ILLUSTRATION, in art, a picture which tells a story. On the walls of the temples and tombs in Egypt are many pictures 'British Standard Specification for Portable Photometers, no. 23o 'British Standard Specification for Industrial Reflector Fittings for Electric Lighting, no. 232 (1926).
'British Standard Specification for Street Lighting, no. 307 (1927) . Standard Specification for Translucent Dlumination Fittings for Interior Lighting, no. 324 (1928) .
which tell a story. These pictures are bound by conventions to such a degree that the individuality of the artist is lost in the imposed formula. There is no drama as we understand it. An exalted personage is simply represented proportionately larger than his fellows. Attitudes and gestures are prescribed. Yet they tell a story and to that extent they are illustrations, but they are more than that : they tell the story of a whole people, of a people's faith and hope and life. They are generic. They do not deal with incident. If one finds two people playing a game, it is an incident in the whole life of all the people and tells the story of that people and a game—not of two definite individuals at a moment in one special game with the specific incidents that attend that particular moment among all others. An illustration is a story-telling picture of a specific incident and its weakness lies in this very thing : that the greater idea is often secondary to the less. Yet in most illustrations, of fiction especially, the picture deals with the lesser idea.
The illustrator's work is the complement of expression in some other medium. A poem can hardly exist which does not awaken in the mind at some moment a suggestion either of picture or music. The sensitive temperament of the artist or the musician is able to realize out of words some parallel idea which can only be conveyed, or can be best conveyed, through his own medium of painting or music. Similarly, painting or music may, and often does, suggest poetry. It is from this inter-relation of the emotions governing the different arts that illustration may be said to spring. The success of illustration lies, then, in the instinctive trans ference of an idea from one idea to another; the more spon taneous it be and the less laboured in application, the better. The mind must be aware of an underlying unity, yet without being intellectually conscious of it.
A poet or an artist appears to be an individual, developed by his race, whose business it is to go out and see beauty and come back and tell about it. His business is to go out and see with the eyes of his own people, of his own time, of his own country and to show to them the things they love or reverence in a manner intelligible to them.
To the Greeks, the hero was a glorious human creature ; in evitably their artists were moved to sculpture and to an ideal, an ideal which sought to show how magnificent man might be come. Their honest service in this respect to their race leaves them unrivalled through all the centuries that have elapsed. In spired they surely were, but inspired wholly by the passionate impulse of their time. When the draughtsman came along to decorate the vases of his people his motive was usually a simple association of those same heroes, gods and goddesses in one pic ture, containing, indeed, the essential surroundings, but always governed by the racial delight in perfected humanity. The poets told the same stories, so that to-day the sculpture, the picture and the play or poem mutually illuminate one another. Though not designed to illustrate any special line or poem, the pictures become illustrations of the finest type, generic rather than specific.
The Roman artist began to see landscape and introduce it into his wall paintings, usually to increase the apparent size of the garden upon whose enclosing walls his pictures were usually painted.
The Christian religion provided the next tremendous impulse toward visual art. Again all eyes were turned in one direction, all aspirations toward one glory and all reverence toward the sacred personages wbo suffered that they might bring to the humble masses no less than to the exalted individuals the wonder ful message. For the Founder of the Christian religion had made the multitude worthy in its own eyes. He proclaimed their kin ship with God and convinced them that they were beloved chil dren of a loving, omnipotent Father in Heaven with Whom they should dwell, after this life of trial, in glory forever.
To a people treated like beasts of burden, driven and trampled upon, such a revelation was of tremendous import. The individ ual's right to prosperity and happiness here in this world naturally had not yet occurred to the many. They were taught that resig nation, contentment and labour for their masters was the service for which they should receive the Divine reward in Heaven. The poet and the artist, born and bred of the peoples under that im pulse, did as they were bound to do. They showed to the multitude the thing it reverenced and longed to see. The artists of that day were the sons of the multitude, and sharing in the beliefs of that multitude. They set forth in their paintings that which filled their own hearts no less than the hearts of all men moved by the same revelation.
