square jaw and the muscles of his face, in the grip
of his toes in the stirrup, in the bend of the elbow
which points aggressively toward the observer.
Even the angular turn of the horse's tail, gives one
the sense of power. Nothing can stop either horse
or master, and so tense does one become as one
stands before it that the enjoyment is almost
painful. Not to have such an experience is not to
know the Colleoni. How great our reaction is
can be most readily observed if we will turn from
a photograph of this masterpiece to some of the
modern statues of military heroes in our public
squares. Our own muscles will relax in response
and the figure instead of appearing to be of flesh
and bone will seem of hollow lifeless bronze. There
is little doubt that the physical strength of the
artist is a condition of the amount of empathy
suggested, for he must himself feel in his own body
the pose of his group. To a weak individual, too
violent empathy is painful and is avoided. Statues
by women sculptors most frequently show this
lack of force. One feels the listless droop of the
arm, the lack of weight of the body, and the rel-
atively slight expression in the posture.

This communication of force and motion is not a
late development. The early Greeks expressed
it very clearly, though sometimes awkwardly, as
for instance, in the representation of the battle
between Hercules and the Amazon in the Metope
from Selinus in the Museum of Palermo ( Fig. 5 ).
Not only is there action in the posture of attack,

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