Experiments on antique statue colouring casts have proven important, establishing one point beyond all question.[14] According to Robinson and those having viewed such statues – “and one” says Robinson,[15] “which will come as a surprise to many who have examined the subject only theoretically. Colour, even when applied as a coating, instead of diminishing the effect of modelling, considerably heightens it. Far from hiding the sculptor’s work, it enhances its beauty. The more delicately he models, the “more the colour emphasises its delicacy; should his own work be poor, the colour will accentuate the defects, possibly perhaps because of the close comparison with nature. To a remarkable degree his can be observed in the heads of two statues, the Venus (Genetrix) and the Hermes of Praxiteles. The Venus (Genetrix), usually passes for a good head, and is sometimes spoken of with enthusiasm for its delicate contour and subtle smile. Coloured, it becomes hard and dry; the modelling of the cheeks, and especially about the nose, is meagre, betraying the hand of the copyist more than any other part of the statue; and defects in the modelling of the mouth and chin, hardly perceptible in white, become unpleasantly apparent. In no part of either statue did Mr. Smith have to work so hard, try as many experiments to produce a result on a par with the rest. The head of the Hermes, on the contrary, shows the marvellous beauty of modelling much more effectively under colour than in white cast. The exquisite modulations are more apparent when painted; in contrast the white cast has a curious, empty look. And what is true of the heads is equally true of other portions of the statues. The body and drapery of the Venus are modelled much more finely than the head, and the colours emphasise this.

      “If these experiments teach nothing else, they will at least demonstrate that the addition of colour, instead of enabling the sculptor to slur his work, subjects him to new and severe exactions; and hence they offer a suggestion as to one of the most important factors in the rapid rise to perfection of Greek Sculpture.”

      Such experiments, though they cannot be said to have proved the application of colour on the nude parts of Greek statues, have nevertheless shifted the responsibility of proof to the other side. Colour was used on ancient marble; the addition of colour on all parts, even the nude, is possible. In the absence of definitive data it appears to have been the natural thing and in keeping with coloured terra cottas, many of which are believed to have been made in imitation of statues, in full accord with the paintings of coloured statues in Pompeii. With the question of colour application settled, other, more difficult questions arise: What colours were selected and how were they applied? Were the statues painted to represent reality? No information can be gleaned from ancient literature, and the few dots of paint found on marble are of little consequence. In the first place they may represent only the body colour, while the actual shade which was seen may, and probably has, disappeared; and in the second place even these samples have surely faded and changed under the influence of air or minerals in the soil when the statues were rediscovered. The Greek statues did not exhibit actual garments, but rather, in keeping with the mental images represented by the statues, conceptions of garments. They were not real; the application of the real colour is inappropriate. The effect of Mr. Smith’s coloured casts, therefore, proved unpleasant, and not regretted. A complete change, if it occurred, must have happened subsequently; when is beyond our knowledge to ascertain.

      Such and similar considerations arguing against the universal use of colour on Greek marble statues should not be taken too seriously. They demonstrate the impossibility of making a solid case of events two millennia ago; if compared with the sound arguments in favour of the practically universal custom in Greece of painting marble statues, they are too slight and uncertain to have great weight. One point has been proved conclusively: ancient marble did not routinely exhibit the “colourless purity of form.” The final proof that they never exhibited it is still unsettled. All recent discoveries and investigations argue in its favour. It is therefore not unreasonable to expect that in time the current colouring theory of ancient statuary will become a universally accepted fact.

      Kore 682 (detail), Acropolis, Athens, c. 520–510 B. C. Marble, h: 182 cm. Acropolis Museum, Athens.

      Art Conditions Before the 7th Century B. C. and Early Ignorance

      Lion’s Gate, Mycenae, 14th century B. C. In situ.

      The middle of the seventh century before Christ, now generally taken as the beginning of historic Greek sculpture, is not marked by any outstanding historical event. Gradually the mist obscuring the preceding centuries clears before the investigator’s eyes. One century beyond this period he feels on sure ground. No existing Greek statue, however fragmentary, can be dated earlier than between 650 or 625 B. C.; beyond that lie the dark middle ages of Greece. The Greeks themselves possessed at best a hazy notion of this period. Some specific details were remembered across the ages, others were invented to explain existing conditions; all this was centred about a few popular heroes, whose characters, if they really existed, were so boldly altered that they could no longer be distinguished from the creations of fiction. Such legends are interesting, but may be readily dismissed in the discussion of facts. Of greater importance are the discoveries of archaeologists and anthropologists, because they are probably as accurate as they unfortunately are scant.

      The inhabitants of Greece, of the islands of the Aegean, and of the coast of Asia Minor belonged to the Aryan race, which at an early time, coming perhaps from Asia, perhaps from somewhere in northern Europe, divided into five prominent families. Each of these families and their branches branched off. The important branches of the Greeks were the Aiolians, the Ionians, and the Dorians. The Dorians were perhaps the late comers and apparently the least civilised. It is believed that long before their arrival in approximately 1100 B. C., the other families had already established a flourishing civilisation in Greece. The first finds of this early civilisation commanding general attention were made in Mycenae in 1876 by Dr. Schliemann; and because it was at the time believed that the Mycenaeans were the only ones who had thus far advanced on the road of human progress, this civilisation was called the Mycenaean Age. Very soon, however, it was found that other people had shared the blessings of this age. For want of a better name, however, and because of its familiarity the term “Mycenaean civilisation” has been retained, despite the fact that scholars today are looking for the centre and the origin of the flourishing conditions in Crete.

      The date of the Mycenaean Age is fixed chiefly by means of contemporaneous Egyptian events, from about 1600 to 1100 B. C. The earlier date remains uncertain, and recent discoveries seem to show that it should to be set further back, perhaps even in the third millennium before Christ. Earlier than this nothing is known of the Greeks. How long they had been in the country, whether they had brought civilisation with them, whether the Mycenaean civilisation was their first attempt or only the revival of an older one that had crumbled away – all this eludes our most painstaking investigation.

      Thanks to the unflagging effort of archaeologists from many nations, Mycenaean Age art has become well known today. Judging from remains, sculpture was little practised, for the lionesses over the citadel gate of Mycenae, are the only existing works of consequence. Painting, more especially wall painting, was much in favour, and the fragmentary figures of an extended fresco in the great palace of King Minos in Crete, exhibit daring composition and fine, delicate lines. The minor arts, however, notably the goldsmith’s, flourished. Hundreds of magnificent works of this kind remain. Taken together with the many thousands of small, ornamented trinkets from the opened graves (Illustration 1, 2), they give a good idea of these early artists’ aims and achievements. The artists did not work for show, as is often the case with unrefined people possessing accumulated wealth.

      Though in gold, it is not the splendour of the costly material that impresses the spectator, but the delicate shape into which it has been wrought and the refined taste shown in the selection of ornament. Despite this, human figures and animals rarely occur. The majority of the patterns are fanciful inventions of the artist’s mind, never grotesque

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