Gradual Development.—The whole thing became a driving desire to make visible a great drama. They began to perceive the possibility of the dramatic composition which preserved the just proportions, and yet permitted the emphasis to fall upon the important incident in the picture which is known as the "centre of interest." Composition was not unknown before this time, but it was a composition of design entirely, owing nothing to tone and very little to light and shade. Rarely, in even the best examples of vase paintings, is great action attempted. Generally, the figures express themselves in simple gestures, so that no intoler able suspended motion is noticeable. The Italian painter, finding himself confronted by the necessity to depict dramatic moments full of activity, devised new methods of composition. The sus pended moving body or drapery, conforming to realism, is made to flow upon a line in the composition in such a manner that it is no longer a painfully maintained posture, but a part of the rhythm of the composition, an expression of extreme grace and of beauty.
Year in and year out that development went painfully on. They strove mightily, those men ; they worked to exhaustion. They had but little to work with, compelled as they were to invent their own materials, colours, brushes, whatever they needed. In the early years of the attempt to reveal to their own eyes, and those of their people, a vision glowing of the spirit, they had nothing with which to do it. They could not draw, they could not paint ; they recognized perspective but vaguely and they lacked general knowl edge. But they had a story to tell in pictures and they themselves lay under an urgent need to see the visualization of their own dream. It was a story of the spirit—which is beauty. They painted a message from heart to heart. Any man, standing be fore these old treasured pictures, who is unable to let them appeal directly to his emotions, as is the case with music, can never hope to see them nor to understand why they are treasured.
As time went on jealousy and rivalry arose. The secrets of the craft were carefully guarded. A painter of great ability was crowded with commissions, which were often commands. Day light was precious. Every moment was needed upon his composi tions. He surrounded himself with pupils and from among these he chose helpers according to their ability. Thus came into existence the journeyman-apprentice, who reached his greatest development during the last century. He was the pupil of great technical skill, direct observation and little imagination. He was sent out to get facts. A group of trees was needed for some part of -an important composition. He was sent out to make a study of it—not only the group of trees with meadow and clouds, but accurate information of branch and twig, with the pattern of leaf, the modelling of the trunk and the facts about the spreading roots with the plants growing between. He came back with defi nite knowledge, precise information which the master painter used as he saw fit. He chose what he needed, simplifying it into har mony with its importance in the picture, discarding what was irrelevant. The master painters were great illustrators, and it is from among them that arose the immortal few who are known as the Old Masters, because of the grandeur of their vision and the splendour of their expression of it.
And then the association of picture and its subject-text bound in the same volume came into being in the form of the illuminated manuscript. The same story and the same sincerity inspired these little pictures, truly works of art, though small and painted upon the page of a book and definitely designed to harmonize with the page and with the elaborate initial letter of which, frequently, they were a part. Some of them were superb masterpieces. The size of a picture matters little. If, however, the subject idea is unworthy of a great effort, the picture made too large, and with the inevitable elaboration, appears even more trivial than if propor tioned appropriately.
Portraiture.—In ancient portraiture, incidental to all this early art, one seems to observe evidence that likeness primarily was sought. In Egypt imposed conventions prevented any real de velopment of characteristic portraiture, or perhaps the artist was so trained to convention that it was not possible for him to free himself from its influence. Nevertheless, there are examples, small statues and statuettes, which are portraits of individuals, of definite character. Greek portraits, however, painted on small panels, seem meagre studies of character, but were probably suf ficiently good likenesses. During the Renaissance portraiture came very much alive, emerging from hampering tradition and convention, until, in the i nth century it reached a magnificent expression. It became a realistic study of character, which was food for imagination. Painting his portrait, the artist came to know the man. He found, as he and everyone else already knew, that men are very much alike, and entirely different, in real life; he discovered that it could be expressed in art. Self-defence had taught every one to discern the mood of another. Every one knew at once whether another was about to strike, to smile, to speak a word of kindness ; now the artist began to discover it in terms of his craft. He discovered that he could envelop the characters of his picture in an emotional atmosphere. He per ceived in the hat and gloves left by his sitter on chair or table a likeness to their owner and that if they were used in a picture these adjuncts would have something to say as to the character of the man. When he came to paint the genre (q.v.) picture, he saw to it that the things belonging to his subject character were exactly the things with which this individual would inevitably surround himself. That is a part of illustration which requires imagination, knowledge and understanding derived from close and habitual observation. Imagination here is spiritual vision. This vision once possessed, aided by all his various funds of knowledge, the artist will perceive how an individual whose character he has studied and come to understand will behave in a given situation. It amounts to a vision of orderly events inevitable for that individual.
