The pride of the sculptor was to combine the mystery of motion and of rest, to seize a moment of intense energy—“the twinkling heel and ivory shoulder” of the runner, “the tense nerve and full-flushed vein,” and to set it for ever in the imperishable stillness of art. And further, behind the suppleness, the delicate muscularity, the unspoiled freshness, of youth, to imprint if possible the mark of true humanity upon those figures, the kind and simple heart, the modest smile, the stainless purity of soul. And again, in those funeral monuments of young creatures snatched away before their time, to comfort the mourner by some hint of the dignity, the tranquillising secret of death. Pater takes the work of Myron and of Polycleitus as the perfect expression of humanity—“humanity, with a glowing, yet restrained joy and delight in itself, but without vanity; and it _is_ pure.” “To have achieved just that,” he writes, “was the Greek’s truest claim for furtherance in the main line of human development. He had been faithful, we cannot help saying ... in the culture, the administration, of the visible world; and he merited, so we might go on to say—he merited Revelation, something which should solace his heart in the inevitable fading of that.” It is here, perhaps, that the deepest value of these _Studies_ lies. Pater penetrates by patient skill, by ardent sympathy, the glowing, simple, straightforward life of the old world, with its light-hearted mirth, its swift acquiescence in things as they are. But he realises throughout that it is over and gone; that we cannot win it back; but that it may cheer and enlarge our view of life, our admiration for those sunny spaces of history, if we can but apprehend it; and that we may win from it some tranquillity, some brightness of spirit, which may fall on our heavier hearts, our bewildered sophisticated minds, like fresh winds blowing over the hills from the gates of the morning. That it cannot wholly satisfy us he has no doubt; but that it may enliven and widen our minds he is not less assured. Up to this date Pater’s work had been critical; it has been pointed out that it was never purely critical, but a species of poetical and interpretative criticism, of a creative order, working upon slender hints and employing artistic productions as texts and _motifs_ for imaginative creation. But he now began to feel the impulse to produce original creative work, and to use his own impressions, his experiences, his speculations as material for imaginative treatment. His only critical work for the next three years consisted of the Essay on “Charles Lamb” which we have already considered, a slight Shakespearian essay on “Love’s Labours Lost,” and three of the _Greek Studies_. But the year 1878 is memorable for the first appearance of one of his most beautiful works, the one, in fact, which can be recommended to any one unacquainted with Pater’s writings, as exhibiting most fully his characteristic charm.