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diff --git a/42917-0.txt b/42917-0.txt index 12d2668..038ddc4 100644 --- a/42917-0.txt +++ b/42917-0.txt @@ -1,37 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Eagle's Nest, by John Ruskin - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Eagle's Nest - Ten Lectures on the Relation of Natural Science to Art, Given Before the University of Oxford, in Lent Term, 1872 - - -Author: John Ruskin - - - -Release Date: June 11, 2013 [eBook #42917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S NEST*** - - -E-text prepared by Paul Murray, KD Weeks, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42917 *** Transcriber's note: @@ -7644,362 +7611,4 @@ Transcriber's note: misnumbered, generally, by two pages (e.g. p. viii = p. vi). 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Eagle's Nest - Ten Lectures on the Relation of Natural Science to Art, Given Before the University of Oxford, in Lent Term, 1872 - - -Author: John Ruskin - - - -Release Date: June 11, 2013 [eBook #42917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S NEST*** - - -E-text prepared by Paul Murray, KD Weeks, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - The text includes a modest amount of Greek, which has - been transliterated here and enclosed by plus signs - (e.g., +sophia+). Ruskin abandoned the Greek characters - in later lectures, transliterating himself. These - appear as printed (not enclosed by plus signs). - - Footnotes have been located to the end of each numbered - paragraph. - - Consult the transcriber's note at the end of this text - for details. - - - - - -THE EAGLE'S NEST. - -Ten Lectures on the Relation of Natural Science to Art, -Given Before the University of Oxford, in Lent Term, 1872 - -by - -JOHN RUSKIN, LL.D., - -Honorary Student of Christ Church, and Honorary Fellow -of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. - -Twelfth Thousand - - - - - - - -London -George Allen, 156, Charing Cross Road -1900 - -[All rights reserved] - -Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. -At the Ballantyne Press - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The following Lectures have been written, not with less care, but with -less pains, than any in former courses, because no labour could have -rendered them exhaustive statements of their subjects, and I wished, -therefore, to take from them every appearance of pretending to be so: -but the assertions I have made are entirely deliberate, though their -terms are unstudied; and the one which to the general reader will appear -most startling, that the study of anatomy is destructive to art, is -instantly necessary in explanation of the system adopted for the -direction of my Oxford schools. - -At the period when engraving might have become to art what printing -became to literature, the four greatest point-draughtsmen hitherto -known, Mantegna, Sandro Botticelli, Dürer, and Holbein, occupied -themselves in the new industry. All these four men were as high in -intellect and moral sentiment as in art-power; and if they had engraved -as Giotto painted, with popular and unscientific simplicity, would have -left an inexhaustible series of prints, delightful to the most innocent -minds, and strengthening to the most noble. - -But two of them, Mantegna and Dürer, were so polluted and paralyzed by -the study of anatomy that the former's best works (the magnificent -mythology of the Vices in the Louvre, for instance) are entirely -revolting to all women and children; while Dürer never could draw one -beautiful female form or face; and, of his important plates, only four, -the Melancholia, St. Jerome in his study, St. Hubert, and The Knight and -Death, are of any use for popular instruction, because in these only, -the figures being fully draped or armed, he was enabled to think and -feel rightly, being delivered from the ghastly toil of bone-delineation. - -Botticelli and Holbein studied the face first, and the limbs -secondarily; and the works they have left are therefore (without -exception) precious; yet saddened and corrupted by the influence which -the contemporary masters of body-drawing exercised on them; and at last -eclipsed by their false fame. I purpose, therefore, in my next course of -lectures, to explain the relation of these two draughtsmen to other -masters of design, and of engraving. - -BRANTWOOD, _Sept. 2nd, 1872._ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - LECTURE I. - - _February 8, 1872._ - - PAGE - THE FUNCTION IN ART OF THE FACULTY CALLED BY - THE GREEKS +sophia+ 1 - - - LECTURE II. - - _February 10, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN SCIENCE OF THE FACULTY CALLED BY - THE GREEKS +sophia+ 25 - - - LECTURE III. - - _February 15, 1872._ - - THE RELATION OF WISE ART TO WISE SCIENCE 46 - - - LECTURE IV. - - _February 17, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN ART AND SCIENCE OF THE VIRTUE - CALLED BY THE GREEKS +sôphrosynê+ 74 - - - LECTURE V. - - _February 22, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN ART AND SCIENCE OF THE VIRTUE - CALLED BY THE GREEKS +autarkeia+ 89 - - - LECTURE VI. - - _February 24, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCE OF LIGHT 114 - - - LECTURE VII. - - _February 29, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF INORGANIC - FORM 138 - - - LECTURE VIII. - - _March 2, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF ORGANIC - FORM 161 - - - LECTURE IX. - - _March 7, 1872._ - - INTRODUCTION TO ELEMENTARY EXERCISES IN PHYSIOLOGIC - ART. THE STORY OF THE HALCYON 188 - - - LECTURE X. - - _March 9, 1872._ - - INTRODUCTION TO ELEMENTARY EXERCISES IN HISTORIC - ART. THE HERALDIC ORDINARIES 225 - - - - - THE EAGLE'S NEST. - - - - - LECTURE I. - - OF WISDOM AND FOLLY IN ART.[A] - - _8th February, 1872._ - - -1. The Lectures I have given hitherto, though, in the matter of them -conscientiously addressed to my undergraduate pupils, yet were greatly -modified in method by my feeling that this undergraduate class, to which -I wished to speak, was indeed a somewhat imaginary one; and that, in -truth, I was addressing a mixed audience, in greater part composed of -the masters of the University, before whom it was my duty to lay down -the principles on which I hoped to conduct, or prepare the way for the -conduct of, these schools, rather than to enter on the immediate work of -elementary teaching. But to-day, and henceforward most frequently, we -are to be engaged in definite, and, I trust, continuous studies; and -from this time forward, I address myself wholly to my undergraduate -pupils; and wish only that my Lectures may be serviceable to them, and, -as far as the subject may admit of it, interesting. - - [A] The proper titles of these lectures, too long for page-headings, - are given in the Contents. - - -2. And, farther still, I must ask even my younger hearers to pardon me -if I treat that subject in a somewhat narrow, and simple way. They have -a great deal of hard work to do in other schools: in these, they must -not think that I underrate their powers, if I endeavour to make -everything as easy to them as possible. No study that is worth pursuing -seriously can be pursued without effort; but we need never make the -effort painful merely for the sake of preserving our dignity. Also, I -shall make my Lectures shorter than heretofore. What I tell you I wish -you to remember; and I do not think it possible for you to remember well -much more than I can easily tell you in half-an-hour. I will promise -that, at all events, you shall always be released so well within the -hour, that you can keep any appointment accurately for the next. You -will not think me indolent in doing this; for, in the first place, I can -assure you, it sometimes takes me a week to think over what it does not -take a minute to say: and, secondly, believe me, the least part of the -work of any sound art-teacher must be his talking. Nay, most deeply -also, it is to be wished that, with respect to the study which I have to -bring before you to-day, in its relation to art, namely, natural -philosophy, the teachers of it, up to this present century, had done -less work in talking, and more in observing: and it would be well even -for the men of this century, pre-eminent and accomplished as they are in -accuracy of observation, if they had completely conquered the old habit -of considering, with respect to any matter, rather what is to be said, -than what is to be known. - - -3. You will, perhaps, readily admit this with respect to science; and -believe my assertion of it with respect to art. You will feel the -probable mischief, in both these domains of intellect, which must follow -on the desire rather to talk than to know, and rather to talk than to -do. But the third domain, into the midst of which, here, in Oxford, -science and art seem to have thrust themselves hotly, like intrusive -rocks, not without grim disturbance of the anciently fruitful -plain;--your Kingdom or Princedom of Literature? Can we carry our -statement into a third parallelism, for that? It is ill for Science, we -say, when men desire to talk rather than to know; ill for Art, when they -desire to talk rather than to do. Ill for Literature, when they desire -to talk,--is it? and rather than--what else? Perhaps you think that -literature means nothing else than talking?--that the triple powers of -science, art, and scholarship, mean simply the powers of knowing, doing, -and saying. But that is not so in any wise. The faculty of saying or -writing anything well, is an art, just as much as any other; and founded -on a science as definite as any other. Professor Max Müller teaches you -the science of language; and there are people who will tell you that the -only art I can teach you myself, is the art of it. But try your triple -parallelism once more, briefly, and see if another idea will not occur -to you. In science, you must not talk before you know. In art, you must -not talk before you do. In literature you must not talk before -you--think. - -That is your third Province. The Kingdom of Thought, or Conception. - -And it is entirely desirable that you should define to yourselves the -three great occupations of men in these following terms:-- - - SCIENCE. The knowledge of things, whether - Ideal or Substantial. - - ART. The modification of Substantial - things by our Substantial Power. - - LITERATURE. The modification of Ideal things - by our Ideal Power. - - -4. But now observe. If this division be a just one, we ought to have a -word for literature, with the 'Letter' left out of it. It is true that, -for the most part, the modification of ideal things by our ideal power -is not complete till it is expressed; nor even to ourselves delightful, -till it is communicated. To letter it and label it--to inscribe and to -word it rightly,--this is a great task, and it is the part of -literature which can be most distinctly taught. But it is only the -formation of its body. And the soul of it can exist without the body; -but not at all the body without the soul; for that is true no less of -literature than of all else in us or of us--"litera occidit, spiritus -autem vivificat." - -Nevertheless, I must be content to-day with our old word. We cannot say -'spiriture' nor 'animature,' instead of literature; but you must not be -content with the vulgar interpretation of the word. Remember always that -you come to this University,--or, at least, your fathers came,--not to -learn how to say things, but how to think them. - - -5. "How to think them! but that is only the art of logic," you perhaps -would answer. No, again, not at all: logic is a method, not a power; and -we have defined literature to be the modification of ideal things by -ideal power, not by mechanical method. And you come to the University to -get that power, or develop it; not to be taught the mere method of using -it. - -I say you come to the University for this; and perhaps some of you are -much surprised to hear it! You did not know that you came to the -University for any such purpose. Nay, perhaps you did not know that you -had come to a University at all? You do not at this instant, some of -you, I am well assured, know what a University means. Does it mean, for -instance--can you answer me in a moment, whether it means--a place -where everybody comes to learn something; or a place where somebody -comes to learn everything? It means--or you are trying to make it -mean--practically and at present, the first; but it means theoretically, -and always, the last; a place where only certain persons come, to learn -_everything_; that is to say, where those who wish to be able to think, -come to learn to think: not to think of mathematics only, nor of morals, -nor of surgery, nor chemistry, but of everything, rightly. - - -6. I say you do not all know this; and yet, whether you know it or -not,--whether you desire it or not,--to some extent the everlasting -fitness of the matter makes the facts conform to it. For we have at -present, observe, schools of three kinds, in operation over the whole of -England. We have--I name it first, though, I am sorry to say, it is last -in influence--the body consisting of the Royal Academy, with the -Institute of Architects, and the schools at Kensington, and their -branches; teaching various styles of fine or mechanical art. We have, in -the second place, the Royal Society, as a central body; and, as its -satellites, separate companies of men devoted to each several science: -investigating, classing, and describing facts with unwearied industry. -And lastly and chiefly, we have the great Universities, with all their -subordinate public schools, distinctively occupied in regulating,--as I -think you will at once admit,--not the language merely, nor even the -language principally, but the modes of philosophical and imaginative -thought in which we desire that youth should be disciplined, and age -informed and majestic. The methods of language, and its range; the -possibilities of its beauty, and the necessities for its precision, are -all dependent upon the range and dignity of the unspoken conceptions -which it is the function of these great schools of literature to awaken, -and to guide. - - -7. The range and dignity of _conceptions_! Let us pause a minute or two -at these words, and be sure we accept them. - -First, what _is_ a conception? What is this separate object of our -work, as scholars, distinguished from artists, and from men of science? - -We shall discover this better by taking a simple instance of the three -agencies. - -Suppose that you were actually on the plain of Pæstum, watching the -drift of storm-cloud which Turner has here engraved.[B] If you had -occupied yourself chiefly in schools of science, you would think of the -mode in which the electricity was collected; of the influence it had on -the shape and motion of the cloud; of the force and duration of its -flashes, and of other such material phenomena. If you were an artist, -you would be considering how it might be possible, with the means at -your disposal, to obtain the brilliancy of the light, or the depth of -the gloom. Finally, if you were a scholar, as distinguished from either -of these, you would be occupied with the imagination of the state of the -temple in former times; and as you watched the thunderclouds drift past -its columns, and the power of the God of the heavens put forth, as it -seemed, in scorn of the departed power of the god who was thought by the -heathen to shake the earth--the utterance of your mind would become, -whether in actual words or not, such as that of the Psalmist:--"Clouds -and darkness are round about Him--righteousness and judgment are the -habitation of His throne." Your thoughts would take that shape, of their -own accord, and if they fell also into the language, still your -essential scholarship would consist, not in your remembering the verse, -still less in your knowing that "judgment" was a Latin word, and -"throne" a Greek one; but in your having power enough of conception, and -elevation enough of character, to understand the nature of justice, and -be appalled before the majesty of dominion. - - [B] Educational Series, No. 8, E. - - -8. You come, therefore, to this University, I repeat once again, that -you may learn how to form conceptions of proper range or grasp, and -proper dignity, or worthiness. Keeping then the ideas of a separate -school of art, and separate school of science, what have you to learn in -these? You would learn in the school of art, the due range and dignity -of deeds; or doings--(I prefer the word to "makings," as more general), -and in the school of science, you would have to learn the range and -dignity of knowledges. - -Now be quite clear about this: be sure whether you really agree with me -or not. - -You come to the School of Literature, I say, to learn the range and -dignity of conceptions. - -To the School of Art, to learn the range and dignity of deeds. - -To the School of Science, to learn the range and dignity of knowledges. - -Do you agree to that, or not? I will assume that you admit my triple -division; but do you think, in opposition to me, that a school of -science is still a school of science, whatever sort of knowledge it -teaches; and a school of art still a school of art, whatever sort of -deed it teaches; and a school of literature still a school of -literature, whatever sort of notion it teaches? - -Do you think that? for observe, my statement denies that. My statement -is, that a school of literature teaches you to have one sort of -conception, not another sort; a school of art to do a particular sort of -deed, not another sort; a school of science to possess a particular sort -of knowledge, not another sort. - - -9. I assume that you differ with me on this point;--some of you -certainly will. Well then, let me go back a step. You will all go thus -far with me, that--now taking the Greek words--the school of literature -teaches you to have +nous+, or conception of things, instead of -+anoia+,--no conception of things; that the school of art teaches -you +technê+ of things, instead of +atechnia+; and the school -of science +epistêmê+, instead of +agnoia+ or 'ignorantia.' But, -you recollect, Aristotle names two other faculties with these -three,--+phronêsis+, namely, and +sophia+. He has altogether five, -+technê+, +epistêmê+, +phronêsis+, +sophia+, +nous+; that is to say, -in simplest English,--art, science, sense, wisdom, and wit. We have got -our art, science, and wit, set over their three domains; and we old -people send you young ones to those three schools, that you may not -remain artless, scienceless, nor witless. But how of the sense, and the -wisdom? What domains belong to these? Do you think our trefoil division -should become cinquefoil, and that we ought to have two additional -schools; one of Philosophia, and one of Philophronesia? If Aristotle's -division were right it would be so. But his division is wrong, and he -presently shows it is; for he tells you in the next page, (in the -sentence I have so often quoted to you,) that "the virtue of art is the -wisdom which consists in the wit of what is honourable." Now that is -perfectly true; but it of course vitiates his division altogether. He -divides his entire subject into _A_, _B_, _C_, _D_, and _E_; and then he -tells you that the virtue of _A_ is the _B_ which consists in _C_. Now -you will continually find, in this way, that Aristotle's assertions are -right, but his divisions illogical. It is quite true that the virtue of -art is the wisdom which consists in the wit of what is honourable; but -also the virtue of science is the wit of what is honourable, and in the -same sense, the virtue of +nous+, or wit itself, consists in its _being_ -the wit or conception of what is honourable. +Sophia+, therefore, is not -only the +aretê technês+, but, in exactly the same sense, the +aretê -epistêmês+, and in this sense, it is the +aretê noou+. And if not -governed by +sophia+, each school will teach the vicious condition of -its own special faculty. As +sophia+ is the +aretê+ of all three, so -+môria+ will be the +kakia+ of all three. - - -10. Now in this, whether you agree with me or not, let me be at least -sure you understand me. +Sophia+, I say, is the virtue, +môria+ is the -vice, of all the three faculties of art, science, and literature. There -is for each of them a negative and a positive side, as well as a zero. -There is a nescience for zero in science--with wise science on one side, -foolish science on the other: +atechnia+ for zero in art, with wise art -on one side, foolish art on the other; and +anoia+ for zero in +nous+, -with wise +nous+ on one side, foolish +nous+ on the other. - - -11. You will smile at that last expression, 'foolish +nous+.' Yet it is, -of all foolish things, the commonest and deadliest. We continually -complain of men, much more of women, for reasoning ill. But it does not -matter how they reason, if they don't conceive basely. Not one person in -a hundred is capable of seriously reasoning; the difference between man -and man is in the quickness and quality, the accipitrine intensity, the -olfactory choice, of his +nous+. Does he hawk at game or carrion? What -you choose to grasp with your mind is the question;--not how you handle -it afterwards. What does it matter how you build, if you have bad bricks -to build with; or how you reason, if every idea with which you begin is -foul or false? And in general all fatal false reasoning proceeds from -people's having some one false notion in their hearts, with which they -are resolved that their reasoning _shall_ comply. - -But, for better illustration, I will now take my own special subject out -of the three;--+technê+. I have said that we have, for its zero, -+atechnia+, or artlessness--in Latin, 'inertia,' opposed to 'ars.' Well, -then, we have, from that zero, wise art on the one side, foolish art on -the other; and the finer the art, the more it is capable of this living -increase, or deadly defect. I will take, for example, first, a very -simple art, then a finer one; but both of them arts with which most of -you are thoroughly acquainted. - - -12. One of the simplest pieces of perfect art, which you are yourselves -in the habit of practising, is the stroke of an oar given in true time. -We have defined art to be the wise modification of matter by the body -(substantial things by substantial power, § 3). With a good oar-stroke -you displace a certain quantity of water in a wise way. Supposing you -missed your stroke, and caught a crab, you would displace a certain -quantity of water in a foolish way, not only ineffectually, but in a way -the reverse of what you intended. The perfectness of the stroke implies -not only absolutely accurate knowledge or science of the mode in which -water resists the blade of an oar, but the having in past time met that -resistance repeatedly with greater and greater rightness of adaptation -to the end proposed. That end being perfectly simple,--the advance of -the boat as far as possible with a given expenditure of strength, you at -once recognize the degree in which the art falls short of, or the -artlessness negatives, your purpose. But your being '+sophos+,' as an -oarsman, implies much more than this mere art founded on pure science. -The fact of your being able to row in a beautiful manner depends on -other things than the knowledge of the force of water, or the repeated -practice of certain actions in resistance to it. It implies the practice -of those actions under a resolved discipline of the body, involving -regulation of the passions. It signifies submission to the authority, -and amicable concurrence with the humours, of other persons; and so far -as it is beautifully done at last, absolutely signifies therefore a -moral and intellectual rightness, to the necessary extent influencing -the character honourably and graciously. This is the sophia, or wit, of -what is most honourable, which is concerned in rowing, without which it -must become no rowing, or the reverse of rowing. - - -13. Let us next take example in an art which perhaps you will think -(though I hope not) much inferior to rowing, but which is in reality a -much higher art--dancing. I have just told you (§ 11) how to test the -rank of arts--namely, by their corruptibility, as you judge of the -fineness of organic substance. The moria,[C] or folly, of rowing, is -only ridiculous, but the moria, or folly, of dancing, is much worse than -ridiculous; and, therefore, you may know that its sophia, or wisdom, -will be much more beautiful than the wisdom of rowing. Suppose, for -instance, a minuet danced by two lovers, both highly bred, both of noble -character, and very much in love with each other. You would see, in -that, an art of the most highly finished kind, under the government of a -sophia which dealt with the strongest passions, and most exquisite -perceptions of beauty, possible to humanity. - - [C] If the English reader will pronounce the o in this word as in - fold, and in sophia as in sop, but accenting the o, not the i, I - need not any more disturb my pages with Greek types. - - -14. For example of the contrary of these, in the same art, I cannot give -you one more definite than that which I saw at, I think, the Gaiety -Theatre--but it might have been at any London theatre now,--two years -ago. - -The supposed scene of the dance was Hell, which was painted in the -background with its flames. The dancers were supposed to be demons, and -wore black masks, with red tinsel for fiery eyes; the same red light was -represented as coming out of their ears also. They began their dance by -ascending through the stage on spring trap-doors, which threw them at -once ten feet into the air; and its performance consisted in the -expression of every kind of evil passion, in frantic excess. - - -15. You will not, I imagine, be at a loss to understand the sense in -which the words sophia and moria are to be rightly used of these two -methods of the same art. But those of you who are in the habit of -accurate thinking will at once perceive that I have introduced a new -element into my subject by taking an instance in a higher art. The folly -of rowing consisted mainly in not being able to row; but this folly of -dancing does not consist in not being able to dance, but in dancing -well with evil purpose; and the better the dancing, the worse the -result. - -And now I am afraid I must tease you by asking your attention to what -you may at first think a vain nicety in analysis, but the nicety is here -essential, and I hope throughout this course of Lectures, not to be so -troublesome to you again. - - -16. The mere negation of the power of art--the zero of it--you say, in -rowing, is ridiculous. It is, of course, not less ridiculous in dancing. -But what do you mean by ridiculous? You mean contemptible, so as to -provoke laughter. The contempt, in either case, is slight, in ordinary -society; because, though a man may neither know how to row, or dance, he -may know many other things. But suppose he lived where he could not know -many other things? By a stormy sea-coast, where there could be no -fresco-painting, in a poor country, where could be none of the fine arts -connected with wealth, and in a simple, and primitive society, not yet -reached by refinements of literature; but where good rowing was -necessary for the support of life, and good dancing, one of the most -vivid aids to domestic pleasure. You would then say that inability to -row, or to dance, was far worse than ridiculous; that it marked a man -for a good-for-nothing fellow, to be regarded with indignation, as well -as contempt. - -Now, remember, the inertia or zero of art always involves this kind of -crime, or at least, pitiableness. The want of opportunity of learning -takes away the moral guilt of artlessness; but the want of opportunity -of learning such arts as are becoming in given circumstances, may indeed -be no crime in an individual, but cannot be alleged in its defence by a -nation. National ignorance of decent art is always criminal, unless in -earliest conditions of society; and then it is brutal. - - -17. To that extent, therefore, culpably or otherwise, a kind of moria, -or folly, is always indicated by the zero of art-power. But the true -folly, or assuredly culpable folly, is in the exertion of our art power -in an evil direction. And here we need the finesse of distinction, which -I am afraid will be provoking to you. Observe, first, and simply, that -the possession of any art-power at all implies a sophia of _some_ kind. -These demon dancers, of whom I have just spoken, were earning their -bread by severe and honest labour. The skill they possessed could not -have been acquired but by great patience and resolute self-denial; and -the very power with which they were able to express, with precision, -states of evil passion, indicated that they had been brought up in a -society which, in some measure, knew evil from good, and which had, -therefore, some measure of good in the midst of it. Nay, the farther -probability is, that if you inquired into the life of these men, you -would find that this demon dance had been invented by some one of them -with a great imaginative power, and was performed by them not at all in -preference of evil, but to meet the demand of a public whose admiration -was capable of being excited only by violence of gesture, and vice of -emotion. - - -18. In all cases, therefore, observe, where the opportunity of learning -has been given; the existence of the art-power indicates sophia and its -absence indicates moria. That great fact I endeavoured to express to -you, two years since, in my third introductory Lecture. In the present -course I have to show you the action of the final, or higher sophia, -which directs the skill of art to the best purposes; and of the final, -or lower moria, which misdirects them to the worst. And the two points -I shall endeavour to bring before you throughout will be these:--First, -that the object of University teaching is to form your conceptions; not -to acquaint you with arts, nor sciences. It is to give you a notion of -what is meant by smith's work, for instance;--but not to make you -blacksmiths. It is to give you a notion of what is meant by medicine, -but not to make you physicians. The proper academy for blacksmiths is a -blacksmith's forge; the proper academy for physicians is an hospital. -Here you are to be taken away from the forge, out of the hospital, out -of all special and limited labour and thought, into the 'Universitas' of -labour and thought, that you may in peace, in leisure, in calm of -disinterested contemplation, be enabled to conceive rightly the laws of -nature, and the destinies of Man. - - -19. Then the second thing I have to show you is that over these three -kingdoms of imagination, art, and science, there reigns a virtue or -faculty, which from all time, and by all great people, has been -recognised as the appointed ruler and guide of every method of labour, -or passion of soul; and the most glorious recompense of the toil, and -crown of the ambition of man. "She is more precious than rubies, and all -the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Lay fast -hold upon her; let her not go; keep her, for she is thy life." - -Are not these, and the innumerable words like to these, which you -remember as I read them, strange words, if Aristotle's statement -respecting wisdom be true; that it never contemplates anything that can -make men happy, "+hê men gar sophia ouden theôrei ex hôn estai eudaimôn -anthrôpos+"? - -When we next meet, therefore, I purpose to examine what it is which -wisdom, by preference, contemplates; what choice she makes among the -thoughts and sciences open to her, and to what purpose she employs -whatever science she may possess. - -And I will briefly tell you, beforehand, that the result of the inquiry -will be, that instead of regarding none of the sources of happiness, she -regards nothing else; that she measures all worthiness by pure felicity; -that we are permitted to conceive her as the cause even of gladness to -God--"I was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him,"--and that -we are commanded to _know_ her as queen of the populous world, -"rejoicing in the habitable parts of the Earth, and whose delights are -with the sons of Men." - - - - - LECTURE II. - - OF WISDOM AND FOLLY IN SCIENCE. - - _10th February, 1872._ - - -20. In my last lecture I asserted the positive and negative powers of -literature, art, and science; and endeavoured to show you some of the -relations of wise art to foolish art. To-day we are to examine the -nature of these positive and negative powers in science; it being the -object of every true school to teach the positive or constructive power, -and by all means to discourage, reprove, and extinguish the negative -power. - -It is very possible that you may not often have thought of, or clearly -defined to yourselves, this destructive or deadly character of some -elements of science. You may indeed have recognized with Pope that a -little knowledge was dangerous, and you have therefore striven to drink -deep; you may have recognized with Bacon, that knowledge might partially -become venomous; and you may have sought, in modesty and sincerity, -antidote to the inflating poison. But that there is a ruling spirit or -+sophia+, under whose authority you are placed, to determine for you, -first the choice, and then the use of all knowledge whatsoever; and that -if you do not appeal to that ruler, much more if you disobey her, all -science becomes to you ruinous in proportion to its accumulation, and as -a net to your soul, fatal in proportion to the fineness of its -thread,--this, I imagine, few of you, in the zeal of learning, have -suspected, and fewer still have pressed their suspicion so far as to -recognize or believe. - - -21. You must have nearly all heard of, many must have seen, the singular -paintings; some also may have read the poems, of William Blake. The -impression that his drawings once made is fast, and justly, fading away, -though they are not without noble merit. But his poems have much more -than merit; they are written with absolute sincerity, with infinite -tenderness, and, though in the manner of them diseased and wild, are in -verity the words of a great and wise mind, disturbed, but not deceived, -by its sickness; nay, partly exalted by it, and sometimes giving forth -in fiery aphorism some of the most precious words of existing -literature. One of these passages I will ask you to remember; it will -often be serviceable to you-- - - "Doth the Eagle know what is in the pit, - Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?" - -It would be impossible to express to you in briefer terms the great -truth that there is a different kind of knowledge good for every -different creature, and that the glory of the higher creatures is in -ignorance of what is known to the lower. - - -22. And, above all, this is true of man; for every other creature is -compelled by its instinct to learn its own appointed lesson, and must -centralize its perception in its own being. But man has the choice of -stooping in science beneath himself, and striving in science beyond -himself; and the "Know thyself" is, for him, not a law to which he must -in peace submit; but a precept which of all others is the most painful -to understand, and the most difficult to fulfil. Most painful to -understand, and humiliating; and this alike, whether it be held to -refer to the knowledge beneath us, or above. For, singularly enough, men -are always most conceited of the meanest science:-- - - "Doth the Eagle know what is in the pit, - Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?" - -It is just those who grope with the mole, and cling with the bat, who -are vainest of their sight and of their wings. - - -23. "Know _thyself_;" but can it indeed be sophia,--can it be the noble -wisdom, which thus speaks to science? Is not this rather, you will ask, -the voice of the lower virtue of prudence, concerning itself with right -conduct, whether for the interests of this world or of the future? Does -not sophia regard all that is above and greater than man; and by so much -as we are forbidden to bury ourselves in the mole's earth-heap, by so -much also, are we not urged to raise ourselves towards the stars? - -Indeed, it would at first seem so; nay, in the passage of the Ethics, -which I proposed to you to-day for question, you are distinctly told so. -There are, it is said, many different kinds of phronesis, by which every -animal recognizes what is for its own good: and man, like any other -creature, has his own separate phronesis telling him what he is to seek, -and to do, for the preservation of his life: but above all these forms -of prudence, the Greek sage tells you, is the sophia of which the -objects are unchangeable and eternal, the methods consistent, and the -conclusions universal: and this wisdom has no regard whatever to the -things in which the happiness of man consists, but acquaints itself only -with the things that are most honourable; so that "we call Anaxagoras -and Thales, and such others, wise indeed, but not prudent, in that they -know nothing of what is for their own advantage, but know surpassing -things, marvellous things, difficult things, and divine things." - - -24. Now here is a question which evidently touches _us_ closely. We -profess at this day to be an especially prudent nation;--to regard only -the things which are for our own advantage; to leave to other races the -knowledge of surpassing things, marvellous things, divine things, or -beautiful things; and in our exceeding prudence we are, at this moment, -refusing the purchase of, perhaps, the most interesting picture by -Raphael in the world, and, certainly, one of the most beautiful works -ever produced by the art-wisdom of man, for five-and-twenty thousand -pounds, while we are debating whether we shall not pay three hundred -millions to the Americans, as a fine for selling a small frigate to -Captain Semmes. Let me reduce these sums from thousands of pounds, to -single pounds; you will then see the facts more clearly; (there is not -one person in a million who knows what a "million" means; and that is -one reason the nation is always ready to let its ministers spend a -million or two in cannon, if they can show they have saved -twopence-halfpenny in tape). These are the facts then, stating pounds -for thousands of pounds; you are offered a Nativity, by Raphael, for -five-and-twenty pounds, and cannot afford it; but it is thought you may -be bullied into paying three hundred thousand pounds, for having sold a -ship to Captain Semmes. I do not say you will pay it. Still your present -position is one of deprecation and humility, and that is the kind of -result which you bring about by acting with what you call "practical -common sense," instead of Divine wisdom. - - -25. Perhaps you think I am losing Aristotle's notion of common sense, by -confusing it with our vulgar English one; and that selling ships or -ammunition to people whom we have not courage to fight either for or -against, would not by Aristotle have been held a phronetic, or prudent -proceeding. Be it so; let us be certain then, if we can, what Aristotle -does mean. Take the instance I gave you in the last lecture, of the -various modes of feeling in which a master of literature, of science, -and of art, would severally regard the storm round the temples of -Pæstum. - -The man of science, we said, thought of the origin of the electricity; -the artist of its light in the clouds, and the scholar, of its relation -to the power of Zeus and Poseidon. There you have Episteme; Techne; and -Nous; well, now what does Phronesis do? - -Phronesis puts up his umbrella, and goes home as fast as he can. -Aristotle's Phronesis at least does; having no regard for marvellous -things. But are you sure that Aristotle's Phronesis is indeed the right -sort of Phronesis? May there not be a commonsense, as well as an art, -and a science, under the command of sophia? Let us take an instance of a -more subtle kind. - - -26. Suppose that two young ladies, (I assume in my present lectures, -that none are present, and that we may say among ourselves what we like; -and we do like, do we not, to suppose that young ladies excel us only in -prudence, and not in wisdom?) let us suppose that two young ladies go to -the observatory on a winter night, and that one is so anxious to look at -the stars that she does not care whether she gives herself cold, or not; -but the other is prudent, and takes care, and looks at the stars only as -long as she can without catching cold. In Aristotle's mind the first -young lady would properly deserve the name of Sophia, and the other that -of Prudence. But in order to judge them fairly, we must assume that they -are acting under exactly the same conditions. Assume that they both -equally desire to look at the stars; then, the fact that one of them -stops when it would be dangerous to look longer, does not show that she -is less wise,--less interested, that is to say, in surpassing and -marvellous things;--but it shows that she has more self-command, and is -able therefore to remember what the other does not think of. She is -equally wise, and more sensible. But suppose that the two girls are -originally different in disposition; and that the one, having much more -imagination than the other, is more interested in these surpassing and -marvellous things; so that the self-command, which is enough to stop the -other, who cares little for the stars, is not enough to stop her who -cares much for them;--you would say, then, that, both the girls being -equally sensible, the one that caught cold was the wisest. - - -27. Let us make a farther supposition. Returning to our first condition, -that both the girls desire equally to look at the stars; let us put it -now that both have equal self-command, and would therefore, supposing no -other motives were in their minds, together go on star-gazing, or -together stop star-gazing; but that one of them has greater -consideration for her friends than the other, and though she would not -mind catching cold for her own part, would mind it much for fear of -giving her mother trouble. She will leave the stars first, therefore; -but should we be right now in saying that she was only more sensible -than her companion, and not more wise? This respect for the feelings of -others, this understanding of her duty towards others, is a much higher -thing than the love of stars. It is an imaginative knowledge, not of -balls of fire or differences of space, but of the feelings of living -creatures, and of the forces of duty by which they justly move. This is -a knowledge, or perception, therefore, of a thing more surpassing and -marvellous than the stars themselves, and the grasp of it is reached by -a higher sophia. - - -28. Will you have patience with me for one supposition more? We may -assume the attraction of the spectacle of the heavens to be equal in -degree, and yet, in the minds of the two girls, it may be entirely -different in kind. Supposing the one versed somewhat in abstract -Science, and more or less acquainted with the laws by which what she now -sees may be explained; she will probably take interest chiefly in -questions of distance and magnitude, in varieties of orbit, and -proportions of light. Supposing the other not versed in any science of -this kind, but acquainted with the traditions attached by the religion -of dead nations to the figures they discerned in the sky: she will care -little for arithmetical or geometrical matters, but will probably -receive a much deeper emotion, from witnessing in clearness what has -been the amazement of so many eyes long closed; and recognizing the same -lights, through the same darkness, with innocent shepherds and -husbandmen, who knew only the risings and settings of the immeasurable -vault, as its lights shone on their own fields or mountains; yet saw -true miracle in them, thankful that none but the Supreme Ruler could -bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion. I -need not surely tell you, that in this exertion of the intellect and the -heart, there would be a far nobler sophia than any concerned with the -analysis of matter, or the measurement of space. - - -29. I will not weary you longer with questions, but simply tell you, -what you will find ultimately to be true, that sophia is the form of -thought, which makes common sense unselfish,--knowledge unselfish,--art -unselfish,--and wit and imagination unselfish. Of all these, by -themselves, it is true that they are partly venomous; that, as knowledge -puffeth up, so does prudence--so does art--so does wit; but, added to -all these, wisdom, or (you may read it as an equivalent word), added to -all these--charity, edifieth. - - -30. Note the word; builds forward, or builds up, and builds securely -because on modest and measured foundation, wide, though low, and in the -natural and living rock. - -Sophia is the faculty which recognizes in all things their bearing upon -life, in the entire sum of life that we know, bestial and human; but, -which, understanding the appointed objects of that life, concentrates -its interest and its power on Humanity, as opposed on the one side to -the Animalism which it must rule, and distinguished on the other side -from the Divinity which rules it, and which it cannot imagine. - -It is as little the part of a wise man to reflect much on the nature of -beings above him, as of beings beneath him. It is immodest to suppose -that he can conceive the one, and degrading to suppose that he should be -busied with the other. To recognize his everlasting inferiority, and his -everlasting greatness; to know himself, and his place; to be content to -submit to God without understanding Him; and to rule the lower creation -with sympathy and kindness, yet neither sharing the passion of the wild -beast, nor imitating the science of the Insect;--this you will find is -to be modest towards God, gentle to His creatures, and wise for -himself. - - -31. I think you will now be able to fasten in your minds, first the idea -of unselfishness, and secondly, that of modesty, as component elements -of sophia; and having obtained thus much, we will at once make use of -our gain, by rendering more clear one or two points respecting its -action on art, that we may then see more surely its obscurer function in -science. - -It is absolutely unselfish, we say, not in the sense of being without -desire, or effort to gratify that desire; on the contrary, it longs -intensely to see, or know the things it is rightly interested in. But it -is not interested specially in itself. In the degree of his wisdom, an -artist is unconcerned about his work as his own;--concerned about it -only in the degree in which he would be, if it were another -man's--recognizing its precise value, or no value, from that outer -standpoint. I do not think, unless you examine your minds very -attentively, that you can have any conception of the difficulty of doing -this. Absolutely to do it is impossible, for we are all intended by -nature to be a little unwise, and to derive more pleasure, therefore, -from our own success than that of others. But the intense degree of the -difference is usually unmeasured by us. In preparing the drawings for -you to use as copies in these schools, my assistant and I are often -sitting beside each other; and he is at work, usually, on the more -important drawing of the two. I so far recognize that greater -importance, when it exists, that if I had the power of determining which -of us should succeed, and which fail, I should be wise enough to choose -his success rather than my own. But the actual effect on my own mind, -and comfort, is very different in the two cases. If _he_ fails, I am -sorry, but not mortified;--on the contrary, perhaps a little pleased. I -tell him, indulgently, 'he will do better another time,' and go down -with great contentment to my lunch. But, if _I_ fail, though I would -rather, for the sake of the two drawings, have had it so, the effect on -my temper is very different. I say, philosophically, that it was better -so--but I can't eat any lunch. - - -32. Now, just imagine what this inherently selfish -passion--unconquerable as you will find it by the most deliberate and -maintained efforts--fancy what it becomes, when instead of striving to -subdue, we take every means in our power to increase and encourage it; -and when all the circumstances around us concur in the deadly -cultivation. In all base schools of Art, the craftsman is dependent for -his bread on originality; that is to say, on finding in himself some -fragment of isolated faculty, by which his work may be recognized as -distinct from that of other men. We are ready enough to take delight in -our little doings, without any such stimulus;--what must be the effect -of the popular applause which continually suggests that the little thing -we can separately do is as excellent as it is singular! and what the -effect of the bribe, held out to us through the whole of life, to -produce--it being also at our peril _not_ to produce--something -different from the work of our neighbours? In all great schools of art -these conditions are exactly reversed. An artist is praised in these, -not for what is different in him from others, nor for solitary -performance of singular work; but only for doing most strongly what all -are endeavouring; and for contributing, in the measure of his strength, -to some great achievement, to be completed by the unity of multitudes, -and the sequence of ages. - - -33. And now, passing from art to science, the unselfishness of sophia is -shown by the value it therein attaches to every part of knowledge, new -or old, in proportion to its real utility to mankind, or largeness of -range in creation. The selfishness which renders sophia impossible, and -enlarges the elastic and vaporous kingdom of folly, is shown by our -caring for knowledge only so far as we have been concerned in its -discovery, or are ourselves skilled and admired in its communication. If -there is an art which "puffeth up," even when we are surrounded by -magnificence of achievement of past ages, confessedly not by us to be -rivalled, how much more must there be a science which puffeth up, when, -by the very condition of science, it must be an advance on the -attainments of former time, and however slight, or however slow, is -still always as the leaf of a pleasant spring compared to the dried -branches of years gone by? And, for the double calamity of the age in -which we live, it has chanced that the demand of the vulgar and the dull -for originality in Art, is associated with the demand of a sensual -economy for originality in science; and the praise which is too readily -given always to discoveries that are new, is enhanced by the reward -which rapidity of communication now ensures to discoveries that are -profitable. What marvel if future time shall reproach us with having -destroyed the labours, and betrayed the knowledge of the greatest -nations and the wisest men, while we amused ourselves with fantasy in -art, and with theory in science: happy, if the one was idle without -being vicious, and the other mistaken without being mischievous. Nay, -truth, and success, are often to us more deadly than error. Perhaps no -progress more triumphant has been made in any science than that of -Chemistry; but the practical fact which will remain for the -contemplation of the future, is that we have lost the art of painting on -glass, and invented gun-cotton and nitroglycerine. "Can you imagine," -the future will say, "those English fools of the nineteenth century, who -went about putting up memorials of themselves in glass which they could -not paint, and blowing their women and children to pieces with -cartridges they would not fight with?" - - -34. You may well think, gentlemen, that I am unjust and prejudiced in -such sayings;--you may imagine that when all our mischievous inventions -have done their worst, and the wars they provoked by cowardice have been -forgotten in dishonour, our great investigators will be remembered, as -men who laid first the foundations of fruitful knowledge, and vindicated -the majesty of inviolable law. No, gentlemen; it will not be so. In a -little while, the discoveries of which we are now so proud will be -familiar to all. The marvel of the future will not be that we should -have discerned them, but that our predecessors were blind to them. We -may be envied, but shall not be praised, for having been allowed first -to perceive and proclaim what could be concealed no longer. But the -misuse we made of our discoveries will be remembered against us, in -eternal history; our ingenuity in the vindication, or the denial, of -species, will be disregarded in the face of the fact that we destroyed, -in civilized Europe, every rare bird and secluded flower; our chemistry -of agriculture will be taunted with the memories of irremediable famine; -and our mechanical contrivance will only make the age of the -mitrailleuse more abhorred than that of the guillotine. - - -35. Yes, believe me, in spite of our political liberality, and poetical -philanthropy; in spite of our almshouses, hospitals, and Sunday-schools; -in spite of our missionary endeavours to preach abroad what we cannot -get believed at home; and in spite of our wars against slavery, -indemnified by the presentation of ingenious bills,--we shall be -remembered in history as the most cruel, and therefore the most unwise, -generation of men that ever yet troubled the earth:--the most cruel in -proportion to their sensibility,--the most unwise in proportion to their -science. No people, understanding pain, ever inflicted so much: no -people, understanding facts, ever acted on them so little. You execrate -the name of Eccelin of Padua, because he slew two thousand innocent -persons to maintain his power; and Dante cries out against Pisa that she -should be sunk in the sea, because, in revenge for treachery, she put to -death, by the slow pangs of starvation, not the traitor only, but his -children. But we men of London, we of the modern Pisa, slew, a little -while since, _five hundred_ thousand men instead of _two_ thousand--(I -speak in official terms, and know my numbers)--these we slew, all -guiltless; and these we slew, not for defence, nor for revenge, but most -literally in _cold_ blood; and these we slew, fathers and children -together, by slow starvation--simply because, while we contentedly kill -our own children in competition for places in the Civil Service, we -never ask, when once they have got the places, whether the Civil Service -is done. - - -36. That was our missionary work in Orissa, some three or four years -ago;--our Christian miracle of the five loaves, assisted as we are in -its performance, by steam-engines for the threshing of the corn, and by -railroads for carrying it, and by proposals from English noblemen to cut -down all the trees in England, for better growing it. That, I repeat, is -what we did, a year or two ago; what are we doing now? Have any of you -chanced to hear of the famine in Persia? Here, with due science, we -arrange the roses in our botanic garden, thoughtless of the country of -the rose. With due art of horticulture, we prepare for our harvest of -peaches;--it might perhaps seriously alarm us to hear, next autumn, of a -coming famine of peaches. But the famine of all things, in the country -of the peach--do you know of it, care for it:--quaint famine that it is, -in the fruitfullest, fairest, richest of the estates of earth; from -which the Magi brought their treasures to the feet of Christ? - -How much of your time, scientific faculty, popular literature, has been -given, since this year began, to ascertain what England can do for the -great countries under her command, or for the nations that look to her -for help; and how much to discuss the chances of a single impostor's -getting a few thousands a year? - -Gentlemen, if your literature, popular and other; or your art, popular -and other; or your science, popular and other, is to be eagle-eyed, -remember that question I to-day solemnly put to you--will you hawk at -game or carrion? Shall it be only said of the thoughts of the heart of -England--"Wheresoever the _carcase_ is, thither shall the eagles be -gathered together"? - - - - - LECTURE III. - - THE RELATION OF WISE ART TO WISE SCIENCE. - - _"The morrow after St. Valentine's," 1872._ - - -37. Our task to-day is to examine the relation between art and science, -each governed by sophia, and becoming capable, therefore, of consistent -and definable relation to each other. Between foolish art and foolish -science, there may indeed be all manner of reciprocal mischievous -influence; but between wise art and wise science there is essential -relation, for each other's help and dignity. - -You observe, I hope, that I always use the term 'science,' merely as the -equivalent of 'knowledge.' I take the Latin word, rather than the -English, to mark that it is knowledge of constant things, not merely of -passing events: but you had better lose even that distinction, and -receive the word "scientia" as merely the equivalent of our English -"knowledge," than fall into the opposite error of supposing that -science means systematization or discovery. It is not the arrangement of -new systems, nor the discovery of new facts, which constitutes a man of -science; but the submission to an eternal system; and the proper grasp -of facts already known. - - -38. And, at first, to-day, I use the word "art" only of that in which it -is my special office to instruct you; graphic imitation; or, as it is -commonly called, Fine art. Of course, the arts of construction,--building, -carpentering, and the like, are directly dependent on many sciences, -but in a manner which needs no discussion, so that we may put that -part of the business out of our way. I mean by art, to-day, only imitative -art; and by science, to-day, not the knowledge of general laws, but of -existent facts. I do not mean by science, for instance, the knowledge -that triangles with equal bases and between parallels, are equal, but -the knowledge that the stars in Cassiopeia are in the form of a =W=. - -Now, accepting the terms 'science' and 'art' under these limitations, -wise art is only the reflex or shadow of wise science. Whatever it is -really desirable and honourable to know, it is also desirable and -honourable to know as completely and as long as possible; therefore, to -present, or re-present, in the most constant manner; and to bring again -and again, not only within the thoughts, but before the eyes; describing -it, not with vague words, but distinct lines, and true colours, so as to -approach always as nearly as may be to the likeness of the thing itself. - - -39. Can anything be more simple, more evidently or indisputably natural -and right, than such connection of the two powers? That you should -desire to know what you ought; what is worthy of your nature, and -helpful to your life: to know that;--nothing less,--nothing more; and to -keep record and definition of such knowledge near you, in the most vivid -and explanatory form? - -Nothing, surely, can be more simple than this; yet the sum of art -judgment and of art practice is in this. You are to recognize, or know, -beautiful and noble things--notable, notabilia, or nobilia; and then you -are to give the best possible account of them you can, either for the -sake of others, or for the sake of your own forgetful or apathetic -self, in the future. - -Now as I gave you and asked you to remember without failing, an aphorism -which embraced the law of wise knowledge, so, to-day, I will ask you to -remember, without fail, one, which absolutely defines the relation of -wise art to it. I have, already, quoted our to-day's aphorism to you, at -the end of my fourth lecture on sculpture. Read the few sentences at the -end of that lecture now, down to - - "THE BEST, IN THIS KIND, ARE BUT SHADOWS." - -That is Shakspeare's judgment of his own art. And by strange -coincidence, he has put the words into the mouth of the hero whose -shadow, or semblance in marble, is admittedly the most ideal and heroic -we possess, of man; yet, I need not ask you, whether of the two, if it -were granted you to see the statue by Phidias, or the hero Theseus -himself, you would choose rather to see the carved stone, or the living -King. Do you recollect how Shakspeare's Theseus concludes his sentence, -spoken of the poor tradesmen's kindly offered art, in the "Midsummer -Night's Dream"? - -"The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if -imagination amend them." - -It will not burden your memories painfully, I hope, though it may not -advance you materially in the class list, if you will learn this entire -sentence by heart, being, as it is, a faultless and complete epitome of -the laws of mimetic art. - - -40. "BUT SHADOWS!" Make them as beautiful as you can; use them only to -enable you to remember and love what they are cast by. If ever you -prefer the skill of them to the simplicity of the truth, or the pleasure -of them to the power of the truth, you have fallen into that vice of -folly, (whether you call her +kakia+ or +môria+,) which concludes the -subtle description of her given by Prodicus, that she might be seen -continually +eis tên heautês skian apoblepein+--to look with love, and -exclusive wonder, at _her own_ shadow. - - -41. There is nothing that I tell you with more eager desire that you -should believe--nothing with wider ground in my experience for requiring -you to believe, than this, that you never will love art well, till you -love what she mirrors better. - -It is the widest, as the clearest experience I have to give you; for the -beginning of all my own right art work in life, (and it may not be -unprofitable that I should tell you this,) depended not on my love of -art, but of mountains and sea. All boys with any good in them are fond -of boats, and of course I liked the mountains best when they had lakes -at the bottom; and I used to walk always in the middle of the loosest -gravel I could find in the roads of the midland counties, that I might -hear, as I trod on it, something like the sound of the pebbles on -sea-beach. No chance occurred for some time to develop what gift of -drawing I had; but I would pass entire days in rambling on the -Cumberland hill-sides, or staring at the lines of surf on a low sand; -and when I was taken annually to the Water-colour Exhibition, I used to -get hold of a catalogue before-hand, mark all the Robsons, which I knew -would be of purple mountains, and all the Copley Fieldings, which I knew -would be of lakes or sea; and then go deliberately round the room to -these, for the sake, observe, not of the pictures, in any wise, but only -of the things painted. - -And through the whole of following life, whatever power of judgment I -have obtained, in art, which I am now confident and happy in using, or -communicating, has depended on my steady habit of always looking for the -subject principally, and for the art, only as the means of expressing -it. - - -42. At first, as in youth one is almost sure to be, I was led too far by -my certainty of the rightness of this principle: and provoked into its -exclusive assertion by the pertinacity with which other writers denied -it: so that, in the first volume of "Modern Painters," several passages -occurred setting the subject or motive of the picture so much above the -mode of its expression, that some of my more feebly gifted disciples -supposed they were fulfilling my wishes by choosing exactly the subjects -for painting which they were least able to paint. But the principle -itself, I maintain, now in advanced life, with more reverence and -firmness than in earliest youth: and though I believe that among the -teachers who have opposed its assertion, there are few who enjoy the -mere artifices of composition or dexterities of handling so much as I, -the time which I have given to the investigation of these has only -farther assured me that the pictures were noblest which compelled me to -forget them. - - -43. Now, therefore, you see that on this simple theory, you have only to -ask what will be the subjects of wise science; these also, will be, so -far as they can be imitatively or suggestively represented, the subjects -of wise art: and the wisdom of both the science and art will be -recognized by their being lofty in their scope, but simple in their -language; clear in fancy, but clearer in interpretation; severe in -discernment, but delightful in display. - - -44. For example's sake, since we have just been listening to Shakspeare -as a teacher of science and art, we will now examine him as a _subject_ -of science and art. - -Suppose we have the existence and essence of Shakspeare to investigate, -and give permanent account of; we shall see that, as the scope and -bearing of the science become nobler, art becomes more helpful to it; -and at last, in its highest range, even necessary to it; but still only -as its minister. - -We examine Shakspeare, first, with the science of chemistry, which -informs us that Shakspeare consists of about seventy-five parts in the -hundred of water, some twelve or fifteen of nitrogen, and the rest, -lime, phosphorus, and essential earthy salts. - -We next examine him by the science of anatomy, which tells us (with -other such matters,) that Shakspeare has seven cervical, twelve dorsal, -and five lumbar vertebræ; that his fore arm has a wide sphere of -rotation; and that he differs from other animals of the ape species by -being more delicately prehensile in the fingers, and less perfectly -prehensile in the toes. - -We next approach Shakspeare with the science of natural history, which -tells us the colour of his eyes and hair, his habits of life, his -temper, and his predilection for poaching. - -There ends, as far as this subject is concerned, our possible science of -substantial things. Then we take up our science of ideal things: first -of passion, then of imagination; and we are told by these that -Shakspeare is capable of certain emotions, and of mastering or -commanding them in certain modes. Finally, we take up our science of -theology, and ascertain that he is in relation, or in supposed relation, -with such and such a Being, greater than himself. - - -45. Now, in all these successive stages of scientific description, we -find art become powerful as an aid or record, in proportion to the -importance of the inquiry. For chemistry, she can do scarcely anything: -merely keep note of a colour, or of the form of a crystal. For anatomy, -she can do somewhat more; and for natural history, almost all things: -while in recording passion, and affectionate intellect, she walks hand -in hand with the highest science; and to theology, can give nobler aid -even than verbal expression of literature. - - -46. And in considering this power of hers, remember that the theology of -art has only of late been thought deserving of attention: Lord Lindsay, -some thirty years ago, was the first to recognize its importance; and -when I entered upon the study of the schools of Tuscany in 1845, his -"Christian Mythology" was the only guide I could trust. Even as late as -1860, I had to vindicate the true position, in Christian science, of -Luini, the despised pupil of Leonardo. But only assuming, what with -general assent I might assume, that Raphael's dispute of the -Sacrament--(or by its less frequently given, but true name--Raphael's -Theologia,) is the most perfect effort yet made by art to illustrate -divine science, I am prepared hereafter to show you that the most -finished efforts of theologic literature, as compared with that piece of -pictorial interpretation, have expressed less fully the condition of -wise religious thought; and have been warped more dangerously into -unwise religious speculation. - - -47. Upon these higher fields of inquiry we are not yet to enter. I shall -endeavour for some time only to show you the function of modest art, as -the handmaid of natural science; and the exponent, first of the beauty -of the creatures subject to your own human life; and then of the history -of that life in past time; of which one chief source of illustration is -to be found in the most brilliant, and in its power on character, -hitherto the most practically effective of the arts--Heraldry. - -In natural history, I at first intended to begin with the lower types of -life; but as the enlarged schools now give me the means of extending the -use of our examples, we will at once, for the sake of more general -service, take up ornithology, of the uses of which, in general culture, -I have one or two grave words to say. - - -48. Perhaps you thought that in the beginning of my lecture to-day I too -summarily dismissed the arts of construction and action. But it was not -in disrespect to them; and I must indeed ask you carefully to note one -or two points respecting the arts of which an example is set us by -birds;--building, and singing. - -The other day, as I was calling on the ornithologist whose collection of -birds is, I suppose, altogether unrivalled in Europe,--(at once a -monument of unwearied love of science, and an example, in its treatment, -of the most delicate and patient art)--Mr. Gould--he showed me the nest -of a common English bird; a nest which, notwithstanding his knowledge of -the dexterous building of birds in all the world, was not without -interest even to him, and was altogether amazing and delightful to me. -It was a bullfinch's nest, which had been set in the fork of a sapling -tree, where it needed an extended foundation. And the bird had built -this first story of her nest with withered stalks of clematis blossom; -and with nothing else. These twigs it had interwoven lightly, leaving -the branched heads all at the outside, producing an intricate Gothic -boss of extreme grace and quaintness, apparently arranged both with -triumphant pleasure in the art of basket-making, and with definite -purpose of obtaining ornamental form. - - -49. I fear there is no occasion to tell you that the bird had no purpose -of the kind. I say that I _fear_ this, because I would much rather have -to undeceive you in attributing too much intellect to the lower animals, -than too little. But I suppose the only error which, in the present -condition of natural history, you are likely to fall into, is that of -supposing that a bullfinch is merely a mechanical arrangement of nervous -fibre, covered with feathers by a chronic cutaneous eruption; and -impelled by a galvanic stimulus to the collection of clematis. - - -50. You would be in much greater, as well as in a more shameful, error, -in supposing this, than if you attributed to the bullfinch the most -deliberate rivalship with Mr. Street's prettiest Gothic designs. The -bird has exactly the degree of emotion, the extent of science, and the -command of art, which are necessary for its happiness; it had felt the -clematis twigs to be lighter and tougher than any others within its -reach, and probably found the forked branches of them convenient for -reticulation. It had naturally placed these outside, because it wanted a -smooth surface for the bottom of its nest; and the beauty of the result -was much more dependent on the blossoms than the bird. - - -51. Nevertheless, I am sure that if you had seen the nest,--much more, -if you had stood beside the architect at work upon it,--you would have -greatly desired to express your admiration to her; and chat if -Wordsworth, or any other simple and kindly person, could even wish, for -a little flower's sake, - - "That to this mountain daisy's self were known - The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown - On the smooth surface of this naked stone," - -much more you would have yearned to inform the bright little -nest-builder of your sympathy; and to explain to her, on art principles, -what a pretty thing she was making. - - -52. Does it never occur to you, then, that to some of the best and -wisest artists among ourselves, it may not be always possible to explain -what pretty things they are making; and that, perhaps, the very -perfection of their art is in their knowing so little about it? - -Whether it has occurred to you or not, I assure you that it is so. The -greatest artists, indeed, will condescend, occasionally, to be -scientific;--will labour, somewhat systematically, about what they are -doing, as vulgar persons do; and are privileged, also, to enjoy what -they have made more than birds do; yet seldom, observe you, as being -beautiful, but very much in the sort of feeling which we may fancy the -bullfinch had also,--that the thing, whether pretty or ugly, could not -have been better done; that they could not have made it otherwise, and -are thankful it is no worse. And, assuredly, they have nothing like the -delight in their own work which it gives to other people. - - -53. But putting the special simplicities of good artists out of -question, let me ask you, in the second place, whether it is not -possible that the same sort of simplicity might be desirable in the -whole race of mankind; and that we ought all to be doing human work -which would appear better done to creatures much above us, than it does -to ourselves. Why should not _our_ nests be as interesting things to -angels, as bullfinches' nests are to us? - -You will, probably, both smile at, and shrink from, such a supposition, -as an insolent one. But to my thought, it seems, on the contrary, the -only modest one. That _we_ should be able to admire the work of angels -seems to me the impertinent idea; not, at all, that they should be able -to admire ours. - - -54. Under existing circumstances, I confess the difficulty. It cannot be -imagined that either the back streets of our manufacturing towns, or the -designs of our suburban villas, are things which the angels desire to -look into: but it seems to me an inevitable logical conclusion that if -we are, indeed, the highest of the brute creation, we should, at least, -possess as much unconscious art as the lower brutes; and build nests -which shall be, for ourselves, entirely convenient; and may, perhaps, in -the eyes of superior beings, appear more beautiful than to our own. - - -55. "Which shall be, for ourselves, entirely _convenient_." Note the -word;--becoming, decorous, harmonious, satisfying. We may not be able to -build anything sublime; but, at all events, we should, like other -flesh-invested creatures, be able to contrive what was decent, and it -should be a human privilege to think that we may be admired in heaven -for our contrivance. - -I have some difficulty in proceeding with what I want to say, because I -know you must partly think I am jesting with you. I feel indeed some -disposition to smile myself; not because I jest, but in the sense of -contrast between what, logically, it seems, ought to be; and what we -must confess, not jestingly, to be the facts. How great also,--how -quaint, the confusion of sentiment in our minds, as to this matter! We -continually talk of honouring God with our buildings; and yet, we dare -not say, boldly, that, in His sight, we in the least expect to honour -ourselves by them! And admitting, though I by no means feel disposed to -admit, that here and there we may, at present, be honouring Him by work -that is worthy of the nature He gave us, in how many places, think you, -are we offending Him by work that is disgraceful to it? - - -56. Let me return, yet for an instant, to my bird and her nest. If not -actually complacent and exultant in her architecture, we may at least -imagine that she, and her mate, and the choir they join with, cannot but -be complacent and exultant in their song. I gave you, in a former -lecture, the skylark as a type of mastership in music; and -remembering--some of you, I suppose, are not likely soon to forget,--the -saint to whom yesterday was dedicated, let me read to you to-day some of -the prettiest English words in which our natural feeling about such song -is expressed. - - "And anone, as I the day espide, - No lenger would I in my bed abide, - But unto a wood that was fast by, - I went forth alone boldely, - And held the way downe by a brook side, - - Till I came to a laund of white and green, - So faire one had I never in been, - The ground was green, ypoudred with daisie, - The floures and the greves like hie, - All greene and white, was nothing els seene. - - There sat I downe among the faire flours, - And saw the birds trip out of hir hours, - There as they rested hem all the night, - They were so joyfull of the dayes light, - They began of May for to done honours. - - They coud that service all by rote, - There was many a lovely note, - Some sang loud, as they had plained, - And some in other manner voice yfained, - And some all out with the full throte. - - They proyned hem and made hem right gay, - And daunceden and lepten on the spray, - And evermore two and two in fere, - Right so as they had chosen hem to yere - In Feverere, upon saint Valentines day." - -You recollect, perhaps, the dispute that follows between the cuckoo and -the nightingale, and the promise which the sweet singer makes to Chaucer -for rescuing her. - - "And then came the Nightingale to me - And said Friend, forsooth I thanke thee - That thou hast liked me to rescue, - And one avow to Love make I now - That all this May, I will thy singer be. - - I thanked her, and was right well apaied, - Yea, quoth she, and be not thou dismaied, - Tho' thou have heard the cuckoo erst than me; - For, if I live, it shall amended be, - The next May, if I be not affraied." - -"If I be not affraied." Would she not put the "if" more timidly now, in -making the same promise to any of you, or in asking for the judgment -between her and her enemy, which was to be past, do you remember, on -this very day of the year, so many years ago, and within eight miles of -this very spot? - - "And this shall be without any Nay - On the morrow after St. Valentine's day, - Under a maple that is faire and green - Before the chamber window of the Queen - At Woodstoke, upon the greene lawn. - - She thanked them, and then her leave took - And into an hawthorn by that broke. - And there she sate, and sang upon that tree - '_Terme of life love hath withheld me_' - So loud, that I with that song awoke." - - -57. "Terme of life love hath withheld me!" Alas, how have we men -reversed this song of the nightingale! so that our words must be "Terme -of life, hatred hath withheld me." - -This, then, was the old English science of the song of birds; and -perhaps you are indignant with me for bringing any word of it back to -you? You have, I doubt not, your new science of song, as of -nest-building: and I am happy to think you could all explain to me, or -at least you will be able to do so before you pass your natural science -examination, how, by the accurate connection of a larynx with a bill, -and by the action of heat, originally derived from the sun, upon the -muscular fibre, an undulatory motion is produced in the larynx, and an -opening and shutting one in the bill, which is accompanied, necessarily, -by a piping sound. - - -58. I will not dispute your statement; still less do I wish to answer -for the absolute truth of Chaucer's. You will find that the complete -truth embraces great part of both; and that you may study, at your -choice, in any singing bird, the action of universal heat on a -marvellous mechanism, or of individual life, on a frame capable of -exquisite passion. But the point I wish you to consider is the relation -to this lower creature's power, of your own human agencies in the -production of sound, where you can best unite in its harmony. - - -59. I had occasion only the other day to wait for half an hour at the -bottom of Ludgate Hill. Standing as much out of the way as I could, -under the shadow of the railroad bridge, I watched the faces, all eager, -many anxious, and some intensely gloomy, of the hurried passers by; and -listened to the ceaseless crashing, whistling, and thundering sounds -which mingled with the murmur of their steps and voices. And in the -midst of the continuous roar, which differed only from that of the -wildest sea in storm by its complexity and its discordance, I was -wondering, if the sum of what all these people were doing, or trying to -do, in the course of the day, could be made manifest, what it would come -to. - - -60. The sum of it would be, I suppose, that they had all contrived to -live through the day in that exceedingly unpleasant manner, and that -nothing serious had occurred to prevent them from passing the following -day likewise. Nay, I knew also that what appeared in their way of life -painful to me, might be agreeable to them; and it chanced, indeed, a -little while afterwards, that an active and prosperous man of business, -speaking to one of my friends of the disappointment he had felt in a -visit to Italy, remarked, especially, that he was not able to endure -more than three days at Venice, because there was no noise there. - - -61. But, granting the contentment of the inhabitants of London in -consistently producing these sounds, how shall we say this vocal and -instrumental art of theirs may compare, in the scheme of Nature, with -the vocal art of lower animals? We may indeed rank the danger-whistle of -the engines on the bridge as an excruciating human improvement on that -of the marmot; and the trampling of feet and grinding of wheels, as the -human accentuation of the sounds produced by insects, by the friction of -their wings or thighs against their sides: but, even in this comparison, -it may cause us some humiliation to note that the cicada and the -cricket, when pleased to sing in their vibratory manner, have leisure -to rest in their delight; and that the flight of the firefly is silent. -But how will the sounds we produce compare with the song of birds? This -London is the principal nest of men in the world; and I was standing in -the centre of it. In the shops of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, on each -side of me, I do not doubt I could have bought any quantity of books for -children, which by way of giving them religious, as opposed to secular, -instruction, informed them that birds praised God in their songs. Now, -though, on the one hand, you may be very certain that birds are not -machines, on the other hand it is just as certain that they have not the -smallest intention of praising God in their songs; and that we cannot -prevent the religious education of our children more utterly than by -beginning it in lies. But it might be expected of _ourselves_ that we -should do so, in the songs we send up from our principal nest! And -although, under the dome at the top of Ludgate Hill, some attempt of the -kind may be made every seventh day, by a limited number of persons, we -may again reflect, with humiliation, that the birds, for better or -worse, sing all, and every day; and I could not but ask myself, with -momentarily increasing curiosity, as I endeavoured to trace the emotions -and occupations of the persons who passed by me, in the expression of -their faces--what would be the effect on them, if any creatures of -higher order were suddenly to appear in the midst of them with any such -message of peace, and invitation to rejoicing, as they had all been -professing to commemorate at Christmas. - - -62. Perhaps you recollect, in the lectures given on landscape during the -spring of this year, my directing your attention to a picture of -Mantegna's in the loan exhibition, representing a flight of twelve -angels in blue sky, singing that Christmas song. I ought to tell you, -however, that one of our English artists of good position dissented from -my opinion about the picture; and remarked that in England "we wanted -good art, and not funny art." Whereas, to me, it is this vocal and -architectural art of Ludgate Hill which appears funny art; and not -Mantegna's. But I am compelled to admit that could Mantegna's picture -have been realized, the result would, in the eyes of most men, have been -funnier still. For suppose that over Ludgate Hill the sky had indeed -suddenly become blue instead of black; and that a flight of twelve -angels, "covered with silver wings, and their feathers with gold," had -alighted on the cornice of the railroad bridge, as the doves alight on -the cornices of St. Mark's at Venice; and had invited the eager men of -business below, in the centre of a city confessedly the most prosperous -in the world, to join them for five minutes in singing the first five -verses of such a psalm as the 103rd--"Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and -_all that is within me_" (the opportunity now being given for the -expression of their most hidden feelings) "all that is within me, bless -His holy name, and forget not all His benefits." Do you not even thus, -in mere suggestion, feel shocked at the thought, and as if my now -reading the words were profane? And cannot you fancy that the sensation -of the crowd at so violent and strange an interruption of traffic, might -be somewhat akin to that which I had occasion in my first lecture on -sculpture to remind you of,--the feeling attributed by Goethe to -Mephistopheles at the song of the angels: "Discord I hear, and -intolerable jingling"? - - -63. Nay, farther, if indeed none of the benefits bestowed on, or -accomplished by, the great city, were to be forgotten, and if search -were made, throughout its confines, into the results of its wealth, -might not the literal discord in the words themselves be greater than -the felt discord in the sound of them? - -I have here in my hand a cutting from a newspaper, which I took with me -three years ago, to a meeting in the interest of social science, held in -the rooms of the Society of Arts, and under the presidency of the Prime -Minister of England. Under the (so called) 'classical' paintings of -Barry, representing the philosophy and poetry of the ancients, Mr. -Gladstone was in the chair; and in his presence a member of the Society -for the Promotion of Social Science propounded and supported the -statement, not irrelevant to our present inquiry, that the essential -nature of man was that of a beast of prey. Though, at the time, -(suddenly called upon by the author of "Tom Brown at Oxford,") I feebly -endeavoured to contradict that Socially Scientific person, I do not at -present desire to do so. I have given you a creature of prey for -comparison of knowledge. "Doth the eagle know what is in the pit?"