The religious story had been told, and while it continued to appear, and still often does, it was no longer in demand to the same extent. The artist was free to choose his subjects where he would, to descend gradually from that height to which the hunger, need and will of his race had driven him. Perhaps the most im pressive example of this hangs in the museum of the Louvre. Huge paintings tell the story of the marriage of a man and a woman, but the man was king of France, Henry IV., and the woman a princess of Italy, Marie de' Medici. To the conscious ness of that time such nuptials were great and impressive affairs, symbolic and resplendent with the grandeur of nations. Real istic pictures, however gorgeous, would be merely pictures of the pageantry of the event. The artist's task, however, was to make the significance of the event immortal.
Here is another instance where the artist was in accord with the convictions and motives of his time. He may have hated that particular king, but he and all men worshipped kings. To him and to all men this particular episode was of divine moment and sig nificance. The gates of heaven opened ; gods and angels with all their attributes of Power, Principalities and Virtues were present at the ceremonial, bearing aloft, in order to magnify those two royal mortals above mankind, the insignia of their isolation. That is what the pictures tell us.
To this artist, learned in his craft, it was not a very troublesome problem. The art and science of composition taught him how to use every incident in his pictures—numberless attendant figures; the profuse ornament of landscape and cloud; luxurious draperies, architecture, banners, armour—extraordinary in their number, variety and form; to exalt the two principal personages upon the apex of his design and convey that, while in the midst of many, they were solitary, unapproachable, beings apart. Previously he had painted many portraits, landscapes, studies of all kind in astonishing numbers. He had used his countless studies in count less paintings of every sort. He employed many hands besides his own. Nevertheless, he invented and designed his group of pictures as a whole, supervised and brought it into being. They were great inventions, for his imagination was apparently con cerned with another aspect of the matter : it was busy with his audience—not in vanity, but in the completion of his theme. His business was to convey an idea to the world. He was not realizing a vision of his own and so, in his imagination, he viewed his grow ing designs with the eyes of the world, inventing his means step by step. Whether he, specially, was hated, whether he was bitterly re garded by jealousy are things aside. His world was with him in this task which it had commanded. He worked for a great audience, for the generations, for all time. He was not at the mercy of the turning page descending into oblivion with a trivial story.
The religious subject in pictorial art is not of paramount importance, nor is any subject. War and the ambitions of men have provided the opportunity for many great paintings. As to the written title of a picture, it is a mere label. The subject is what the passion of his race has taught the artist to think about it. Because the poet, the artist and the inventor—which is to say the poet—is born supremely sensitive to racial motive, he has led in thought and has imagined into material existence the things of its need and desire.
Imagination is the power of creative vision which gives direc tion to intellect. It is the business of intellect to find means whereby this vision is given material existence. In finding these means intellect must refer again and again to imagination for new directions until the dream comes true.
