sculpture and theory

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Sculpture and Theory in Nineteenth Century France Author(s): Charles W. Millard Source: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 34, No. 1 (Autumn, 1975), pp. 15-20Published by: on behalf of Wiley The American Society for AestheticsStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/428638Accessed: 29-08-2015 09:25 UTC

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CHARLES W. MILLARD

Sculpture and Theory in Nineteenth

Century France

FRENCH NINETEENTH-CENTURY SCulp- turewas fed by three streams. The first of these-what might be called the grand tradition in sculpture-was that descended from Michelangelo which specialized in the production of monumental and architectural sculpture, dealing principally in the heroic human figure, and using as material whatever it found most appropriate; marble, stone, or bronze. Many of the best sculptors of the century belonged to or were touched by this tradition, which was largely without a body of theoretical or critical writing to support it, existing chiefly because of the direct influence of Michelangelo's accomplishments on the sculptors who followed him. The second stream, the academic neoclassical, was supported by a huge body of theory and critical justification and was far and away the most prominent and powerful sculptural influence throughout the century. Taking the nude human form as its ideal and marble as its material, it accounted for almost all the theoretical writing on sculpture and almost all the sculpture exhibited at the Salons. The third stream, descended from the Berninesque tradition of the French eighteenth century, favored bronze as its material, prepared in rapidly-worked wax or clay. For subject matter, it preferred fugitive or movemented actions, exotic themes or those with social overtones, and animals. It was supported by

CHARLES W. MILLARD is Chief Curator of the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Washington, D.C.

a body of critical writing which followed the sculpture rather than leading it on and which varied in quality and quantity with the vitality of Romantic sculpture itself.1

Probably no other artistic production has been so thoroughly under the control of a body of theoretical writing, or so thoroughly bent to the ends seen as desirable by that writing, as was academic sculpture in the nineteenth century. As great a sculptor as Canova, constantly importuned by Quatre- mere de Quincy toward a purer classicism, seems to have altered his style and conceptions in the face of these theoretical demands.2 The basis for nineteenth-century academic writing on sculpture was laid by Winckel- mann, who propounded the idea that constant observation of nudity, due to the light clothing allowed by the Greek climate, had so familiarized Greek artists with the healthy body that they had been able to create generalized forms drawn from that familiarity which synthesized the best of all particular forms. These generalized forms, so the Pla- tonic argument ran, were of such beauty as to be vehicles of moral good, driving out bestiality and leading to noble individual and public behavior. This idea of the moral benefit of Greek art was the basis for the promotion of classical copies on the part of Winckelmann's followers in France, and is a constant refrain in their writings. It was felt that copying the sculpture of the Greeks as closely as possible would enable one to re- capture their imputed moral superiority and


16 the generosity of behavior and simplicity of life style that seemed increasingly threat- ened during the course of the nineteenth century. The important early propagators of these ideas in France were Quatremere, Emeric-David, Seroux d'Agincourt, and Paillot de Montabert, the first two of whom had the most lasting influence.3 Quatremere, the more orthodox, urged that sculptors copy from the antique to learn and to improve their art. Drawing from nature was a second step to be undertaken only after the uplifting and formative experience of copying Greek work. Em&ric-David, on the other hand, suggested that copying from nature come first, such copies to be constantly corrected toward the perfection of Classical form, and advocated that sculptors learn from the outset by modelling and not only by drawing as QuatremEre would have had it. Thus, there were liberal and conservative strains within the neo-classical camp itself, although neither would have questioned the artistic and moral superiority of Greek sculpture. In general, it was the more conservative set of ideas that won out, and both the teaching dictated by the Academy and the tenets proposed by most writers on art were those which sprang from Quatremere. The principal writer on sculpture of the second half of the century, Henry Jouin, was wholly devoted to an orthodox academic position, as the chapter headings of his most important work indicate. "The end of art is the manifestation of the beautiful," "But the beautiful itself is inseparable from the good," and "The beautiful is the splendor of the true." 4 In Jouin's chapter on the sources of art "nature" precedes "the ideal" and "the divine" only because he saw nature as clothed in beauty derived from God and therefore sufficiently idealized to be acceptable as the source for an uplifting art. What is of most importance, however, is not that theories derived from Winckelmann per- sisted through the century, but that they had an immense formative influence on all public instruction in sculpture and were behind the choices made by juries for the Salon. Indeed, artists themselves paid them constant hom- age, and David d'Anger's notebooks, for ex- ample, are filled with theoretical observa- tions of the most orthodox sort. In David's case, and those of other sculptors of his cali- bre, written obeisance to academic ideas was

CHARLES W. MILLARD

far more important than their effect on his work. In the case of less talented artists, the work itself became the exposition.

