lime is to emotion us into a state of awe, our highest possible emotion. This depends, we repeat, principally upon the arrangement of the lines and masses in a pyramidal or triangular manner. This arrangement, at first draws the eyes rapidly, from the lower angles of the pyramid up to its apex, and finally, they are forced up beyond the apex into the Infinite. It is this upward projecting power of a pyramidal mass, which gives to a work, so arranged, that monumental quality which we find in a sublime mountain, like the Matterhorn, and which lifts us heavenward, whether we will or no. It dominates us. Color can only help this lifting power, but, alone, cannot so affect us.

Besides, this pyramidal design, in addition to the power of lifting the mind to the apex of the pyramid and forcing it beyond the triangle, has another quality: that of attracting the mind back to its apex, no matter in what other direction the mind may wish to wander. Hence, whenever this pyramidalization is omitted in a picture, the mind wanders about, aimlessly, in a sort of maze, which is the reverse of awe-inspiring or high-emotion-stirring.

For a complete exposition of these three laws, see our chapter on "What is Beauty?" A fine example of the effect, of the omission of the pyramidalization we spoke of is: Breughel's picture of "Christ Bearing the Cross" Fig. 85. Here we observe an absence of all triangulation, and therefore also of concentration of interest. The result is: that we are merely intellectually interested in certain parts of the picture. It does not vigorously stir your emotions, to a high degree of delight, or We wander about in the picture, as in an auction house; we are not compelled to do anything, we are not dominated, as we always are by a pyramidal mass or mountain, and we love the domination of a reposeful power.

awe.

In this picture the composition is very childish. It is a puzzle. When our boy saw this picture he asked: "But where is Christ and the Cross?" This work has some fine color in it, and some clever painting, but it is certainly not a sublime creation. Its ineffectiveness, is due entirely to its lack of concentration of interest.

The Fourth law is: Unity of Subject. That is—there must not be two or more pictures, or subjects, in one work. In Memling's "Passion" Fig. 86 we have an example of four

Because the mind,

teen pictures in one. It is a mere curio. affronted by so many pictures, with such a Macaroni of small figures, has its attention, instead of focussed and economized, so scattered, that it wanders about in a jungle, and the soul is not lifted and emotioned, because the picture, being more like a puzzling panorama, turns the most solemn epic in history into an almost comic performance.

The Fifth law is: Concentration of Effects. That is: every work of art, to be a success, must have a central point of interest. Whatever helps to direct the eye to that central point of interest, is good; and whatever tends to draw the mind away from that central point, is bad, and must be suppressed. The central point of every single statue is the face, and the central point of every composition of several figures is the main figure.

A brilliant example of the violation of this law, is furnished by Velasquez's "Surrender of Breda" Fig. 87. Here we have a scene, in which a very important act is being performed: Justin Nassau, the defender of Breda, is surrendering the keys of the city to the Marquis of Spinola, the Spanish general. On one side, are the Spaniards and on the other, the Dutch generals. This act is so important, that it is certain that the curiosity, innate in human nature, would have forced every spectator at that scene, to rivet his eyes on the two central figures; occasion and action were too important for this not to have occurred. But, what did Velasquez do? He put twenty-two spectators in the picture, only six of whom may be said to be looking, even in the direction, of the main actors in the drama! and only four of them look directly at the centre of interest, while three of these four are in profile and in shadow. So that, in reality, only one man of the whole twenty-two, is looking intently at the main actors in the great drama!

Hence, as a composition, it is faulty. Most of the men, instead of looking at General Spinola and listening to what he is saying, as would surely have occurred in real life, are looking out of the picture as if being photographed; as if afraid of failing to have their faces, with their best expression, in the picture. The result is, that Spinola, the victor, and main object in the picture, to celebrate whom the picture was painted, does not at all dominate the scene, to the degree that a great work of art demands. This purpose, as Taine truly says in his

definition of art, is: to "manifest some essential or salient, therefore important, idea, more clearly and more completely than do real objects." Velasquez did not manifest Spinola and Justin more completely than they would have appeared in real life. On the contrary, he made them even less manifest, less prominent, than they must have appeared in real life. In fact, we must almost seek for the main actors in the picture. Hence, the whole composition, and point of view, are faultyeven if Velasquez intended the rest of the heads to be merely portraits.

Since the reader may think us narrow, in quoting this law, as laid down by Taine, we will quote the same thing from Van Dyke:

Perhaps the most reasonable of all the laws of composition is the oldest of them all: the law of special prominence, which requires the predominance of one or more leading objects at the expense of all the other objects in the picture.

Velasquez's composition is original and bold, and the painting, as painting, very fine. But, this scattering of the spectator's attention, in all directions, away from the centre of interest and dominating motive of the picture, is a defect so great that it takes the picture out of the category of perfectly composed works of art. For it destroys one of the fundamental aims of all truly great composition in art-repose, and unity.