There is another sort of imagination : a primitive imagination busy with fears and reprisals. It is the mother of superstition and has troubled the mind of man with a terror of natural phe nomena. He cowered before the wind, retreated in dismay before the rising waters in the spring-time and shuddered at thunder, whispering that it was the voice of an angry god or the roar of some demon. As he grew weary of his fears man developed a courageous creature who was not afraid to take his life in his hand, to go out and see; one who would be satisfied with nothing but the truth, who would not stop till he knew it. He went out upon his mission and came back and reported that these things are inevitable results of natural law—dangerous but not malig nant. Having begun, he can not stop, for the will of the race is that he must go on. We call him the scientist; his reports are called scientific facts; but scientific fact is the statement of the operation of natural law and natural law must be obeyed in art as well as in life.
First he learned to draw a figure; then he strove to make that figure beautiful; then, expressive. He laboured with nature to learn the laws of composition. He came into the lamplight and went out into the sunshine to know about light and shade. He studied atmosphere and the moods of nature. He learned to present an individual with his characteristic possessions and the psychology of his relations with others. He mastered these things thoroughly—then dismissed the troubles of ignorance and painted his picture. This impersonation of all artists lived for many centuries through all the turmoil of the great march of mankind. He is immortal. We are part of him. Without the understanding which came through his long life we can do little. His life has left its record. Learn to know it.
The laws of composition are written down. Learn them. The scientist has sought till he found the laws of light; he has ar ranged the simple formula of perspective; these are material means which nature provides and imposes. We must know them.
The artist has always told a story of some sort ; let it be the sim ple statement that "Silver is Beautiful with Blue." That is theme enough for a masterpiece of colour. Perhaps it may be that "A Tree against Clouds is a Beautiful Design." That is theme enough for a masterpiece in black and white.
No modern illustrator worthy of the name fails to realize that he is working for the people who buy that medium of dis tribution of story and picture which we call a "magazine." He is paid by so small a fraction of the amount expended that his work is bought for virtually nothing. He is under command of the whim of no one man. But he is under command. So were his forbears. They were under command of the whim of power. One of the greatest, a sculptor, was commanded by peremptory authority to paint the ceiling of the Sistine chapel. He spent three years lying on his back to work upon it and eased his bruises by writing plaintive sonnets and querulous letters to his father complaining that the work was vile and would not be accepted.
We of the present are under command only of the necessity imposed by a vast organization of which we voluntarily form a part. That the story and picture may reach the millions who wait upon a certain day, a great, complicated organization of men and machines must work constantly and without interruption. The illustrator becomes a part of that organization when he accepts a commission. He does not have to accept it; he may refuse; but once undertaken it must be done within a given time that all the processes may function at their best and the printed work delivered where and when it is expected. This is not arbitrary; it is inevitable.
Consider the editorship of the grand epoch of art. The labour of years was unveiled—the cold churchman stalked before it seeking heresy. The partisan peered into its corners for offence. Woe to the poor artist if either was found ! The editor of to-day is all concern in his attitude toward the artist, providing a chair and kindly words; this is found to be more humane than the accusation of heresy and a cell under the leads.
The work of an illustrator is of the present, now. Art is of its own time, looking forward. It derives its knowledge and power of comparison from the past, but its real inspiration from its own time. It is a sad thing to find an artist to-day so possessed with admiration of one of the great of the past that he endeavours to depict his own times, not as the dead genius might do now, but as he did then : whispering an unintelligible echo of stalwart tones reverberating with the meaning of the past. Times have changed. Little of the expression of the past applies to the present. There is no motive now, in any one direction, to impel a living pictorial art.
Mankind is making machines, discovering new laws and forces, applying them to his entertainment. Art, too, is an impulse of nature and it also is being used for entertainment. Born of the multitude, the artist must serve the multitude ; if it so com mands, he serves by leading it. And if it should have a great dream he must present it pictorially. If the public desires tawdry decorations, he will be bullied or cajoled into making them. If it demand entertainment he must help provide it. Increasingly specialized, used for meagre ends, he has therefore almost ceased to be—sleeping, perhaps, to be awakened at the call of a new need. Buildings go up and are torn down after such brief exis tence that mural paintings are but vaguely used—the easel pic ture has little reason to be—it is too heavy for our temporary walls. The exhibition gallery continues to house for its appointed time the dwindling work of the journeyman-apprentice. The real place for pictures seems to be the page of the magazine. The times demand it ; it appears inevitable. Possibly this is only a phase.