Neoclassical theory exercised its greatest control over sculpture through the teaching methods sanctioned by the Academy through the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. Drawing was considered basic to both sculpture and painting, and students began by drawing from Classical sculpture, plaster casts of such sculpture, or from prints or photographs. Since neo-classical draftsmanship stressed the importance of contour and outline, the sculpture student was encouraged to concentrate on profile and to conceive of forms as flat. In advocating that students be compelled to make "sketches after engravings and photographs, particularly those reproducing bas-reliefs," Guillaume noted that, "This would be the time for the teacher to give the rudiments of what is called in this branch of art the understanding of planes,"6 and Emiliani-Giudici urged students to "indicate your planes boldly and draw square rather than round, because from planes result relief.... In sculpture it is a question of reliefs and it is therefore necessary to take heed of profiles...." 6 In the purest neoclassical sculpture internal modelling was kept to the minimum inflection consonant with the character and function of the outline. Thinking in terms of recessive flat planes, the young sculptor created objects which, although they existed in space, did not use space in any active sense. Guillaume spoke of a sculpture for which the sculptor had to "break down into planes forms which may seem twisting, so as to give to their representation the firmness and power that make up for the absence of movement and life, and to make understood the ideas of stability, repose, and duration which, being the basis of every sculptural con- ception, makeof a statue a veritable monu- ment." 7 Openings were simply the points at which the greatest number of planes had been cut away. They connected the front of the sculpture with the back but did not otherwise function to lead the eye around the piece. By exposing the background against which the piece was seen, they made it stand out from that background, emphasizing that sculpture and wall were parallel. Full-round sculpture was, consequently, conceived of as free-standing relief, an object with four faces cut away until the final work was exposed. 8 Point of


Sculpture and Theory in Nineteenth Century France view was thus of great importance, and that from enface was the principal aspect, with the back and two sides considered subsidiary, although more generous theoreticians allowed an infinite number of points of view adding up to a full-round object. Such a method was clearly consonant with the preferred academic material, marble.9 Considered the most permanent and perfect material, it lent itself to planar cutting and to the subtle modulation and textural differentiation important to refined finish. It was also the material that could most easily be worked to resemble flesh, and since the academic sculptor "has but one type, which is man," 10 this was of importance. The standing human figure, nude or draped a l'antique, was the highest form after which an academic sculptor could strive. In Jouin's words, "the statue . . summarizes the art of the sculptor; it is the perfect art." 1'

If academic sculpture was constantly led on by academic theory, the process was the re- verse with Romantic sculpture. It was the sculpture that led on the writers, and as that sculpture waned in quality and disappeared from exhibition those who wrote about it turned to other things. Furthermore, a great many writers sympathetic to Romantic sculpture bent their best efforts toward chastising academicism. There was, thus, no coherent body of writing relative to what would con- stitute a peculiarly nineteenth-century sculpture, no theorist who set out a series of expec- tations for sculpture to fulfill. Although the major writers on Romantic sculpture were those critics who also wrote on painting- Planche, Thore, Baudelaire, and other de- fenders of the avant-garde-Emeric-David, representing the more liberal aspect of a neoclassicism still viable at the beginning of the century, had early suggested that principles rather than forms drawn from antiquity should be applied to modern sculpture and, as has been noted, that young sculptors should be trained by practice in modelling from the outset. In 1810, Guizot, still faithful to neoclassicism, carried this idea further not only by encouraging students to model more fre- quently but by pointing out that all arts have laws proper to themselves which are violated at the artist's peril, and by urging sculptors to search for "that warmth, that truth, without which a picture or a statue is only a painted canvas or a carved marble. .. ." 12 In

17 1831 Gustave Planche noted more pointedly of Pradier's Three Graces,

He is mistaken, like Canova, in following in the composition a pictorial rather than a sculptural idea. Now, in my opinion, this is a grave fault and never goes without unfortunate results; it is never without considerable detriment that one mistakes the province of the instrument one uses. See, almost at the same time, the Italian sculptor paint in marble and the head of the last French school, David, sculpt on canvas. Both, for different rea- sons, merited the celebrity they acquired; both worked with perseverance to regenerate the art they professed. But the way on which they entered was a false and excessive way; they being dead, no one has progressed further in it.'3

