this figure is in the foreground, as the gladiator in Gérôme's" Pollice Verso," Fig. 4, page 41, or as the central character in Raphael's "Ananias," Fig. 37, page 233. Sometimes, in connection with these other methods, the leading outlines of pictures are made to radiate from the chief figure, as from the Christ in the air, in Raphael's tapestry of the "Conversion of St. Paul"; or from the gladiator in Gérôme's" Poleice Verso," Fig. 4, page 41. Sometimes a figure is made most prominent by the use of colour, as by red drapery given to the Christ in Titian's "Scourging of Christ"; and sometimes by a use of light and shade, the former being concentrated where it will necessarily attract attention. In Rubens's "Descent from the Cross," Fig. 1, frontispiece, a white sheet, the whitest object in the picture, is placed behind the form of the Christ. In Correggio's "Holy Night," all the brightness in the picture is reflected from that which illumines the face of the infant Jesus. It is needless to say at what the spectator looks first when viewing these works. He at once recognises the principality of the form about which all the light is massed. When, in either painting or sculpture, the whole work contains but a single figure, the relative prominence of merely different parts of this must show the influence of these methods. In the woman in Fig. 36, page 231, the hand upon the breast seems to give principality to the heart, the seat of the affections. The erect head on the "Apollo," Fig. 23, page 170, in connection with the commanding gesture, gives principality to this, the seat of the directing power, or of authority. In architecture, principality is attained by making prominent a porch, as in Fig. 28, page 219; or a window, as in Fig. 29, page 220; or domes or spires, as in Fig. 79, page 354 or Fig. 33, page 226.

The numbers of ways in which effects of balance may be secured in these visible arts, especially in painting, seem practically infinite. As a method, too, it is almost universal. In Gérôme's "Pollice Verso," Fig 4, page 41, a gladiator's limbs stretched upon the ground on one side of his triumphant antagonist are exactly balanced by the armour that has been stripped from them, which lies on the other side of the victor; while the arm of the latter, lifted that his sword may strike, is balanced by his victim's arm lifted to appeal for mercy. In the first case,

we have an instance of balance produced in spite of decided contrast between the balancing members. As exemplified in the human figure, and so in sculpture, balance can never be fully understood, except as it is treated in connection with both symmetry and proportion. Here it is sufficient to point out that, as a rule, in order to secure variety, the limbs of the two sides of the body should be in somewhat different positions. If this arrangement be adopted, nature requires that a man should keep his equilibrium, and art that he should seem to keep it by

showing an exertion in one direction sufficient to counteract that made in the other. For this reason, when one is gesturing, or appearing to gesture, his hands and head, if the latter be not kept erect, should make counteracting movements. The head should move toward the hands when they are lifted, and away from them when they fall. Or if he be posing, and an arm be thrust out on

one side of him, his other arm, or his head or his hip, should be thrust out on his other side, sufficiently at least to secure an effect of equilibrium. Notice Fig. 42, page 237, and Fig. 45, page 239. The necessity in art of seeming to carry out such requirements, especially where postures are unusual, presents one of the greatest difficulties which the painter or sculptor has to encounter.

In architecture, it is possible for one subordinate feature to complement the principal, as a wing, or porch, or door at one side of a house may balance the whole façade of the building to which it is attached (Fig 55, page 291); or as a tower at one side or corner may offset the body of a church (Fig. 56, page 292). However, such arrangements are in place mainly in smaller buildings, in which graceful and picturesque effects are desirable. In the degree in which a building, like a church, a court-house, or a school, is to be devoted to a serious purpose, it should convey an impression of dignity. In art, as in life, this effect results from an appearance of perfect equilibrium. In architecture it is secured in the degree in which the principal entrance is exactly in the middle of the façade, with an equal number of subordinate features, towers, pillars, or openings, as the case may be, on either side of it. Notice, as exemplifying this arrangement, "Cologne Cathedral," Fig. 33, page 226; the "Taj Mahal," Fig. 53, page 281; "St. Mark's, Venice," Fig. 34, page 227, or Fig. 79, page 354.

In the chart on page 277 it was intimated that principality, subordination, and balance together cause an artproduct to have organic form. In nature an organic as distinguished from an inorganic form is one of greater or lesser degrees of complexity, pervaded everywhere by channels or organs through which flow effects that influence every part of the form, but of it only, beyond the contour of which they cease to operate. Trees and animals, for instance, with their various circulatory systems, are organic. Sand and clay are not. To say, therefore, that the products of art should have organic form is the same as to say that they should be characterised by effects analogous to those produced by the forms of

objects that have what we term life. This statement will cause some of us to recall that Plato named head, trunk, and feet as the three essential features in every work of art; and Aristotle, recalling the fact that all products do not appeal to the eye, and cannot seem to have visible bodies, tried to state a principle more general in its reach by declaring that they should all have beginning, middle, and end. But both statements are virtually the same, and together are inclusive of all possible artistic applications of the subject. The first applies literally to forms that appear in space, the second to those that appear in time. Both mean that there should be such an order in the arrangement of the parts constituting the form as to cause all the parts to seem to be organically connected with one whole, and this whole to seem to possess all the parts necessary to render it complete.

This is a principle recognised as essential in every art. Here, for instance, are the various elements and developments of a musical periodic form, as given by Marx in his "Theory and Practice of Musical Composition":

Here is an example of poetic organic form:

Home they brought her warrior dead;

She nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry:

All her maidens, watching, said,