What saves the picture, is the splendid group in the centre, which can best be appreciated by laying a piece of paper across both ends of the picture, so as to cut off the disturbing elements. The Castilian benignancy with which Spinola puts his hand on Justin's shoulder, in refusing to accept the keys of the city, and leans forward, as if to say to a brave fellow-soldier, whom he has been ordered by his king to defeat, at the chess game of war: "I am sorry, old fellow, that I have won; but I trust we will still be good friends," is a masterpiece of expression, and in this respect one of the greatest pieces of work Velasquez ever did. Had he not marred his picture by ignoring the law: of convergence of lines and effects, he would have produced one of the world's greatest masterpieces.

Turn now to the "Coronation of Napoleon," Fig. 88, an immense picture, with many heads, by David, not nearly so clever a "painter" as Velasquez, but a much greater composer,

even though he is foolishly derided by modernist critics. Notice how easily Napoleon dominates the crowd, how everything is made subordinate to him. Notice too, that every face and every glance in the immense throng, is directed to Napoleon, as he crowns Josephine. This is exactly what would happen in real life. The "painting" in this picture, is not nearly as brilliant and clever as in Velasquez's picture; but how much more truly is the subject expressed than in the "Surrender of Breda." As "paint," it is inferior to Velasquez's, but as emotion-stirring art, it is superior, since the painting in the picture is adequate for the purpose in view, and the composition, drawing and expression are fine.

Since the object of every work of art-poem, statue or painting-is: to express some dominant idea, in the most effective manner possible, it follows: that whatsoever in a work of art helps this dominance and attraction of the main idea, is good, and whatsoever hinders that dominating attractive power, is bad. That is the main and fundamental law of all successful composition.

The Sixth law is: balance of masses. This law demands that there should be a balance of masses throughout a work of art, so that no part of the picture or statue or poem or drama be without interest. This also for-repose.

The Seventh law is: clearness of meaning. In merely imitative or decorative art, clearness is rarely lacking; but, where obscurity is apt to enter is, in illustrative and allegoric, above all in symbolic art. When an artist aims to symbolize something, and does it in forms and attitudes and groupings so strange and unclear, that no one can read the symbol, the whole work becomes meaningless. When we talk in Runic rhymes, the hearer becomes at first anxious, then bewildered, and finally exasperated. This is so obvious, that it is amazing that some modernistic artists, especially in painting and sculpture, produce works which are, and will ever be, beyond the comprehension of even the most cultured people, unless an encyclopædic explanation be tacked on each group or figure. And even then the symbolism is not satisfactory, or even true, to any one but the artist who made it—who, therefore, forever remains misunderstood, and his work worthy only of the scrappile, as far as the public is concerned.

At first view it looks

As an illustration of our meaning: look at the work of the early Flemish painter Bosch, Fig. 89. What a strange hodgepodge of angels and sea animals it is! like a nightmare. But, if we have the time to study it, we will find that it is the "Fall of the Damned." Here the condemned sinners are first changed into sea monsters and then chased about by angels and the subject, in Bosch's hands, becomes an absurdity.

Now look at Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment," Fig. 90 where we have practically the same idea-the "Fall of the Damned" expressed on one side. Notice how orderly the composition is, in spite of the number of figures. Notice the attitude of horror and despair of the really falling figures and, above all, the air of grandeur and tragedy permeating the whole picture. Angelo shows us human figures falling into hell, after being rejected by Christ. Bosch shows us men changed into fish, octopuses, frogs, etc., utterly missing his chance to portray the horror in the souls of the damned, and so, utterly failing to stir the emotions of fear in the breasts of his contemporaries. The significance of the story thus becomes so cryptic that, when it is finally made out, it no longer emotions us. We see here an indication of the infantile state of mind of some of the Dutch artists of that epoch, whilst Angelo's is a higher intellectual performance and also reflects the high degree of mental culture of the Italians of his epoch. Bosch's picture shows a coloring which is perhaps charming as a whole, but it is bad composition, bad thinking, bad arrangement, and bad drawing. Clarity of symbolism is of supreme importance in a work of art, and is almost entirely the result of composition.

The Eighth law is: Simplicity. Simplicity does not mean having few objects in a work of art, but it means the exclusion of everything unnecessary, beyond the adequate expression of the main idea of the subject. That obtained, every additional element is a diluting element, which weakens the force of the expression. For example: If we examine a picture of "The Last Supper" by Leonardo, Fig. 97, we will see the simplicity and power of the whole scene, and the utter absence of everything not needed to express the subject. Then, if we look at Tintoretto's picture of the same subject, Fig. 95, we see how he has over-crowded it with figures in the background, angels