By 1824, soon after painting had an- nounced its independence of neoclassicism, Stendahl felt able to proclaim that:

The statuary art is on the eve of a revolution: need it servilely copy the Antiquelike most French sculptors? One knows the sad fate reserved for copy- ists. 'If you always follow the ancients, you will never rival them,' said Montesquieu.'4

It was nine years before that revolution was accomplished, however, and in the meantime critics were reduced to castigating neoclassicism and pointing out that "Science has killed the centaurs as it has killed the angels of the Middle Ages." 15 When the Salon of 1833 finally produced concrete evidence of a new sculpture, that sculpture found critics worthy of it in Gustave Planche, Gabriel Laviron, and Bruno Galbaccio. All three saw the power and novelty of Preault's and Barye's work particularly, and Laviron and Galbaccio wrote that:

Sculpture seemed to us progressing this year, not because it had almost abandoned the Greek and Roman heroes of the Academy, but because the art presents itself with a completely new character of thought and execution. The nude figures have left rigidity and aridity as the lot of some workmen of the old school, who hold to it not knowing how to do otherwise. For a long time this was called purity of line and sobriety of composition, when the language of the style-brumaire was in fashion, that is to say when words took the place of things. . ..16

Writing in the same vein two years later, Decamps noted that:

Academic sculpture, like painting, descends a step each year, losing in every battle it wages in the Salon a little of the ground it has occupied for thirty years. A young man has arrived bringing to art principles so simple, so new, that he has hardly had the time to make himself understood and


18 already the deserters of rhetoric crowd in his foot- steps: disgusted with the geometric rigidity of the sculpture of the Institute, he called them from the routine of the professors to the imitation of nature, and the simple and spirited inspiration that char- acterizes the work of M. Barye was too powerful not to strike the eyes of the crowd vividly; consequently the impression has been universal and he has had the rare privilege of preaching the truth without his word having been contested hardly at all.'7

If critics were instantly able to see the value of the new sculpture, however, and if they fully understood that the neoclassical tradition was decaying, they seemed never able to draw general conclusions about what specific qualities a contemporary sculpture might have that would mark it as of its time apart from contemporaneity of subject. This may be partly due to the fact that sculpture itself failed at making a sustained statement in the sense that its first impressive appearance at the Salon was not sufficiently followed up in later years. It was not until 1878 that Eugene Veron made bold to say that "if we wish sculpture to become a truly modern and independent art, we must apply ourselves above all to developing it in the direction of the modern spirit, which is to say in that of expression and of movement," 18 recommend- ing even unstable movements as suitable for sculpture. Although both Planche and Thore, as well as Baudelaire, the Goncourts, About, Chesneau, and others, supported Romantic sculpture in their Salon reviews, its decreasing quality and the relative infrequency with which its experiments appeared led them to devote less and less space to it. By 1861 Thore could write, "Of great sculptors, there are no more," 19 and three years later Auguste Ottin echoed writers of almost fifty years earlier by calling for a new sculptural teaching method and pointing out that, "In the production of a work of art, the copy of a pre-existing object does not demand the same aptitudes as the realization of an idea." 20 By 1883, academicism was once again in such complete control of publicly exhibited sculpture that Henry Houssaye, writing in support of it, was able to assert that, "Sculpture. .. has remained faithful to tradition, it has maintained the worship of the beautiful without sacrificing to odious contemporary tendencies . .." 21 while the despairing Felix Feneon could only cry, "0O these sculptors of pleasing things,

CHARLES W. MILLARD

dainty, pretty, and polished! O the war of Canova! And yet Canova had the Princess Pauline Borghese to pose before him; but from what living flesh do they copy these clockcase subjects, fit at most to excite the libidinous- ness of dirty old men?" 22 The quality of the sculpture promoted by the academic theoreticians drove even the best critics to concentrate on painting and, as Pontus Grate has observed of Theophile Thore, "Finally, every- thing Thore wrote on the statues of his time barely conceals a certain indifference in re- gard to this form of art, an indifference he shared with so many of his contemporaries." 23

