have equal beauty, and thus perspective views, those of buildings are always particularly, pleasing to the eye.
Giotto Di Bondone (attributed to), The Expulsion of the Demons from Arezzo, 1297–1299. Fresco, 270 × 230 cm. Upper Basilica of San Francesco, Assisi.
School of Piero della Francesca (Luciano Laurana or Giuliano da Sangallo?), Ideal City, c. 1470. Oil on wood panel, 60 × 200 cm. Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino.
Andrea Mantegna, The Lamentation over the Dead Christ, c. 1490. Tempera on canvas, 68 × 81 cm. Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.
Of Uniformity, Regularity or Symmetry
It may be imagined that the greatest part of the effects of beauty results from the symmetry of the beautiful parts in the object, but I am very well persuaded that this prevailing notion will soon appear to have little or no foundation.
It may indeed have properties of greater consequence, such as propriety, fitness, and use; and yet but hardly serve the purposes of pleasing the eye, merely on the score of beauty.
We have, indeed, in our nature, a love of imitation from infancy, and the eye is often entertained, as well as surprised, with mimicry, and delighted with the exactness of counterparts. However, this always gives way to the superior love of variety, and soon grows tiresome.
If the uniformity of figures, parts, or lines were truly the chief cause of beauty, the more uniformly their appearances were kept, the more pleasure the eye would receive; but this is so far from being the case that when the mind has been satisfied once all of the parts are similar to one another with so exact a uniformity, so as to preserve to the whole the character of fitness to stand, to move, to sink, to swim, to fly, etc. without losing the balance, the eye is rejoiced to see the object turned and shifted so as to vary these uniform appearances. Thus the profile of most objects, including faces, is rather more pleasing than their full fronts.
Whence it is clear, the pleasure does not arise from seeing the exact resemblance which one side bears the other, but from the knowledge that they do so on account of fitness, with design, and for use. For when the head of a beautiful woman is turned a little to one side, which takes away from the exact similarity of the two halves of the face, and is somewhat reclining, so varying still more from the straight and parallel lines of a formal front face, it is always looked upon as most pleasing angle of her face. This is accordingly said to be a graceful air of the head.
It is a constant rule in composition in painting to avoid regularity. When we view a building or any other object in reality, we have it in our power, by shifting the ground, to take that view of it which pleases us best. In consequence of this, the painter, if he is left to his own choice, takes the subject on an angle, rather than focusing on its front, as is most agreeable to the eye. The regularity of the lines is taken away by their running into perspective, without losing the idea of fitness. When the artist is obliged to give the front of a building, with all its equalities and parallelisms, he generally breaks, as it is termed, such disagreeable appearances, by throwing a tree before it, or the shadow of an imaginary cloud, or some other object that may answer the same purpose of adding variety, which is the same as taking away uniformity.
If uniform objects were agreeable, why is there such care taken to contrast and vary all the limbs of a statue? In short, whatever appears to be fit and proper to answer great purposes, greatly satisfies the mind and pleases on that account. Uniformity is of this kind. We find it necessary, to some degree, to give the idea of rest and motion without the possibility of falling. But when any such purposes can be as well-effected by more irregular parts, the eye is always better pleased on the account of variety.
How pleasing is the idea of firmness in standing conveyed to the eye by the three elegant claws of a table, the three feet of a tea-lamp, or the celebrated tripod of the ancients! Thus you see regularity, uniformity, and symmetry please only as they serve to give the idea of fitness.
Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus, 1484–1485. Tempera on canvas, 172.5 × 278.5 cm. Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence.
Of Simplicity, or Distinctness
Simplicity, without variety is wholly insipid and, at best, does only not displease; but when variety is joined to it, then it pleases, because it enhances the pleasure of variety, by giving the eye the power of enjoying it with ease.
There is no object composed of straight lines which offers very much variety having so few parts. Take a pyramid, for example; it is constantly varying from its base gradually upwards in every angle of the eye, never giving the idea of sameness as the eye moves round it. This fact has allowed it to continue to be esteemed throughout all ages in preference to the cone, which from all views appears nearly the same, being varied only by light and shade.
Steeples, monuments, and most compositions in painting and sculpture are kept within the form of the cone or pyramid as the most eligible boundary on account of their simplicity and variety. For the same reason, equestrian statues are more pleasing than single figures.
The artists – for there were three involved in the work – of as fine a group of figures in sculpture as was ever