--and -in this great nest of ours in London, it would be well if to all our -children the virtue of the creature of prey were fulfilled, and that, -indeed, the stir and tumult of the city were "as the eagle stirreth up -her nest and fluttereth over her young." But the slip of paper I had -then, and have now, in my hand,[D] contains information about the state -of the nest, inconsistent with such similitude. I am not answerable for -the juxtaposition of paragraphs in it. The first is a proposal for the -building of a new church in Oxford, at the cost of twenty thousand -pounds; the second is the account of the inquest on a woman and her -child who were starved to death in the Isle of Dogs. The bodies were -found lying, without covering, on a bed made of heaped rags; and there -was no furniture in the room but a wooden stool, on which lay a tract -entitled "_The Goodness of God._" The husband, who had been out of work -for six months, went mad two days afterwards; and being refused entrance -at the workhouse because it was "full of mad people," was carried off, -the "Pall Mall Gazette" says not where. - - [D] "Pall Mall Gazette," January 29th, 1869. - - -64. Now, gentlemen, the question I wish to leave with you to-day is -whether the Wisdom which rejoices in the habitable parts of the earth, -and whose delights are with the sons of men, can be supposed, under -circumstances such as these, to delight herself in that most closely and -increasingly inhabited portion of the globe which we ourselves now dwell -on; and whether, if she cannot grant us to surpass the art of the -swallow or the eagle, she may not require of us at least, to reach the -level of their happiness. Or do you seriously think that, either in the -life of Ludgate Hill, or death of the Isle of Dogs; in the art of -Ludgate Hill, or idleness of the Isle of Dogs; and in the science and -sanity of Ludgate Hill, or nescience and insanity of the Isle of Dogs, -we have, as matters stand now, any clear encouragement to repeat, in -that 103rd psalm, the three verses following the five I named; and to -believe in our hearts, as we say with our lips, that we have yet, -dwelling among us, unoffended, a God "who forgiveth all our iniquities, -who healeth all our diseases; who redeemeth our life from destruction, -who crowneth us with loving-kindness and tender mercies, and _who -satisfieth our mouth with good things, so that our youth is_ RENEWED -LIKE THE EAGLE'S"? - - - - - LECTURE IV. - - THE POWER OF MODESTY IN SCIENCE AND ART. - - _17th February, 1872._ - - -65. I believe, gentlemen, that some of you must have been -surprised,--and, if I succeeded in making my last lecture clearly -intelligible, many ought to have been surprised,--at the limitations I -asked you to admit with respect to the idea of science, and the position -which I asked you to assign to it. We are so much, by the chances of our -time, accustomed to think of science as a process of discovery, that I -am sure some of you must have been gravely disconcerted by my -requesting, and will to-day be more disconcerted by my firmly -recommending, you to use the word, and reserve the thought, of science, -for the acquaintance with things long since discovered, and established -as true. We have the misfortune to live in an epoch of transition from -irrational dulness to irrational excitement; and while once it was the -highest courage of science to question anything, it is now an agony to -her to leave anything unquestioned. So that, unawares, we come to -measure the dignity of a scientific person by the newness of his -assertions, and the dexterity of his methods in debate; entirely -forgetting that science cannot become perfect, as an occupation of -intellect, while anything remains to be discovered; nor wholesome as an -instrument of education, while anything is permitted to be debated. - - -66. It appears, doubtless, a vain idea to you that an end should ever be -put to discovery; but remember, such impossibility merely signifies that -mortal science must remain imperfect. Nevertheless, in many directions, -the limit to practically useful discovery is rapidly being approached; -and you, as students, would do well to suppose that it has been already -attained. To take the science of ornithology, for instance: I suppose -you would have very little hope of shooting a bird in England, which -should be strange to any master of the science, or of shooting one -anywhere, which would not fall under some species already described. And -although at the risk of life, and by the devotion of many years to -observation, some of you might hope to bring home to our museum a -titmouse with a spot on its tail which had never before been seen, I -strongly advise you not to allow your studies to be disturbed by so -dazzling a hope, nor your life exclusively devoted even to so important -an object. In astronomy, the fields of the sky have not yet, indeed, -been ransacked by the most costly instruments; and it may be in store -for some of you to announce the existence, or even to analyse the -materials, of some luminous point which may be seen two or three times -in the course of a century, by any one who will journey to India for the -purpose; and, when there, is favoured by the weather. But, for all -practical purposes, the stars already named and numbered are as many as -we require to hear of; and if you thoroughly know the visible motions, -and clearly conceive the known relations, even of those which can be -seen by the naked eye, you will have as much astronomy as is necessary, -either for the occupation of thought or the direction of navigation. - - -67. But, if you were discontented with the limit I proposed for your -sciences, much more, I imagine, you were doubtful of the ranks I -assigned to them. It is not, I know, in your modern system, the general -practice to put chemistry, the science of atoms, lowest, and theology, -the science of Deity, highest: nay, many of us have ceased to think of -theology as a science at all, but rather as a speculative pursuit, in -subject, separate from science; and in temper, opposed to her. - -Yet it can scarcely be necessary for me to point out to you, in so many -terms, that what we call theology, if true, is a science; and if false, -is not theology; or that the distinction even between natural science -and theology is illogical: for you might distinguish indeed between -natural and unnatural science, but not between natural and spiritual, -unless you had determined first that a spirit had no nature. You will -find the facts to be, that entirely true knowledge is both possible and -necessary--first of facts relating to matter, and then of the forces and -passions that act on or in matter;--that, of all these forces, the -noblest we can know is the energy which either imagines, or perceives, -the existence of a living power greater than its own; and that the study -of the relations which exist between this energy, and the resultant -action of men, are as much subjects of pure science as the curve of a -projectile. The effect, for instance, upon your temper, intellect, and -conduct during the day, of your going to chapel with or without belief -in the efficacy of prayer, is just as much a subject of definite -science, as the effect of your breakfast on the coats of your stomach. -Which is the higher knowledge, I have, with confidence, told you; and am -not afraid of any test to which you may submit my assertion. - - -68. Assuming such limitation, then, and such rank, for our knowledge; -assuming, also, what I have now, perhaps to your weariness, told you, -that graphic art is the shadow, or image, of knowledge,--I wish to point -out to you to-day the function, with respect to both, of the virtue -called by the Greeks '+sôphrosynê+' 'safeness of mind,' corresponding to -the 'salus' or 'sanitas' mentis, of the Latins; 'health of heart' is, -perhaps, the best English; if we receive the words 'mens,' '+mênis+,' or -'+phrên+,' as expressing the passionate soul of the human being, -distinguished from the intellectual; the 'mens sana' being possible to -all of us, though the contemplative range of height her wisdom may be -above our capacities; so that to each of us Heaven only permits the -ambition of being +sophos+, but commands the resolution to be +sôphrôn+. - - -69. And, without discussing the use of the word by different writers, I -will tell you that the dearest and safest idea of the mental state -itself is to be gained from the representations of it by the words of -ancient Christian religion, and even from what you may think its -superstitions. Without any discussion also as to the personal existence -or traditional character of evil spirits, you will find it a practical -fact, that external temptations and inevitable trials of temper, have -power against you which your health and virtue depend on your resisting; -that, if not resisted, the evil energy of them will pass into your own -heart, +phrên+, or +mênis+; and that the ordinary and vulgarized phrase -"the Devil, or betraying Spirit, is _in him_" is the most scientifically -accurate which you can apply to any person so influenced. You will find -also that, in the compass of literature, the casting out of, or -cleansing from, such a state is best symbolized for you by the image of -one who had been wandering wild and naked _among tombs_, sitting still, -clothed, and in his right mind, and that in whatever literal or -figurative sense you receive the Biblical statement of what followed, -this is absolutely certain, that the herd of swine hastening to their -destruction, in perfect sympathy with each other's fury, is the most -accurate symbol ever given, in literature, of consummate human -+aphrosynê+. - - * * * * * - -(The conditions of insanity,[E] delighting in scenes of death, which -affect at the present time the arts of revolutionary Europe, were -illustrated in the sequel of this lecture: but I neither choose to take -any permanent notice of the examples I referred to, nor to publish any -part of what I said, until I can enter more perfectly into the analysis -of the elements of evil passion which always distorted and polluted even -the highest arts of Greek and Christian loyal religion; and now occupy -in deadly entireness, the chambers of imagination, devastated, and left -desolate of joy, by impiety, and disobedience. - -In relation to the gloom of gray colour characteristic especially of the -modern French revolutionary school, I entered into some examination of -the conditions of real temperance and reserve in colour, showing that it -consisted not in refusing colour, but in governing it; and that the most -pure and bright colours might be thus perfectly governed, while the most -dull were probably also the most violent and intemperate. But it would -be useless to print this part of the lecture without the -colour-illustrations used. - -Passing to the consideration of intemperance and immodesty in the choice -even of landscape subjects, I referred thus for contrast, to the -quietude of Turner's "Greta and Tees.") - - [E] I use this word always meaning it to be understood literally, - and in its full force. - - -70. If you wish to feel the reserve of this drawing, look, first, into -the shops at their display of common chromo-lithotints; see how they are -made up of Matterhorns, Monte Rosas, blue glaciers, green lakes, white -towers, magnificent banditti, romantic peasantry, or always-successful -sportsmen or fishermen in Highland costume; and then see what Turner is -content with. No Matterhorns are needful, or even particularly pleasing -to him. A bank, some eight or ten feet high, of Yorkshire shale is -enough. He would not thank you for giving him all the giant forests of -California:--would not be so much interested in them nor half so happy -among them, as he is here with a switch of oak sapling, which the Greta -has pulled down among the stones, and teased awhile, and which, now that -the water is lower, tries to get up again, out of its way. - -He does not want any towers or towns. Here you are to be contented with -three square windows of a country gentleman's house. He does not want -resplendent banditti. Behold! here is a brown cow and a white one: what -would you have more? And this scarcely-falling rapid of the Tees--here -pausing to circle round a pool, and there laughing as it trips over a -ledge of rock, six or seven inches high, is more to him--infinitely -more--than would be the whole colossal drainage of Lake Erie into Lake -Ontario, which Carlyle has justly taken for a type of the Niagara of our -national precipitous +aphrosynê+. - - -71. I need not point out to you the true temperance of colour in this -drawing--how slightly green the trees are, how softly blue the sky. - -Now I put a chromo-lithotint beside it. - -Well, why is that good, this bad? Simply because if you think, and -work, and discipline yourselves nobly, you will come to like the Greta -and Tees; if not, you will come to like _this_. The one is what a strong -man likes; the other what a weak one likes: that is modest, full of true -+aidôs+, noble restraint, noble reverence;--this has no +aidôs+, no -fear, no measure;--not even purpose, except, by accumulation of whatever -it can see or snatch, to move the vile apathy of the public +aphrosynê+ -into sensation. - - -72. The apathy of +aphrosynê+--note the expression! You might think that -it was +sôphrosynê+, which was apathetic, and that intemperance was full -of passion. No; the exact contrary is the fact. It is death in ourselves -which seeks the exaggerated external stimulus. I must return for a -moment to the art of modern France. - -The most complete rest and refreshment I can get, when I am overworked, -in London (for if I try to rest in the fields, I find them turned into -villas in the course of the week before) is in seeing a French play. But -the French act so perfectly that I am obliged to make sure beforehand -that all is to end well, or it is as bad as being helplessly present at -some real misery. - -I was beguiled the other day, by seeing it announced as a "Comédie," -into going to see "Frou-Frou." Most of you probably know that the three -first of its five acts _are_ comedy, or at least playful drama, and that -it plunges down, in the two last, to the sorrowfullest catastrophe of -all conceivable--though too frequent in daily life--in which -irretrievable grief is brought about by the passion of a moment, and the -ruin of all that she loves, caused by the heroic error of an entirely -good and unselfish person. The sight of it made me thoroughly ill, and I -was not myself again for a week. - -But, some time afterwards, I was speaking of it to a lady who knew -French character well; and asked her how it was possible for a people so -quick in feeling to endure the action before them of a sorrow so -poignant. She said, "It is because they have not sympathy enough: they -are interested only by the external scene, and are, in truth, at -present, dull, not quick in feeling. My own French maid went the other -evening to see that very play: when she came home, and I asked her what -she thought of it, she said 'it was charming, and she had amused herself -immensely.' 'Amused! but is not the story very sad?' 'Oh, yes, -mademoiselle, it is bien triste, but it is charming; and then, how -pretty Frou-Frou looks in her silk dress!'" - - -73. Gentlemen, the French maid's mode of regarding the tragedy is, if -you think of it, a most true image of the way in which fashionable -society regards the world-suffering, in the midst of which, so long as -it can amuse itself, all seems to it well. If the ball-room is bright, -and the dresses pretty, what matter how much horror is beneath or -around? Nay, this apathy checks us in our highest spheres of thought, -and chills our most solemn purposes. You know that I never join in the -common outcries against Ritualism; yet it is too painfully manifest to -me that the English Church itself has withdrawn her eyes from the -tragedy of all churches, to perk herself up anew with casement and -vestment, and say of herself, complacently, in her sacred +poikilia+, -"How pretty Frou-Frou is, in her silk dress!" - - -74. We recognize, however, without difficulty, the peril of -insatiableness and immodesty in the pleasures of Art. Less recognized, -but therefore more perilous, the insatiableness and immodesty of Science -tempt us through our very virtues. The fatallest furies of scientific -+aphrosynê+ are consistent with the most noble powers of self-restraint -and self-sacrifice. It is not the lower passions, but the loftier hopes -and most honourable desires which become deadliest when the charm of -them is exalted by the vanity of science. The patience of the wisest of -Greek heroes never fails, when the trial is by danger or pain; but do -you recollect that, before his trial by the song of the Sirens, the sea -becomes calm? And in the few words which Homer has told you of their -song, you have not perhaps yet with enough care observed that the form -of temptation is precisely that to which a man victorious over every -fleshly trial would be likely to yield. The promise is not that his body -shall be gratified, but that his soul shall rise into rapture; he is not -urged, as by the subtlety of Comus, to disdain the precepts of wisdom, -but invited, on the contrary, to learn,--as you are all now invited by -the +aphrosynê+ of your age,--better wisdom from the wise. - -"For we know all" (they say) "that was done in Troy according to the -will of the gods, and we know everything that is upon the all-nourishing -earth." - -All heavenly and earthly knowledge, you see. I will read you Pope's -expansion of the verses; for Pope never alters idly, but always -illustrates when he expands. - - - "Oh stay, oh pride of Greece! - - (You hear, they begin by flattery). - - Ulysses, stay, - Oh cease thy course, and listen to our lay. - Blest is the man ordained our voice to hear, - The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear. - Approach! Thy soul shall into raptures rise; - Approach! and learn new wisdom from the wise. - We know whate'er the kings of mighty name - Achieved at Ilion in the field of Fame, - Whate'er beneath the Sun's bright journey lies. - Oh, stay, and learn new wisdom from the wise." - -Is it not singular that so long ago the danger of this novelty of wisdom -should have been completely discerned? Is it not stranger still that -three thousand years have passed by, and we have not yet been able to -learn the lesson, but are still eager to add to our knowledge, rather -than to use it; and every day more passionate in discovering,--more -violent in competition,--are every day more cold in admiration, and more -dull in reverence? - - -75. But, gentlemen, Homer's Ulysses, bound to the mast, survives. -Dante's Ulysses is bound to the mast in another fashion. He, -notwithstanding the protection of Athena, and after all his victories -over fate, is still restless under the temptation to seek new wisdom. He -goes forth past the Pillars of Hercules, cheers his crew amidst the -uncompassed solitudes of the Atlantic, and perishes in sudden Charybdis -of the infinite sea. In hell, the restless flame in which he is wrapt -continually, among the advisers of evil, is seen, from the rocks above, -like the firefly's flitting to and fro; and the waving garment of -torture, which quivers as he speaks, and aspires as he moves, condemns -him to be led in eternal temptation, and to be delivered from evil -nevermore. - - - - - LECTURE V. - - THE POWER OF CONTENTMENT IN SCIENCE AND ART. - - _22nd February, 1872._ - - -76. I must ask you, in order to make these lectures of any permanent -use, to be careful in keeping note of the main conclusion at which we -arrive in the course of each, and of the sequence of such results. In -the first, I tried to show you that Art was only wise when unselfish in -her labour; in the second, that Science was only wise when unselfish in -her statement; in the third, that wise Art was the shadow, or visible -reflection, of wise Science; and in the fourth, that all these -conditions of good must be pursued temperately and peacefully. I have -now farther to tell you that they must be pursued independently. - - -77. You have not often heard me use that word "independence." And, in -the sense in which of late it has been accepted, you have never heard -me use it but with contempt. For the true strength of every human soul -is to be dependent on as many nobler as it can discern, and to be -depended upon, by as many inferior as it can reach. - -But to-day I use the word in a widely different sense. I think you must -have felt, in what amplification I was able to give you of the idea of -wisdom as an unselfish influence in Art and Science, how the highest -skill and knowledge were founded in human tenderness, and that the -kindly Art-wisdom which rejoices in the habitable parts of the earth, is -only another form of the lofty Scientific charity, which rejoices 'in -the truth.' And as the first order of Wisdom is to know thyself--though -the least creature that can be known--so the first order of Charity is -to be sufficient for thyself, though the least creature that can be -sufficed; and thus contented and appeased, to be girded and strong for -the ministry to others. If sufficient to thy day is the evil thereof, -how much more should be the good! - - -78. I have asked you to recollect one aphorism respecting Science, one -respecting Art; let me--and I will ask no more at this time of -asking--press you to learn, farther, by heart, those lines of the Song -of the Sirens: six lines of Homer, I trust, will not be a weariness to -you-- - - +ou gar pô tis têde parêlase nêi melainê, - prin g' hêmeôn meligêryn apo stomatôn op' akousai; - all' hoge terpsamenos neitai, kai pleiona eidôs. - idmen gar toi panth', hos eni Troiê eureiê - Argeioi Trôes te theôn iotêti mogêsan; - idmen d', hossa genêtai epi chthoni poulyboteirê.+ - - HOM., _Od._, xii. 186. - -"No one ever rowed past this way in his black ship, before he had -listened to the honey-sweet singing of our lips. But he stays pleased, -though he may know much. For we know all things which the Greeks and -Trojans did in the wide Trojan plain, by the will of the gods, and we -know what things take place in the much nourishing earth." And this, -remember, is absolutely true. No man ever went past in the black -ship,--obeying the grave and sad law of life by which it is appointed -for mortals to be victors on the ocean,--but he was tempted, as he drew -near that deadly island, wise as he might be, (+kai pleiona eidôs+,) by -the voices of those who told him that they knew everything which had -been done by the will of God, and everything which took place in earth -for the service of man. - - -79. Now observe those two great temptations. You are to know everything -that has been done by the will of God: and to know everything that is -_vital_ in the earth. And try to realize to yourselves, for a little -while, the way in which these two siren promises have hitherto troubled -the paths of men. Think of the books that have been written in false -explanation of Divine Providence: think of the efforts that have been -made to show that the particular conduct which we approve in others, or -wish ourselves to follow, is according to the will of God. Think what -ghastly convulsions in thought, and vileness in action, have been fallen -into by the sects which thought they had adopted, for their patronage, -the perfect purposes of Heaven. Think of the vain research, the wasted -centuries of those who have tried to penetrate the secrets of life, or -of its support. The elixir vitæ, the philosopher's stone, the germ-cells -in meteoric iron, '+epi chthoni poulyboteirê+' But at this day, when we -have loosed the last band from the masts of the black ship, and when, -instead of plying every oar to escape, as the crew of Homer's Ulysses, -we row like the crew of Dante's Ulysses, and of our oars make wings for -our foolish flight, - - E, volta nostra poppe nel mattino - De' remi facemmo ale al folle volo-- - -the song of the sirens becomes fatal as never yet it has been in time. -We think ourselves privileged, first among men, to know the secrets of -Heaven, and fulfil the economy of earth; and the result is, that of all -the races that yet have been put to shame by their false wisdom or false -art,--which have given their labour for that which is not bread, and -their strength for that which satisfieth not,--we have most madly -abandoned the charity which is for itself sufficing, and for others -serviceable, and have become of all creatures the most insufficient to -ourselves, and the most malignant to our neighbours. Granted a given -degree of knowledge--granted the '+kai pleiona eidôs+' in science, in -art, and in literature,--and the present relations of feeling between -France and Germany, between England and America, are the most horrible -at once in their stupidity and malignity, that have ever taken place on -the globe we inhabit, even though all its great histories, are of sin, -and all its great songs, of death. - - -80. Gentlemen, I pray you very solemnly to put that idea of knowing all -things in Heaven and Earth out of your hearts and heads. It is very -little that we can ever know, either of the ways of Providence, or the -laws of existence. But that little is enough, and exactly enough: to -strive for more than that little is evil for us; and be assured that -beyond the need of our narrow being,--beyond the range of the kingdom -over which it is ordained for each of us to rule in serene +autarkeia+ -and self-possession, he that increaseth toil, increaseth folly; and he -that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow. - - -81. My endeavour, therefore, to-day will be to point out to you how in -the best wisdom, that there may be happy advance, there must first be -happy contentment; that, in one sense, we must always be entering its -kingdom as a little child, and pleased yet for a time _not_ to put away -childish things. And while I hitherto have endeavoured only to show how -modesty and gentleness of disposition purified Art and Science, by -permitting us to recognize the superiority of the work of others to our -own--to-day, on the contrary, I wish to indicate for you the uses of -infantine self-satisfaction; and to show you that it is by no error or -excess in our nature, by no corruption or distortion of our being, that -we are disposed to take delight in the little things that we can do -ourselves, more than in the great things done by other people. So only -that we recognize the littleness and the greatness, it is as much a part -of true Temperance to be pleased with the little we know, and the little -we can do, as with the little that we have. On the one side Indolence, -on the other Covetousness, are as much to be blamed, with respect to our -Arts, as our possessions; and every man is intended to find an exquisite -personal happiness in his own small skill, just as he is intended to -find happiness in his own small house or garden, while he respects, -without coveting, the grandeur of larger domains. - - -82. Nay, more than this: by the wisdom of Nature, it has been appointed -that more pleasure may be taken in small things than in great, and more -in rude Art than in the finest. Were it otherwise, we might be disposed -to complain of the narrow limits which have been set to the perfection -of human skill. - -I pointed out to you, in a former lecture, that the excellence of -sculpture had been confined in past time to the Athenian and Etrurian -vales. The absolute excellence of painting has been reached only by the -inhabitants of a single city in the whole world; and the faultless -manner of religious architecture holds only for a period of fifty years -out of six thousand. We are at present tormenting ourselves with the -vain effort to teach men everywhere to rival Venice and Athens,--with -the practical result of having lost the enjoyment of Art -altogether;--instead of being content to amuse ourselves still with the -painting and carving which were possible once, and would be pleasant -always, in Paris, and London, at Strasbourg, and at York. - -I do not doubt that you are greatly startled at my saying that greater -pleasure is to be received from inferior Art than from the finest. But -what do you suppose makes all men look back to the time of childhood -with so much regret, (if their childhood has been, in any moderate -degree, healthy or peaceful)? That rich charm, which the least -possession had for us, was in consequence of the poorness of our -treasures. That miraculous aspect of the nature around us, was because -we had seen little, and knew less. Every increased possession loads us -with a new weariness; every piece of new knowledge diminishes the -faculty of admiration; and Death is at last appointed to take us from a -scene in which, if we were to stay longer, no gift could satisfy us, and -no miracle surprise. - - -83. Little as I myself know, or can do, as compared with any man of -essential power, my life has chanced to be one of gradual progress in -the things which I began in childish choice; so that I can measure with -almost mathematical exactitude the degree of feeling with which less and -greater degrees of wealth or skill affect my mind. - -I well remember the delight with which, when I was beginning mineralogy, -I received from a friend, who had made a voyage to Peru, a little bit of -limestone about the size of a hazel nut, with a small film of native -silver adhering to its surface. I was never weary of contemplating my -treasure, and could not have felt myself richer had I been master of the -mines of Copiapo. - -I am now about to use as models for your rock drawings stones which my -year's income, when I was a boy, would not have bought. But I have long -ceased to take any pleasure in their possession; and am only thinking, -now, to whom else they can be of use, since they can be of no more to -me. - - -84. But the loss of pleasure to me caused by advance in knowledge of -drawings has been far greater than that induced by my riches in -minerals. - -I have placed, in your reference series, one or two drawings of -architecture, made when I was a youth of twenty, with perfect ease to -myself, and some pleasure to other people. A day spent in sketching then -brought with it no weariness, and infinite complacency. I know better -now what drawing should be; the effort to do my work rightly fatigues me -in an hour, and I never care to look at it again from that day forward. - - -85. It is true that men of great and real power do the best things with -comparative ease; but you will never hear them express the complacency -which simple persons feel in partial success. There is nothing to be -regretted in this; it is appointed for all men to enjoy, but for few to -achieve. - -And do not think that I am wasting your time in dwelling on these simple -moralities. From the facts I have been stating we must derive this great -principle for all effort. That we must endeavour to _do_, not what is -absolutely best, but what is easily within our power and adapted to our -temper and condition. - - -86. In your educational series is a lithographic drawing, by Prout, of -an old house in Strasbourg. The carvings of its woodwork are in a style -altogether provincial, yet of which the origin is very distant. The -delicate Renaissance architecture of Italy was affected, even in its -finest periods, by a tendency to throw out convex masses at the bases of -its pillars; the wood-carvers of the 16th century adopted this bulged -form as their first element of ornamentation, and these windows of -Strasbourg are only imitations by the German peasantry of what, in its -finest type, you must seek as far away as the Duomo of Bergamo. - -But the burgher, or peasant, of Alsace enjoyed his rude imitation, -adapted, as it was, boldly and frankly to the size of his house and the -grain of the larch logs of which he built it, infinitely more than the -refined Italian enjoyed the floral luxuriance of his marble; and all the -treasures of a great exhibition could not have given him the tenth part -of the exultation with which he saw the gable of his roof completed over -its jutting fret-work; and wrote among the rude intricacies of its -sculpture, in flourished black letter, that "He and his wife had built -their house with God's help, and prayed Him to let them live long in -it,--they, and their children." - - -87. But it is not only the rustic method of architecture which I wish -you to note in this plate; it is the rustic method of drawing also. The -manner in which these blunt timber carvings are drawn by Prout is just -as provincial as the carvings themselves. Born in a faraway district of -England, and learning to draw, unhelped, with fishing-boats for his -models; making his way instinctively until he had command of his pencil -enough to secure a small income by lithographic drawing; and finding -picturesque character in buildings from which all the finest lines of -their carving had been effaced by time; possessing also an instinct in -the expression of such subjects so peculiar as to win for him a -satisfying popularity, and, far better, to enable him to derive -perpetual pleasure in the seclusion of country hamlets, and the quiet -streets of deserted cities,--Prout had never any motive to acquaint -himself with the refinements, or contend with the difficulties, of a -more accomplished art. So far from this, his manner of work was, by its -very imperfection, in the most perfect sympathy with the subjects he -enjoyed. The broad chalk touches in which he has represented to us this -house at Strasbourg are entirely sufficient to give true idea of its -effect. To have drawn its ornaments with subtlety of Leonardesque -delineation would only have exposed their faults, and mocked their -rusticity. The drawing would have become painful to you from the sense -of the time which it had taken to represent what was not worth the -labour, and to direct your attention to what could only, if closely -examined, be matter of offence. But here you have a simple and -provincial draughtsman happily and adequately expressing a simple and -provincial architecture; nor could either builder or painter have become -wiser, but to their loss. - - -88. Is it then, you will ask me, seriously to be recommended, and, -however recommendable, is it possible, that men should remain contented -with attainments which they know to be imperfect? and that now, as in -former times, large districts of country, and generations of men, should -be enriched or amused by the products of a clumsy ignorance? I do not -know how far it is possible, but I know that wherever you desire to have -true art, it is necessary. Ignorance, which is contented and clumsy, -will produce what is imperfect, but not offensive. But ignorance -_dis_contented and dexterous, learning what it cannot understand, and -imitating what it cannot enjoy, produces the most loathsome forms of -manufacture that can disgrace or mislead humanity. Some years since, as -I was looking through the modern gallery at the quite provincial German -School of Düsseldorf, I was fain to leave all their epic and religious -designs, that I might stay long before a little painting of a shepherd -boy carving his dog out of a bit of deal. The dog was sitting by, with -the satisfied and dignified air of a personage about for the first time -in his life to be worthily represented in sculpture; and his master was -evidently succeeding to his mind in expressing the features of his -friend. The little scene was one which, as you know, must take place -continually among the cottage artists who supply the toys of Nuremberg -and Berne. Happy, these! so long as, undisturbed by ambition, they spend -their leisure time in work pretending only to amuse, yet capable, in its -own way, of showing accomplished dexterity, and vivid perception of -nature. We, in the hope of doing great things, have surrounded our -workmen with Italian models, and tempted them with prizes into -competitive mimicry of all that is best, or that we imagine to be best, -in the work of every people under the sun. And the result of our -instruction is only that we are able to produce--I am now quoting the -statement I made last May, "the most perfectly and roundly ill-done -things" that ever came from human hands. I should thankfully put upon my -chimney-piece the wooden dog cut by the shepherd boy; but I should be -willing to forfeit a large sum rather than keep in my room the number 1 -of the Kensington Museum--thus described in its catalogue--"Statue in -black and white marble, of a Newfoundland dog standing on a serpent, -which rests on a marble cushion;--the pedestal ornamented with Pietra -Dura fruits in relief." - - -89. You will, however, I fear, imagine me indulging in my usual paradox, -when I assure you that all the efforts we have been making to surround -ourselves with heterogeneous means of instruction, will have the exactly -reverse effect from that which we intend;--and that, whereas formerly we -were able only to do a little well, we are qualifying ourselves now to -do everything ill. Nor is the result confined to our workmen only. The -introduction of French dexterity and of German erudition has been -harmful chiefly to our most accomplished artists--and in the last -Exhibition of our Royal Academy there was, I think, no exception to the -manifest fact that every painter of reputation painted worse than he did -ten years ago. - - -90. Admitting, however, (not that I suppose you will at once admit, but -for the sake of argument, supposing,) that this is true, what, we have -further to ask, can be done to discourage ourselves from calamitous -emulation, and withdraw our workmen from the sight of what is too good -to be of use to them? - -But this question is not one which can be determined by the needs, or -limited to the circumstances of Art. To live generally more modest and -contented lives; to win the greatest possible pleasure from the smallest -things; to do what is likely to be serviceable to our immediate -neighbours, whether it seem to them admirable or not; to make no -pretence of admiring what has really no hold upon our hearts; and to be -resolute in refusing all additions to our learning, until we have -perfectly arranged and secured what learning we have got;--these are -conditions, and laws, of unquestionable +sophia+ and +sôphrosynê+, which -will indeed lead us up to fine art if we are resolved to have it fine; -but will also do what is much better, make rude art precious. - - -91. It is not, however, by any means necessary that provincial art -_should_ be rude, though it may be singular. Often it is no less -delicate than quaint, and no less refined in grace than original in -character. This is likely always to take place when a people of -naturally fine artistic temper work with the respect which, as I -endeavoured to show you in a former lecture, ought always to be paid to -local material and circumstance. - -I have placed in your educational series the photograph of the door of a -wooden house in Abbeville, and of the winding stair above; both so -exquisitely sculptured that the real vine-leaves which had wreathed -themselves about their pillars, cannot, in the photograph, be at once -discerned from the carved foliage. The latter, quite as graceful, can -only be known for art by its quaint setting. - -Yet this school of sculpture is altogether provincial. It could only -have risen in a richly-wooded chalk country, where the sapling trees -beside the brooks gave example to the workman of the most intricate -tracery, and the white cliffs above the meadows furnished docile -material to his hand. - - -92. I have now, to my sorrow, learned to despise the elaborate -intricacy, and the playful realizations, of the Norman designers; and -can only be satisfied by the reserved and proud imagination of the -master schools. But the utmost pleasure I now take in these is almost as -nothing, compared to the joy I used to have, when I knew no better, in -the fretted pinnacles of Rouen, and white lace, rather than stonework, -of the chapels of Reu and Amboise. - -Yet observe that the first condition of this really precious provincial -work is its being the best that can be done under the given -circumstances; and the second is, that though provincial, it is not in -the least frivolous or ephemeral, but as definitely civic, or public, in -design, and as permanent in the manner of it, as the work of the most -learned academies: while its execution brought out the energies of each -little state, not necessarily in rivalship, but severally in the -perfecting of styles which Nature had rendered it impossible for their -neighbours to imitate. - - -93. This civic unity, and the feeling of the workman that he is -performing his part in a great scene which is to endure for centuries, -while yet, within the walls of his city, it is to be a part of his own -peculiar life, and to be separate from all the world besides, developes, -together, whatever duty he acknowledges as a patriot, and whatever -complacency he feels as an artist. - -We now build, in our villages, by the rules of the Academy of London; -and if there be a little original vivacity or genius in any provincial -workman, he is almost sure to spend it in making a ridiculous toy. -Nothing is to me much more pathetic than the way that our neglected -workmen thus throw their lives away. As I was walking the other day -through the Crystal Palace, I came upon a toy which had taken the -leisure of five years to make; you dropped a penny into the chink of it, -and immediately a little brass steam-engine in the middle started into -nervously hurried action; some bell-ringers pulled strings at the bottom -of a church steeple which had no top; two regiments of cavalry marched -out from the sides, and manoeuvred in the middle; and two well-dressed -persons in a kind of opera-box expressed their satisfaction by approving -gestures. - -In old Ghent, or Bruges, or York, such a man as the one who made this -toy, with companions similarly minded, would have been taught how to -employ himself, not to their less amusement, but to better purpose; and -in their five years of leisure hours they would have carved a flamboyant -crown for the belfry-tower, and would have put chimes into it that would -have told the time miles away, with a pleasant tune for the hour, and a -variation for the quarters, and cost the passers-by in all the city and -plain not so much as the dropping of a penny into a chink. - - -94. Do not doubt that I feel, as strongly as any of you can feel, the -utter impossibility at present of restoring provincial simplicity to our -country towns. - -My despondency respecting this, and nearly all other matters which I -know to be necessary, is at least as great,--it is certainly more -painful to me,--in the decline of life,--than that which any of my -younger hearers can feel. But what I have to tell you of the unchanging -principles of nature, and of art, must not be affected by either hope or -fear. And if I succeed in convincing you what these principles are, -there are many practical consequences which you may deduce from them, if -ever you find yourselves, as young Englishmen are often likely to find -themselves, in authority over foreign tribes of peculiar or limited -capacities. - -Be assured that you can no more drag or compress men into perfection -than you can drag or compress plants. If ever you find yourselves set in -a position of authority, and are entrusted to determine modes of -education, ascertain first what the people you would teach have been in -the habit of doing, and encourage them to do _that_ better. Set no other -excellence before their eyes; disturb none of their reverence for the -past; do not think yourselves bound to dispel their ignorance, or to -contradict their superstitions; teach them only gentleness and truth; -redeem them by example from habits which you know to be unhealthy or -degrading; but cherish, above all things, _local associations_, and -_hereditary skill_. - -It is the curse of so-called civilization to pretend to originality by -the wilful invention of new methods of error, while it quenches wherever -it has power, the noble originality of nations, rising out of the purity -of their race, and the love of their native land. - - -95. I could say much more, but I think I have said enough to justify for -the present what you might otherwise have thought singular in the -methods I shall adopt for your exercise in the drawing schools. I shall -indeed endeavour to write down for you the laws of the art which is -centrally best; and to exhibit to you a certain number of its -unquestionable standards: but your own actual practice shall be limited -to objects which will explain to you the meaning, and awaken you to the -beauty, of the art of your own country. - -The first series of my lectures on sculpture must have proved to you -that I do not despise either the workmanship or the mythology of Greece; -but I must assert with more distinctness than even in my earliest works, -the absolute unfitness of all its results to be made the guides of -English students or artists. - -Every nation can represent, with prudence, or success, only the -realities in which it delights. What you have with you, and before you, -daily, dearest to your sight and heart, _that_, by the magic of your -hand, or of your lips, you can gloriously express to others; and what -you ought to have in your sight and heart,--what, if you have not, -nothing else can be truly seen or loved,--is the human life of your own -people, understood in its history, and admired in its presence. - -And unless that be first made beautiful, idealism must be false and -imagination monstrous. - -It is your influence on the existing world which, in your studies here, -you ought finally to consider; and although it is not, in that -influence, my function to direct you, I hope you will not be -discontented to know that I shall ask no effort from your art-genius, -beyond the rational suggestion of what we may one day hope to see -actually realized in England, in the sweetness of her landscape, and the -dignity of her people. - - * * * * * - -In connection with the subject of this lecture, I may mention to you -that I have received an interesting letter, requesting me to assist in -promoting some improvements designed in the city of Oxford. - -But as the entire charm and educational power of the city of Oxford, so -far as that educational power depended on reverent associations, or on -visible solemnities and serenities of architecture, have been already -destroyed; and, as far as our own lives extend, destroyed, I may say, -for ever, by the manufacturing suburb which heaps its ashes on one side, -and the cheap-lodging suburb which heaps its brickbats on the other; I -am myself, either as antiquary or artist, absolutely indifferent to what -happens next; except on grounds respecting the possible health, -cleanliness, and decency which may yet be obtained for the increasing -population. - -How far cleanliness and decency bear on art and science, or on the -changed functions of the university to its crowd of modern students, I -have partly to consider in connection with the subject of my next -lecture, and I will reserve therefore any definite notice of these -proposed improvements in the city, until the next occasion of meeting -you. - - - - - LECTURE VI. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCE OF LIGHT. - - _24th February, 1872._ - - -96. I have now, perhaps to the exhaustion of your patience, but you will -find, not without real necessity, defined the manner in which the mental -tempers, ascertained by philosophy to be evil or good, retard and -advance the parallel studies of science and art. - -In this and the two next following lectures I shall endeavour to state -to you the literal modes in which the virtues of art are connected with -the principles of exact science; but now, remember, I am speaking, not -of the consummate science of which art is the image; but only of what -science we have actually attained, which is often little more than -terminology (and even that uncertain), with only a gleam of true science -here and there. - -I will not delay you by any defence of the arrangement of sciences I -have chosen. Of course we may at once dismiss chemistry and pure -mathematics from our consideration. Chemistry can do nothing for art but -mix her colours, and tell her what stones will stand weather; (I wish, -at this day, she did as much;) and with pure mathematics we have nothing -whatever to do; nor can that abstract form of high mathesis stoop to -comprehend the simplicity of art. To a first wrangler at Cambridge, -under the present conditions of his trial, statues will necessarily be -stone dolls, and imaginative work unintelligible. We have, then, in true -fellowship with art, only the sciences of light and form, (optics and -geometry). If you will take the first syllable of the word 'geometry' to -mean earth in the form of flesh, as well as of clay, the two words sum -every science that regards graphic art, or of which graphic art can -represent the conclusions. - - -97. To-day we are to speak of optics, the science of seeing;--of that -power, whatever it may be, which (by Plato's definition), "through the -eyes, manifests colour to us." - -Hold that definition always, and remember that 'light' means accurately -the power that affects the eyes of animals with the sensation proper to -them. The study of the effect of light on nitrate of silver is -chemistry, not optics; and what is light to _us_ may indeed shine on a -stone; but is not light to the stone. The "fiat lux" of creation is, -therefore, in the deep sense of it, "fiat anima." - -We cannot say that it is merely "fiat oculus," for the effect of light -on living organism, even when sightless, cannot be separated from its -influence on sight. A plant consists essentially of two parts, root and -leaf: the leaf by nature seeks light, the root by nature seeks darkness: -it is not warmth or cold, but essentially light and shade, which are to -them, as to us, the appointed conditions of existence. - - -98. And you are to remember still more distinctly that the words "fiat -lux" mean indeed "fiat anima," because even the power of the eye itself, -as such, is _in_ its animation. You do not see _with_ the lens of the -eye. You see _through_ that, and by means of that, but you see with the -soul of the eye. - - -99. A great physiologist said to me the other day--it was in the -rashness of controversy, and ought not to be remembered, as a deliberate -assertion, therefore I do not give his name, still he did say--that -sight was "altogether mechanical." The words simply meant, if they meant -anything, that all his physiology had never taught him the difference -between eyes and telescopes. Sight is an absolutely spiritual -phenomenon; accurately, and only, to be so defined; and the "Let there -be light," is as much, when you understand it, the ordering of -intelligence, as the ordering of vision. It is the appointment of change -of what had been else only a mechanical effluence from things unseen to -things unseeing,--from stars that did not shine to earth that could not -perceive;--the change, I say, of that blind vibration into the glory of -the sun and moon for human eyes; so rendering possible also the -communication out of the unfathomable truth, of that portion of truth -which is good for us, and animating to us, and is set to rule over the -day and night of our joy and sorrow. - - -100. The sun was set thus 'to rule the day.' And of late you have -learned that he was set to rule everything that we know of. You have -been taught that, by the Sirens, as a piece of entirely new knowledge, -much to be exulted over. We painters, indeed, have been for some time -acquainted with the general look of the sun, and long before there were -painters there were wise men,--Zoroastrian and other,--who had suspected -that there was power in the sun; but the Sirens of yesterday have -somewhat new, it seems, to tell you of his authority, +epi chthoni -poulyboteirê+. I take a passage, almost at random, from a recent -scientific work. - -"Just as the phenomena of water-formed rocks all owe their existence -directly or indirectly chiefly to the sun's energy, so also do the -phenomena interwoven with life. This has long been recognised by various -eminent British and foreign physicists; and in 1854 Professor ----, in -his memoir on the method of palæontology, asserted that organisms were -but _manifestations of applied physics and applied chemistry_. Professor ----- puts the generalisations of physicists in a few words: When -speaking of the sun, it is remarked--'He rears the whole vegetable -world, and through it the animal; the lilies of the field are his -workmanship, the verdure of the meadows, and the cattle upon a thousand -hills. He forms the muscle, he urges the blood, he builds the brain. His -fleetness is in the lion's foot; he springs in the panther, he soars in -the eagle, he slides in the snake. He builds the forest and hews it -down, the power which raised the tree and that which wields the axe -being one and the same.'" - -All this is exceedingly true; and it is new in _one_ respect, namely, in -the ascertainment that the quantity of solar force necessary to produce -motive power is measurable, and, in its sum, unalterable. For the rest, -it was perfectly well known in Homer's time, as now, that animals could -not move till they were warm; and the fact that the warmth which enables -them to do so is finally traceable to the sun, would have appeared to a -Greek physiologist, no more interesting than, to a Greek poet, would -have been the no less certain fact, that "Tout ce qui se peut dire de -beau est dans les dictionnaires; il n'y a que les mots qui sont -transposés"--Everything fine, that can be said, is in the dictionaries; -it is only that the words are transposed. - -Yes, indeed; but to the +poiêtês+ the gist of the matter is _in_ the -transposition. The sun does, as the delighted physicist tells you, -unquestionably "slide in the snake;" but how comes he to adopt that -manner, we artists ask, of (literally) transposition? - - -101. The summer before last, as I was walking in the woods near the -Giesbach, on the Lake of Brientz, and moving very quietly, I came -suddenly on a small steel-gray serpent, lying in the middle of the path; -and it was greatly surprised to see me. Serpents, however, always have -complete command of their feelings, and it looked at me for a quarter of -a minute without the slightest change of posture: then, with an almost -imperceptible motion, it began to withdraw itself beneath a cluster of -leaves. Without in the least hastening its action, it gradually -concealed the whole of its body. I was about to raise one of the leaves, -when I saw what I thought was the glance of another serpent, in the -thicket at the path side; but it was the same one, which having once -withdrawn itself from observation beneath the leaves, used its utmost -agility to spring into the wood; and with so instantaneous a flash of -motion, that I never saw it leave the covert, and only caught the gleam -of light as it glided away into the copse. - - -102. Now, it was to me a matter of supreme indifference whether the -force which the creature used in this action was derived from the sun, -the moon, or the gas-works at Berne. What was, indeed, a matter of -interest to me, was just that which would have struck a peasant, or a -child;--namely, the calculating wisdom of the creature's device; and the -exquisite grace, strength, and precision of the action by which it was -accomplished. - - -103. I was interested then, I say, more in the device of the creature, -than in its source of motion. Nevertheless, I am pleased to hear, from -men of science, how necessarily that motion proceeds from the sun. But -where did its _device_ come from? There is no wisdom, no device in the -dust, any more than there is warmth in the dust. The springing of the -serpent is from the sun:--the wisdom of the serpent,--whence that? - - -104. From the sun also, is the only answer, I suppose, possible to -physical science. It is not a false answer: quite true, like the other, -up to a certain point. To-day, in the strength of your youth, you may -know what it is to have the power of the sun taken out of your arms and -legs. But when you are old, you will know what it is to have the power -of the sun taken out of your minds also. Such a thing may happen to you, -sometimes, even now; but it will continually happen to you when you are -my age. You will no more, then, think over a matter to any good purpose -after twelve o'clock in the day. It may be possible to think over, and, -much more, to talk over, matters, to little, or to bad, purpose after -twelve o'clock in the day. The members of your national legislature do -their work, we know, by gaslight; but you don't suppose the power of the -sun is in any of _their_ devices? Quite seriously, all the vital -functions,--and, like the rest and with the rest, the pure and wholesome -faculties of the brain,--rise and set with the sun: your digestion and -intellect are alike dependent on its beams; your thoughts, like your -blood, flow from the force of it, in all scientific accuracy and -necessity. Sol illuminatio nostra est; Sol salus nostra; Sol sapientia -nostra. - -And it is the final act and outcome of lowest national atheism, since it -cannot deny the sun, at least to strive to do without it; to blast the -day in heaven with smoke, and prolong the dance, and the council, by -night, with tapers, until at last, rejoicing--Dixit insipiens in corde -suo, non est Sol. - - -105. Well, the sliding of the serpent, and the device of the serpent, we -admit, come from the sun. The flight of the dove, and its -harmlessness,--do they also? - -The flight,--yes, assuredly. The Innocence?--It is a new question. How -of that? Between movement and non-movement--nay, between sense and -non-sense--the difference rests, we say, in the power of Apollo; but -between malice and innocence, where shall we find the root of _that_ -distinction? - - -106. Have you ever considered how much literal truth there is in the -words--"The light of the body is the eye. If, therefore, thine eye be -evil"--and the rest? How _can_ the eye be evil? How, if evil, can it -fill the whole body with darkness? - -What is the meaning of having one's body _full_ of darkness? It cannot -mean merely being blind. Blind, you may fall in a ditch if you move; but -you may be well, if at rest. But to be evil-eyed, is not that worse than -to have no eyes? and instead of being only in darkness, to have darkness -in _us_, portable, perfect, and eternal? - - -107. Well, in order to get at the meaning we may, indeed, now appeal to -physical science, and ask her to help us. How many manner of eyes are -there? You physical-science students should be able to tell us painters -that. We only know, in a vague way, the external aspect and expression -of eyes. We see, as we try to draw the endlessly-grotesque creatures -about us, what infinite variety of instruments they have; but you know, -far better than we do, how those instruments are constructed and -directed. You know how some play in their sockets with independent -revolution,--project into near-sightedness on pyramids of bone,--are -brandished at the points of horns,--studded over backs and -shoulders,--thrust at the ends of antennæ to pioneer for the head, or -pinched up into tubercles at the corners of the lips. But how do the -creatures see out of all these eyes? - - -108. No business of ours, you may think? Pardon me. This is no Siren's -question--this is altogether business of ours, lest, perchance, any of -us should see partly in the same manner. Comparative sight is a far more -important question than comparative anatomy. It is no matter, though we -sometimes walk--and it may often be desirable to climb--like apes; but -suppose we only _see_ like apes, or like lower creatures? I can tell -you, the science of optics is an essential one to us; for exactly -according to these infinitely grotesque directions and multiplications -of instrument you have correspondent, not only intellectual but moral, -faculty in the soul of the creatures. Literally, if the eye be pure, the -body is pure; but, if the light of the body be but darkness, how great -is that darkness! - - -109. Have you ever looked attentively at the study I gave you of the -head of the rattle-snake? The serpent will keep its eyes fixed on you -for an hour together, a vertical slit in each admitting such image of -you as is possible to the rattlesnake retina, and to the rattlesnake -mind. How much of you do you think it sees? I ask that, first, as a pure -physical question. I do not know; it is not my business to know. You, -from your schools of physical science, should bring me answer. How much -of a man can a snake see? What sort of image of him is received through -that deadly vertical cleft in the iris;--through the glazed blue of the -ghastly lens? Make me a picture of the appearance of a man, as far as -you can judge it can take place on the snake's retina. Then ask -yourselves, farther, how much of speculation is possible to the snake, -touching this human aspect? - - -110. Or, if that seem too far beneath possible inquiry, how say you of -a tiger's eye, or a cat's? A cat may look at a king;--yes; but can it -_see_ a king when it looks at him? The beasts of prey never seem to me -to _look_, in our sense, at all. Their eyes are fascinated by the motion -of anything, as a kitten's by a ball;--they fasten, as if drawn by an -inevitable attraction, on their food. But when a cat caresses you, it -never looks at you. Its heart seems to be in its back and paws, not its -eyes. It will rub itself against you, or pat you with velvet tufts, -instead of talons; but you may talk to it an hour together, yet not -rightly catch its eye. Ascend higher in the races of being--to the fawn, -the dog, the horse; you will find that, according to the clearness of -sight, is indeed the kindness of sight, and that at last the noble eyes -of humanity look through humanity, from heart into heart, and with no -mechanical vision. And the Light of the body is the eye--yes, and in -happy life, the light of the heart also. - - -111. But now note farther: there is a mathematical power in the eye -which may far transcend its moral power. When the moral power is feeble, -the faculty of measurement, or of distinct delineation, may be supreme; -and of comprehension none. But here, again, I want the help of the -physical science schools. I believe the eagle has no scent, and hunts by -sight, yet flies higher than any other bird. Now, I want to know what -the appearance is to an eagle, two thousand feet up, of a sparrow in a -hedge, or of a partridge in a stubble-field. What kind of definition on -the retina do these brown spots take to manifest themselves as signs of -a thing eatable; and if an eagle sees a partridge so, does it see -everything else so? And then tell me, farther, does it see only a square -yard at a time, and yet, as it flies, take summary of the square yards -beneath it? When next you are travelling by express sixty miles an hour, -past a grass bank, try to see a grasshopper, and you will get some idea -of an eagle's optical business, if it takes only the line of ground -underneath it. Does it take more? - - -112. Then, besides this faculty of clear vision, you have to consider -the faculty of metric vision. Neither an eagle, nor a kingfisher, nor -any other darting bird, can see things with both their eyes at the same -time as completely as you and I can; but think of their faculty of -measurement as compared with ours! You will find that it takes you -months of labour before you can acquire accurate power, even of -_deliberate_ estimate of distances with the eye; it is one of the points -to which, most of all, I have to direct your work. And the curious thing -is that, given the degree of practice, you will measure ill or well with -the eye in proportion to the quantity of life in you. No one can measure -with a glance, when they are tired. Only the other day I got half an -inch out of a foot, in drawing merely a coat of arms, because I was -tired. But fancy what would happen to a swallow, if _it_ was half an -inch out in a foot, in flying round a corner! - - -113. Well, that is the first branch of the questions which we want -answered by optical science;--the actual distortion, contraction, and -other modification, of the sight of different animals, as far as it can -be known from the forms of their eyes. Then, secondly, we ourselves need -to be taught the connection of the sense of colour with health; the -difference in the physical conditions which lead us to seek for gloom, -or brightness of hue; and the nature of purity in colour, first in the -object seen, and then in the eye which prefers it. - - * * * * * - -(The portion of lecture here omitted referred to illustrations of -vulgarity and delicacy in colour, showing that the vulgar colours, even -when they seemed most glaring, were in reality impure and dull; and -destroyed each other by contention; while noble colour, intensely bright -and pure, was nevertheless entirely governed and calm, so that every -colour bettered and aided all the rest.) - - -114. You recollect how I urged you in my opening course of lectures -rather to work in the school of crystalline colour than in that of -shade. - -Since I gave that first course of lectures, my sense of the necessity of -this study of brightness primarily, and of purity and gaiety beyond all -other qualities, has deeply been confirmed by the influence which the -unclean horror and impious melancholy of the modern French school--most -literally the school of death--has gained over the popular mind. I will -not dwell upon the evil phrenzy to-day. But it is in order, at once to -do the best I can, in counteraction of its deadly influence, though not -without other and constant reasons, that I give you heraldry, with all -its splendour and its pride, its brightness of colour, and -honourableness of meaning, for your main elementary practice. - - -115. To-day I have only time left to press on your thoughts the deeper -law of this due joy in colour and light. - -On any morning of the year, how many pious supplications, do you -suppose, are uttered throughout educated Europe for "light"? How many -lips at least pronounce the word, and, perhaps, in the plurality of -instances, with some distinct idea attached to it? It is true the -speakers employ it only as a metaphor. But why is their language thus -metaphorical? If they mean merely to ask for spiritual knowledge or -guidance, why not say so plainly, instead of using this jaded figure of -speech? No boy goes to his father when he wants to be taught, or helped, -and asks his father to give him 'light.' He asks what he wants, advice -or protection. Why are not we also content to ask our Father for what we -want, in plain English? - -The metaphor, you will answer, is put into our mouths, and felt to be a -beautiful and necessary one. - -I admit it. In your educational series, first of all examples of modern -art, is the best engraving I could find of the picture which, founded -on that idea of Christ's being the Giver of Light, contains, I believe, -the most true and useful piece of religious vision which realistic art -has yet embodied. But why is the metaphor so necessary, or, rather, how -far is it a metaphor at all? Do you think the words 'Light of the World' -mean only 'Teacher or Guide of the World'? When the Sun of Justice is -said to rise with health in its wings, do you suppose the image only -means the correction of error? Or does it even mean so much? The Light -of Heaven is needed to do that perfectly. But what we are to pray for is -the Light of the _World_; nay, the Light "that lighteth _every man that -cometh into the world_." - - -116. You will find that it is no metaphor--nor has it ever been so. - -To the Persian, the Greek, and the Christian, the sense of the power of -the God of Light has been one and the same. That power is not merely in -teaching or protecting, but in the enforcement of purity of body, and of -equity or justice in the heart; and this, observe, not heavenly purity, -nor final justice; but, now, and here, actual purity in the midst of the -world's foulness,--practical justice in the midst of the world's -iniquity. And the physical strength of the organ of sight,--the physical -purity of the flesh, the actual love of sweet light and stainless -colour,--are the necessary signs, real, inevitable, and visible, of the -prevailing presence, with any nation, or in any house, of the "Light -that lighteth every man that cometh into the world." - - -117. _Physical_ purity;--actual love of sweet light, and of fair colour. -This is one palpable sign, and an entirely needful one, that we have got -what we pretend to pray for every morning. That, you will find, is the -meaning of Apollo's war with the Python--of your own St. George's war -with the dragon. You have got that battle stamped again on every -sovereign in your pockets, but do you think the sovereigns are helping, -at this instant, St. George in his battle? Once, on your gold of the -Henrys' times, you had St. Michael and the dragon, and called your coins -'angels.' How much have they done lately, of angelic work, think you, in -purifying the earth? - - -118. Purifying, literally, purging and cleansing. That is the first -"sacred art" all men have to learn. And the words I deferred to the -close of this lecture, about the proposed improvements in Oxford, are -very few. Oxford is, indeed, capable of much improvement, but only by -undoing the greater part of what has been done to it within the last -twenty years; and, at present, the one thing that I would say to -well-meaning persons is, 'For Heaven's sake--literally for Heaven's -sake--let the place alone, and clean it.' I walked last week to -Iffley--not having been there for thirty years. I did not know the -church inside; I found it pitch-dark with painted glass of barbarous -manufacture, and the old woman who showed it infinitely proud of letting -me in at the front door instead of the side one. But close by it, not -fifty yards down the hill, there was a little well--a holy well it -should have been; beautiful in the recess of it, and the lovely ivy and -weeds above it, had it but been cared for in a human way; but so full of -frogs that you could not have dipped a cup in it without catching one. - -What is the use of pretty painted glass in your churches when you have -the plagues of Egypt outside of them? - - -119. I walked back from Iffley to Oxford by what was once the most -beautiful approach to an academical city of any in Europe. Now it is a -wilderness of obscure and base buildings. You think it a fine thing to -go into Iffley church by the front door;--and you build cheap -lodging-houses over all the approach to the chief university of English -literature! That, forsooth, is your luminous cloister, and porch of -Polygnotus to your temple of Apollo. And in the centre of that temple, -at the very foot of the dome of the Radclyffe, between two principal -colleges, the lane by which I walked from my own college half an hour -ago, to this place,--Brasen-nose Lane--is left in a state as loathsome -as a back-alley in the East end of London. - - -120. These, I suppose, are the signs of extending liberality, and -disseminated advantages of education. - -Gentlemen, if, as was lately said by a leading member of your -Government, the function of a university be only to examine, it may -indeed examine the whole mob of England in the midst of a dunghill; but -it cannot teach the gentlemen of England in the midst of a dunghill; no, -nor even the people of England. How many of her people it _ought_ to -teach is a question. We think, now-a-days, our philosophy is to light -every man that cometh into the world, and to light every man equally. -Well, when indeed you give up all other commerce in this island, and, as -in Bacon's "New Atlantis," only buy and sell to get God's first -creature, which was light, there may be some equality of gain for us in -that possession. But until then,--and we are very far from such a -time--the light cannot be given to all men equally. Nay, it is becoming -questionable whether, instead of being equally distributed to all, it -may not be equally withdrawn from us all: whether the ideas of purity -and justice,--of loveliness which is to sanctify our peace,--and of -justice which is to sanctify our battle, are not vanishing from the -purpose of our policy, and even from the conception of our education. - -The uses, and the desire, of seclusion, of meditation, of restraint, and -of correction--are they not passing from us in the collision of worldly -interests, and restless contests of mean hope, and meaner fear? What -light, what health, what peace, or what security,--youths of England--do -you come here now to seek? In what sense do you receive--with what -sincerity do you adopt for yourselves--the ancient legend of your -schools, "Dominus illuminatio mea, et salus mea; quem timebo"? - - -121. Remember that the ancient theory on which this university was -founded,--not the theory of any one founder, observe, nor even the -concluded or expressed issue of the wisdom of many; but the tacit -feeling by which the work and hope of all were united and -completed--was, that England should gather from among her children a -certain number of purest and best, whom she might train to become, each -in their day of strength, her teachers and patterns in religion, her -declarers and doers of justice in law and her leaders in battle. Bred, -it might be, by their parents, in the fond poverty of learning, or -amidst the traditions and discipline of illustrious houses,--in either -manner separate, from their youth up, to their glorious offices--they -came here to be kindled into the lights that were to be set on the hills -of England, brightest of the pious, the loyal, and the brave. Whatever -corruption blighted, whatever worldliness buried, whatever sin polluted -their endeavour, this conception of its meaning remained; and was indeed -so fulfilled in faithfulness, that to the men whose passions were -tempered, and whose hearts confirmed, in the calm of these holy places, -you, now living, owe all that is left to you of hope in heaven, and all -of safety or honour that you have to trust and defend on earth. - -Their children have forfeited, some by guilt, and many in folly, the -leadership they inherited; and every man in England now is to do and to -learn what is right in his own eyes. How much need, therefore, that we -should learn first of all what eyes are; and what vision they ought to -possess--science of sight granted only to clearness of soul; but granted -in its fulness even to mortal eyes: for though, after the skin, worms -may destroy their body, happy the pure in heart, for they, yet in their -flesh, shall see the Light of Heaven, and know the will of God. - - - - - LECTURE VII. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF INORGANIC FORM. - - _February 9th, 1872._ - - -122. I did not wish in my last lecture, after I had directed your -attention to the special bearing of some of the principles I pleaded -for, to enforce upon you any farther general conclusions. But it is -necessary now to collect the gist of what I endeavoured to show you -respecting the organs of sight; namely, that in proportion to the -physical perfectness or clearness of them is the degree in which they -are raised from the perception of prey to the perception of beauty and -of affection. The imperfect and brutal instrument of the eye may be -vivid with malignity, or wild with hunger, or manifoldly detective with -microscopic exaggeration, assisting the ingenuity of insects with a -multiplied and permanent monstrosity of all things round them; but the -noble human sight, careless of prey, disdainful of minuteness, and -reluctant to anger, becomes clear in gentleness, proud in reverence, and -joyful in love. And finally, the physical splendour of light and colour, -so far from being the perception of a mechanical force by a mechanical -instrument, is an entirely spiritual consciousness, accurately and -absolutely proportioned to the purity of the moral nature, and to the -force of its natural and wise affections. - - -123. That was the sum of what I wished to show you in my last lecture; -and observe, that what remains to me doubtful in these things,--and it -is much--I do not trouble you with. Only what I know that on experiment -you can ascertain for yourselves, I tell you, and illustrate, for the -time, as well as I can. Experiments in art are difficult, and take years -to try; you may at first fail in them, as you might in a chemical -analysis; but in all the matters which in this place I shall urge on -your attention I can assure you of the final results. - -That, then, being the sum of what I could tell you with certainty -respecting the methods of sight, I have next to assure you that this -faculty of sight, disciplined and pure, is the only proper faculty -which the graphic artist is to use in his inquiries into nature. His -office is to show her appearances; his duty is to know them. It is not -his duty, though it may be sometimes for his convenience, while it is -always at his peril, that he knows more;--knows the _causes_ of -appearances, or the essence of the things that produce them. - - -124. Once again, therefore, I must limit my application of the word -science with respect to art. I told you that I did not mean by 'science' -such knowledge as that triangles on equal bases and between parallels -are equal, but such knowledge as that the stars in Cassiopeia are in the -form of a _W_. But, farther still, it is not to be considered as -science, for an artist, that they are stars at all. What _he_ has to -know is that they are luminous points which twinkle in a certain manner, -and are pale yellow, or deep yellow, and may be quite deceptively -imitated at a certain distance by brass-headed nails. This he ought to -know, and to remember accurately, and his art knowledge--the science, -that is to say--of which his art is to be the reflection, is the sum of -knowledges of this sort; his memory of the look of the sun and moon at -such and such times, through such and such clouds; his memory of the -look of the mountains,--of the look of sea,--of the look of human faces. - - -125. Perhaps you would not call that 'science' at all. It is no matter -what either you or I call it. It _is_ science of a certain order of -facts. Two summers ago, looking from Verona at sunset, I saw the -mountains beyond the Lago di Garda of a strange blue, vivid and rich -like the bloom of a damson. I never saw a mountain-blue of that -particular quality before or since. My science as an artist consists in -my knowing that sort of blue from every other sort, and in my perfect -recollection that this particular blue had such and such a green -associated with it in the near fields. I have nothing whatever to do -with the atmospheric causes of the colour: that knowledge would merely -occupy my brains wastefully, and warp my artistic attention and energy -from their point. Or to take a simpler instance yet: Turner, in his -early life, was sometimes good-natured, and would show people what he -was about. He was one day making a drawing of Plymouth harbour, with -some ships at the distance of a mile or two, seen against the light. -Having shown this drawing to a naval officer, the naval officer -observed with surprise, and objected with very justifiable indignation, -that the ships of the line had no port-holes. "No," said Turner, -"certainly not. If you will walk up to Mount Edgecumbe, and look at the -ships against the sunset, you will find you can't see the port-holes." -"Well, but," said the naval officer, still indignant, "you know the -port-holes are there." "Yes," said Turner, "I know that well enough; but -my business is to draw what I see, and not what I know is there." - - -126. Now, that is the law of all fine artistic work whatsoever; and, -more than that, it is, on the whole, perilous to you, and undesirable, -that you _should_ know what is there. If, indeed, you have so perfectly -disciplined your sight that it cannot be influenced by prejudice;--if -you are sure that none of your knowledge of what is there will be -allowed to assert itself; and that you can reflect the ship as simply as -the sea beneath it does, though you may know it with the intelligence of -a sailor,--then, indeed, you may allow yourself the pleasure, and what -will sometimes be the safeguard from error, of learning what ships or -stars, or mountains, are in reality; but the ordinary powers of human -perception are almost certain to be disturbed by the knowledge of the -real nature of what they draw: and, until you are quite fearless of your -faithfulness to the appearances of things, the less you know of their -reality the better. - - -127. And it is precisely in this passive and naïve simplicity that art -becomes, not only greatest in herself, but most useful to science. If -she _knew_ anything of what she was representing, she would exhibit that -partial knowledge with complacency; and miss the points beside it, and -beyond it. Two painters draw the same mountain; the one has got -unluckily into his head some curiosity about glacier marking; and the -other has a theory of cleavage. The one will scratch his mountain all -over;--the other split it to pieces; and both drawings will be equally -useless for the purposes of honest science. - - -128. Any of you who chance to know my books cannot but be surprised at -my saying these things; for, of all writers on art, I suppose there is -no one who appeals so often as I do to physical science. But observe, I -appeal as a critic of art, never as a master of it. Turner made drawings -of mountains and clouds which the public said were absurd. I said, on -the contrary, they were the only true drawings of mountains and clouds -ever made yet: and I proved this to be so, as only it could be proved, -by steady test of physical science: but Turner had drawn his mountains -rightly, long before their structure was known to any geologist in -Europe; and has painted perfectly truths of anatomy in clouds which I -challenge any meteorologist in Europe to explain at this day. - - -129. And indeed I was obliged to leave "Modern Painters" incomplete, or, -rather, as a mere sketch of intention, in analysis of the forms of cloud -and wave, because I had not scientific data enough to appeal to. Just -reflect for an instant how absolutely whatever has been done in art to -represent these most familiar, yet most spectral forms of cloud--utterly -inorganic, yet, by spiritual ordinance, in their kindness fair, and in -their anger frightful,--how all that has yet been done to represent -them, from the undulating bands of blue and white which give to heraldry -its nebule bearing, to the finished and deceptive skies of Turner, has -been done without one syllable of help from the lips of science.