The attempts of sculptural Romanticism to build on eighteenth-century foundations, and the phenomenal ability of sculptural academicism to turn that attempt, and others, to its own uses, raises the complex and important question of nineteenth-century sculpture's relationship to the art and politics of the im- mediate past. In 1836 Gustave Planche pointed out how art had already begun to be judged by moral and poetic-by extrinsic rather than intrinsic-standards in the late eighteenth century.24 These moral justifica- tions were placed at the service of the neoclassical style and made the latter particularly suited to a revolution dedicated to ridding its country of what was seen as a morally degen- erate aristocracy.25 With only slight alteration the same style was taken over, with continued emphasis on morality, to justify the Roman pretensions of an empire. Thus, a style which was at first allied with political liberalism became the instrument of an imperial estab- lishment and, over a period of years, the agency of conservatism. When Laviron and Galbaccio identified le style brumaire in 1833, they added caustically, "Good luck to the FRENCH REPUBLIC, of which the other side of the coin was the EMPEROR NA- POLEON." 26 This series of events not only conflated artistic and moral judgments, making art answerable for matters that were properly those either of politics or of life itself, but irrevocably isolated the general public from an understanding of the better art of its time by creating an officially sanctioned art that was easily accessible in non- visual terms. Thus, artists unwilling to sub- bordinate artistic to non-artistic concerns faced an almost irreconcilable dilemma. On the one hand, they were barred from a neo-


Sculpture and Theory in Nineteenth Century France classical style discredited by the extra-artistic uses made of it, and on the other they faced a Rococo style that still too strongly suggested aristocracy to be easily acceptable. It was a dilemma that sent painters to the seventeenth century in search of support, while the better sculptors continued to build on the foundations of the Rococo, realizing that, whatever its imputed political position, it at least offered a vital and continuing sculptural tradition.

Writers on art faced somewhat the same predicament. Academic theoreticians were on fairly secure ground, since their association of ancient Greece and modern France merely enhanced their contention that sculpture was a particularly French art that had never reached a higher level than in the nineteenth century.27 More liberal writers, feeling that neo-classical and Rococo style had both been discredited, abandoned matters of style alto- gether to concentrate on content and intent. By 1833, the call for a socially responsible and realistic art, as opposed to an abstractly justi- fiable and idealistic one, was particularly strong.28 Laviron and Galbaccio wrote:

Relevance and the social tendency of art are the things about which we are most anxious; then come truth of representation and greater or less skill of material execution. We ask for relevance above all else because we want [art] to have an effect on society and to push for progress; we ask for truth because [art] must be living to be understood.29

Jean Reynaud said more bluntly: Aristocracy seated in the dust, know that the world has no other foundation than intelligence and virtue, and that dust, be it of gold, is nonethe- less dust. The sight of our social distress maintains courage and tranquil conviction in our souls, and the friends of humanity have learned to recognize as their first obligation not resignation, but hope.30 The Romantic sculptors of 1833 realized

that this social program had to be built on the foundations of eighteenth-century style if it were to be built at all, and Preault's Deux pauvresfemmes of 1833 and his Pariahs of 1834, both also heavily indebted to Michelangelo, are among the most successful expressions such an amalgam ever found. This working realization that the eighteenth century was the source of the only living stylistic tradition, along with the increasing expropriation of sculptural realism by academicism in the work of Cldsinger and others, soon legitimized

19

the Rococo for critics as well. In his "LEtudes sur la statuaire du dix-hiutieme siecle" of 1847, Thore went a long way toward re-establishing eighteenth-century style as a meaningful background to the mid-nineteenth century, castigating Winckelmann and neoclassical sculpture as an "incredible heresy that sacrifices the future to the past and completely denies the activity of living poetry and the eternal rebirth of the human spirit." 31 The triumph of the eighteenth century was assured when the failure of internationalist political hopes in 1870 turned attention away from the internationalist neoclassical style toward that of the French eighteenth century, and remnants of neoclassicism were blended with the eighteenth-century revival to produce a new version of academic style. This revival in turn focused attention on the Berninesque survival style, which came to be seen as particularly modern in its vitality and concern for prosaic anecdote.32 Thus the general revival of interest in the eighteenth centuryr toward the end of the nineteenth suc- ceeded in blurring earlier liberal-conservative distinctions and making academically acceptable ideas that were simultaneously praised for their modernity. This curious con- flation underlies much of the art of the Gon- courts and of Carrier-Belleuse as well as that of Rodin, who was at last able to conceive and produce a Romantic sculpture of sustained greatness. It shows how entwined the threads that had knit political conceptions to art became and is the tangle that lies at the root of the avant-garde appearance taken on by academicism in much twentieth-century art, a tangle that infinitely confused the task of nineteenth-century artists seeking a usable past.

1 The term Romantic is used here to denominate this stream in deference to Luc Benoist's La Sculpture Romantique (Paris, 1927), the most perceptive investi- gation of French nineteenth-century sculpture to date.

