the original. This gives us some measure of the degree of fidelity
we may expect in favorable cases. Generally speaking, we have to
form our estimate of the faithfulness of a copy by the quality of
its workmanship and by a comparison of it with other copies, where
such exist. Often we find two or more copies agreeing with one
another as closely as possible. This shows--and the conclusion is
confirmed by other evidence--that means existed in Roman times of
reproducing statues with the help of measurements mechanically
taken. At the same time, a comparison of copies makes it apparent
that copyists, even when aiming to be exact in the main, often
treated details and accessories with a good deal of freedom. Of
course, too, the skill and conscientiousness of the copyists
varied enormously. Finally, besides copies, we have to reckon with
variations and modernizations in every degree of earlier works.
Under these circumstances it will easily be seen that the task of
reconstructing a lost original from extant imitations is a very
delicate and perilous one. Who could adequately appreciate the
Sistine Madonna, if the inimitable touch of Raphael were known to
us only at second-hand?

Any history of Greek sculpture attempts to piece together the
several classes of evidence above described. It classifies the
actual remains, seeking to assign to each piece its place and date
of production and to infer from direct examination and comparison
the progress of artistic methods and ideas. And this it does with
constant reference to what literature and inscriptions have to
tell us. But in the fragmentary state of our materials, it is
evident that the whole subject must be beset with doubt. Great and
steady progress has indeed been made since Winckelmann, the
founder of the science of classical archaeology, produced the