It is the illustrator's business to give his best. The public will not help him, because it cannot. It behooves the illustrator to become a scholar; to know; to put all he is and has into his work; to study his story, not merely read it. He must do it alone, for himself ; no one cares. If his work is up to publishing standards in craftsmanship it will be used. Editors will not help him with drastic criticism, or demand his best. He must work alone and for himself—that is what "art for art's sake" means now. It is true he will be paid a handsome sum; but it is also true he will be paid just as much for work not his best. Here is a spiritual problem. He must do his best, for himself, alone, rejoicing if three persons in the million realize it. He must be a strong man.
If a universal motive is a compelling theme for the artist then this universal struggle for wealth should surely supply it. If it is, then it appears to have developed, by almost equally universal patronage, a new art : the motion picture. It may be significant that the most popular, and therefore successful, motion pictures dwell lavishly upon great wealth, the effort to gain it—within or without the law—or else upon broad comedy. The motion picture might be regarded as illustration in its most elaborate form ; but it is not. It is an art alone, and like all arts, best when it tells its own story in its own terms, borrowing from no other.
In the life of to-day there is another new thing. We are con scious of enormous forces that can be made to obey. We are aware of tremendous machines developing an energy equal to an army division, to several army divisions ! We have ceased to fear the forces of nature and we have learned that if we obey natural law we may use the unlimited power nature's forces supply. These huge machines move in simple rhythm ; ponderous creatures, im personal, obedient, whose soulless grandeur has given a character to the times. Their significance is power. Some of us shudder at it, some exult, and it moves deeply the emotions of others.
In the presence of these new beings, made by the hands of men, traditional beauty of graceful curves, with the delicate harmony of colour, becomes a cloying sweetness, out of key. The painter has made an effort to express his sense of all this. Therefore we have had a procession of "schools" : the cubists, the futurists and many others have made efforts to get into tune with the age. The painter tried geometrical forms; he tried brutal evasions of actu ality of form and colour. He sought desperate means indeed. He sought to express the thing he felt—he did not seek to find some new thing to sell. For the painter has tried to stand firm upon integrity and to be faithful to traditions.
Whenever an individual perceives a new and real thing and tells about it, immediately he is surrounded by followers, enthusi asts, incapable of, or lacking the courage of original vision, but quite able to see when shown, and courageous enough to follow. They are sincere. They, in turn, are followed by imitators. The imitator sees only the thing that has been done and he sees it but superficially, copying the mannerism more often than the manner and never apprehending the underlying motive at all. Nor does he care. His purpose is to sell what he can while the public interest in the original remains. He it is who destroys that public interest, for his stature is soon apparent, and his stuff is rejected. The pity of it is that he brings about a misunderstanding of the whole effort ; a few see the work of the original while the many are informed of it only through meaningless imitations.
The camera has gone into every corner of the world and has brought back cold, precise facts. The reporter and the investigator have gone wherever the camera has gone ; they have come home with more facts, and with explanations of the camera's pictures. This is knowledge; the newspapers and magazines send it to every body. The important question to the artist, no matter whether he paint pictures for the galleries or make them for the magazines, is: what have this wide spread knowledge and the countless photo graphs got to do with him? Shall he go into competition with the camera? The camera in the hands of an artist-photographer is a formidable opponent. Can he meet it on its own terms, on its own ground? He cannot. In a fraction of a second it will defeat his labour of weeks.