[F] - - [F] Rubens' rainbow, in the Loan Exhibition this year, was of dull - blue, _darker_ than the sky, in a scene lighted from the side of - the rainbow. Rubens is not to be blamed for ignorance of optics, - but for never having so much as looked at a rainbow carefully: and - I do not believe that my friend Mr. Alfred Hunt, whose study of - rainbow, in the rooms of the Water Colour Society last year, was - unrivalled, for vividness and truth, by any I know, learned how to - paint it by studying optics. - - -130. The rain which flooded our fields the Sunday before last, was -followed, as you will remember, by bright days, of which Tuesday the -20th was, in London, notable for the splendour, towards the afternoon, -of its white cumulus clouds. There has been so much black east wind -lately, and so much fog and artificial gloom, besides, that I find it is -actually some two years since I last saw a noble cumulus cloud under -full light. I chanced to be standing under the Victoria Tower at -Westminster, when the largest mass of them floated past, that day, from -the north-west; and I was more impressed than ever yet by the awfulness -of the cloud-form, and its unaccountableness, in the present state of -our knowledge. The Victoria Tower, seen against it, had no magnitude: it -was like looking at Mont Blanc over a lamp-post. The domes of cloud-snow -were heaped as definitely; their broken flanks were as grey and firm as -rocks, and the whole mountain, of a compass and height in heaven which -only became more and more inconceivable as the eye strove to ascend it, -was passing behind the tower with a steady march, whose swiftness must -in reality have been that of a tempest: yet, along all the ravines of -vapour, precipice kept pace with precipice, and not one thrust another. - - -131. What is it that hews them out? Why is the blue sky pure -there,--cloud solid here; and edged like marble: and why does the state -of the blue sky pass into the state of cloud, in that calm advance? - -It is true that you can more or less imitate the forms of cloud with -explosive vapour or steam; but the steam melts instantly, and the -explosive vapour dissipates itself. The cloud, of perfect form, proceeds -unchanged. It is not an explosion, but an enduring and advancing -presence. The more you think of it, the less explicable it will become -to you. - - -132. That this should yet be unexplained in the kingdom of the air is, -however, no marvel, since aspects of a similar kind are unexplained in -the earth, which we tread, and in the water which we drink and wash -with. You seldom pass a day without receiving some pleasure from the -cloudings in marble; can you explain how the stone was clouded? You -certainly do not pass a day without washing your hands. Can you explain -the frame of a soap-bubble? - - -133. I have allowed myself, by way of showing at once what I wanted to -come to, to overlook the proper arrangement of my subject, and I must -draw back a little. - -For all his own purposes, merely graphic, we say, if an artist's eye is -fine and faithful, the fewer points of science he has in his head, the -better. But for purposes _more_ than graphic, in order that he may feel -towards things as he should, and choose them as _we_ should, he ought to -know something about them; and if he is quite sure that he can receive -the science of them without letting himself become uncandid and narrow -in observation, it is very desirable that he should be acquainted with a -little of the alphabet of structure,--just as much as may quicken and -certify his observation, without prejudicing it. Cautiously, therefore, -and receiving it as a perilous indulgence, he may venture to learn, -perhaps as much astronomy as may prevent his carelessly putting the new -moon wrong side upwards; and as much botany as will prevent him from -confusing, which I am sorry to say Turner did, too often, Scotch firs -with stone pines. He may concede so much to geology as to choose, of two -equally picturesque views, one that illustrates rather than conceals the -structure of a crag: and perhaps, once or twice in his life, a portrait -painter might advantageously observe how unlike a skull is to a face. -And for you, who are to use your drawing as one element in general -education, it is desirable that physical science should assist in the -attainment of truth which a real painter seizes by practice of eye. - - -134. For this purpose I shall appeal to your masters in science to -furnish us, as they have leisure, with some simple and readable accounts -of the structure of things which we have to draw continually. Such -scientific accounts will not usually much help us to draw them, but will -make the drawing, when done, far more valuable to us. - -I have told you, for instance, that nobody--at least, no painter--can at -present explain the structure of a bubble. To know that structure will -not help you to draw sea-foam, but it will make you look at sea-foam -with greater interest. - -I am not able now to watch the course of modern science, and may perhaps -be in error in thinking that the frame of a bubble is still unexplained. -But I have not yet met, by any chance, with an account of the forces -which, under concussion, arrange the particles of a fluid into a -globular film; though, from what I know of cohesion, gravity, and the -nature of the atmosphere, I can make some shift to guess at the kind of -action that takes place in forming a single bubble. But how one bubble -absorbs another without breaking it; or what exact methods of tension -prepare for the change of form, and establish it in an instant, I am -utterly at a loss to conceive. - -Here, I think, then, is one familiar matter which up to the possible -point, science might condescendingly interpret for us. The exhaustion of -the film in preparation for its change: the determination of the smaller -bubble to yield itself up to the larger; the instantaneous flash into -the new shape, and the swift adjustment of the rectangular lines of -intersection in the marvellous vaulting--all this I want to be -explained to us, so that, if we cannot understand it altogether, we may -at least know exactly how far we do, and how far we do not. - - -135. And, next to the laws of the formation of a bubble, I want to see, -in simple statement, those of the formation of a bottle. Namely, the -laws of its resistance to fracture, from without and within, by -concussion or explosion; and the due relations of form to thickness of -material; so that, putting the problem in a constant form, we may know, -out of a given quantity of material, how to make the strongest bottle -under given limitations as to shape. For instance,--you have so much -glass given you: your bottle is to hold two pints, to be flat-bottomed, -and so narrow and long in the neck that you can grasp it with your hand. -What will be its best ultimate form? - - -136. Probably, if you thought it courteous, you would laugh at me just -now; and, at any rate, are thinking to yourselves that _this_ art -problem at least needs no scientific investigation, having been -practically solved, long ago, by the imperative human instinct for the -preservation of bottled stout. But you are only feeling now, gentlemen, -and recognizing in one instance, what I tell you of all. Every -scientific investigation is, in the same sense as this would be, useless -to the trained master of any art. To the soap-bubble blower, and -glass-blower,--to the pot-maker and bottle-maker,--if dexterous -craftsmen, your science is of no account; and the imp of their art may -be imagined as always looking triumphantly and contemptuously, out of -its successfully-produced bottle, on the vain analysis of centrifugal -impulse and inflating breath. - - -137. Nevertheless, in the present confusion of instinct and opinion as -to beautiful form, it is desirable to have these two questions more -accurately dealt with. For observe what they branch into. The coloured -segments of globe out of which foam is constituted, are portions of -spherical vaults constructed of fluent particles. You cannot have the -principles of spherical vaulting put in more abstract terms. - -Then considering the arch as the section of a vault, the greater number -of Gothic arches may be regarded as the intersections of two spherical -vaults. - -Simple Gothic foliation is merely the triple, quadruple, or variously -multiple repetition of such intersection. - -And the beauty--(observe this carefully)--the beauty of Gothic arches, -and of their foliation, always involves reference to the strength of -their structure; but only to their structure as _self-sustaining; not as -sustaining superincumbent weight_. In the most literal of senses, "the -earth hath bubbles as the water hath; and these are of them." - - -138. What do you think made Michael Angelo look back to the dome of -Santa Maria del Fiore, saying, "Like thee I will not build one, better -than thee I cannot"? To you or to me there is nothing in that dome -different from hundreds of others. Which of you, who have been at -Florence, can tell me honestly he saw anything wonderful in it? But -Michael Angelo knew the exact proportion of thickness to weight and -curvature which enabled it to stand as securely as a mountain of -adamant, though it was only a film of clay, as frail, in proportion to -its bulk, as a sea shell. Over the massy war towers of the city it -floated; fragile, yet without fear. "Better than thee I cannot." - - -139. Then think what the investigation of the bottle branches into, -joined with that of its necessary companion, the cup. There is a sketch -for you of the cup of cups, the pure Greek +kantharos+, which is always -in the hand of Dionusos, as the thunderbolt is in that of Zeus. Learn -but to draw that thoroughly, and you won't have much more to learn of -abstract form; for the investigation of the kinds of line that limit -this will lead you into all the practical geometry of nature; the -ellipses of her sea-bays in perspective; the parabolas of her waterfalls -and fountains in profile; the catenary curves of their falling festoons -in front; the infinite variety of accelerated or retarded curvature in -every condition of mountain debris. But do you think mere science can -measure for you any of these things? That book on the table is one of -the four volumes of Sir William Hamilton's "Greek Vases." He has -measured every important vase vertically and horizontally, with -precision altogether admirable, and which may, I hope, induce you to -have patience with me in the much less complex, though even more -scrupulous, measurements which I shall require on my own examples. Yet -English pottery remains precisely where it was, in spite of all this -investigation. Do you fancy a Greek workman ever made a vase by -measurement? He dashed it from his hand on the wheel, and it was -beautiful: and a Venetian glass-blower swept you a curve of crystal from -the end of his pipe; and Reynolds or Tintoret swept you a curve of -colour from their pencils, as a musician the cadence of a note, -unerring, and to be measured, if you please, afterwards, with the -exactitude of Divine law. - - -140. But, if the truth and beauty of art are thus beyond attainment by -help of science, how much more its invention? I must defer what I have -chiefly to say on this head till next lecture; but to-day I can -illustrate, simply, the position of invention with respect to science in -one very important group of inorganic forms--those of drapery. - - -141. If you throw at random over a rod a piece of drapery of any -material which will fall into graceful folds, you will get a series of -sinuous folds in catenary curves: and any given disposition of these -will be nearly as agreeable as any other; though, if you throw the stuff -on the rod a thousand times, it will not fall twice alike. - - -142. But suppose, instead of a straight rod, you take a beautiful nude -statue, and throw the piece of linen over that. You may encumber and -conceal its form altogether; you may entirely conceal portions of the -limbs, and show others; or you may leave indications, under the thin -veil, of the contours which are hidden; but in ninety-nine cases out of -a hundred you will wish the drapery taken off again; you will feel that -the folds are in some sort discrepant and harmful, and eagerly snatch -them away. However passive the material, however softly accommodated to -the limbs, the wrinklings will always look foreign to the form, like the -drip of a heavy shower of rain falling off it, and will load themselves -in the hollows uncomfortably. You will have to pull them about; to -stretch them one way, loosen them in another, and supply the quantity of -government which a living person would have given to the dress, before -it becomes at all pleasing to you. - - -143. Doing your best, you will still not succeed to your mind, provided -you have, indeed, a mind worth pleasing. No adjustment that you can -make, on the quiet figure, will give any approximation to the look of -drapery which has previously accommodated itself to the action which -brought the figure into the position in which it stays. On a really -living person, gracefully dressed, and who has paused from graceful -motion, you will get, again and again, arrangements of fold which you -can admire: but they will not remain to be copied, the first following -movement alters all. If you had your photographic plate ready and could -photograph--I don't know if it has been tried--girls, like waves, as -they move, you would get what was indeed lovely; and yet, when you -compared even such results with fine sculpture, you would see that there -was something wanting;--that, in the deepest sense, _all_ was yet -wanting. - - -144. Yet this is the most that the plurality of artists can do, or think -of doing. They draw the nude figure with careful anatomy; they put their -model or their lay figure into the required position; they arrange -draperies on it to their mind, and paint them from the reality. All such -work is absolutely valueless,--worse than valueless in the end of it, -blinding us to the qualities of fine work. - -In true design it is in this matter of drapery as in all else. There is -not a fold too much, and all that are given aid the expression, whether -of movement or character. Here is a bit of Greek sculpture, with many -folds; here is a bit of Christian sculpture with few. From the many, -not one could be removed without harm, and to the few, not one could be -added. This alone is art, and no science will ever enable you to do -this, but the poetic and fabric instincts only. - - -145. Nevertheless, however far above science, your work must comply with -all the requirements of science. The first thing you have to ask is, Is -it scientifically right? That is still nothing, but it is essential. In -modern imitations of Gothic work the artists think it religious to be -wrong, and that Heaven will be propitious only to saints whose stoles or -petticoats stand or fall into incredible angles. - -All that nonsense I will soon get well out of your heads by enabling you -to make accurate studies from real drapery, so that you may be able to -detect in a moment whether the folds in any design are natural and true -to the form, or artificial and ridiculous. - - -146. But this, which is the science of drapery, will never do more than -guard you in your first attempts in the art of it. Nay, when once you -have mastered the elements of such science, the most sickening of all -work to you will be that in which the draperies are all right,--and -nothing else is. In the present state of our schools one of the chief -mean merits against which I shall have to warn you is the imitation of -what milliners admire: nay, in many a piece of the best art I shall have -to show you that the draperies are, to some extent, intentionally -ill-done, _lest_ you should look at them. Yet, through every complexity -of desirableness, and counter-peril, hold to the constant and simple law -I have always given you--that the best work must be right in the -beginning, and lovely in the end. - - -147. Finally, observe that what is true respecting these simple forms of -drapery is true of all other inorganic form. It must become organic -under the artist's hand by his invention. As there must not be a fold in -a vestment too few or too many, there must not, in noble landscape, be a -fold in a mountain, too few or too many. As you will never get from real -linen cloth, by copying it ever so faithfully, the drapery of a noble -statue, so you will never get from real mountains, copy them never so -faithfully, the forms of noble landscape. Anything more beautiful than -the photographs of the Valley of Chamouni, now in your print-sellers' -windows, cannot be conceived. For geographical and geological purposes -they are worth anything; for art purposes, worth--a good deal less than -zero. You may learn much from them, and will mislearn more. But in -Turner's "Valley of Chamouni" the mountains have not a fold too much, -nor too little. There are no such mountains at Chamouni: they are the -ghosts of eternal mountains, such as have been, and shall be, for -evermore. - - -148. So now in sum, for I may have confused you by illustration,-- - -I. You are, in drawing, to try only to represent the appearances of -things, never what you know the things to be. - -II. Those appearances you are to test by the appliance of the scientific -laws relating to aspect; and to learn, by accurate measurement, and the -most fixed attention, to represent with absolute fidelity. - -III. Having learned to represent actual appearances faithfully, if you -have any human faculty of your own, visionary appearances will take -place to you which will be nobler and more true than any actual or -material appearances; and the realization of these is the function of -every fine art, which is founded absolutely, therefore, in truth, and -consists absolutely in imagination. And once more we may conclude with, -but now using them in a deeper sense, the words of our master--"The best -in this kind are but shadows." - - * * * * * - -It is to be our task, gentlemen, to endeavour that they may be at least -so much. - - - - - LECTURE VIII. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF ORGANIC FORM. - - _March 2nd, 1872._ - - -149. I have next in order to speak of the relation of art to science, in -dealing with its own principal subject--organic form, as the expression -of life. And, as in my former lecture, I will tell you at once what I -wish chiefly to enforce upon you. - -First,--but this I shall have no time to dwell upon,--That the true -power of art must be founded on a general knowledge of organic nature, -not of the human frame only. - -Secondly.--That in representing this organic nature, quite as much as in -representing inanimate things, Art has nothing to do with structures, -causes, or absolute facts; but only with appearances. - -Thirdly.--That in representing these appearances, she is more hindered -than helped by the knowledge of things which do not externally appear; -and therefore, that the study of anatomy generally, whether of plants, -animals, or man, is an impediment to graphic art. - -Fourthly.--That especially in the treatment and conception of the human -form, the habit of contemplating its anatomical structure is not only a -hindrance, but a degradation; and farther yet, that even the study of -the external form of the human body, more exposed than it may be -healthily and decently in daily life, has been essentially destructive -to every school of art in which it has been practised. - - -150. These four statements I undertake, in the course of our future -study, gradually to confirm to you. In a single lecture I, of course, -have time to do little more than clearly state and explain them. - -First, I tell you that art should take cognizance of all living things, -and know them, so as to be able to name, that is to say, in the truest -distinctive way, to describe them. The Creator daily brings, before the -noblest of His creatures, every lower creature, that whatsoever Man -calls it, may be the name thereof. - -Secondly.--In representing, nay, in thinking of, and caring for, these -beasts, man has to think of them essentially with their skins on them, -and with their souls in them. He is to know how they are spotted, -wrinkled, furred, and feathered: and what the look of them is, in the -eyes; and what grasp, or cling, or trot, or pat, in their paws and -claws. He is to take every sort of view of them, in fact, except -one,--the Butcher's view. He is never to think of them as bones and -meat. - -Thirdly.--In the representation of their appearance, the knowledge of -bones and meat, of joint and muscle, is more a hindrance than a help. - -Lastly.--With regard to the human form, such knowledge is a degradation -as well as a hindrance; and even the study of the nude is injurious, -beyond the limits of honour and decency in daily life. - -Those are my four positions. I will not detain you by dwelling on the -first two--that we should know every sort of beast, and know it with its -skin on it, and its soul within it. What you feel to be a -paradox--perhaps you think an incredible and insolent paradox--is my -telling you that you will be hindered from doing this by the study of -anatomy. I address myself, therefore, only to the last two points. - - -151. Among your standard engravings, I have put that of the picture by -Titian, in the Strozzi Palace, of a little Strozzi maiden feeding her -dog. I am going to put in the Rudimentary Series, where you can always -get at it (R. 125), this much more delightful, though not in all points -standard, picture by Reynolds, of an infant daughter of George the -Third's, with her Skye terrier. - -I have no doubt these dogs are the authentic pets, given in as true -portraiture as their mistresses; and that the little Princess of -Florence and Princess of England were both shown in the company which, -at that age, they best liked;--the elder feeding her favourite, and the -baby with her arms about the neck of hers. - -But the custom of putting either the dog, or some inferior animal, to be -either in contrast, or modest companionship, with the nobleness of human -form and thought, is a piece of what may be called mental comparative -anatomy, which has its beginning very far back in art indeed. One of -quite the most interesting Greek vases in the British Museum is that of -which the painting long went under the title of "Anacreon and his Dog." -It is a Greek lyric poet, singing with lifted head, in the action given -to Orpheus and Philammon in their moments of highest inspiration; while, -entirely unaffected by and superior to the music, there walks beside him -a sharp-nosed and curly-tailed dog, painted in what the exclusive -admirers of Greek art would, I suppose, call an ideal manner; that is to -say, his tail is more like a display of fireworks than a tail; but the -ideal evidently founded on the material existence of a charming, though -supercilious, animal not unlike the one which is at present the chief -solace of my labours in Oxford, Dr. Acland's dog Bustle. I might go much -farther back than this; but at all events, from the time of the golden -dog of Pandareos, the fawn of Diana, and the eagle, owl, and peacock of -the great Greek gods, you find a succession of animal types--centralized -in the Middle Ages, of course, by the hound and the falcon--used in art -either to symbolize, or contrast with, dignity in human persons. In -modern portraiture, the custom has become vulgarized by the anxiety of -everybody who sends their picture, or their children's, to the Royal -Academy, to have it demonstrated to the public by the exhibition of a -pony, and a dog with a whip in its mouth, that they live, at the proper -season, in a country house. But by the greater masters the thing is done -always with a deep sense of the mystery of the comparative existences of -living creatures, and of the methods of vice and virtue exhibited by -them. Albert Dürer scarcely ever draws a scene in the life of the -Virgin, without putting into the foreground some idle cherubs at play -with rabbits or kittens; and sometimes lets his love of the grotesque -get entirely the better of him, as in the engraving of the Madonna with -the monkey. Veronese disturbs the interview of the queen of Sheba with -Solomon, by the petulance of the queen of Sheba's Blenheim spaniel, whom -Solomon had not treated with sufficient respect; and when Veronese is -introduced himself, with all his family, to the Madonna, I am sorry to -say that his own pet dog turns its back to the Madonna, and walks out of -the room. - - -152. But among all these symbolic playfulnesses of the higher masters, -there is not one more perfect than this study by Reynolds of the infant -English Princess with her wire-haired terrier. He has put out his whole -strength to show the infinite differences, yet the blessed harmonies, -between the human and the lower nature. First, having a blue-eyed,[G] -soft baby to paint, he gives its full face, as round as may be, and -rounds its eyes to complete openness, because somebody is coming whom it -does not know. But it opens its eyes in quiet wonder, and is not -disturbed, but behaves as a princess should. Beside this soft, -serenely-minded baby, Reynolds has put the roughest and roughest-minded -dog he could think of. Instead of the full round eyes, you have only the -dark places in the hair where you know the terrier's eyes must be--sharp -enough, if you could see them--and very certainly seeing you, but not at -all wondering at you, like the baby's. For the terrier has instantly -made up his mind about you; and above all, that you have no business -there; and is growling and snarling in his fiercest manner, though -without moving from his mistress's side, or from under her arm. You have -thus the full contrast between the grace and true charm of the child, -who "thinketh no evil" of you, and the uncharitable narrowness of -nature in the grown-up dog of the world, who thinks nothing but evil of -you. But the dog's virtue and faithfulness are not told less clearly; -the baby evidently uses the creature just as much for a pillow as a -playmate;--buries its arm in the rough hair of it with a loving -confidence, half already converting itself to protection: and baby will -take care of dog, and dog of baby, through all chances of time and -fortune. - - [G] I have not seen the picture: in the engraving the tint of the - eyes would properly represent grey or blue. - - -153. Now the exquisiteness with which the painter has applied all his -skill in composition, all his dexterity in touch of pencil, and all his -experience of the sources of expression, to complete the rendering of -his comparison, cannot, in any of the finest subtleties of it, be -explained; but the first steps of its science may be easily traced; and -with little pains you may see how a simple and large mass of white is -opposed to a rugged one of grey; how the child's face is put in front -light, that no shadow may detract from the brightness which makes her, -as in Arabian legends, "a princess like to the full moon"--how, in this -halo, the lips and eyes are brought out in deep and rich colour, while -scarcely a gleam of reflection is allowed to disturb the quietness of -the eyes;--(the terrier's, you feel, would glitter enough, if you could -see them, and flash back in shallow fire; but the princess's eyes are -thinking, and do not flash;)--how the quaint cap surrounds, with its not -wholly painless formalism, the courtly and patient face, opposed to the -rugged and undressed wild one; and how the easy grace of soft limb and -rounded neck is cast, in repose, against the uneasily gathered up -crouching of the short legs, and petulant shrug of the eager shoulders, -in the ignobler creature. - - -154. Now, in his doing of all this, Sir Joshua was thinking of, and -seeing, whatever was best in the creatures, within and without. Whatever -was most perfectly doggish--perfectly childish--in soul and body. The -absolute truth of outer aspect, and of inner mind, he seizes infallibly; -but there is one part of the creatures which he never, for an instant, -thinks of, or cares for,--their bones. Do you suppose that, from first -to last, in painting such a picture, it would ever enter Sir Joshua's -mind to think what a dog's skull would look like, beside a baby's? The -quite essential facts to him are those of which the skull gives no -information--that the baby has a flattish pink nose, and the dog a bossy -black one. You might dissect all the dead dogs in the water supply of -London without finding out, what, as a painter, it is here your only -business precisely to know,--what sort of shininess there is on the end -of a terrier's nose; and for the position and action of the creatures, -all the four doctors together, who set Bustle's leg for him the other -day, when he jumped out of a two-pair-of-stairs window to bark at the -volunteers, could not have told Sir Joshua how to make his crouching -terrier look ready to snap, nor how to throw the child's arm over its -neck in complete, yet not languid, rest. - - -155. Sir Joshua, then, does not think of, or care for, anatomy, in this -picture; but if he had, would it have done him harm? You may easily see -that the child's limbs are not drawn with the precision that Mantegna, -Dürer, or Michael Angelo would have given them. Would some of their -science not have bettered the picture? - -I can show you exactly the sort of influence their science would have -had. - -In your Rudimentary Series, I have placed in sequence two of Dürer's -most celebrated plates (R. 65, R. 66), the coat of arms with the skull, -and the Madonna crowned by angels; and that you may see precisely what -qualities are, and are not, in this last, I have enlarged the head by -photography, and placed it in your Reference Series (117). You will find -the skull is perfectly understood, and exquisitely engraved, but the -face, imperfectly understood and coarsely engraved. No man who has -studied the skull as carefully as Dürer did, ever could engrave a face -beautifully, for the perception of the bones continually thrusts itself -upon him in wrong places, and in trying to conquer or modify it, he -distorts the flesh. Where the features are marked, and full of -character, he can quit himself of the impression; but in the rounded -contour of women's faces he is always forced to think of the skull; and -even in his ordinary work often draws more of bones and hair, than face. - - -156. I could easily give you more definite, but very disagreeable, -proofs of the evil of knowing the anatomy of the human face too -intimately: but will rather give you further evidence by examining the -skull and face of the creature who has taught us so much already,--the -eagle. - -Here is a slight sketch of the skull of the golden eagle. It may be -interesting to you sometimes to make such drawings roughly for the sake -of the points of mechanical arrangement--as here in the circular bones -of the eye-socket; but don't suppose that drawing these a million of -times over will ever help you in the least to draw an eagle itself. On -the contrary, it would almost to a certainty hinder you from noticing -the essential point in an eagle's head--the projection of the brow. All -the main work of the eagle's eye is, as we saw, in looking down. To keep -the sunshine above from teasing it, the eye is put under a triangular -penthouse, which is precisely the most characteristic thing in the -bird's whole aspect. Its hooked beak does not materially distinguish it -from a cockatoo, but its hooded eye does. But that projection is not -accounted for in the skull; and so little does the anatomist care about -it, that you may hunt through the best modern works on ornithology, and -you will find eagles drawn with all manner of dissections of skulls, -claws, clavicles, sternums, and gizzards; but you won't find so much as -one poor falcon drawn with a falcon's eye. - - -157. But there is another quite essential point in an eagle's head, in -comprehending which, again, the skull will not help us. The skull in the -human creature fails in three essential points. It is eyeless, noseless, -and lipless. It fails only in an eagle in the two points of eye and lip; -for an eagle has no nose worth mentioning; his beak is only a -prolongation of his jaws. But he has lips very much worth mentioning, -and of which his skull gives no account. One misses them much from a -human skull:--"Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how -oft,"--but from an eagle's you miss them more, for he is distinct from -other birds in having with his own eagle's eye, a dog's lips, or very -nearly such; an entirely fleshy and ringent mouth, bluish pink, with a -perpetual grin upon it. - -So that if you look, not at his skull, but at him, attentively enough, -you will precisely get Æschylus's notion of him, essential in the Greek -mind--+ptênos kyôn daphoinos aietos+--and then, if you want to see the -use of his beak or bill, as distinguished from a dog's teeth, take a -drawing from the falconry of the Middle Ages, and you will see how a -piece of flesh becomes a _rag_ to him, a thing to tear up,--+diartamêsei -sômatos mega rakos+. There you have it precisely, in a falcon I got out -of Mr. Coxe's favourite fourteenth century missal. - -Now look through your natural history books from end to end; see if you -can find one drawing, with all their anatomy, which shows you either the -eagle's eye, his lips, or this essential use of his beak, so as to -enable you thoroughly to understand those two lines of Æschylus: then, -look at this Greek eagle on a coin of Elis, R. 50, and this Pisan one, -in marble, Edu. 131, and you will not doubt any more that it is better -to look at the living birds, than to cut them to pieces. - - -158. Anatomy, then,--I will assume that you grant, for the moment, as I -will assuredly prove to you eventually,--will not help us to draw the -true appearances of things. But may it not add to our intelligent -conception of their nature? - -So far from doing this, the anatomical study which has, to our much -degradation and misfortune, usurped the place, and taken the name, at -once of art and of natural history, has produced the most singularly -mischievous effect on the faculty of delineation with respect to -different races of animals. In all recent books on natural history, you -will find the ridiculous and ugly creatures clone well, the noble and -beautiful creatures done, I do not say merely ill, but in no wise. You -will find the law hold universally that apes, pigs, rats, weasels, -foxes, and the like,--but especially apes,--are drawn admirably; but not -a stag, not a lamb, not a horse, not a lion;--the nobler the creature, -the more stupidly it is always drawn, not from feebleness of art power, -but a far deadlier fault than that--a total want of sympathy with the -noble qualities of any creature, and a loathsome delight in their -disgusting qualities. And this law is so thoroughly carried out that the -great French historian of the mammalia, St. Hilaire, chooses, as his -single example of the highest of the race, the most nearly bestial type -he can find, human, in the world. Let no girl ever look at the book, nor -any youth who is willing to take my word; let those who doubt me, look -at the example he has given of womankind. - - -159. But admit that this is only French anatomy, or ill-studied anatomy, -and that, rightly studied, as Dr. Acland, for instance, would teach it -us, it might do us some kind of good. - -I must reserve for my lectures on the school of Florence any analysis of -the effect of anatomical study on European art and character; you will -find some notice of it in my lecture on Michael Angelo; and in the -course of that analysis, it will be necessary for me to withdraw the -statement made in the "Stones of Venice," that anatomical science was -helpful to great men, though harmful to mean ones. I am now certain that -the greater the intellect, the more fatal are the forms of degradation -to which it becomes liable in the course of anatomical studies; and that -to Michael Angelo, of all men, the mischief was greatest, in destroying -his religious passion and imagination, and leading him to make every -spiritual conception subordinate to the display of his knowledge of the -body. To-day, however, I only wish to give you my reasons for -withdrawing anatomy from your course of study in these schools. - - -160. I do so, first, simply with reference to our time, convenience, and -systematic method. It has become a habit with drawing-masters to confuse -this particular science of anatomy with their own art of drawing, though -they confuse no other science with that art. Admit that, in order to -draw a tree, you should have a knowledge of botany: Do you expect me to -teach you botany here? Whatever I want you to know of it I shall send -you to your Professor of Botany and to the Botanic Gardens, to learn. I -may, perhaps, give you a rough sketch of the lines of timber in a bough, -but nothing more. - -So again, admit that, to draw a stone, you need a knowledge of geology. -I have told you that you do not, but admit it. Do you expect me to teach -you, here, the relations between quartz and oxide of iron; or between -the Silurian and Permian systems? If you care about them, go to -Professor Phillips, and come back to me when you know them. - -And, in like manner, admit that, to draw a man, you want the knowledge -of his bones:--you do not; but admit that you do. Why should you expect -me, here, to teach you the most difficult of all the sciences? If you -want to know it, go to an hospital, and cut dead bodies to pieces till -you are satisfied; then come to me, and I'll make a shift to teach you -to draw, even then--though your eyes and memory will be full of horrible -things which Heaven never meant you so much as a glance at. But don't -expect me to help you in that ghastly work: any more than among the -furnaces and retorts in Professor Maskelyne's laboratory. - - -161. Let us take one more step in the logical sequence. You do not, I -have told you, need either chemistry, botany, geology, or anatomy, to -enable you to understand art, or produce it. But there is one science -which you _must_ be acquainted with. You must very intensely and -thoroughly know--how to behave. You cannot so much as feel the -difference between two casts of drapery, between two tendencies of -line,--how much less between dignity and baseness of gesture,--but by -your own dignity of character. But, though this is an essential science, -and although I cannot teach you to lay one line beside another rightly, -unless you have this science, you don't expect me in these schools to -teach you how to behave, if you happen not to know it before! - - -162. Well, here is one reason, and a sufficiently logical one, as you -will find it on consideration, for the exclusion of anatomical study -from _all_ drawing schools. But there is a more cogent reason than this -for its exclusion, especially from elementary drawing-schools. It may be -sometimes desirable that a student should see, as I said, how very -unlike a face a skull is; and at a leisure moment he may, without much -harm, observe the equivocation between knees and ankles by which it is -contrived that his legs, if properly made at the joints, will only bend -backwards, but a crane's forwards. But that a young boy, or girl, -brought up fresh to the schools of art from the country, should be set -to stare, against every particle of wholesome grain in their natures, at -the Elgin marbles, and to draw them with dismal application, until they -imagine they like them, makes the whole youthful temper rotten with -affectation, and sickly with strained and ambitious fancy. It is still -worse for young persons to be compelled to endure the horror of the -dissecting-room, or to be made familiar with the conditions of actual -bodily form, in a climate where the restraints of dress must for ever -prevent the body from being perfect in contour, or regarded with -entirely simple feeling. - - -163. I have now, perhaps too often for your patience, told you that you -must always draw for the sake of your subject--never for the sake of -your picture. What you wish to see in reality, that you should make an -effort to show, in pictures and statues; what you do not wish to see in -reality, you should not try to draw. - -But there is, I suppose, a very general impression on the mind of -persons interested in the arts, that because nations living in cold -climates are necessarily unfamiliar with the sight of the naked body, -therefore, art should take it upon herself to show it them; and that -they will be elevated in thought, and made more simple and grave in -temper, by seeing, at least in colour and marble, what the people of the -south saw in its verity. - - -164. I have neither time nor inclination to enter at present into -discussion of the various effects, on the morality of nations, of more -or less frank showing of the nude form. There is no question that if -shown at all, it should be shown fearlessly, and seen constantly; but I -do not care at present to debate the question: neither will I delay you -by any expression of my reasons for the rule I am about to give. Trust -me, I have many; and I can assert to you as a positive and perpetual -law, that so much of the nude body as in the daily life of the nation -may be shown with modesty, and seen with reverence and delight,--so -much, and no more, ought to be shown by the national arts, either of -painting or sculpture. What, more than this, either art exhibits, will, -assuredly, pervert taste, and, in all probability, morals. - - -165. It will, assuredly, pervert taste in this essential point, that the -polite ranks of the nation will come to think the _living_ creature and -its dress exempt from the highest laws of taste; and that while a man or -woman must, indeed, be seen dressed or undressed with dignity, in -marble, they may be dressed or undressed, if not with _in_dignity, at -least, with less than dignity, in the ball-room, and the street. Now the -law of all living art is that the man and woman must be more beautiful -than their pictures, and their pictures as decorous as the living man or -woman; and that real dress, and gesture, and behaviour, should be more -graceful than any marble or colour can effect similitude of. - - -166. Thus the idea of a different dress in art and reality, of which -that of art is to be the ideal one, perverts taste in dress; and the -study of the nude which is rarely seen, as much perverts taste in art. - -Of all pieces of art that I know, skilful in execution, and not criminal -in intention;--without any exception, quite the most vulgar, and in the -solemn sense of the word, most abominable, are the life studies which -are said to be the best made in modern times,--those of Mulready, -exhibited as models in the Kensington Museum. - - -167. How far the study of the seldom-seen nude leads to perversion of -morals, I will not, to-day, inquire; but I beg you to observe that even -among the people where it was most frank and pure, it unquestionably led -to evil far greater than any good which demonstrably can be traced to -it. Scarcely any of the moral power of Greece depended on her admiration -of beauty, or strength in the body. The power of Greece depended on -practice in military exercise, involving severe and continual ascetic -discipline of the senses; on a perfect code of military heroism and -patriotic honour; on the desire to live by the laws of an admittedly -divine justice; and on the vivid conception of the presence of spiritual -beings. The mere admiration of physical beauty in the body, and the arts -which sought its expression, not only conduced greatly to the fall of -Greece, but were the cause of errors and crimes in her greatest time, -which must for ever sadden our happiest thoughts of her, and have -rendered her example almost useless to the future. - - -168. I have named four causes of her power; discipline of senses; -romantic ideal of heroic honour; respect for justice; and belief in God. -There was a fifth--the most precious of all--the belief in the purity -and force of life in man; and that true reverence for domestic -affection, which, in the strangest way, being the essential strength of -every nation under the sun, had yet been lost sight of as the chief -element of Greek virtue, though the Iliad itself is nothing but the -story of the punishment of the rape of Helen; and though every Greek -hero called himself chiefly by his paternal name,--Tydides, rather than -Diomed;--Pelides, rather than Achilles. - -Among the new knowledges which the modern sirens tempt you to pursue, -the basest and darkest is the endeavour to trace the origin of life, -otherwise than in Love. Pardon me, therefore, if I give you a piece of -theology to-day: it is a science much closer to your art than anatomy. - - -169. All of you who have ever read your Gospels carefully must have -wondered, sometimes, what could be the meaning of those words,--"If any -speak against the Son of Man it shall be forgiven; but if against the -Holy Spirit, it shall not be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the -next." - -The passage may have many meanings which I do not know; but one meaning -I know positively, and I tell you so just as frankly as I would that I -knew the meaning of a verse in Homer. - -Those of you who still go to chapel say every day your creed; and, I -suppose, too often, less and less every day believing it. Now, you may -cease to believe two articles of it, and,--admitting Christianity to be -true,--still be forgiven. But I can tell you--you must _not_ cease to -believe the third! - -You begin by saying that you believe in an Almighty Father. Well, you -may entirely lose the sense of that Fatherhood, and yet be forgiven. - -You go on to say that you believe in a Saviour Son. You may entirely -lose the sense of that Sonship, and yet be forgiven. - -But the third article--disbelieve if you dare! - -"I believe in the Holy Ghost, _the Lord and Giver of life_." - -Disbelieve that; and your own being is degraded into the state of dust -driven by the wind; and the elements of dissolution have entered your -very heart and soul. - -All Nature, with one voice--with one glory,--is set to teach you -reverence for the life communicated to you from the Father of Spirits. -The song of birds, and their plumage; the scent of flowers, their -colour, their very existence, are in direct connection with the mystery -of that communicated life: and all the strength, and all the arts of -men, are measured by, and founded upon, their reverence for the passion, -and their guardianship of the purity, of Love. - - -170. Gentlemen,--the word by which I at this moment address you--by -which it is the first of all your duties through life, to permit all men -to address you with truth--that epithet of 'gentle,' as you well know, -indicates the intense respect for race and fatherhood--for family -dignity and chastity,--which was visibly the strength of Rome, as it had -been, more disguisedly, the strength of Greece. But have you enough -noticed that your Saxon word 'kindness' has exactly the same relation to -'kin,' and to the Chaucerian 'kind,' that 'gentle' has to 'gentilis'? - -Think out that matter a little, and you will find that--much as it -looks like it--neither chemistry, nor anatomy, nor republicanism, are -going to have it all their own way--in the making of either beasts, or -gentlemen. They look sometimes, indeed, as if they had got as far as two -of the Mosaic plagues, and manufactured frogs in the