portion of the movement from the rest, as an air, a
piece of eight bars, a verse, a foot, in order to treat
it statically at all. In objects of sight we see the
representations at rest; in natural objects they move
of themselves, in works of art the movement is im-
plied and inferred; this is what is technically called
the "motive" of the picture or statue, namely, the
point or incident in it which determines the action.
The past and the future of the visible object is al-
ways present to the thought of the spectator. In
works of architecture this element is wanting; they
have no movement except such as we import into
them by imagining arches as springing, spires as
shooting upward, and so forth. Their life is to stand
at rest, in contrast with the living beings which sur-
round them; and this kind of permanency is shared
with them by other works of art. It may be re-
marked too that architecture is not an imitative art,
differing therein from painting and resembling music.
Sculpture must be regarded as imitative, though in
a far less degree than painting. It has a beauty of
its own, which allies it to architecture and allows us
to take pleasure in statues treated stiffly and non-
realistically, either as accompaniments to architec-
ture or as standing alone. Its being actually in
three dimensions, a solid capable of standing alone,
makes a statue truly less imitative instead of more,
as we might at first expect from its being thus more
similar to the objects which it imitates. It acquires
an independence, some of the independence of music
and architecture, and disdains to serve merely as a
language with a meaning behind it. Hence the re-
pugnance excited by statues which are coloured so
as to imitate the figures of real life. The slightest

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