The taste of the world demands pictures. It demands paintings, illustrations, photographs; it has seemed to declare definitely when and where it desires to see one or another. It would appear, then, that the painting and illustration has something the photo graph lacks. On the other hand when people desire to see in a pic ture what is lacking in painting or illustration they turn to the photograph. The camera can only report what is before it ; it can report with exceeding beauty, at times, but it can only report. The artist can create and he can select from the manifold beauties of nature what he will, to incorporate with his creation. To the artist then, it would seem that the deliberate message of the world appears to be that he is expected to create and to let the camera report.
Those artists (called inventors) having knowledge of the find ings of scientists, have responded superbly to this demand and have created marvellous works. The creations of the inventors have absorbed the attention and the interest of the world almost to the exclusion of pictorial arts except where these contribute as luxu rious accessories, or means of entertainment and amusement. Illustrations are seen by both the "classes" and "masses." They are seen by those capable of discrimination and of appreciation. It behooves the illustrator to respect his "audience." Illustration may become a great art, but to become a great art it must be creative. It cannot hope to compete with the camera in the reporting of facts. It has no business with the outer shell of things at all. It deals with the spirit. Dealing with the psycho logical aspects is a great opportunity and a serious handicap. Pre supposing a pictorial presentation of the relations of people, the telling of the story is inevitable. A great and simple story. a1in to truth. or a poor and trivial one. akin to meagre facts. may be told of the same incident—depending upon the insight. the vision of the artist. The nature of the story portrayed is the measure of the artist who portrays it It makes no difference that he may be most accomplished in his craft. Though he may draw with marvellous skill. though his composition be perfect. though his detail be faultless. if his conception is trivial and his thought upon it slight. then his technical excellences betray him the more and his work is a mere empty and meaninfiess.
•i \ ` {_ - C_ - _' _..... -j _ _ _ _ • -1. 1 27 2 __ __= _ ^--- __- \ -- - - - is _ _- _ _. ~ _ ±_ E. •-= LE- T _ w-`_ _ exercised political power. Queens are mentioned among their rulers. Fuller and more trustworthy information can be obtained from archaeological evidence. In Bosnia the lake-dwellings at Butmir, the cemeteries of Jezerine and Glasinac and other sites have yielded stone and horn implements, iron and bronze orna ments, weapons, etc., and objects of more recent date fashioned in silver, tin, amber and even glass. These illustrate various stages in the development of primitive Illyrian civilization, from the neolithic age onward. The Hallstatt and La Tene cultures are especially well represented. Similar discoveries have been made in Dalmatia, as among the tumuli on the Sabbioncello promontory, and in Croatia-Slavonia. In Dalmatia there appears to have been a large Celtic element, and Celtic place-names are common. The ancient Illyrian languages fall into two groups, the northern, closely connected with Venetic, and the southern, perhaps allied to Messapian and now probably represented by Albanian. (See ALBANIA.) History.—Greek colonization on the Illyrian seaboard prob ably began late in the 7th century B.C. or early in the 6th century. The most important settlements were Epidamnus (Durazzo) and Salona (near Spalato). Researches at Salona (see SPALATO) have brought to light Greek inscriptions, Greek pottery, etc., dating from 600 B.C. But Greek influence seems never to have pene trated far into the interior, and even on the coast it was rapidly superseded by Latin civilization after the 3rd century B.C. Until then the Illyrian tribes appear to have lived in a state of inter mittent warfare with their neighbours and one another. They are said by Herodotus (ix. 43) to have attacked the temple of Delphi. Brasidas with his small army of Spartans was assaulted by them on his march (424 B.C.) across Thessaly and Macedonia to attack the Athenian colonies in Thrace. The earlier history of the Mace donian kings is one constant struggle against the Illyrian tribes. The migrations of the Celts at the beginning of the 4th century disturbed the country between the Danube and the Adriatic. The necessities of defence seem to have