ditches, and lice -on the land; but their highest boasters will not claim, yet, so much -even as that poor victory. - - -171. My friends, let me very strongly recommend you to give up that hope -of finding the principle of life in dead bodies; but to take all pains -to keep the life pure and holy in the living bodies you have got; and, -farther, not to seek your national amusement in the destruction of -animals, nor your national safety in the destruction of men; but to look -for all your joy to kindness, and for all your strength to domestic -faith, and law of ancestral honour. Perhaps you will not now any more -think it strange that in beginning your natural history studies in this -place, I mean to teach you heraldry, but not anatomy. For, as you learn -to read the shields, and remember the stories, of the great houses of -England, and find how all the arts that glorified them were founded on -the passions that inspired, you will learn assuredly, that the utmost -secret of national power is in living with honour, and the utmost -secrets of human art are in gentleness and truth. - - - - - LECTURE IX. - - THE STORY OF THE HALCYON. - - _March 10th, 1872._ - - -172. I must to-day briefly recapitulate the purport of the preceding -lectures, as we are about now to enter on a new branch of our subject. - -I stated, in the first two, that the wisdom of art and the wisdom of -science consisted in their being each devoted unselfishly to the service -of men; in the third, that art was only the shadow of our knowledge of -facts; and that the reality was always to be acknowledged as more -beautiful than the shadow. In the fourth lecture I endeavoured to show -that the wise modesty of art and science lay in attaching due value to -the power and knowledge of other people, when greater than our own; and -in the fifth, that the wise self-sufficiency of art and science lay in a -proper enjoyment of our own knowledge and power, after it was thus -modestly esteemed. The sixth lecture stated that sight was a distinctly -spiritual power, and that its kindness or tenderness was proportioned to -its clearness. Lastly, in the seventh and eighth lectures, I asserted -that this spiritual sight, concerned with external aspects of things, -was the source of all necessary knowledge in art; and that the artist -has no concern with invisible structures, organic or inorganic. - - -173. No concern with invisible structures. But much with invisible -things; with passion, and with historical association. And in these two -closing lectures, I hope partly to justify myself for pressing on your -attention some matters as little hitherto thought of in drawing-schools, -as the exact sciences have been highly, and, I believe, unjustly, -esteemed;--mythology, namely, and heraldry. - -I can but in part justify myself now. Your experience of the interest -which may be found in these two despised sciences will be my best -justification. But to-day (as we are about to begin our exercises in -bird-drawing) I think it may interest you to review some of the fables -connected with the natural history of a single bird, and to consider -what effect the knowledge of such tradition is likely to have on our -mode of regarding the animated creation in general. - - -174. Let us take an instance of the feeling towards birds which is -especially characteristic of the English temper at this day, in its -entire freedom from superstition. - -You will find in your Rudimentary Series (225), Mr. Gould's plate of the -lesser Egret,--the most beautiful, I suppose, of all birds that visit, -or, at least, once visited, our English shores. Perfectly delicate in -form, snow-white in plumage, the feathers like frost-work of dead -silver, exquisitely slender, separating in the wind like the streams of -a fountain, the creature looks a living cloud rather than a bird. - -It may be seen often enough in South France and Italy. The last (or last -but one?) known of in England came thirty years ago, and this was its -reception, as related by the present happy possessor of its feathers and -bones:-- - -"The little Egret in my possession is a most beautiful specimen: it was -killed by a labourer with a stick, in Ake Carr, near Beverley, about -1840, and was brought to me, tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, covered -with black wet mud and blood, in which state it was sent to Mr. Reed, -of Doncaster, and restored by him in a most marvellous manner." - - -175. Now, you will feel at once that, while the peasant was beating this -bird into a piece of bloody flesh with his stick, he could not, in any -true sense, see the bird; that he had no pleasure either in the sight of -that, or of anything near it. - -You feel that he would become capable of seeing it in exact proportion -to his desire not to kill it; but to watch it in its life. - -Well, that is a quite general law: in the degree in which you delight in -the life of any creature, you can see it; no otherwise. - -And you would feel, would you not, that if you could enable the peasant -rightly to see the bird, you had in great part educated him? - - -176. You would certainly have gone, at least, the third of the way -towards educating him. Then the next thing to be contrived would be that -he should be able to see a man rightly, as well as a bird; to understand -and love what was good in a man, so that supposing his master was a good -man, the sight of his master should be a joy to him. You would say that -he was therein better educated than if he wanted to put a gun through a -hedge and shoot his master. - -Then the last part of education will be--whatever is meant by that -beatitude of the pure in heart--seeing God rightly, of which I shall not -speak to-day. - - -177. And in all these phases of education, the main point, you observe, -is that it _should_ be a beatitude: and that a man should learn -"+chairein orthôs+:" and this rejoicing is above all things to be in -actual sight; you have the truth exactly in the saying of Dante when he -is brought before Beatrice, in heaven, that his eyes "satisfied -themselves for their ten years' thirst." - -This, then, I repeat, is the sum of education. All literature, art, and -science are vain, and worse, if they do not enable you to be glad; and -glad justly. - -And I feel it distinctly my duty, though with solemn and true deference -to the masters of education in this university, to say that I believe -our modern methods of teaching, and especially the institution of severe -and frequent examination, to be absolutely opposed to this great end; -and that the result of competitive labour in youth is infallibly to -make men know all they learn wrongly, and hate the habit of learning; so -that instead of coming to Oxford to rejoice in their work, men look -forward to the years they are to pass under her teaching as a deadly -agony, from which they are fain to escape, and sometimes for their life, -_must_ escape, into any method of sanitary frivolity. - - -178. I go back to my peasant and his egret. You all think with some -horror of this man, beating the bird to death, as a brutal person. He is -so; but how far are we English gentlemen, as a body, raised above him? -We are more delicately nurtured, and shrink from the notion of bruising -the creature and spoiling its feathers. That is so far right, and well. -But in all probability this countryman, rude and cruel though he might -be, had some other object in the rest of his day than the killing of -birds. And very earnestly I ask you, have English gentlemen, as a class, -any other real object in their whole existence than killing birds? If -they discern a duty, they will indeed do it to the death; but have the -English aristocracy at this moment any clear notion of their duty? I -believe solemnly, and without jest, their idea of their caste is that -its life should be, distinctively from inferior human lives, spent in -shooting. - -And that is not an idea of caste with which England, at this epoch, can -any longer be governed. - - -179. I have no time to-day to push my argument farther; but I have said -enough, I think, to induce you to bear with me in the statement of my -main theorem--that reading and writing are in no sense education, unless -they contribute to this end of making us feel kindly towards all -creatures; but that drawing, and especially physiologic drawing, is -vital education of a most precious kind. Farther, that more good would -be done by any English nobleman who would keep his estate lovely in its -native wildness; and let every animal live upon it in peace that chose -to come there, than will be done, as matters are going now, by the talk -of all the Lords in Parliament as long as we live to listen to them; and -I will even venture to tell you my hope, though I shall be dead long -before its possible fulfilment, that one day the English people will, -indeed, so far recognize what education means as to surround this -university with the loveliest park in England, twenty miles square; that -they will forbid, in that environment, every unclean, mechanical, and -vulgar trade and manufacture, as any man would forbid them in his own -garden;--that they will abolish every base and ugly building, and nest -of vice and misery, as they would cast out a devil;--that the streams of -the Isis and Cherwell will be kept pure and quiet among their fields and -trees; and that, within this park, every English wild flower that can -bloom in lowland will be suffered to grow in luxuriance, and every -living creature that haunts wood and stream know that it has happy -refuge. - -And now to our immediate work. - - -180. The natural history of anything, or of any creature, divides itself -properly into three branches. - -We have first to collect and examine the traditions respecting the -thing, so that we may know what the effect of its existence has hitherto -been on the minds of men, and may have at our command what data exist to -help us in our inquiries about it, or to guide us in our own thoughts of -it. - -We have secondly to examine and describe the thing, or creature, in its -actual state, with utmost attainable veracity of observation. - -Lastly, we have to examine under what laws of chemistry and physics the -matter of which the thing is made has been collected and constructed. - -Thus we have first to know the poetry of it--_i.e._, what it has been to -man, or what man has made of it. - -Secondly, the actual facts of its existence. - -Thirdly, the physical causes of these facts, if we can discover them. - - -181. Now, it is customary, and may be generally advisable, to confine -the term 'natural history' to the last two branches of knowledge only. I -do not care what we call the first branch; but, in the accounts of -animals that I prepare for my schools at Oxford, the main point with me -will be the mythology of them; the second, their actual state and -aspect, (second, this, because almost always hitherto only half known); -and the anatomy and chemistry of their bodies, I shall very rarely, and -partially, as I told you, examine at all: but I shall take the greatest -pains to get at the creature's habits of life; and know all its -ingenuities, humours, delights, and intellectual powers. That is to say, -what art it has, and what affection; and how these are prepared for in -its external form. - - -182. I say, deliberately and energetically, 'prepared for,' in -opposition to the idea, too prevalent in modern philosophy, of the -form's being fortuitously developed by repetition of impulse. It is of -course true that the aspects and characters of stones, flowers, birds, -beasts, and men, are inseparably connected with the conditions under -which they are appointed to have existence; but the method of this -connection is infinitely varied; so far from fortuitous, it appears -grotesquely, often terrifically arbitrary; and neither stone, flower, -beast, nor man can understand any single reason of the arbitrament, or -comprehend why its Creator made it thus. - - -183. To take the simplest of instances,--which happens also to be one of -the most important to you as artists,--it is appointed that vertebrated -animals shall have no more than four legs, and that, if they require to -fly, the two legs in front must become wings, it being against law that -they should have more than these four members in ramification from the -spine. - -Can any law be conceived more arbitrary, or more apparently causeless? -What strongly planted three-legged animals there might have been! what -symmetrically radiant five-legged ones! what volatile six-winged ones! -what circumspect seven-headed ones! Had Darwinism been true, we should -long ago have split our heads in two with foolish thinking, or thrust -out, from above our covetous hearts, a hundred desirous arms and -clutching hands; and changed ourselves into Briarean Cephalopoda. But -the law is around us, and within; unconquerable; granting, up to a -certain limit, power over our bodies to circumstance and will; beyond -that limit, inviolable, inscrutable, and, so far as we know, eternal. - - -184. For every lower animal, similar laws are established; under the -grasp of these it is capable of change, in visibly permitted oscillation -between certain points; beyond which, according to present experience, -it cannot pass. The adaptation of the instruments it possesses in its -members to the conditions of its life is always direct, and occasionally -beautiful; but in the plurality of instances, partial, and involving -painful supplementary effort. Some animals have to dig with their noses, -some to build with their tails, some to spin with their stomachs: their -dexterities are usually few--their awkwardnesses numberless;--a lion is -continually puzzled how to hold a bone; and an eagle can scarcely pull -the meat off one, without upsetting himself. - - -185. Respecting the origin of these variously awkward, imperfectly, or -grotesquely developed phases of form and power, you need not at present -inquire: in all probability the race of man is appointed to live in -wonder, and in acknowledgment of ignorance; but if ever he is to know -any of the secrets of his own or of brutal existence, it will assuredly -be through discipline of virtue, not through inquisitiveness of science. -I have just used the expression, "had Darwinism been true," implying its -fallacy more positively than is justifiable in the present state of our -knowledge; but very positively I can say to you that I have never heard -yet one logical argument in its favour, and I have heard, and read, many -that were beneath contempt. For instance, by the time you have copied -one or two of your exercises on the feather of the halcyon, you will be -more interested in the construction and disposition of plume-filaments -than heretofore; and you may, perhaps, refer, in hope of help, to Mr. -Darwin's account of the peacock's feather. I went to it myself, hoping -to learn some of the existing laws of life which regulate the local -disposition of the colour. But none of these appear to be known; and I -am informed only that peacocks have grown to be peacocks out of brown -pheasants, because the young feminine brown pheasants like fine -feathers. Whereupon I say to myself, "Then either there was a distinct -species of brown pheasants originally born with a taste for fine -feathers; and therefore with remarkable eyes in their heads,--which -would be a much more wonderful distinction of species than being born -with remarkable eyes in their tails,--or else all pheasants would have -been peacocks by this time!" And I trouble myself no more about the -Darwinian theory. - -When you have drawn some of the actual patterns of plume and scale with -attention, I believe you will see reason to think that spectra of -organic species may be at least as distinct as those of metals or gases; -but learn at all events what they are now, and never mind what they have -been. - - -186. Nor need you care for methods of classification any more than for -the origin of classes. Leave the physiologists to invent names, and -dispute over them; your business is to know the creature, not the name -of it momentarily fashionable in scientific circles. What practical -service you can get from the order at present adopted, take, without -contention; and as far as possible, use English words, or be sure you -understand the Latin ones. - - -187. For instance, the order at present adopted in arranging the species -of birds, is, as you know, founded only on their ways of using their -feet. - -Some catch or snatch their prey, and are called "Snatchers"--RAPTORES. - -Some perch on branches, and are called "In-sitters," or -"Upon-sitters"--INSESSORES. - -Some climb and cling on branches, and are called "Climbers"--SCANSORES. - -Some scratch the ground, and are called "Scratchers"--RASORES. - -Some stand or wade in shallow water, and, having long legs, are called -"Stilt-walkers"--GRALLATORES. - -Some float, and make oars of their feet, and are called -"Swimmers"--NATATORES. - - -188. This classification is unscholarly, because there are many -snatchers and scratchers who perch as well as the sitters; and many of -the swimmers sit, when ashore, more neatly than the sitters themselves; -and are most grave insessors, in long rows, on rock or sand: also, -'insessor' does not mean properly a sitter, but a besieger; and it is -awkward to call a bird a 'Rasor.' Still, the use of the feet is (on the -whole) characteristic, and convenient for first rough arrangement; only, -in general reference, it will be better to use plain English words than -those stiff Latin ones, or their ugly translations. Linnæus, for all his -classes except the stilt-walkers, used the name of the particular birds -which were the best types of their class; he called the snatchers -"hawks" (Accipitres), the swimmers, geese, (Anseres), the scratchers, -fowls, (Gallinae), and the perchers, sparrows, (Passeres). He has no -class of climbers; but he has one since omitted by Cuvier, "pies," -which, for certain mythological reasons presently to be noted, I will -ask you to keep. This will give you seven orders, altogether, to be -remembered; and for each of these we will take the name of its most -representative bird. The hawk has best right undoubtedly to stand for -the snatchers; we will have his adversary, the heron, for the -stilt-walkers; you will find this very advisable, no less than -convenient; because some of the beaks of the stilt-walkers turn down, -and some turn up; but the heron's is straight, and so he stands well as -a pure middle type. Then, certainly, gulls will better represent the -swimmers than geese; and pheasants are a prettier kind of scratchers -than fowls. We will take parrots for the climbers, magpies for the pies, -and sparrows for the perchers. Then take them in this order: Hawks, -parrots, pies, sparrows, pheasants, gulls, herons; and you can then -easily remember them. For you have hawks at one end, the herons at the -other, and sparrows in the middle, with pies on one side and pheasants -opposite, for which arrangement you will find there is good reason; then -the parrots necessarily go beside the hawks, and the gulls beside the -herons. - - -189. The bird whose mythic history I am about to read to you belongs -essentially and characteristically to that order of pies, picæ, or -painted birds, which the Greeks continually opposed in their thoughts -and traditions to the singing birds, representing the one by the -magpie, and the other by the nightingale. The myth of Autolycus and -Philammon, and Pindar's exquisite story of the infidelity of Coronis, -are the centres of almost countless traditions, all full of meaning, -dependent on the various +poikilia+, to eye and ear, of these opposed -races of birds. The Greek idea of the Halcyon united both these sources -of delight. I will read you what notices of it I find most interesting, -not in order of date, but of brevity; the simplest first. - - -190. "And the King of Trachis, the child of the Morning Star, married -Alcyone. And they perished, both of them, through their pride; for the -king called his wife, Hera; and she her husband, Zeus: but Zeus made -birds of them (+autous apôrneôse+), and he made the one a Halcyon, and -the other a Sea-mew."--_Appollodorus_, i. 7, 4. - -"When the King of Trachis, the son of Hesperus, or of Lucifer, and -Philonis, perished in shipwreck, his wife Alcyone, the daughter of Æolus -and Ægiale, for love of him, threw herself into the sea;--who both, by -the mercy of the gods, were turned into the birds called Halcyons. These -birds, in the winter-time, build their nests, and lay their eggs, and -hatch their young on the sea; and the sea is quiet in those days, which -the sailors call the Halcyonia."--_Hyginus, Fab._ LXV. - - -191. "Now the King of Trachis, the son of Lucifer, had to wife Halcyone. -And he, wishing to consult the oracle of Apollo concerning the state of -his kingdom, was forbidden to go, by Halcyone, nevertheless he went; and -perished by shipwreck. And when his body was brought to his wife -Halcyone, she threw herself into the sea. Afterwards, by the mercy of -Thetis and Lucifer, they were both turned into the sea-birds called -Halcyons. And you ought to know that Halcyone is the woman's name, and -is always a feminine noun; but the bird's name is Halcyon, masculine and -feminine, and so also its plural, Halcyones. Also those birds make -their nests in the sea, in the middle of winter; in which days the calm -is so deep that hardly anything in the sea can be moved. Thence, also, -the days themselves are called Halcyonia."--_Servius, in Virg. Georg._ -i. 399. - - -192. "And the pairing of birds, as I said, is for the most part in -spring time, and early summer; except the halcyon's. For the halcyon has -its young about the turn of days in winter, wherefore, when those days -are fine, they are called 'Halcyonine' (+alkyoneioi+); seven, indeed, -before the turn, and seven after it, as Simonides poetized, -(+epoiêsen+). - - 'As, when in the wintry month - Zeus gives the wisdom of calm to fourteen days, - Then the people of the land call it - The hour of wind-hiding, the sacred - Nurse of the spotted Halcyon.' - -"And in the first seven days the halcyon is said to lay her eggs, and in -the latter seven to bring forth and nourish her young. Here, indeed, in -the seas of Greece, it does not always chance that the Halcyonid days -are at the solstice; but in the Sicilian sea, almost always. But the -æthuia and the laros bring forth their young, (two, or three) among the -rocks by the sea-shore; but the laros in summer, the æthuia in first -spring, just after the turn of days; and they sit on them as other birds -do. And none of these birds lie torpid in holes during the winter; but -the halcyon is, of all, seen the seldomest, for it is seen scarcely at -all, except just at the setting and turn of Pleias, and then it will but -show itself once, and away; flying, perhaps, once round a ship at -anchor, and then it is gone instantly."--_Aristotle, Hist. Av._, v. 8, -9. - - -193. "Now we are ready enough to extol the bee for a wise creature, and -to consent to the laws by which it cares for the yellow honey, because -we adore the pleasantness and tickling to our palates that is in the -sweetness of that; but we take no notice of the wisdom and art of other -creatures in bringing up their young, as for instance, the halcyon, who -as soon as she has conceived, makes her nest by gathering the thorns of -the sea-needle-fish; and, weaving these in and out, and joining them -together at the ends, she finishes her nest; round in the plan of it, -and long, in the proportion of a fisherman's net; and then she puts it -where it will be beaten by the waves, until the rough surface is all -fastened together and made close. And it becomes so hard that a blow -with iron or stone will not easily divide it; but, what is more -wonderful still, is that the opening of the nest is made so exactly to -the size and measure of the halcyon that nothing larger can get into it, -and nothing smaller!--so they say;--no, not even the sea itself, even -the least drop of it."--_Plutarch: De Amore Prolis._ - -I have kept to the last Lucian's dialogue, "the Halcyon," to show you -how the tone of Christian thought, and tradition of Christ's walking on -the sea, began to steal into heathen literature. - - -SOCRATES--CHAEREPHON. - - -194. "_Chaerephon._ What cry is that, Socrates, which came to us from -the beach? how sweet it was; what can it be? the things that live in the -sea are all mute. - -"_Socrates._ Yet it is a sea-creature, Chaerephon; the bird called -Halcyon, concerning which the old fable runs that she was the daughter -of Æolus, and, mourning in her youth for her lost husband, was winged by -divine power, and now flies over the sea, seeking him whom she could not -find, sought throughout the earth. - -"_Chaerephon._ And is that indeed the Halcyon's cry? I never heard it -yet; and in truth it is very pitiful. How large is the bird, Socrates? - -"_Socrates._ Not great; but it has received great honour from the Gods, -because of its lovingness; for while it is making its nest, all the -world has the happy days which it calls halcyonidæ, excelling all others -in their calmness, though in the midst of storm; of which you see this -very day is one, if ever there was. Look, how clear the sky is, and the -sea waveless and calm, like a mirror! - -"_Chaerephon._ You say truly, and yesterday was just such another. But -in the name of the Gods, Socrates, how is one to believe those old -sayings, that birds were ever changed into women, or women into birds, -for nothing could seem more impossible? - - -195. "_Socrates._ Ah, dear Chaerephon, it is likely that we are poor and -blunt judges of what is possible and not: for we judge by comparing to -human power a power unknown to us, unimaginable, and unseen. Many -things, therefore, that are easy, seem to us difficult; and many things -unattainable that may be attained; being thus thought of, some through -the inexperience, and some through the infantine folly, of our minds. -For in very deed every man may be thought of as a child--even the oldest -of us,--since the full time of life is little, and as a baby's compared -to universal time. And what should we have to say, my good friend, who -know nothing of the power of gods or of the spirits of Nature, whether -any of such things are possible or not? You saw, Chaerephon, what a -storm there was, the day before yesterday; it makes one tremble even to -think of it again;--that lightning, and thunder, and sudden tempest, so -great that one would have thought all the earth falling to ruin; and -yet, in a little while, came the wonderful establishing of calm, which -has remained even till now. Whether, then, do you think it the greater -work, to bring such a calm out of that tormenting whirlwind, and reduce -the universe to peace, or to change the form of a woman into that of a -bird? For indeed we see how very little children, who know how to knead -clay, do something like this also; often out of one lump they will make -form after form, of different natures: and surely to the spirit-powers -of Nature, being in vast and inconjecturable excess beyond ours, all -such things must be in their hands easy. Or how much do you think heaven -greater than thyself--can you say, perchance? - -"_Chaerephon._ Who of men, O Socrates, could imagine or name any of -these things? - - -196. "_Socrates._ Nay; do we not see also, in comparing man with man, -strange differences in their powers and imbecilities? for complete -manhood, compared with utter infancy, as of a child five or ten days -old, has difference in power, which we may well call miraculous: and -when we see man excel man so far, what shall we say that the strength of -the whole heaven must appear, against ours, to those who can see them -together, so as to compare them? Also, to you and me, and to many like -us, sundry things are impossible that are easy to other people; as -singing to those ignorant of music, and reading or writing to those -ignorant of letters;--more impossible than to make women birds, or birds -of women. For Nature, as with chance throw, and rough parable, making -the form of a footless and wingless beast in changeable matter; then -putting on feet and wings, and making it glitter all over with fair -variegation and manifold colour, at last brings out, for instance, the -wise bee, maker of the divine honey; and out of the voiceless and -spiritless egg she brings many kinds of flying and foot-going and -swimming creatures, using besides (as runs the old Logos) the sacred art -of the great Aether.[H] We then, being altogether mortal and mean, and -neither able to see clearly great things nor small, and, for the most -part being unable to help ourselves even in our own calamities,--what -can we have to say about the powers of the immortals, either over -halcyons or nightingales? But the fame of fable such as our fathers gave -it to us, this, to my children, O thou bird singing of sorrow, I will -deliver concerning thy hymns: and I myself will sing often of this -religious and human love of thine, and of the honour thou hast for it -from the Gods. Wilt not thou do likewise, O Chaerephon? - -"_Chaerephon._ It is rightly due indeed, O Socrates, for there is -two-fold comfort in this, both for men and women, in their relations -with each other. - -"_Socrates._ Shall we not then salute the halcyon, and so go back to the -city by the sands, for it is time? - -"_Chaerephon._ Indeed let us do so." - - [H] Note this sentence respecting the power of the creative Athena. - - -197. The note of the scholiast on this dialogue is the only passage in -which I can find any approximately clear description of the Greek -halcyon. It is about as large, he says, as a small sparrow; (the -question how large a Greek sparrow was we must for the present allow to -remain open;) and it is mixed of green and blue, with gleaming of purple -above, and it has a slender and long beak: the beak is said to be -"chloros," which I venture to translate "green," when it is used of the -feathers, but it may mean anything, used of the beak. Then follows the -same account as other people's, of the nest-building, except that the -nest is compared in shape to a medicinal gourd. And then the writer goes -on to say that there are two species of halcyons--one larger than the -other, and silent, but the smaller, fond of singing (+ôdikê+); and that -the females of these are so true to their mates that, when the latter -grow old, the female bird flies underneath them, and carries them -wherever they would like to go; and after they die will not eat nor -drink anything, and so dies too. "And there is a certain kind of them, -of which, if any one hear the voice, it is an altogether true sign to -him that he will die in a short time." - - -198. You will, I think, forgive me, if after reading to you these lovely -fables, I do not distract you, or detain, with the difficult -investigation of the degree in which they are founded on the not yet -sufficiently known facts of the Kingfisher's life. - -I would much rather that you should remain impressed with the effect -which the lovely colour and fitful appearance of the bird have had on -the imagination of men. I may satisfy you by the assurance that the -halcyon of England is also the commonest halcyon of Greece and of -Palestine; and I may at once prove to you the real gain of being -acquainted with the traditions of it, by reading to you two stanzas, -certainly among the most familiar to your ears in the whole range of -English poetry; yet which, I am well assured, will sound, after what we -have been reflecting upon to-day, almost as if they were new to you. -Note especially how Milton's knowledge that Halcyone was the daughter of -the Winds, and Ceyx the son of the Morning Star, affects the course of -his thought in the successive stanzas-- - - "But peaceful was the night, - Wherein the Prince of light - His reign of peace upon earth began: - The winds with wonder whist, - Smoothly the waters kist, - Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, - Who now hath quite forgot to rave, - While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave. - - "The stars, with deep amaze, - Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, - Bending one way their precious influence; - And will not take their flight, - For all the morning light - Of Lucifer, that often warn'd them thence; - But in their glimmering orbs did glow, - Until their Lord Himself bespake, and bid them go." - - -199. I should also only weary you if I attempted to give you any -interpretation of the much-entangled web of Greek fables connected with -the story of Halcyone. You observe that in all these passages I have -said "King of Trachis" instead of Ceyx. That is partly because I don't -know how to pronounce Ceyx either in Greek or English; but it is chiefly -to make you observe that this story of the sea-mew and Halcyon, now -known through all the world, like the sea-mew's cry, has its origin in -the "Rough country," or crag-country, under Mount OEta, made sacred to -the Greek mind by the death of Heracles; and observe what strange -connection that death has with the Halcyon's story. Heracles goes to -this "Rough country" to seek for rest; all the waves and billows of his -life having--as he thinks now--gone over him. But he finds death. - -As far as I can form any idea of this "rough, or torn, country" from the -descriptions of Colonel Leake or any other traveller, it must resemble -closely the limestone cliffs just above Altorf, which break down to the -valley from the ridge of the Windgelle, and give source, at their foot, -to faultlessly clear streams,--green-blue among the grass. - -You will find Pausanias noting the springs of Thermopylæ as of the -bluest water he ever saw; and if you fancy the Lake Lucerne to be the -sea bay running inland from Artemisium, you will have a clear and -useful, nor in any serious way, inaccurate, image of the scene where the -Greeks thought their best hero should die. You may remember also, with -advantage, that Morgarten--the Thermopylæ of Switzerland--lies by the -little lake of Egeri, not ten miles from this bay of Altorf; and that -the Heracles of Switzerland is born under those Trachinian crags. - -If, farther, you remember that the Halcyon would actually be seen -flitting above the blue water of the springs, like one of their waves -caught up and lighted by the sun; and the sea-mews haunting the cliffs, -you will see how physical circumstances modify the under-tone of the -words of every mythic tradition. - -I cannot express to you how strange--how more and more strange every -day--it seems to me, that I cannot find a single drawing, nor definite -account, of scenes so memorable as this, to point you to; but must guess -and piece their image together for you as best I can from their Swiss -similitudes. No English gentleman can pass through public school-life -without knowing his Trachiniæ; yet I believe, literally, we could give -better account of the forms of the mountains in the moon, than we could -of OEta. And what has art done to help us? How many Skiddaws or -Benvenues, for one OEta,--if one! And when the English gentleman -becomes an art-patron, he employs his painter-servant only to paint -himself and his house; and when Turner was striving, in his youth, to -enforce the mythology, and picture these very scenes in Greece, and -putting his whole strength into the endeavour to conceive them, the -noble pictures remained in his gallery; and for bread, he had to -paint ---- Hall, the seat of ----, Esquire, with the carriage drive, the -summer-house, and the squire going out hunting. - -If, indeed, the squire would make his seat worth painting, and would -stay there, and would make the seats, or, shall we call them, forms, of -his peasantry, worth painting too, he would be interpreting the fable of -the Halcyon to purpose. - -But you must, at once, and without any interpreter, feel for yourselves -how much is implied in those wonderful words of Simonides--written six -hundred years before Christ;--"when in the wild winter months, Zeus -gives the _wisdom of calm_;" and how much teaching there is for us in -the imagination of past days,--this dream-picture of what is true in -days that are, and are to come,--that perfect domestic love not only -makes its nest upon the waves, but that the waves will be calm that it -may. - - -200. True, I repeat, for all ages, and all people, that, indeed, are -desirous of peace, and loving in trouble! But what fable shall we -invent, what creature on earth or sea shall we find, to symbolize this -state of ours in modern England? To what sorrowful birds shall _we_ be -likened, who make the principal object of our lives dispeace, and -unrest; and turn our wives and daughters out of their nests, to work for -themselves? - -Nay, strictly speaking, we have not even got so much as nests to turn -them out of. I was infinitely struck, only the other day, by the saying -of a large landed proprietor (a good man, who was doing all he could for -his tenantry, and building new cottages for them), that the best he -_could_ do for them, under present conditions of wages, and the like, -was, to give them good drainage and bare walls. - -"I am obliged," he said to me, "to give up all thought of anything -artistic, and even then, I must lose a considerable sum on every cottage -I build." - - -201. Now, there is no end to the confused states of wrong and misery -which that landlord's experience signifies. In the first place, no -landlord has any business with building cottages for his people. Every -peasant should be able to build his own cottage,--to build it to his -mind; and to have a mind to build it too. In the second place, note the -unhappy notion which has grown up in the modern English mind, that -wholesome and necessary delight in what is pleasant to the eye, is -artistic affectation. You have the exponent of it all in the central and -mighty affectation of the Houses of Parliament. A number of English -gentlemen get together to talk; they have no delight whatever in any -kind of beauty; but they have a vague notion that the appointed place -for their conversation should be dignified and ornamental; and they -build over their combined heads the absurdest and emptiest piece of -filigree,--and, as it were, eternal foolscap in freestone,--which ever -human beings disgraced their posterity by. Well, all that is done, -partly, and greatly, in mere jobbery; but essentially also in a servile -imitation of the Hôtel-de-Ville builders of old time; but the English -gentleman has not the remotest idea that when Hôtels-de-Ville were -built, the ville enjoyed its hotel;--the town had a real pride in its -town hall, and place of council, and the sculptures of it had precious -meaning for all the populace. - - -202. And in like manner, if cottages are ever to be wisely built again, -the peasant must enjoy his cottage, and be himself its artist, as a bird -is. Shall cock-robins and yellow-hammers have wit enough to make -themselves comfortable, and bullfinches peck a Gothic tracery out of -dead clematis,--and your English yeoman be fitted by his landlord with -four dead walls and a drain-pipe? That is the result of your spending -300,000_l._ a year at Kensington in science and art, then? You have made -beautiful machines, too, wherewith you save the peasant the trouble of -ploughing and reaping, and threshing; and after being saved all that -time and toil, and getting, one would think, leisure enough for his -education, you have to lodge him also, as you drop a puppet into a deal -box, and you lose money in doing it! and two hundred years ago, without -steam, without electricity, almost without books, and altogether without -help from "Cassell's Educator" or the morning newspapers, the Swiss -shepherd could build himself a châlet, daintily carved, and with -flourished inscriptions, and with red and blue and white +poikilia+; and -the burgess of Strasburg could build himself a house like this I showed -you, and a spire such as all men know; and keep a precious book or two -in his public library, and praise God for all: while we,--what are _we_ -good for, but to damage the spire, knock down half the houses, and burn -the library,--and declare there is no God but Chemistry? - - -203. What _are_ we good for? Are even our machines of destruction useful -to us? Do they give us real power? Once, indeed, not like halcyons, but -like sea-eagles, we had our homes upon the sea; fearless alike of storm -or enemy, winged like the wave petrel; and as Arabs of an indeed -pathless desert, we dwelt in the presence of all our brethren. Our -pride is fallen; no reed shaken with the wind, near the little singing -halcyon's nest, is more tremulous than we are now; though we have built -iron nests on the sea, with walls impregnable. We have lost our -pride--but have we gained peace? Do we even care to seek it, how much -less strive to make it? - - -204. Have you ever thought seriously of the meaning of that blessing -given to the peace-makers? People are always expecting to get peace in -heaven; but you know whatever peace they get there will be ready made. -Whatever making of peace _they_ can be blest for, must be on the earth -here: not the taking of arms against, but the building of nests amidst, -its "sea of troubles." Difficult enough, you think? Perhaps so, but I do -not see that any of us try. We complain of the want of many things--we -want votes, we want liberty, we want amusement, we want money. Which of -us feels, or knows, that he wants peace? - - -205. There are two ways of getting it, if you do want it. The first is -wholly in your own power; to make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts. -Those are nests on the sea indeed, but safe beyond all others; only -they need much art in the building. None of us yet know, for none of us -have yet been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we may build of -beautiful thought--proof against all adversity. Bright fancies, -satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses -of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain -make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us--houses built without hands, -for our souls to live in. - - -206. And in actual life, let me assure you, in conclusion, the first -'wisdom of calm,' is to plan, and resolve to labour for, the comfort and -beauty of a home such as, if we could obtain it, we would quit no more. -Not a compartment of a model lodging-house, not the number so-and-so of -Paradise Row; but a cottage all of our own, with its little garden, its -pleasant view, its surrounding fields, its neighbouring stream, its -healthy air, and clean kitchen, parlours, and bedrooms. Less than this, -no man should be content with for his nest; more than this few should -seek: but if it seem to you impossible, or wildly imaginary, that such -houses should ever be obtained for the greater part of the English -people, again believe me, the obstacles which are in the way of our -obtaining them are the things which it must be the main object now of -all true science, true art, and true literature to overcome. Science -does its duty, not in telling us the causes of spots in the sun; but in -explaining to us the laws of our own life, and the consequences of their -violation. Art does its duty, not in filling monster galleries with -frivolous, or dreadful, or indecent pictures; but in completing the -comforts and refining the