POLYCHROMY IN GREEK STATUARY. 619 



chryselephantine statue. The head of the Ludovisi Medusa, with its 

 mass of dark hair and the flesh tint that covers the face, stands out from 

 its blue ground like a painted stucco of the Renaissance. Similar efforts 

 have been made in America. In Boston an archaeologist, Mr. Robinson, 

 and a sculptor, Mr. J. Lindon Smith, combined their efforts to restore 

 the polychromy of the Hermes of Praxiteles and the Venus genitrix of 

 the Louvre. 1 It is not for us, at such a distance, to judge of the value 

 of such restorations; at all events, they do this at least, they cause a 

 problem, which is still much studied, to enter into an entirely new 

 phase. Mere theories are now followed by practical experiments and by 

 applications of theories, which may furnish interesting subjects for dis- 

 cussion. In fact, words alone will never express what is so eminently 

 subtle — so very fleeting; we mean depths of color, harmonies of shades, 

 transparencies playing on the ground color of the marble. To do the 

 best we can, we shall at least endeavor to sum up our conclusions; and 

 in order to choose an example that may render them more precise, we 

 will inquire what may have been the polychromy of a statue such as 

 the Hermes of Praxiteles'? 



In the condition in which it has reached us the statue presents only 

 faint traces of having been painted. If we forget the mutilations and 

 stains which disfigure it, it therefore looks to us as it appeared to the 

 eye after the sculptor had given it the final touch. Now, the very 

 nature of the process seems to point out in advance the field that was 

 left to polychromy. Certain parts are reserved for those simple trans- 

 parent "rubbings" which the "Sarcophagus of Alexander" has taught 

 us to know, other parts will receive a coloring of greater solidity. The 

 work on the face and on the body, carried on with exquisite, almost 

 caressing delicacy, and reaching the very daintiest shades, is such as 

 to exclude any thought of opaque coloring which would cause this 

 matchless flower of the modeled form to disappear ; the brush is bound 

 to respect these fleshy parts which the file of the sculptor has so lov- 

 ingly polished. On the other hand, the hair is treated with much free- 

 dom, without what is sometimes called virtuosity. The drapery thrown 

 upon the trunk of a tree hangs there in broken folds, cross lines which 

 by contrast bring out more forcibly yet the effect of the uncovered 

 parts where the light is playing upon surfaces that melt into each other 

 most harmoniously. Here, therefore, we may look for opaque colors. 

 As for the hair, we need not hesitate. The reddish brown that painters 

 of statues affect so much is again apparent. The draperies of the 

 Hermes and the little Dionysius will, of course, be blue or red, but we 

 may certainly assume, without venturing too far, that in a work of the 

 fourth century the draperies will be painted. The stelae of Athens 

 justify the presumption, and we might, moreover, invoke the testimony 

 of a statuette of Artemis, found in Cyprus, a very carefully finished 



1 E. Robinson. The Hermes of Praxiteles and the Verms genitrix. Experiments 

 in restoring the color of Greek sculpture, by Joseph Lindon Smith. Boston, 1892. 