2 Cf. Gerard Hubert, Les Sculpteurs italiens en France . . . 1790-1830 (Paris, 1964), pp. 38-40.

3Cf. especially Quatremere's Le Jupiter olympien, Essai sur l'ideal, and Considerations morales sur la destina- tion des ouvrages de l'art; meric-David's Recherches sur l'art statuaire; Seroux d'Agincourt's Histoire de l'art par les monumens, v. II; and Paillot de Montabert's Theorie du geste and L'Artistaire. The difference between Quatremre's and ?meric-David's interpreta-


20 tions of Winckelmann have been noted by Pontus Grate, Deux critiques d'art de l'epoque romantique: Gustave Planche et Theophile Thore (Stockholm, 1959), p. 3.

4 Henry Jouin, Esthetique du sculpteur. This book is composed of a series of essays written as introductions to Jouin's Salon reviews beginning in 1873. Similar ideas are expressed in Charles Blanc's Grammaire des arts du dessin, which appeared as a book in 1867 after having been published serially in the Gazette des Beaux Arts between 1860 and 1862.

6 Eugene Guillaume, Essais sur la theorie du dessin (Paris, 1896), p. 35.

6 Paolo Emiliani-Giudici, "Correspondence par- ticuliere," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1859, v. I, p. 242.

7 Guillaume, op. cit., p. 29. 8 The essential problem of bas-relief is to bring a

round thing out of a flat one and hence it is, like per- spective painting, illusionistic. The forms of a relief exist in front of a surface, either in front of what becomes the background when the relief is carved away, in direct carving, or in front of the surface with which the artist begins, in wax and clay. In both cases there is a surface analogous to a picture plane through which forms break or in front of which they extend. The point of reference, thus, is always planar.

9 For the academic viewpoint on sculptural ma- terials cf. Henry Jouin, La sculpture au Salon de 1874. This material was later reprinted in Jouin's Esthetique du sculpteur. A more liberal examination of the same subject is Eugene Guillaume's "L'art et la matiere: le Salon de 1881," Atudes d'art antique et moderne, pp. 241-358.

'? Jouin, Esthetique, p. 131. 1 Ibid., pp. 130-131. 12 Guizot, Atudes sur les beaux-arts en general (Paris,

1852), p. 65. 13 Gustave Planche, ktudes sur I'ecole francaise (Paris,

1855), v. I, p. 83. 14 Stendahl, "Salon de 1824," Melanges d'art et de

litterature (Paris, 1867), p. 254. It should be pointed out that Stendahl's taste and theoretical beliefs in sculpture were squarely on the side of neo-classicism.

16 Reynaud, "Coup d'oeil sur l'exposition de sculpture," Revue encyclopedique, March 1833, pp. 590-591.

16 Gabriel Laviron and Bruno Galbaccio, Le Salon de 1833 (Paris, 1833), pp. 38-39. This remarkable book is among the outstanding critical statements of the nineteenth century, the more so because of its date, and deserves to be quoted at length. Beginning with a statement of principles, the authors say:

Laissant de cote les questions de forme et les querelles d'ecoles. . . nous cherchons ce qu'il pourra y avoir d'individualite et de puissance, et par cela meme d'avenir, dans l'oeuvre d'un artiste . . . Dans une sculpture ou dans un tableau nous cherchons d'abord la pensee s'il y en a, et la tendance de cette pensee. Puis nous examinerons jusqu'a quel point l'artiste est parvenu A rendre la nature dans sa verite en typant chaque chose dans le caractere qui lui est propre.

They proceed to distinguish two kinds of artists, those who work in an era of faith under the force of a poweful idea, and those who live in an era with no common belief and make "l'art pour l'art." Of the latter, they say:

CHARLES W. MILLARD

C'est l'art des epoques oii la societe n'a plus ni crovances ni lien commun, et n'a pas encore r6ve- lation des tendances qui doivent amener son avenir; ou les hommes forts oublieux de progres, se replient sur eux-memes pour etudier exclusivement la nature, c'est l'art de Shakespeare et de l'Arioste; c'est l'art de Ribera, du Correge et du Caravage.

Noting that this is also the art of modern times, they go on:

L'art ne consiste pas a faire des trompe-l'oeil, mais bien A rendre le caractere particulier de chaque chose que l'on veut representer. Pour cela il faut voir et comprendre, c'est-a-dire qu'il faut avoir l'ame assez puissante pour saisir les differences caracteristiques qui sont dans la nature, et, ce qui peut-tre est encore plus rare, l'audace de les rendre dans toute leur verite.