pleasures of daily occurrence, and familiar -service: and literature does its duty, not in wasting our hours in -political discussion, or in idle fiction; but in raising our fancy to -the height of what may be noble, honest, and felicitous in actual -life;--in giving us, though we may ourselves be poor and unknown, the -companionship of the wisest fellow-spirits of every age and -country,--and in aiding the communication of clear thoughts and faithful -purposes, among distant nations, which will at last breathe calm upon -the sea of lawless passion, and change into such halcyon days the winter -of the world, that the birds of the air may have their nests in peace, -and the Son of Man, where to lay His head. - - - - - LECTURE X. - - THE HERALDIC ORDINARIES. - - _March 9th, 1872._ - - -207. In my last lecture, I endeavoured to illustrate to you the use of -art to the science of physiology. I am to-day to introduce to you its -elementary forms as an exponent of the science of history. Which, -speaking with perfect accuracy, we ought to call, also, "physiology," or -_natural_ history of man; for it ought to be in truth the history of his -Nature; and not merely of the accidents which have befallen him. Do we -not too much confuse the important part of the science with the -unimportant? - -In giving the natural history of the lion, you do not care materially -where such and such a lion was trapped, or how many sheep it had eaten. -You want to know what sort of a minded and shaped creature it is, or -ought to be. But in all our books of human history we only care to tell -what has happened to men, and how many of each other they have, in a -manner, eaten, when they are, what Homer calls +dêmoboroi+, -people-eaters; and we scarcely understand, even to this day, how they -are truly minded. Nay, I am not sure that even this art of heraldry, -which has for its main object the telling and proclamation of our chief -minds and characters to each other, and keeping record of descent by -race, as far as it is possible, (or, under the present aspect of -Darwinism, pleasant,) to trace it;--I am not sure that even heraldry has -always understood clearly what it had to tell. But I am very sure it has -not been understood in the telling. - - -208. Some of you have, I hope, looked at this book[I] of Arthur Helps, -on 'War and Culture,' about which I cannot now say what I would, because -he has done me the grace of dedicating it to me; but you will find in -it, directly bearing on our present subject, this story about heraldry: - - [I] Conversations on War and General Culture. - -"A friend of mine, a physician, became entangled in the crowd at -Kennington on that memorable evening when a great Chartist row was -expected, and when Louis Napoleon armed himself with a constable's -staff to support the cause of order. My friend observed a young man of -pleasant appearance, who was very busy in the crowd, and appeared to be -a leader amongst them. Gradually, by the pressure of the crowd, the two -were brought near together, and the good doctor had some talk with this -fiery partisan. They exchanged confidences; and to his astonishment, the -doctor found that this furious young Chartist gained his livelihood, and -a very good livelihood too, by heraldic painting--by painting the -coats-of-arms upon carriages. Now, if you can imagine this young man's -darling enterprise to have been successful, if Chartism had prevailed, -what would have become of the painting of arms upon carriage-panels? I -believe that my good doctor insinuated this suggestion to the young man, -and that it was received with disdain. I must own, therefore, that the -_utile_, even when brought home to a man's self, has much less to do -with people's political opinions and desires, than might at first be -supposed. Indeed, I would venture to maintain, that _no great change has -ever been produced in the world by motives of self-interest_. Sentiment, -that thing which many wise people affect to despise, is the commanding -thing as regards popular impulses and popular action." - - -209. This last sentence would have been wholly true, had Mr. Helps -written 'no great _living_ change.' The changes of Dissolution are -continually produced by self-interest,--for instance, a great number of -the changes in your methods of life in England just now, and many of -those in your moral temper, are produced by the percentage on the sale -of iron. And I should have otherwise interpreted the heroism of the -young Chartist, and said that he was moved on the 10th of April, by a -deep under-current of self-interest; that by overthrowing Lordship, he -expected to get much more for himself than his salary as an heraldic -painter; and that he had not, in painting his carriage-panels, sentiment -enough, or even sentiment at all. - -"Paint me my arms,--" said Giotto, as the youth threw him his white -shield with that order--"he speaks as if he were one of the Bardi!" Our -English panel-painter had lost the consciousness that there yet remained -above him, so much as one, of the Bardi. - -May not that be somewhat the Bardi's fault? in that they have not taught -their Giottos, lately, the function of heraldry, or of any other higher -historical painting. - -We have, especially, to-day, to consider what that function is. - - -210. I said that the function of historical painting, in representing -animals, is to discern and record what is best and most beautiful in -their ways of life, and their forms; so also, in representing man, it is -to record of man what has been best in his acts and way of life, and -fairest in his form. - -But this way of the life of man has been a long one. It is difficult to -know it--more difficult to judge; to do either with complete equity is -impossible; but it is always possible to do it with the charity which -does not rejoice in iniquity. - - -211. Among the many mistakes we have lately fallen into, touching that -same charity, one of the worst is our careless habit of always thinking -of her as pitiful, and to be concerned only with miserable and wretched -persons; whereas her chief joy is in being reverent, and concerned -mainly with noble and venerable persons. Her poorest function is the -giving of pity; her highest is the giving of _praise_. For there are -many men, who, however fallen, do not like to be pitied; but all men, -however far risen, like to be praised. - - -212. I had occasion in my last lecture to express my regret that the -method of education in this country has become so distinctly -competitive. It is necessary, however, to distinguish carefully between -the competition which is for the means of existence, and that which is -for the praise of learning. For my own part, so far as they affect our -studies here, I equally regret both: but competition for money I regret -absolutely; competition for praise, only when it sets the reward for too -short and narrow a race. I want you to compete, not for the praise of -what you know, but for the praise of what you become; and to compete -only in that great school, where death is the examiner, and God the -judge. For you will find, if you look into your own hearts, that the two -great delights, in loving and praising, and the two great thirsts, to be -loved and praised, are the roots of all that is strong in the deeds of -men, and happy in their repose. We yet, thank Heaven, are not ashamed to -acknowledge the power of love; but we confusedly and doubtfully allege -that of honour; and though we cannot but instinctively triumph still, -over a won boat-race, I suppose the best of us would shrink somewhat -from declaring that the love of praise was to be one of the chief -motives of their future lives. - - -213. But I believe you will find it, if you think, not only one of the -chief, but absolutely the chief, motive of human action; nay, that love -itself is, in its highest state, the rendering of an exquisite praise to -body and soul; and our English tongue is very sacred in this; for its -Saxon word, love, is connected, through the old French verb, loer, -(whence louange), with the Latin, 'laus,' not 'amor.' - -And you may sum the duty of your life in the giving of praise worthily, -and being yourselves worthy of it. - - -214. Therefore in the reading of all history, your first purpose must be -to seek what is to be praised; and disdain the rest: and in doing so, -remember always that the most important part of the history of man is -that of his imagination. What he actually does, is always in great part -accidental; it is at best a partial fulfilment of his purpose; and what -we call history is often, as I said, merely a record of the external -accidents which befall men getting together in large crowds. The real -history of mankind is that of the slow advance of resolved deed -following laboriously just thought: and all the greatest men live in -their purpose and effort more than it is possible for them to live in -reality. If you would praise them more worthily, it is for what they -conceived and felt; not merely for what they have done. - - -215. It is therefore a true historian's work diligently to separate the -deed from the imagination; and when these become inconsistent, to -remember that the imagination, if precious at all, is indeed the most -precious. It is no matter how much, or how little of the two first books -of Livy may be literally true. The history of the Romans is the history -of the nation which could _conceive_ the battle of the Lake Regillus. I -have rowed in rough weather on the Lake of the four cantons often enough -to know that the legend of Tell is, in literal detail, absurd: but the -history of Switzerland is that of the people who expressed their -imagination of resistance to injustice by that legend, so as to animate -their character vitally to this day. - - -216. But in no part of history does the ideal separate itself so far -from the reality; and in no part of it is the ideal so necessary and -noble, as in your own inherited history--that of Christian Chivalry. - -For all English gentlemen this is the part of the tale of the race of -man which it is most essential for them to know. They may be proud that -it is also the greatest part. All that hitherto has been achieved of -best,--all that has been in noble preparation instituted,--is begun in -the period, and rooted in the conception, of Chivalry. - -You must always carefully distinguish that conception from the base -strength of the resultless passions which distort and confuse it. -Infinitely weaker, the ideal is eternal and creative; the clamorous -rages pass away,--ruinous it may be, prosperous it may be, for their -time;--but insignificant for ever. You find kings and priests alike, -always inventing expedients to get money; you find kings and priests -alike, always inventing pretexts to gain power. If you want to write a -practical history of the Middle Ages, and to trace the real reasons of -the things that actually happened, investigate first the history of the -money; and then of the quarrels for office and territory. But the -things that actually happened were of small consequence--the thoughts -that were developed are of infinite consequence. - - -217. As I was walking back from Hincksey last evening, somewhat -discomfited by the look of bad weather, and more in myself, as I thought -over this closing lecture, wondering how far you thought I had been -talking idly to you, instead of teaching you to draw, through this term, -I stopped before Messrs. Wyatt's window; caught--as it was intended -every one should be--by this display of wonderful things. And I was very -unhappy as I looked, for it seemed to me you could not but think the -little I could show you how to do quite valueless; while here were -produced, by mysteries of craft which you might expect me at once to -explain, brilliant water-colours in purple and gold, and photographs of -sea-waves, and chromolithotints of beautiful young ladies, and -exquisitely finished engravings of all sorts of interesting scenes, and -sublime personages: patriots, saints, martyrs, penitents, and who not! -and what not! all depicted with a dexterity which it has cost the -workmen their life's best energy to learn, and requires great cleverness -thus to apply. While, in your room for study, there are only ugly -photographs of Dürers and Holbeins, and my rude outlines from leaves, -and you scarcely ever hear me say anything in praise of that delightful -and elaborate modern art at all. - - -218. So I bought this Madonna,[J] which was the prettiest thing I saw: -and it will enable me to tell you why this modern art is, indeed, so -little to be studied, even at its best. I think you will all like the -plate, and you ought to like it; but observe in what its beauty -consists. First, in very exquisite line engraving: against that I have -nothing to say, feeling the greatest respect for the industry and skill -it requires. Next, in a grace and severity of action which we all are -ready to praise; but this is not the painter's own bestowing; the trick -of it is learned from Memling and Van Eyck, and other men of the -northern religious school. The covering of the robe with jewels is -pleasing to you; but that is learned from Angelico and John Bellini; and -if you will compare the jewel-painting in the John Bellini (Standard No. -5), you will find this false and formal in comparison. Then the face is -much dignified by having a crown set on it--which is copied from the -ordinary thirteenth century form, and ill done. The face itself is -studied from a young German mother's, and is only by the painter's want -of skill made conventional in expression, and formal in feature. It -would have been wiser and more difficult to have painted her as Raphael -or Reynolds would, with true personal resemblance, perfected in -expression. - - [J] Now, Ref. 104. - - -219. Nevertheless, in its derivative way, this is very lovely. But I -wish you to observe that it is derivative in all things. The dress is -derivative; the action, derivative: above all, the conception is -derivative altogether, from that great age of Christian chivalry, which, -in art and thought alike, surpassed the Greek chivalry, because it added -to their enthusiasm of patriotism the enthusiasm of imaginative love, -sanctified by this ruling vision of the Madonna, as at once perfect maid -and perfect mother. - -And your study of the art of the middle ages must begin in your -understanding how the men of them looked on Love as the source of all -honour, as of life; and how, from the least thing to the greatest, the -honouring of father and mother, the noble esteem of children, and the -sincere respect for race, and for the courtesies and prides that graced -and crowned its purity, were the sources of all their virtue, and all -their joy. - - -220. From the least things, I say, to the greatest. I am to speak to-day -of one of, apparently, the least things; which is, indeed, one of the -greatest. How much of the dignity of this Madonna, do you suppose, -depends on the manner she bears her dress, her crown, her jewels, and -her sceptre? - -In peasant and prince alike, you will find that, ultimately, character -is truly heralded in dress; and that splendour in dress is as necessary -to man as colour to birds and flowers, but splendour with more meaning. -Splendour observe, however, in the true Latin sense of the word; -_brightness_ of colour; not gaudiness: what I have been telling you of -colour in pictures will apply equally to colour in dress: vulgarity -consists in the insolence and discord of it, not in brightness. - - -221. For peasant and prince alike, in healthy national order, brightness -of dress and beautiful arrangement of it are needful. No indication of -moral decline is more sure than the squalor of dress among the lower -orders, and the fear or shame of the higher classes to bear their proper -insignia. - -Such fear and shame are singularly expressed, here in Oxford, at this -hour. The nobleman ceases to wear the golden tassel in his cap, so -accepting, and publicly heralding his acceptance of, the popular opinion -of him that he has ceased to _be_ a nobleman, or noteworthy person.[K] -And the members of the University, generally, shrink from wearing their -academical dress, so accepting, and publicly heralding their acceptance -of, the popular opinion that everybody else may be as good scholars as -they. On the other hand, I see continually in the streets young men in -bright costumes of blue and white; in such evidently proud heraldry -proclaiming their conviction that the chief object of residence in -Oxford is learning to row; the rowing itself being, I imagine, not for -real boat service, but for purposes of display. - - [K] "Another stride that has been taken appears in the perishing of - heraldry. Whilst the privileges of nobility are passing to the - middle class, the badge is discredited, and the titles of - lordship are getting musty and cumbersome. I wonder that sensible - men have not been already impatient of them. They belong, with - wigs, powder, and scarlet coats, to an earlier age, and may be - advantageously consigned, with paint and tattoo, to the - dignitaries of Australia and Polynesia."--R.W. EMERSON (English - Traits). - - -222. All dress is thus heraldic; a soldier's dress only more definitely -so, in proclaiming the thing he means to die as well as to live for; but -all is heraldic, from the beggar's rag to the king's diadem; it may be -involuntarily, it may be, insolently; but when the characters of men are -determined, and wise, their dress becomes heraldic reverently, and in -order. "Togam e tugurio proferre uxorem Raciliam jubet;" and Edie -Ochiltree's blue gown is as honourably heraldic as a knight's ermine. - - -223. The beginning of heraldry, and of all beautiful dress, is, however, -simply in the wearing of the skins of slain animals. You may discredit, -as much as you choose, the literal meaning of that earliest statement, -"Unto Adam also, and to his wife, did the Lord God make coats of skin, -and clothed them:" but the figurative meaning of it only becomes the -stronger. For if you think of the skins of animals as giving the four -great materials of dress--leather, fur, wool, and down, you will see in -this verse the summary of what has ever since taken place in the method -of the providence of the Maker of Man and beast, for the clothing of -the naked creature who was to rule over the rest. - - -224. The first practical and savage use of such dress was that the skin -of the head of the beast became a covering for the head of its slayer; -the skin of its body his coat; the skin of the fore legs was knotted in -front, and the skin of the hind legs and tail became tassels, the jags -of the cut edges forming a kind of fringe here and there. - -You have thus the first conception of a helmet with the mane of the -animal for its crest or plume, and the first conception of a cuirass -variously fringed, striped, or spotted; in complete accoutrement for -war, you have to add spear, (or arrow), and shield. The spear is -properly a beam of wood, iron pointed; the shield a disk of leather, -iron fronted. - -And armed strength for conflict is symbolized for all future time by the -Greeks, under the two types of Heracles and Athena; the one with the low -lion's crest and the arrow, the other with the high horse's crest, and -the spear; one with the lion-skin, the other with the goat-skin;--both -with the round shield. - - -225. The nebris of Dionusos and leopard-skin of the priests of Egypt -relate to astronomy, not war; and the interest in their spots and bars, -as variously symbolic, together with real pleasure in their -grotesqueness, greatly modified the entire system of Egyptian -colour-decoration. On the earliest Greek vases, also, the spots and bars -of the animals are carried out in spots or chequers upon the ground, -(sometimes representing flowers), and the delight in "divers colours of -needlework," and in fantasy of embroidery, gradually refine and illumine -the design of Eastern dress. But only the patterns derived from the -colours of animals become classical in heraldry under the general name -of "furres," one of them "vaire" or verrey ("the variegated fur,") -rudely figuring the material composed of the skins of small animals sewn -together, alternately head to tail; the other, ermine, peculiarly -honourable, from the costliness, to southern nations, of the fur it -represents. - - -226. The name of the principal heraldic colour has a similar origin: the -"rams' skins dyed red" which were used for the curtains of the Jewish -tabernacle, were always one of the principal articles of commerce -between the east and west: in mediæval Latin they were called "gulae," -and in the French plural "gules," so that to be dressed in "gules" came -gradually to mean being dressed in the particular red of those skins, -which was a full soft scarlet, not dazzling, but warm and glowing. It is -used, in opposition to darker purple, in large masses in the fresco -painting of later Rome;--is the dominant colour of ornamental writing in -the middle ages (giving us the ecclesiastical term "rubric"), and -asserts itself finally, and most nobly, in the fresco paintings of -Ghirlandajo and Luini. I have tried to represent very closely the tint -of it Luini has given to St. Catherine's mantle, in my study in your -schools. Titian keeps it also as the keynote of his frescoes; so also -Tintoret; but Raphael, Correggio, and Michael Angelo, all substituted -orange for it in opposition to purple; and the entire scheme of colour -in the Vatican frescoes is of orange and purple, broken by green and -white, on a ground of grey. This orange and purple opposition in meaner -hands became gaudy and feeble, and the system of mediæval colour was at -last totally destroyed by it; the orange remaining to this day the -favourite, and most distinctive, hue in bad glass painting. - - -227. The forms of dress, however, derived from the skins of animals are -of much more importance than the colours. Of these the principal is the -crest, which is properly the mane of lion or horse. The skin of the -horse was neither tough, nor of convenient size for wearing; but the -classical Greek helmet is only an adaptation of the outline of its head, -with the mane floating behind: many Etruscan helmets have ears also, -while in mediæval armour, light plates, cut into the shape of wings of -birds, are often placed on each side of the crest, which then becomes -not the mane of the animal merely, but the image of the entire creature -which the warrior desires to be renowned for having slain. - - -228. The Heraldic meaning of the crest is accordingly, first, that the -Knight asserts himself to have prevailed over the animal it represents; -and to be stronger than such a creature would be, therefore, against his -human enemies. Hence, gradually, he considers himself invested with the -power and character of the slain creature itself; and, as it were, to -have taken from it, for his spoil, not its skin only but its strength. -The crest, therefore, is the heraldic indication of personality, and is -properly to be distinguished from the bearing on the shield, because -that indicated race; but the crest, personal character and valour. - - -229. I have traced the practical truth which is the foundation of this -idea of the transmitted strength of the slain creature becoming the -inheritance of its victor, in the account given of the coins of -Camarina, in "The Queen of the Air." But it is strange and sad to -reflect how much misery has resulted, in the history of man, from the -imaginative excuse for cruelty afforded by the adopted character of -savage animals; and how many wolves, bears, lions, and eagles, have been -national symbols, instead of gentler creatures. Even the heraldic symbol -of Christ is in Italy oftener the lion than the lamb: and among the -innumerable painters of his Desert Prophet, only Filippo Lippi -understood the full meaning of the raiment of camel's hair, and made him -wear the camel's skin, as Heracles the Lion's. - - -230. Although the crest is thus essentially an expression of personal -character, it practically becomes hereditary; and the sign on shield and -helmet is commonly the same. But the shield has a system of bearings -peculiar to itself, to which I wish especially to direct your attention -to-day. - -Our word 'shield' and the German 'schild' mean 'the covering thing,' -that behind which you are sheltered, but you must be careful to -distinguish it from the word shell, which means properly a scale or -plate, developed like a fish's scale, for the protection of the body. - -There are properly only two kinds of shields, one round and the other -square, passing into oval and oblong; the round one being for use in -free action, the square one for adjustment to ground or walls; but, on -horseback, the lower part of the shield must be tapered off, in order to -fall conveniently on the left side of the horse. - -And, therefore, practically you have two great forms of shield; the -Greek round one, for fighting on foot, or in the chariot, and the Gothic -pointed one, for fighting on horseback. The oblong one for motionless -defence is, however, almost always given to the mythic figure of -Fortitude, and the bearings of the Greek and Gothic shields are always -designed with reference to the supposed figures of the circle and -square. - -The Greek word for the round shield is aspis.' I have no doubt, merely -a modification, of 'apsis,' the potter's wheel; the proper word for the -Gothic shield is 'ecu,' from the Latin 'scutum,' meaning a shield -covered with leather. From 'ecu' you have 'ecuyer;'--from scutum -'scutiger,' both passing into our English 'squire.' - - -231. The aspis of the Greeks might be much heavier than the Gothic -shield, because a Greek never rode fully armed; his object was to allow -both to his horse and to himself the most perfect command of limb -compatible with protection; if, therefore, he was in full armour, and -wanted his horse to carry him, he put a board upon wheels, and stood on -that, harnessing sometimes to it four horses of the highest breed -abreast. Of all hitherto practised exertions of manual dexterity, the -driving thus at full speed over rough ground, standing in the chariot, -is, as far as I know, the greatest ever attained by general military -discipline. - -It is true that to do anything perfectly well is about equally -difficult; and I suppose that in a chariot race, a tournament, or a -modern game at cricket, the manual art of the most highly-trained men -would be almost equally fine; still, practically, in Gothic chivalry, -the knight trusted more to his weight and less to his skill than a -Greek did; nor could a horse's pace under armour ever render precision -of aim so difficult as at unarmed speed. - - -232. Another great difference of a parallel kind exists in the knight's -body armour. A Greek never hopes to turn a lance by his cuirass, nor to -be invulnerable except by enchantment, in his body-armour, because he -will not have it cumbrous enough to impede his movements; but he makes -his shield, if possible, strong enough to stop a lance, and carries it -as he would a piece of wall: a Gothic knight, on the contrary, -endeavoured to make his coat armour invulnerable, and carried the shield -merely to ward thrusts on the left side, never large enough to encumber -the arm that held the reins. All fine design in Gothic heraldry is -founded, therefore, on the form of a short, but pointed shield, convex -enough to throw the point of a spear aside easily; a form roughly -extending from the beginning of the twelfth to the middle of the -fifteenth century, but of which the most beautiful types are towards the -end of the thirteenth. - - -233. The difference in method of device between the Gothic and classic -shields resulted partly from this essential difference in form. The -pointed shield, having definitely two sides, like a pointed arch, and a -determined position, naturally suggested an arrangement of bearings -definitely on one side or the other, or above, or below the centre, -while the Greek shield had its boss, or its main bearing, in the centre -always, with subordinate decoration round. Farther, the Gothic fineness -of colour-instinct seized at once on this division of parts as an -opportunity for inlaying or counterchanging colours; and finally, the -respect for race, carried out by registry of the remotest branches of -noble families, compelled the Gothic heralds of later times to use these -methods of dividing or quartering in continually redoubled complexity. - - -234. Essentially, therefore, as distinguished from the classic shield, -the Gothic one is particoloured beneath its definite bearings, or -rather, bi-coloured; for the tinctures are never more than two in the -main design of them; and the specific methods of arrangement of these -two masses of colour have deeper and more ancient heraldic significance -than, with few exceptions, their superimposed bearings. I have arranged -the twelve principal ones[L] in the 7th of your rudimentary exercises, -and they will be entirely fixed in your minds by once drawing it. - - [L] Charges which "doe peculiarly belong to this art, and are of - ordinary use therein, in regard whereof they are called - 'ordinaries.'"--See GUILLIM, sect. ii. chap. iii. (Ed. 1638.) - - "They have also the title of honourable ordinaries in that the - court armour is much honoured thereby." The French call them - "pièces honorables." - - -235. Observe respecting them. - -1. The Chiefe; a bar of colour across the upper part of the shield, -signifies authority or chief-dom, as the source of all order, power, and -peace. - -2. The cross, as an ordinary, distinguished from the cross as a bearing, -consists simply of two bars dividing the shield into four quarters; and, -I believe, that it does not in this form stand properly as a symbol of -Christian faith, but only as one of Christian patience and fortitude. -The cross as a symbol of faith is terminated within the field. - -3. The Fesse, a horizontal bar across the middle of the shield, -represents the knight's girdle, or anything that binds and secures, or -continues. The word is a corruption of fascia. Sir Francis Drake -received for arms from Queen Elizabeth a Fesse waved between two -pole-stars, where it stands for the waved surface of the sea, and -partly, also, to signify that Sir Francis put a girdle round the earth; -and the family of Drummond carries three diminutive Fesses, or bars, -waved, because their ancestor brought Queen Margaret safe through many -storms. - -4. The Bend, an oblique bar descending from right to left of the holder -of the shield, represents the sword belt. The Latin balteus and balteum -are, I believe, the origin of the word. They become bendellus and -bendellum; then bandeau and bande. Benda is the word used for the riband -round the neck of St. Etheldreda, in the account of her death quoted by -Du Cange. I believe, also, the fesse stands often for the cross-bar of -the castle gate, and the bend for its very useful diagonal bar: this is -only a conjecture, but I believe as likely to be true as the idea, -certainly admitted in heraldry, that the bend sometimes stands for a -scaling ladder: so also the next four most important ordinaries have all -an architectural significance. - -5. The Pale, an upright bar dividing the shield in half, is simply an -upright piece of timber in a palisade. It signifies either defence or -enclosure. - -6. The Pile, a wedge-shaped space of colour with the point downwards, -represents what we still call a pile; a piece of timber driven into -moist ground to secure the foundation of any building. - -7. The Canton, a square space of colour in either of the upper corners -of the shield, signifies the corner-stone of a building. The origin and -various use of this word are very interesting. The Greek +kanthos+, used -by Aristotle for the corner of the eyes, becomes canto, and then -cantonus. The French coin (corner), is usually derived from the Latin -cuneus; but I have no doubt it is one corruption of canton: the -mediæval-Latin cantonus is either an angle or recess, or a four-square -corner-stone. The heraldic canton is the corner-stone of a building, and -the French cantonnier is a road-mender, because the essential thing in -repairing a road is to get its corner or edge firm. - -8. The Chevron, a band bent at an angle (properly a right angle), with -its point upwards, represents the gable or roof of a house. Thus the -four last-named ordinaries represent the four essentials of a fixed -habitation: the pale, its enclosure within a given space of ground; the -pile, its foundation; the canton, its wall, and the chevron its roof. - -9. The Orle, a narrow band following the outline of the shield midway -between its edge and centre, is a more definite expression of enclosure -or fortification by moat or rampart. The relations of this word, no less -than that of the canton, are singular, and worth remembering. Du Cange -quotes under it an order of the municipality of Piacenza, that always, -in the custom-house where the salt-tax was taken, "a great orled disk" -should be kept; "dischus magnus orlatus," _i.e._, a large plate, with a -rim, in which every day fresh salt should be placed. Then note that the -word disk is used in the Middle Ages, either for a plate, or a table, -(the "holy disk" is the patina of the sacrament), but most generally for -a table, whence you get the old German disch; our dish, the French -disner, diner; and our dinner. The disk cut out into a ring becomes a -quoit, which is the simplest form of orle. The word 'orle' itself comes, -I believe, from ora, in old Latin, which took a diminutive, orula; or -perhaps the 'l' was put in merely to distinguish, to the ear, a -margined thing, 'orlatus,' from a gilded thing, 'auratus.' It stands for -the hem of a robe, or the fillet of a crown, as well as for any margin; -and it is given as an ordinary to such as have afforded protection and -defence, because it defends what is within it. Reduced to a narrow band, -it becomes a 'Tressure.' If you have a sovereign of 1860 to 1870 in your -pocket, and look at the right hand upper corner of the Queen's arms, you -will see the Scottish Lion within the tressure decorated with -fleur-de-lys, which Scotland bears in memory of her treaty with -Charlemagne. - -10. The Gyron, a triangular space of colour with its point in the centre -of the shield, derives its name from the old Latin gyro, a fold, "pars -vestis quâ laxior fit, et in superiori parte contracta, in largiorem -formam in imo se explicat." The heraldic 'gyron,' however, also has a -collateral reference to, and root in, the word 'gremium,' bosom or lap; -and it signifies properly the chief fold or fall of the dress either -over the bosom, or between the knees; and has whatever symbolic -expression may be attributed to that fold, as a sign of kindness or -protection. The influence of the lines taken by softly falling drapery -in giving gentleness to the action of figures was always felt by the -Gothic artists as one of the chief elements of design; and the two -constantly repeated figures of Christ holding souls in the 'gremium' of -His robe, and of the Madonna casting hers over suppliants, gave an -inevitably recognised association to them. - -11. The Flasque, a space of colour terminated by a curved line on each -flank of the shield, derives its name from the Latin flecto, and is the -bearing of honour given for successful embassy. It must be counted among -the ordinaries, but is of rare occurrence in what groups of authentic -bearings I have examined. - -12. The Saltire, from salir, represents the securest form of machine for -mounting walls; it has partly the same significance as the ladder of the -Scaligers, but, being properly an ordinary, and not a bearing, has the -wider general meaning of successful ascent, not that of mere local -attack. As a bearing, it is the St. Andrew's Cross. - - -236. These twelve forms of ordinary then, or first colour divisions of -the shield, represent symbolically the establishment, defence, and -exaltation of the Knight's house by his Christian courage; and are in -this symbolism, different from all other military bearings. They are -throughout essentially founded on the "quartering" or division of the -field into four spaces by the sign of the Cross: and the history of the -chivalry of Europe is absolutely that of the connection of domestic -honour with Christian faith, and of the exaltation of these two -sentiments into the highest enthusiasm by cultivated imagination. - -The means of this culture by the finer arts; the errors, or falls, of -the enthusiasm so excited; its extinction by avarice, pride, and lust, -in the period of the (so called) Renaissance, and the possibility of a -true Renaissance, or Restoration, of courage and pure hope to Christian -men in their homes and industries, must form the general subject of the -study into which I have henceforth to lead you. In a future course of -lectures it will be my endeavour to show you, in the elementary forms of -Christian architecture, the evidence of such mental development and -decline in Europe from the tenth to the seventeenth century; but -remember that my power or any one else's, to show you truths of this -kind, must depend entirely on the degree of sympathy you have in -yourselves with what is decorous and generous. I use both these words -advisedly, and distinctively, for every high quality of art consists -either in some expression of what is decent,--becoming,--or disciplined -in character, or of what is bright and generous in the forces of human -life. - -I need not say that I fear no want of such sympathy in you; yet the -circumstances in which you are placed are in many respects adverse to -it. - - -237. I find, on returning to the University after a period of thirty -years, the scope of its teaching greatly extended, the zeal of its -masters certainly undiminished; and, as far as I can judge, the feeling -of the younger members of the University better, and their readiness to -comply with all sound advice, greater, than in my time. What scandals -there have been among us, I think have been in great part accidental, -and consequent chiefly on the intense need for excitement of some -trivial kind, which is provoked by our restless and competitive work. In -temper, in general amenability to right guidance, and in their sense of -the advantages open to them, more may now be hoped than ever yet from -the students of Oxford--one thing only I find wanting to them -altogether--distinctness of aim. - - -238. In their new schools of science they learn the power of machinery -and of physical elements, but not that of the soul; I am afraid, in our -new schools of liberal religion they learn rather to doubt their own -faiths than to look with patience or respect on those of others; and in -our new schools of policy, to efface the canons of the past, without -having formed any distinct conception of those which must regulate the -institutions of the future. - - -239. It is therefore a matter of very deep rejoicing to me that, in -bringing before your examination the best forms of English art, I am -necessarily leading you to take interest in the history of your country -at the time when, so to speak, it became England. You see how, in every -college which is now extending or renewing its buildings, the adopted -style is approximately that of the thirteenth century;--it being felt, -and rightly felt, by a continually-extending instinct, that only then -the national mind had unimpaired power of ideal conception. Whatever -else we may have advanced in, there is no dispute that, in the great -arts, we have steadily, since that thirteenth century, declined: and I -have, therefore, since accepting this professorship, partly again taken -up my abandoned idea of writing the story of that century, at least in -England; of writing it, or, at all events, collecting it, with the help -of my pupils, if they care to help me. By myself, I can do nothing; yet -I should not ask them to help me if I were not certain that at this -crisis of our national existence the fixing the minds of young and old -upon the customs and conception of chivalry is the best of all moral -education. One thing I solemnly desire to see all children -taught--obedience; and one to all persons entering into life--the power -of unselfish admiration. - - -240. The incident which I have related in my fourth lecture on -sculpture, seen by me last year on the bridge of Wallingford, is a -sufficient example of the courtesies in which we are now bringing up our -peasant children. Do you think that any science or art we can teach them -will make them happy under such conditions? Nay, in what courtesy or in -what affection are we even now carefully training ourselves;--above all, -in what form of duty or reverence to those to whom we owe all our power -of understanding even what duty or reverence means? I warned you in my -former lecture against the base curiosity of seeking for the origin of -life in the dust; in earth instead of heaven: how much more must I warn -you against forgetting the true origin of the life that is in your own -souls, of that good which you have heard with your ears, and your -fathers have told you. You buy the picture of the Virgin as furniture -for your rooms; but you despise the religion, and you reject the memory, -of those who have taught you to love the aspect of whatsoever things and -creatures are good and pure: and too many of you, entering into life, -are ready to think, to feel, to act, as the men bid you who are -incapable of worship, as they are of creation;--whose power is only in -destruction: whose gladness only in disdain; whose glorying is in their -shame. You know well, I should think, by this time, that I am not one to -seek to conceal from you any truth of nature, or superstitiously -decorate for you any form of faith; but I trust deeply--(and I will -strive, for my poor part, wholly, so to help you in steadfastness of -heart)--that you, the children of the Christian chivalry which was led -in England by the Lion-Heart, and in France by Roland, and in Spain by -the Cid, may not stoop to become as these, whose thoughts are but to -invent new foulness with which to blaspheme the story of Christ, and to -destroy the noble works and laws that have been founded in His name. - -Will you not rather go round about this England and tell the towers -thereof, and mark well her bulwarks, and consider her palaces, that you -may tell it to the generation following? Will you not rather honour with -all your strength, with all your obedience, with all your holy love and -never-ending worship, the princely sires, and pure maids, and nursing -mothers, who have bequeathed and blest your life?