united the Illyrians under a chief Bardylis (about 383 B.C.) and his son Clitus, but the great Philip crushed the Illyrians completely, and annexed part of their country. During the next century we hear of them as pirates. Issuing from the secluded harbours of the coast, they ravaged the shores of Italy and Greece, and preyed on the commerce of the Adriatic. The Greeks applied to Rome for help. Teuta, the Illy rian queen, rejected the Roman demands for redress, and mur dered the ambassadors; but the two Illyrian wars (229 and 219 B.C.) ended in the submission of the Illyrians, a considerable part of their territory being annexed by the conquerors. Illyria, how ever, remained a powerful kingdom with its capital of Scodra (Scutari in Albania), until 180 B.C., when the Dalmatians declared themselves independent. In 168 the Romans conquered and an nexed the country. Dalmatia was invaded by a Roman army under Gaius Marcius Figulus in 156, but Figulus was driven back to the Roman frontier, and in Dalmatia the Illyrians were not finally subdued until 165 years afterwards. In 119 L. Caecilius Metellus overran the country and received a triumph and the sur name Dalmatians. But in 51 a Dalmatian raid on Liburnia led to a renewal of hostilities ; the Roman armies were often worsted, and though in 39 Asinius Pollio gained some successes it was not until Octavian took the field in person that the Dalmatians sub mitted in 33. They again revolted in 16 and 11, and in A.D. 6-9 joined the rebel Pannonians. In A.D. 9, however, Tiberius entirely subjugated them, and Dalmatia, Iapydia and Liburnia were united as the province of Illyricum.
Latin civilization spread rapidly, the cultivation of the vine was introduced, gold-mining was carried on in Bosnia, and com mercial cities arose along the coast. Illyria became one of the best recruiting grounds for the Roman legions; and in troubled times Illyrian soldiers fought their way up from the ranks to the impe rial purple. Claudius, Aurelian, Probus, Diocletian and Maximian were all sons of Illyrian peasants. The importance of Illyricum caused its name to be extended to many neighbouring districts; in the end century A.D. Illyricus Limes included Noricum, Pan nonia, Moesia, Dacia and Thrace. The Via Egnatia, the great line of road which connected Rome with Constantinople and the East, led across Illyricum from Dyrrachium to Thessalonica. Either Diocletian or Constantine made Illyricum one of the four pre fectures, each governed by a prae f ectus praetorio, into which the empire was divided. This prefecture included Pannonia, Noricum, Crete and the entire Balkan peninsula except Thrace, which was attached by Constantine to the prefecture of the East. From the partition of the empire in 285 until 379 Illyricum was included in the western empire, but thenceforward eastern Illyricum was an nexed to the eastern empire ; its frontier was almost identical with the line of demarcation between Latin-speaking and Greek-speak ing peoples, and roughly corresponded to the boundary which now severs Latin from Greek Christianity in the Balkan penin sula.
In 441 and 447 the country was ravaged by the Huns. In 481 Dalmatia was added to the Ostrogothic kingdom, which already included the more northerly parts of Illyricum. Bands of Sla vonic invaders gradually established themselves in Illyria, where, unlike the earlier barbarian conquerors, they formed permanent settlements. Between 600 and 65o the main body of the immi grants (Croats and Serbs) occupied Illyria (see SERBIA : History; and SLAYS). The Croats settled in the western half of Illyria, the Serbs in the eastern ; thus the former came under the influence of Italy and Roman Catholicism, the latter under the influence of Byzantium and the Greek Church. Hence the distinction between them became a marked difference of civilization and creed, which has always tended to keep the Illyrian Slays politically disunited.
The Croats and Serbs rapidly absorbed most of the Latinized Illyrians. But the wealthy and powerful city-states on the coast were strong enough to maintain their independence and their dis tinctively Italian character. Other Roman provincials took refuge in the mountains of the interior; some Illyrian tribes remained unconquered among the mountains of Albania and were never Slavonized. With these exceptions Illyria became entirely Serbo Croatian in population, language and culture. The name of Illyria disappeared from history, but was revived in the "Illyrian Prov inces" of 1809 and the "Kingdom of Illyria" of 1816-49. For the political propaganda known as Illyrism, see CROATIA-SLA VONIA : History.