Following this clear-sighted credo, they proceed to a detailed criticism of the Salon which, if it is not rigor- ously enough discriminatosy in the terms of the introduction, is among the more perceptive such efforts of its time.

17 Alexandre D.. .. [Decamps], Le Musee, revue du Salon de 1835 (Paris, 1834 [sic]), p. 69.

18 Eugene Veron, L'Esthetique (Paris, 1878), p. 237. l9Theophile Thore, Salons de W. Burger, 1861 2

1868 (Paris, 1870), v. I, p. 86. 20Auguste Ottin, "Esquisse d'une methode ap-

plicable a l'art de la sculpture," Press scientifique des Deux Mondes, 16 March 1864, p. 337.

2 Henry Houssaye, L'art francais depuis dix ans (Paris, 1883), p. 111.

22Felix Feneon, "Exposition nationale des Beaux Arts," Oeuvres (Paris, 1948), p. 96. This essay ori- ginally appeared in La Libre revue for October 1883.

23 Grate, op. cit., p. 244. 24 Gustave Planche, ktudes, v. I, p. 303. 26 Louis Gonse has noted apropos the French Revo-

lution, "I1 est a remarquer que, depuis cette date fameuse, l'idee r6volutionnaire a toujours fait bon menage avec l'idee academique" (Gonse, op. cit., p. 4).

26 Laviron and Galbaccio, op. cit., p. 39. 27 On this often repeated view of sculpture as a

French national art see Castagnary, whose sculptural tastes were soundly academic, "Salon de 1869," Salons (1857-1870) (Paris, 1892), p. 384; Houssaye, op. cit., p. 286; and Leonce Benedite, La Sculpture au Musee Nationale de Luxembourg (Paris, n.d.).

28 Reversing the situation of half a century later, the avant-garde art of 1833 was moving toward realism, while conservative art tended to be ab- stracting.

29 Laviron and Galbaccio, op. cit., p. 30. 30 Reynaud, op. cit., p. 597. 31Theophile Thore, Salons de T. Thore: 1844,

1845, 1846, 1847, 1848 (Paris, 1868), p. 405. The essay "tudes sur la statuaire du dix-huitieme siacle" is an introduction to Thore's Salon of 1847.

32 The important distinction between the eighteenth-century survival and the eighteenth century revival styles has been discussed in relation to painting by Aaron Sheon in Monticelli and the Rococo Revival (unpublished doctoral thesis, Princeton, 1966), pp. 20ff.


Article Contentsp. [15]p. 16p. 17p. 18p. 19p. 20

Issue Table of ContentsJournal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 34, No. 1 (Autumn, 1975), pp. 1-107Front Matter [pp. 1-2]Editorial [pp. 3-6]Comparing Evaluations of Works of Art [pp. 7-14]Sculpture and Theory in Nineteenth Century France [pp. 15-20]The Strange Case of John Shmarb: An Aesthetic Puzzle [pp. 21-22]The Strange Case of John Shamarb: Some Further Thoughts [pp. 23-25]The Strange Case of John Shmarb: An Epilogue and Further Reflections [pp. 27-28]Taste and the Moral Sense [pp. 29-33]Sense and Sensibility: An Epistemological Approach to the Philosophy of Art History [pp. 35-50]Aesthetics and Rationality [pp. 51-57]The Aesthetic Theory of Leo Tolstoy's What Is Art? [pp. 59-65]On the "Aesthetic Senses" and the Development of Fine Arts [pp. 67-71]Afterwords: Criticism and CounterthesesScience and the Painter's Knowledge [pp. 73-74]

ReviewsReview: untitled [pp. 75-77]Review: untitled [pp. 77-80]Review: untitled [p. 80]Review: untitled [pp. 81-82]Review: untitled [p. 82]Review: untitled [pp. 82-84]Review: untitled [pp. 84-85]Review: untitled [pp. 85-86]Review: untitled [pp. 86-87]Review: untitled [pp. 87-88]Review: untitled [pp. 88-89]Review: untitled [pp. 89-90]Review: untitled [pp. 90-92]Review: untitled [pp. 92-94]Review: untitled [pp. 94-96]Review: untitled [pp. 96-97]Review: untitled [pp. 97-98]Review: untitled [pp. 98-99]Review: untitled [pp. 99-100]

Books Received [pp. 101-103]American Society for Aesthetics News [pp. 105-107]Back Matter

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