--that so, for you -also, and for your children, the days of strength, and the light of -memory, may be long in this lovely land which the Lord your God has -given you. - - - - -INDEX. - - - - -INDEX. - -[_The references are not to the page, but to the numbered paragraphs, -common to all the editions of this work_]. - - Abbeville, house at, 91. - - Academy, London, and village architecture, 93. - " Royal, 6. - - Achilles, 168. - - Acland, Dr., 159. - " his dog "Bustle," 151. - - Actions and aims, 214. - - Advance and contentment in knowledge, 81. - - Æschylus, Prom. Vinct., 1022, quoted, 157. - - Æstheticism, modern, and sombre colours, 114. - - Æthuia, the bird, 192. - - Affectation, artistic, 201. - - Age, feeling of increasing, 104. - " the present, its dulness and excitement, 65. - " " its vanity in art and science, 33. - - +Agnoia+, 8. - - +Aidôs+ in art, 71. - - Aims and actions, 214. - - Alabama, the, 24. - - Alcyone, 190. - - Alsace, inscription on peasant's house in, 86. - " peasants of, their delight and art, _ib._ - - Altorf, 199. - - Amboise, chapel of, 92. - - America and England, relations of, 79. - - Amusement, modern forms of, 71, 72. - - Anacreon and his dog, (Greek vase), 151. - - Anatomy, a degradation in painting man, 150. - " a hindrance " " animals, _ib._ - " comparative mental, 151. - " destroys art, _pref._ vii. - " its effect on the artist's mind and power, 158. - " its place in relation to art, 149, _seq._ - " most fatal to the greatest minds, 159. - " Sir J. Reynolds, and, 154. - " statement as to, in _Stones of Venice_, withdrawn, 159. - - Anaxagoras, 23. - - Angelico's jewel painting, 218. - - Angels, modern feeling about, 62. - " their interest in human work, 53. - ---- (the coins), 117. - - Ancestral honour, power of, 171. - - Animalism, humanity, divinity, 30. - - Animal history, modern books of, fail and why, 158. See s. _Nat. - Hist._ - - Animals, artist's right view of their nature, 150. - " each knows its own good, 23. - " desire to kill, in inverse ratio to power to see and love, - 175. - " man's relation to, 30. - " use of, as types in art, 151. - " wearing of their skins, begins heraldry, 223. - - +Anoia+, 8. - - Apathy, modern, 72, 73. - - +Aphrosynê+, in men, nations, and art, 69-71, 74. - - Apollo, 105. - " temple of, 119. - " the Python and, 117. - - Apollodorus, quoted on the Halcyon, 190. - - Apsis and Aspis, 230. - - Arabs, 203. - - Architects, Institute of British, 6, 93. - - Architecture, decline of English, 239. - " evidence of mental development in, 236. - " short reign of perfect, 82. - " woodcarving and, 86. - See s. _Abbeville_, _Academy_, _Alsace_, _Amboise_, _Apsis_, - _Bergamo_, _Châlet_, _Cottages_, _Hotels_, _Rouen_, _York_. - - Aristotle, "common sense" in, 25. - " division of faculties, 8. - " +sophia+ and prudence in, 26. - - _Quoted_:-- - Ethics vi. 7. 12. on wisdom and prudence, 19, 23. - Hist. Av. i. 9. 2. on +kanthos+ 235. - " v. 8. 9. on the Halcyon, 192. - - Armorial bearings, meaning of, 228. - - Art-- - aim of what it should be, 3, 76. - anatomy, fatal to, _pref._ vii. - characteristics of:-- - eagle eyes, 36. - love of nature, 41. - modesty, Lect. iv., 74. - " of wise appreciation, 172. - originality, to what extent, 32, 33. - refinement and rudeness, 90-91. - sight before knowledge, 125-26. - simplicity before skill, 40. - temperance, 90. - unconsciousness, 53-54. - unity of feeling, 93. - unselfishness as essential to wisdom, 76, 172. - wisdom and folly in Lect. i. - definition of great:-- - it begins rightly, ends beautifully, 146. - it needs no addition, bears no taking away, 147. - See below s. _Meaning._ - difference between good and bad, 71. - education in:-- - generally, 94. - the teacher need not talk much, 2. - ethics and, 18. - the science of right conduct essential to it, 161. - imitative, Shakespeare quoted on, 39. - influenced by:-- - local surroundings, 91. - love of death, esp., modern, 69. - meaning of, 38. - national art, proper subjects of, 95. - " ignorance of art, 16. - nature and:-- - art less beautiful than reality, 172. - general knowledge of organic nature essential to art, 149. - science and:-- - art above science, but must comply with it, 145. - " does not teach science, 160. - " the handmaid and shadow of science, 47, 68, 76, 172. - highest sciences need art most, 45, 96. - simplest art the most useful to, 127. - subjects of art and, the same, 43. - the masters of art, beyond all science, 136. - wise art and wise, Lect. iii. See s. _Nature_, _Use_, - _Science_. - self-sufficiency of. See above s. _Characteristics._ - subject of, appearances rather than facts, 149. - theology of, only recently recognised, 46. - truth complete given by art _and_ science, 58. See s. _Artist._ - use and value of, - as a means of record, 38-9, - as expressing nature, 41. - practical, 206. - to history and physiology, 38-39, 47, 207 seq. - to religion, 46. [See above s. _Science._ - See s. _Æstheticism_, _Affectation_, _Anatomy_, _Animals_, - _Architecture_, _Author_, _Beauty_, _Chromo-lithotint_, - _Cleanliness_, _Colour_, _Competition_, _Death_, _Decency_, - _Drawing_, _Dress_, _Folly_, _French_, _Gothic_, _History_, - _Indolence_, _Invention_, +kakia+, _Knowledge_, _Lindsay_, - _Madonna_, _Nature_, _Nude_, _Photography_, _Royal Academy_, - _Science_. - - Artemisium, 199. - - Artist-- - modesty of, 31. - modesty about, enjoyment in, and feeling as to their own work, 52. - science needed by an, 124-25, 133. - he must know as well as see, 123. - subjects of, not invisible structures, though often invisible - things, 172-3. - See s. _Angelico_, _Barry_, _Bellini_, _Botticelli_, _Copley - Fielding_, _Correggio_, _Dürer_, _Ghirlandajo_, _Giotto_, - _Holbein_, _Hunt (A.)_, _Hunt (Holman)_, _Leonardo_, _Lippi_, - _Luini_, _Mantegna_, _M. Angelo_, _Mulready_, _Raphael_, - _Reynolds_, _Robson_, _Titian_, _Tintoret_, _Turner_, - _Van Eyck_. - - Artistic affectation in England, 201. - - Aspis and apsis, 230. - - Associations, local, to be cherished, 94. - - Astronomy-- - how far valuable discovery yet possible in, 66. - two young ladies studying, 26. See s. _Stars._ - +atechnia+ 8. - - Atheism, modern, 202. - " " tries to dispense with the sun, 104. - - Athena, power of, 196, and _n._ - " protects Ulysses, 75. - " typical of what, 224. - - Atlantic, Ulysses in the, 75. - - +autarcheia+, 80. - - Author: (1) _Generally_, (2) _Teaching_, (3) _Books, &c._ - - 1. _Generally_:-- - drawings by, his own pleasure in them, 84. - " leaf-outlines, 217. - early boyhood, its tendencies, 41. - feeling of increasing age, 104. - life of, progressive from his childish pleasures, 83. - love of art, its foundation and growth, 41. - " " and of nature combined, 42. - story of a serpent and, 101. - study of Tuscan art begun (1846), 46. - success and failure, effect on, 31. - various movements of:-- - at Crystal Palace, 93. - Düsseldorf, 88. - Hincksey, Oxford, 217. - Iffley Church, 118. - London, watching traffic, 59. - Lucerne, rowing. 215. - Verona (1870), 125. - Wallingford, 240. - Westminster (watching clouds), 130. - See s. _Acland_, _Frou-frou_, _Helps_, _Mineralogy_, - _Sight_, _Water-Colour Exhibition_. - 2. _Teaching of:_-- - cannot follow modern science, 134. - despairs of return to simplicity, 94. - feeling for Norman art, 92. - his abuse of modernism, 34. - " reverence for mythology, 95. - on Luini, his position shown (1860), 46. - " study of the S. Catherine, 226. - on Turner, his defence of him, 128. - result of his teaching on his early disciples, 42. - Ritualism, not deceived by, 73. - teaches only what he knows, 123. - work at Oxford, - thought spent in preparing his lectures, _pref._, 2, 217. - assistants, 31. - audiences, 1. - plan for lectures, 236. - - 3. _Books, Lectures, &c.:_-- - constant appeals to physical science in, 128. - fine writing in, 3 - paradoxes in, 89. - _Quoted or referred to:_-- - Aratra Pantalici, (12), 62. - " " (88-9), 240. - " " (142), 39. - Ariadne Florentina, (141) _pref._ viii. - Arrows of the Chace (ii. 178), 212. - Eagle's Nest--pains of writing, _pref._ vii. - " teaching of, needed, 172. - Fors Clavigera (Letter v., p. 4), 88. - Giotto and his Works in Padua (p. 25), 204. - Lecturer on Art (60), 18. - " " (66), 18. - " Landscape (1871), 62. - Munera Pulveris (106), 212. - Modern painters, incomplete, 129. - " " tone of Vol. I., 42. - Queen of the Air (135), 52. - " " (162 _seq._), 229. - Sesame and Lilies (97), 3. - Stones of Venice (iii. 2, 23 _seq._), 159. - - Authority, heraldic sign of, 235, 1. - - Autolycus and Philammon, myths of, 189. - - Bacon, quoted on venomous knowledge, 20. - _New Atlantis_, ref. to, 120. - - Bardi, the, 209. - - Barry, classical paintings of, 63. - - Beauty, Greek love of, 167. - - Bee, wisdom of the, 193-196. - - Behaviour, knowledge of right, essential to art, 161. - - Belfry, 93. - - Bellini, jewel painting of, 218. - - Bend, the heraldic, 235. - - Benvenue, 199. - - Bergamo, Duomo of, 86. - - Berne, gas works at, 102. - " carving at, 88. - - Beverley, lesser egret last seen in England at, 174. - - Bible, statements of mental condition in the, 69. - Quoted or referred to:-- - Gen. i. 3. Let there be light, 99. - " ii. 19. Brought to Adam to see what he would call - them, 150. - " iii. 21. Unto Adam also and his wife ... coats of - skin, 223. - Exod. xx. 12. Long in the land the Lord ... giveth thee, - 240. - " xxv. 5. Rams' skins dyed red, 226. - Deut. xxxii. 11. An eagle ... fluttereth over her young, 63. - Judges v. 30. Divers colours of needlework, 225. - Job xix. 26. _After_ my flesh shall I see God, 121. - Ps. xiv. 1. The fool hath said in his heart, 104. - " xxvii. 1. The Lord is my light ... whom shall I fear, - 104-120. - Ps. xlviii. 13. Mark well her bulwarks, consider her - palaces, 240. - " xcvii. 2. Clouds and darkness are round about him, 7. - " ciii. 1-5. Bless the Lord ... youth renewed like the - eagle's, 63-4. - " cxxxvi. 8. The sun to rule the day, 100. - Prov. iii. 15. She is more precious than rubies, 19. - " iv. 13. Take fast hold on instruction, 19. - " viii. 30-31. I was daily His delight ... rejoicing ... - with the sons of men, 19, 64. - Eccl. i. 18. He that increaseth knowledge increaseth - sorrow, 80. - Malachi iv. 2. Sun of _justice_ ... with healing in his - wings, 115. - Matt. v. 8. Blessed the pure in heart ... shall see God, - 121, 176. - " vi. 22-23. The light of the body is the eye, 106, 108, 110. - " viii. 20. Son of Man hath not where to lay his head, 205. - " x. 16. Wise as serpents, 103-105. - " xi. 7. A reed shaken with the wind, 203. - " xii. 31-32. Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, 169. - " xv. 14. Blind ... fall into the ditch, 106. - " xxiv. 28. Where the carcase is, etc., 36. - Mark v. 3. Dwelling among the tombs, 69. - " v. 15. Clothed and in his right mind, 69. - " x. 15. Receive the Kingdom as a little child, 81. - John i. 9. Light that lighteth every man, 115, 116, 120. - 1 Cor. viii. 1. Knowledge puffeth up, 29. - " xiii. 5. Charity ... thinketh no evil, 152. - " " 6. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, 210. - " " 11. Put away childish things, 81. - 2 Cor. iii. 6. The letter Killeth, 4. - " v. 1. Houses not built by hands, 205. - 1 Peter i. 12. Things the angels desire to look into, 54. - - Birds, builders and singers, 48. - " classifications of (raptores, rasores, &c.), 187-9. - " English temper towards, illustrated 174-5. - " praising God, 61. - " rare, becoming extinct, 34. - " shooting them, the first idea of English gentlemen, 178. - See s. _Æthuia_, _Bullfinch_, _Clematis_, _Cuvier_, _Egret_, - _Gould_, _Gull_, _Halcyon_, _Hawk_, _Heron_, _Kingfisher_, - _Laros_, _Nest_, _Nightingale_, _Ornithology_, _Peacock_, - _Pheasant_, _Skylark_. - - Blake, Wm., as painter and as poet, 21. - " quoted, "The Book of Thel," "Doth the eagle know," &c., 21, - 22, 63. - - Blindness of mind and body, 106. - - Boat race, 212. - - Boats, loved by all boys, 41. - - Books, children's, 61. - - Botanic gardens at Oxford, 160. - - Botticelli, as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - - " his study of face and limb, _pref._ viii. - - Bottle, science of the formation of a, 135. - - Brutes, man's relation to the, 30. See s. _Animals_. - - Briareus, 183. - - British Museum, Greek Vase, "Anacreon and his dog" at, 151. - - Bruges, 93. - - Bubble, soap, unexplained, 132, 134. - - Bullfinch's nest, 48. - - Bustle, Dr. Acland's dog, author's delight in, 151, 154. - - - California, 70. - - Camarina, 229. - - Cambridge wranglers, value of art to, 96. - - Canton, the heraldic, 235. - - Carlyle, T., "Shooting Niagara," 70. - - Carrion and game, choice of, 11, 36. - - Cassell's _Educator_, 202. - - Cassiopeia, 124. - - Cat, its power and use of sight, 110. - " "may look at a king," _ib._ - - Ceyx, son of the Morning Star, 198. - - Chærephon, in Lucian's dialogue on the Halcyon, 194. - - Châlet, education needed to build a Swiss, 202. - - Chamouni, Turner's drawing of, 147. - - Chance, and design in nature, 182, seq. - - Change, and living change, how wrought, 208-9. - - Chapel, attendance at, in Oxford, 169. - - Character, evidenced by dress, 220. - - Chariot, use of Greek, 231. - - Charity, true, more reverent than pitiful, 211. - - Charlemagne's treaty with Scotland, 235. - - Chartism, story of a Chartist herald (Sir A. Helps, quoted), 208. - - Charybdis, 75. - - Chaucer, quoted, "Cuckoo and Nightingale," 37 (motto), 56. - - Chemistry, a modern God, 202. - " modern progress in, 33. - " of little use to art, 96. - - Cherwell, the, 179. - - Chevron, the heraldic, 235. - - Chiefe, the heraldic, 235. - - Child and dog, pictures by Titian and Reynolds, 151. - - Childhood, pleasures and retrospect of, 82. - - Children's books, 61. - - Chivalry, Christian and Greek, 219. - " " history of, to be learnt by gentlemen, 216. - " conception of, as an influence in education, 239. - " European, its basis, 236. - " leaders of, 240. - - Christ, heraldic symbol of, in Italy, 229. - - Christian chivalry. See s. _Chivalry_. - - Christianity, early traces of in heathen literature (Lucian), 194. - " idea of God as Light, 116. - " its statements of mental health, 69. - - Chromo-lithotints, style of, 69-71. - - Church of England, 73. - - Cid, The, 240. - - Civilization, false, 94. - - Civil Service, the, and Orissa, 35. - - Classification, scientific, 186-7. - - Cleanliness and art, 95. - - Clematis, a bird's nest of, 48. - - Clouds, 129-30. - " effect of storm-clouds on scientist, artist, and scholar, 7. - " forms of, unexplained by science, 131. - - Coins, English "angels," 117. - " engravings of, 157. See s. _Angels_, _Sovereign_. - - Colonization, Englishmen likely to be colonists, 94. - - Colour, connection of with health, 113. - " design in, on Gothic shields, 233. - " gloomy, in art, 69. - " in dress, originates in the skins of animals, 226-7. - " love of light, 113, 116, 117. - " perception of, a spiritual and moral power, 122. - " pure, delight in, 113, 115. - " school of shade and of crystalline colour, 114. - " temperance of, 71. - - Common-sense in the English, 24, 25. See s. _Aristotle_. - - Competition in art, 88. - " in education, 177, 212. - - Conceit of science, 22. - - Conceptions, range of dignity of, and literature, 7-8. - " reason and, 11. - - Consideration for others demands imagination, 27. - - Contentment and advance in knowledge, 81. - - Copiapo, 83. - - Copley Fielding, 41. - - "Coronis," Pindar's, 189. - - Correggio, use of orange for red by, 226. - - Corruptibility of art, 11, 13. - - Cottages, who should build peasants', and how, 201. - - Courtesy, instance of modern, 240. - - Covetousness in art, 81. - - Coxe, Mr. (Bodleian Library, Oxford), 157. - - Crane, legs of a, 162. - - Creation, man's relation to the brute, 30. - - Creatures, different knowledge fit for different, 21. - - Creed, Apostles', its first three clauses, 169. - - Crest, heraldic meaning of the, 228. - " personal, but becomes hereditary, 230. - - Cross, heraldic, 235. - " heraldic quartering and the, 236. - - Crystal Palace, toy at the, 93. - - Cuirass, earliest form of, 224. - - Cup, forms of, 139. - - Cuvier, classification of birds, 188. - - - Daisy, Wordsworth on a, 51. - - Dancing, fair and foul, 13, 14. - - Dante, quoted or referred to-- - " " _De remi, facemmo ale al folle volo_, 79. - " " on Pisa's cruelty, 35. - " " on the sight of Beatrice, 177. - " " on Ulysses, 75. - - Darwin, account of peacock's feather, 185. - - Darwinism, 153-155, 207. - - Death, connection with the myth of the Halcyon, 199. - " love of, by modern art, 69. - - Decency and art, 95. - - Deeds, taught by art, 8. - - Defence, heraldic sign of, 235. (s.). - - Delights, man's best, 212. - - Dependence, 77. - - Derivative beauty in modern art, 219. - - Design in nature, 152, seq. - - Desires, man's best, 212. - - Devices on Greek and Gothic shields, 233. - - Devil, personality of the, 69. - " truth of the expression, "the Devil in him," _ib._ - - Dictionaries, contain "Tout ce qu'il y a de plus beau," 100. - - Dinner, derivation of word, 235. - - Diomed, 168. - - Dionysus' cup, 139. - " nebris, 225. - - Disc or disk, 235. - - Discovery of one age, the common knowledge of the next, 34. - " science and, 65, 66. - " vain passion for, 74. - " value of, in itself, 33. - - Divinity, Humanity, Animalism, 30. - - Doctor, Helps' story of a, in Chartist riots, 208. - - Dog, Anacreon and his (Greek vase), 151. - " carved by boy, 88. - " Dr. Acland's dog "Bustle," 151. - " meaning of its introduction in portraits, 151. - " by Titian and Reynolds, their pictures of children and, _ib._ - - Doing, knowing, and talking, 2, 3, 4. - - Domestic love, in peace, 168. - " " its place and influence, 199. - - Doncaster, Mr. Reed, bird-stuffer of, 174. - - Drake, Sir Francis, arms of, 235. - - Drapery, effect of gentleness gained by, 235. - " its laws, 141, seq. - " on persons and statues, 143. - - Drawing, a vital part of education, and why, 179. - " rules of, use of sight and science in, 148. - " "draw for your subject, not your picture," 163. - - Dress, a sign of character, 220. - " earliest forms of, 223-4. - " Eastern, 225. - " form and colour of, originates in skins of animals, 226-7. - " heraldic, 222, 225. - " national, should be the same in life and art, 166. - " squalor of, a sign of national decay, 221. - - Drummond armorial bearings, 235. - - Du Cange, on St. Etheldreda, 235. - " " on the orle quoted, 235. - - Dürer, 217. - " anatomy in pictures of, 155; influence of anatomy on, - _pref._ viii. - " animals introduced by, 151. - " beautiful faces rare in, _pref._ viii. - " engraving of, _pref._ vii. - " his "Sir, it cannot be better done," 52. - " love of grotesque in, 151. - works of:-- - " Knight and Death, _pref._ viii. - " Melancholia, " - " St. Hubert, " - " St. Jerome, " - - Düsseldorf, art at, 88. - - - Eagle, the, 184. - " characteristics of, 156-7. - " sight and scent of, 111. - - _Eagles Nest, The._ See s. _Author_. (3) _Books_. - - Ease of great work, 85. - - Eastern dress, 225. - - Eccelin of Padua, 35. - - Ecu, derivation of, 230. - - Edify, meaning of word in "Charity edifieth," 30. - - Education, aim of, morality not knowledge, 212. - " a matter of feeling, not of knowledge, 179. - " competition in, 212. - " conception of chivalry as an influence in, 239. - " means power of true sight, animals, man, God, 175-6. - " modern architecture and, 202. - " modern, 120. - " " its error and toilsomeness, _ib._ - " national, 94. - " science as an instrument of, 65. - " sympathy essential to learning, 236. - " true, brings delight in seeing things, 177. - " " summed in enjoyment, _ib._ - - Effort in study, how far necessary, 2. - - Egeri, lakes of, 199. - - Egret, the leper, 174. - - Egyptian leopard, of what typical, 125. - " plagues, 118. - - Elgin marbles, as models for students, 162. - - Elis, coins of, 157. - - Elizabeth, Queen, arms given to Sir F. Drake by, 235. - - Embassy, heraldic sign of, 235, 2. - - Emerson, on distinctive class dress, 221, _n._ - - Emulation in art, 90. - - England, and America, relations of, 79. - " chivalry of, led by Richard Coeur de Lion, 240. - " Church of, 73. - " colonisation by, 94. - " glory and power of old, 203. - " misery of modern, its fallen temper, 203. - " power of help in, 36. - " prudence of the English as a nation, 24. - " schools of, the, 6. - - Engraving, lines in, representative of colour, 152. - - Enjoyment and Achievement, 85. - - +epistêmê+, 8. - - Erie, Lake, 70. - - Ermine, the, 225. - - Etheldreda's, St., "bend" (heraldic), 235. - - Ethics and art, 18. - See s. _Actions_, _Aims_, _Amusement_, _Behaviour_, _Character_, - _Chivalry_, _Dancing_, _Education_, _Evil_, _Imagination_, - _Intemperance_, _Passions_. - - Etruscan helmet derived from horse's head, 227. - - Euclid quoted, 124. - - Evil correlative with good, 17. - - Examinations, frequent, an error of modern education, 177. - - Experiments in art, 123. - - Eye, "if thine eye be evil," 106. - - Eyes, different kinds of, 107. - " noble and ignoble, 122. - " not telescopes, 99. - - - Faculties of art, science and literature, in extreme, 10. - - Failure, effect of, on author, 31. - - Faith, heraldic sign of, 235, 2. - - Famine, in Persia, 36. - - Fascia, origin of fesse, 235. - - Fesse, the heraldic, 235. - - "Fiat lux, fiat anima," 97-8. - - Fields, in London, 72. - - Film, nature of, a difficult study, 134. - - Flasque, the heraldic, 235. - - Fleet Street, 61. - - Florence, the Duomo of, 138. - " schools of, 159. - - Flowers, loss of rare, nowadays, 34. - - Fog, in England, 130. - - Folly, in art, Lect. i., and ii. - " in science, 20, _seq._ - " vanity of, 40. - - Forgiveness, the sin for which there is no, 169. - - Fortification, heraldic sign of, 235, 9. - - Fortitude, her shield, 230. - - France, chivalry of, led by Roland, 240. - " Germany and, their relations, 79. - - French art, dexterity in, effect of, 89. - " use of colour, in art schools, deadly, 96, 114. - - French plays. See s. _Frou-frou_. - - Fresco-painting, 226. - - Frogs at Iffley, 118. - - _Frou-frou_, play of, its effect on author, 72. - " statement as to, by a French lady, 72. - - Furres, heraldic meaning of, 225. - - - Gaiety Theatre, dancing at, 14. - - Game and carrion, choice of, 11, 36. - - Gaslight, work done by, 104. - - Gentiles, meaning of the word, 170. - - Gentleness and kindness, alike in derivation, 170. - - Geology, Silurian and Permian systems of, 160. - - Geometry and art, 96. - " meaning of the word, _ibid._ - - George III., portrait of daughter of, by Reynolds, 151. - - German erudition, effect on art of, 89. - - Germany and France, relations of, 79. - - Ghent, workmen at, 93. - - Ghirlandajo, read in his frescoes, 226. - - Giesbach, author at the, (1870), 101. - - Giotto, "paint me my arms" anecdote, 209. - " simplicity of, _pref._ vii. - - Gladstone (W. E.), at Nat. Assoc. for Soc. Science, 63. - - Glass, painting on, a lost art, 33. - " " orange _v._ purple in, 226. - " " at Iffley, 118. - - God, birds' praise of, 61. - " man's honouring of, 55. - " " relation to, 30. - " universal idea of, as Light, 116. - - Goethe, Faust quoted, 62. - - Good and evil, in art, 17. - - Gothic art, modern imitations of, purposely wrong to nature, 145. - " " its scientific side and basis, 137. - " " its sense of strength, 137. - " shield, 230. - - Gould, Mr., the ornithologist, 48. - " " his account of the lesser egret, 174. - - Grallatores, birds called, 187. - - Great men, their greatness in their aim, not their actions, 214. - - Greece, sources and nature of her power, 167-8. - - " Switzerland and, a district of each compared, 109. - - Greek armour, 231. - " " helmet = horse's head, 227. - " " shield, 230. - " classification of birds, 189. - " idea of God as Light, 116. - " mythology, 95. - " patronymics, meaning of, 168. - " vase, dog painting on a, 151. - " vases, Sir Wm. Hamilton on, 139. - - Gremium, the, of Christ and the Madonna in art, 235. - - "Greta and Tees," Turner's, 69, 70. - - Guillim's "Heraldry" quoted, 234, n. - - Guillotine and mitrailleuse, 34. - - Gules, 226. - - Gull, the "swimmer" of birds, 188. - - Gun-cotton, 33. - - Gyron, the heraldic, 235. - - - Halcyon days, meaning of, 192. - - ---- the, its feathers, 185. - " " Greek notices of, 190 seq. - " " myth of, and death, 199. - " " Scholiasts' description of, 197. - " " story of, 172 seq. - - Hamilton, Sir W., on Greek verses, 139. - - Happiness, in Aristotle, 19. - - Hawk, the "snatcher" of birds, 188. - - Health, "mens sana, &c.," 68. - " of heart, _ibid._ - - Heat, a mode of motion, 100. - - Helen, in the "Iliad," 168. - - Helmet, earliest idea of the, 224. - " Greek and Etruscan, derived from horse's head, 227. - - Helps, Sir A., his "War and Culture" quoted, 208. - - Helps, Sir A., his "War and Culture," dedicated to author, _ib._ - - Hera, 190. - - Heraldry, a despised science, 173. - " aim of, 207. - " author's drawings of, 112. - " distinct meaning of crest and arms, 228. - " dress and, 225. - " function of, 210. - " Greek and Gothic, 230 _seq._ - " importance to art of, 173. - " natural types in, 229. - " power of, 47. - " teaching of, 171. - " the heraldic ordinaries, Lect. x., 235. - " their symbolism, 236. - " use in teaching colour, 114. - See s. _Armorial bearings_, _Bend_, _Chevron_, _Chief_, _Crest_, - _Cross_, _Drummond_, _Embassy_, _Fesse_, _Furres_, _Guillim_, - _Gules_, _Gyron_, _Helmet_, _Ordinaries_, _Orle_, _Quartering_, - _Red_, _Varie_, _Verrey_. - - Hercules, 75. - " his death, 199. - " lion's skin, and, 229. - " the, of Switzerland, 199. - " type of what, 224. - - Hereditary skill to be cherished, 94. - - Heron, the stilt-walker of birds, 188. - - Hincksey, author walking back from, 217. - - History, art as an end to, 47. - " art and, 207 seq. - " how to read, 214. - " probable view of the Nineteenth Century in, 35. - " should separate the ideal and the real, 215, 216. - " true, defined, 214. - " what it has been and should be, 207. - - Historical painting, its function, 210. - - Holbein, 217. - " as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - " study of face and limb by, _pref._ viii. - - Holy Ghost, the sin against the, 169. - - Home, the true, for which to seek, 206. - - Homer, Odyssey vi., quoted, 74, 75, 78. - " passage on the Sirens, quoted, 100. See s. _Iliad_, - _Odyssey_. - - Honour, power of, 212. - - Horse's head, gives rise to helmet-form, 227. - - Hôtel de Ville, architecture of an, 201. - - Hubert, Dürer's St., _pref._ viii. - - Hughes, Tom, 63. - - Human form and art. See s. _Anatomy_, _Nude_. - - Humanity, Animalism, Divinity, 30. - - Hunt, Alfred, his rainbow, 129 _n._ - - Hunt, Holman, his "Light of the World," 115. - - Hyginus, quoted on the Halcyon, 190. - - - Idealism, 95. - - Ideal, the, and real in history to be distinguished, 215-216. - - Iffley church, author at, 118. - - Ignorance, how far essential to art, 88. - - Iliad, moral of the, 168. - - Imagination, 95. - " condition of modern, 69. - " history of the, best part of man's history, 214. - " implied in consideration for others, 27. - " its precious value, 215. - " self-command and, 26. - - Independence, in pursuit of art and science, 76, 77. - - Indolence in art, 81. - - Insanity, author's use of the word, 69 _n._ - - Inscription on house in Alsace, 86. - - Insessores, birds, 187. - - Intemperance, distinct from passion, 72. - - Invention, artistic, excels science, 140. - - Inventions of the age, 33. - " vanity of pride in, 34. - - Isis, the, 179. - - Isle of Dogs, starvation at, 63. - - - Jerome, Dürer's St., _pref._ viii. - - Judgment, a Latin word, 7. - - +kakia+ in art, how evidenced, 40. - - +kantharos+, Greek, 139. - - +kanthos+, use of, by Aristotle, 235. - - Kennington, 208. - - Kensington, art schools of, 6. - " education at, 202. - " museum, statue of dog in, 88. - " " studies of the nude in, 166. - - Kindness, derivation of the word, 170. - - King-fisher, power of sight of, 112. - " See s. _Halcyon_. - - Knight, armour of, 231-2. - " and Death, Dürer's, _pref._ viii. - - Knowing, doing, talking, 2-4. - - Knowledge, art the shadow of, 68. - " charity and, 29. - " limits of human, 80. - " perception, and their places in art, 126. - " Pope on, quoted, 20. - " "science" and, 37. - " taught by science, 8. - " tenderness the basis of high, 77. - " various kinds for various creatures, 21-2. - " venomous, quoted by Bacon, 29. - " what, good for an artist, 123-4. - - "Know thyself," a law to man, 22-3. - - - Lago di Garda, sunset at, 125. - - Lake Erie, 70. - " Ontario, 70. - - Landlord, duty of a, not to build cottages, 201. - " speech of an English, to author, 200. - " the good they can do, in keeping the land lovely, 179. - - Landscape, author's lectures on, Oxford, 1871, 62. - " choice of subject in, 69. - - Laros, the bird, 192. - - Law, evidence of, in nature, 183. - " the laws of life, the true object of science, 206. - - Leake's travels, 199. - - Lectures. See s. _Landscape_. - - Leonardo, Luini's master, 46. - " subtle delineation of, 87. - - Liberty, modern desire for, 204. - - Life, duty of, to give praise and deserve it, 213. - " its laws, the true object of science, 206. - " its source is love, 168. - " temperance of the artistic, 90. - - Light, definition of, 97. - " universal prayer for, 115. - " " ideas of God as, 116. - - Lindsay, Lord, his Christian Mythology, author's early guide, 46. - " " the first to see the theology of art, _ib._ - - Linnæus, his classification of birds, 188. - - Lion, Charlemagne's treaty and the Scottish, 235. - " the, 184. - - Lippi, Filippo, his St. John Baptist, 229. - - Literature, eagle-eyed, 36. - " expresses theology less perfectly than does art, 46. - " right aim of, "to exalt the fancy," 3, 206. - " sphere and meaning of, 3, 4. - - Livy, Book iii. 26, quoted, 215, 222. - - Local associations, to be cherished, 94. - - Logic, a method, not a power, 5. - - London, Academy of, 93. - " art in, 82. - " as a "man's nest," 61. - " building over, 72. - " traffic, its aspect and meaning, 59-60. - " water-supply, 154. - See s. _Academy_, _Author_, _British Museum_, _Fields_, _Fog_, _Isle - of Dogs_, _Ludgate Hill_, _Noise_, _Paradise Row_, _Parliament_. - - Lord's Prayer, the, quoted, 75. - - Love, all things founded on, 169. - " derived from "laus," its meaning, 213. - " domestic, its place and influence, 199. - " power of, 212. - " the source of honour, 219. - " " life, 168. - - Lucerne, Lake of, 199. - - Lucian, on the Halcyon, 194. - - Ludgate Hill, scene of traffic at, 59. - - Luini, his position vindicated by author, 1861, 46. - " use of red in his frescoes, 226. - - - Madonna, The, her power in Christian chivalry, 219. - " " picture of, bought by author, its derivative beauty, - 218. - - Magpie, the, 188. - - Man, his honour of God, 55. - " his relation to things above and below him, 30. - " not a beast of prey, 63. - " "know thyself," a law to, 22-3. - " strength of mutual dependence amongst men, 77. - " what kind of, occupied by art, science, and literature, 3. - - Mantegna, 155. - " as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - " evil influences of anatomy on, _pref._ viii. - " his "Angels," 62. - " his "Vices," _pref._ viii. - - Marble, veins in, unexplained, 132. - - Margaret, Queen, and the Drummond arms, 235. - - Maskelyne, Prof., of Oxford, 160. - - Mathematics, of little use to art, 96. - - Matterhorn, 70. - - Max Müller, Professor, 3. - - Mechanism, modern, 34. - - Melancholia, Dürer's, _pref._ viii. - - Memling's grace and severity, 218. - - Mephistopheles, 62. - - Michael Angelo, 155. - " " dome of Florence, and, 138. - " " effect of anatomy on, 159. - " " puts orange for red, 226. - - Middle Ages, history of the, real and ideal in, 216. - - Milton, "Comus," l. 706, referred to, 75. - " Ode to the Nativity, quoted, 198. - - Mind, effect of various tempers of, on art, 96. - " its choice of subject more important than its methods, 11. - " safe conditions of, 68-9. - " various states of the, described in the Bible, 69. - - Mineralogy, author's early, 3. - - Mitrailleuse, the age of the, 34. - - Models, may be too good, 90. - - Modern advance, probable view of, by future generations, 34-5. - " greed for money, 204. - " knowledge, its pride and folly, 79. - " life, what ideas obsolete in, 120. - See s. _Age_, _Atheism_, _Education_, _Liberty_. - - Modesty purifies art, 81. - " true, in man, 30. - - Molière quoted, 100. - - Money, modern greed for, 204. - - Monte Rosa, 70. - - Moral temper, essential to appreciate art, 161. - - Morgarten, the Thermopylæ of Switzerland, 199. - - +môria+ in art, how evidenced, 40. - " of the faculties, 9 _seq._ - - Motives, human, 212. - - Mountains, blueness of, at Verona, 125. - - Mulready's studies of the nude, 166. - - Myths of Apollo and St. George, 117. - " of Autolycus and Philammon, 189. - " physical causes as affecting, 199. - - Mythology, 95. - " of importance to art, 172. - " why a despised science, 173. - - See s. _Autolycus_, _Briareus_, _Ceyx_, _Hercules_, _Orpheus_, - _Pelides_, _Philammon_, _Pleiades_, _Polygnotus_, _Poseidon_, - _Tydides_. - - - Napoleon, Louis, 208. - - Natatores, (Birds), 187. - - National History, scientific view of, 49, 57. - " Life, sources of its power, 171. - " symbols, more cruel than gentle types chosen for, 229. - - Nativity, Raphael's, offered to the English, 24. - - Nature, art less beautiful than, 172. - " chance and design in, 152 _seq._ - " effect of, on local art, 91. - " love of art involves greater love of, 41. - " teaching of the power of the Holy Spirit in, 169. - - Natural History, its true scope and triple division, 180-1. - " " what it should amount to, 207. - " Philosophy, modern study of, 2. - - Nest, bullfinch's, 48. - " halcyon's, 193. - " true man's true, 206. - - Niagara, "Carlyle's" Shooting, 70. - - Nightingale, the Greek singing-bird, 189. - - Nineteenth century, history's probable view of the, 35. - - Nitro-glycerine, 33. - - Noble and notable, 39. - - Noise of London traffic, 60-61. - - Nomenclature, scientific, 186. - - Norman design, 92. - - Northern minds and Southern art, 163. - - Notable and noble, 39. - - +nous+, 8 _seq._, 25. - - Novelty of wisdom, its danger, 74. - - Nude, the, degrades art, 149. - " its limit, _ib._ - " its study:-- - places where Impracticable, 164. - how far desirable in England, 164. - result of, in Greece, 167. - - Nuremberg carving, 88. - - - Oarsmanship, art of, 12. - - Ochiltree, Edie. See _Scott_. - - OEta, Mt., the country round, 199. - - Ontario, Lake, 70. - - Optics and art, 96. - - Orange and purple, use of in art, 226. - - Ordinaries, the heraldic, Lect. x.; 234 _n._, 235. - - Organic form and art, 149 _seq._ - - Orion, 28. - - Orissa, 35-6. - - Orle, the heraldic, 235. - - Originality in art, its value, 32. - " how estimated in the great and base schools, _ib._ - " modern demand for it in art and science, 33. - - Ornithology, 47, 48. - " further discoveries impossible in, 66. - " modern work in, 156-7. - " modern classification criticised, 187-8. - - Orpheus, 151. - - Oxford, approach to, 119. - " Brasenose Lane, filth of, 119. - " charm and power of its buildings, Lect. v., end. - " colleges, style of their buildings, 239. - " disuse of academicals at, its meaning, 221. - " education, 177, 237. - " idea of its possible beauty, 179. - " improvements at, 118. Lect. v., end. - " new church at, 63. - " "motto" of, 120. - " printsellers' windows at, art in the, 217. - " object of study at, 95. - " its teaching, ancient idea of, 121. - " undergraduates and author's lectures, 1. - - - Padua, Eccelin of, 35. - - Painting on glass, a lost art, 33. - " perfection of, reached only in Venice, 82. See s. _Art_, - _Drawing_. - - "Pale," the heraldic, 235. - - _Pall Mall Gazette_, (Jan. 29, 1869), quoted, 63. - - Paradise Row, 206. - - Paris, art in, 82. - - Parliament, its work done by night, 104. - " the little good done by, 179. - - ---- Houses of, their affected architecture, 201. - - Parrot, the "climber," 188. - - Passion, not full of intemperance, 72. - - Passions, the, controlled in dancing, 13. - " " ruled by Sophia (+sophia+), 19. - - Patronymics, meaning of Greek, 168. - - Pausanias quoted, 199. - - Peace, man's search for, 204. - " how to be found, 205. - - Peacocks and pheasants, Darwinian connection of, 185. - - Pelides, 168. - - Perception, knowledge interferes with artistic, 126. - - Permian system of geology, 160. - - Persia, famine in, 36. - - Persian idea of God as Light, 116. - - Peru, 83. - - Pheasant, the "scratcher" of birds, 188. - " and peacock, Darwinian connection of, 185. - - Phidias' Theseus, 39. - - Philammon, 151. - " myth of Philammon and Autolycus, 189. - - Phillips, Prof., of Oxford, 160. - - Philophronesia, 8. - - Philosophia, 8. - - Photography, value of, 147. - - +phronêsis+, 8, 25. - " different kinds of, 23. - - Physical circumstances, effect of, on myths, 199. - - Physiology and art, 207. - " its true meaning, 207. - - Physiologist, on sight, 99. - - Plagues of Egypt, 118, 170. - - Plants, instinct of, 97. - - Plato, his definition of sight, quoted, 97. - - Pleasure, in great and small, rude and fine art, 82. - " the greatest, given by inferior art, 82. - " decrease of, with increase of years, 82. - - Pleiades, 28. - - Plutarch, on the Halcyon, quoted, 193. - - Plymouth, Turner's drawing of, 125. - - Piacenza, the orle of, 235. - - Pictures, the reality must be better than the semblance, 165. - - Pietra dura ornament, 88. - - Pile, the heraldic, 235. - - Pindar's "Coronis" (Pyth. iii. 14, 48), 189. - - Pines, Scotch and stone, confused by Turner, 133. - - Pisa, coin of, 157. - " cruelty of, and Dante, 35. - - Pæstum, plain of, 7, 25. - - Poetry, its essence, 100. - - +poikilia+, 73. - - Polygnotus, porch of, 119. - - Pool of water at Iffley, 118. - - Pope, quoted:-- - Essay on Criticism, "A little knowledge," &c., 20. - Homer, "Oh stay, oh pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay," 74. - - Poseidon, 25. - - Possibility, ancient recognition of human and divine, 195. - - Pottery, not made by rule, 139. - - Power, constructive and negative, 20. - - Praise, life's duty is to give and deserve it, 213. - " love of, in man, 212. - " what kind of, to compete for, 212. - - Prayer, efficacy of, 67. - - Prey, use of sight to beasts of, 110. - - Prodicus (of Xenophon), 40. - - Proprietor, speech of English landed, to author, 200. - - Protection, heraldic sign of, 235 (10). - - Prout, growth of his power, 86, 87. - - Provincial art, 91, 92. - - Prudence, a lower virtue, 23. - " contrasted with +sophia+, 26. - - Purification, the most sacred art, 118. - - Purity, physical, 117. - - Purple _v._ orange, use of, in art, 226. - - - Quartering, heraldic, 236. - - Quoits, disk and orle, 235. - - - Radclyffe, the, at Oxford, 119. - - Railway, power of sight on the, 111. - - Rainbows, drawings of, 129 _n_. - - Raphael, 218. - " substitutes orange for red, 226. - " works of:-- - Nativity of, offered to the English, 24. - Theologia, or Dispute of the Sacrament, 46. - - Raptores, Birds, 187. - - Rasores, Birds, 187. - - Rattlesnake, eyes of the, 109. - - Real and ideal in history to be distinguished, 215-216. - - Reason and conceptions, 11. - - Red, or "gules," its history and universal use, 226. - - Reed, Mr., of Doncaster, bird-stuffer, 174. - - Refinement, loss of pleasure with increase of, 82 seq. - - Regillus, battle of Lake, 215. - - Religionists, errors of, 79. - - Renaissance, Italian, 86. - " the so-called, 236. - - Reu, chapel of, 92. - - Reynolds (Sir J.), 218. - " anatomy and, 154. - " child and dog, by, 151-4. - " speed of, 139. - - Richard Coeur de Lion, 240. - - Ridiculous, the, 16. - - Ritualism, 73. - - Rivalry, modern, and Venetian art, 82. - - Robson, 41. - - Roland, 240. - - Roman history, its lessons, 215. - - Rome, fresco painting of, 226. - " power of domestic life in, 170. - - Rouen Cathedral, 92. - - Rowing, art of, 12. - - Royal Academy, failure of power at exhibition 1871, 89. - " " vulgar sending of portraits to the, 151. - - Royal Society, 6. - - Rubens' Rainbow, 129 _n._ - - Rubric, 226. - - - Sacrament, dispute of the, by Raphael, 46. - - Saint Andrew's Cross, 235. - " George and the Dragon, 117. - " Hilaire and natural history, 158. - " Mark's, Venice, doves at, 62. - " Michael (coin stamped with), 117. - " Paul's Cathedral, worship in, 61. - - Saltire, the heraldic, 235. - - "Sanitas," 68. - - Scaligers, arms of the, 235. - - Scansores (Birds), 187. - - Scholarship, the aim of true, 7. - - Schools of art, should encourage constructive power, 20. - - Science - aim of right, 3. - ancient and modern men of, 100. - aspects of modern, 65. - art and:-- - artistic invention unaided by, 140. - together give complete truth, 58. See s. _Art_, _Artist_. - conduct, the science of, the one s. essential to art, 161. - defined, 37, 38, 65. - discovery and, their relations, 66. - eagle-eyed, 36. - function of, to explain the laws of life, 206. - man in relation to, 22. - modesty of, in wise appreciation, Lect. IV., 72, 172. - nomenclature and, 96, 186. - originality in, demanded, 33. - power of, deadly, 20. - progress in, its vanity, 33. See below s. _Vanity_. - pursuit of:-- - selfish and unselfish, 33. - tone of right, 76. - rank and classification of different, 67, 186-87. - theology and, 67. - vanity in, its effect, 33, 74. - wisdom and folly in, 20 _seq._ - " in unselfishness, 76, 172. - See s. _Anatomy_, _Astronomy_, _Chemistry_, _Clouds_, - _Cuvier_, _Discovery_, _Folly_, _Heat_, _Invention_, - _Natural History_. - - Scotland, the Scottish Lion, 235. - " treaty with Charlemagne, _ib._ - - Scott, Sir W., Antiquary (Edie Ochiltree), referred to, 222. - - Sculpture at Abbeville, 91. - " perfection in, reached only in Athens and Etruria, 82. - - "Scutum," derivatives of, 230. - - Sea-mew, the, Greek myth of, 190. - - Self-command and imagination, 26. - - Self-interest, as a motive-power in revolution, 208-9. - - Selfishness, how far unconquerable, 31-2. - - Self-satisfaction in one's own work, right and wrong, 81. - - Semmes, Captain, and the _Alabama_, 24. - - Sense, faculty of, 8. - - Serpent, characteristics of a, 102; its wisdom, _ib._ - " anecdote of, and author, 101. - - Servius, quoted on the Halcyon, 191. - - Shadow, "folly looks at her own," 40. - - Shakespeare, on mimetic art, 39. - " his chemical, anatomical, substantial, and ideal - aspects, 44. - " as a subject of science and art, _ib._ - _Quoted_:-- - Hamlet iii. 1. "Arms against a sea of troubles," 204. - " v. 1. "Here hung those lips that I have kissed," &c., 157. - Macbeth i. 3. "The earth hath bubbles, &c.," 137. - Mids. Night's Dream v. i. "The best in this kind are but - shadows," 39, 148. - - Shell, meaning of the word, 230. - - Shepherd boy, carving dog, 88. - - Shield, forms and use of a, 224. - " Greek and Gothic, 230. - " meaning of, in heraldry and etymology, 230. - - Sight, accurate, to be acquired, 112. - " author's controversy with physiologist on, 99. - " author's sight tired, 112. - " clear, so far as kind, _ib._ - " growth of educated, 176. - " index to nobility of nature, 110. - " kinds of, physical and moral, 108. - " mathematical power of, 111. - " not mechanical, but spiritual, 99. - " noble and ignoble, 122. - " Plato's definition of, 97. - " power of metric, 112. - " source of all knowledge in art, 172. - " spiritual, 111. - " weariness, effect of, on metric power of, 112. - - Silurian system of geology, 160. - - Simonides quoted on the Halcyon, 192. - " " the "wisdom of calm," 199. - - Simplicity in estimate of one's own work, 53. - " quoted also, 199. - - Sin, the unforgiveable, 169. - - Sirens, knowledge of the, 100, 108, 168. - " song of, 74, 75, 78. - - Skiddaw, 199. - - Skill, tenderness, the basis of high, 77. - - Skull, man's, and an eagle's, 155 seq. - - Skye-terrier painted by Reynolds, 151. - - Sky-lark, the, 56. - - Social Science meeting (1869-70), 63. - - Socrates in Lucian's dialogue on the Halcyon, 194. - - Solar force, 100. - - Sophia, or +sophia+, Lect. I. - " Aristotle's definition of, 9 seq., 90. - " eternal and universal, 23. - " faculty of recognition and choice, 30. - " higher forms of, 27-28. - " modesty of true, 30-31. - " prudence, and contrasted, 26. - " ruling spirit, 20. - " sway over wise art and science, 37. - " unselfishness of true, 29, 31. - - Sophocles' Trachiniæ, 199. - - +sôphrosynê+, 68, 90. - - Sovereign, English (coin) and St. George, 117. - " heraldry of art (1870-1880), 235. - - Spain, chivalry of, led by the Cid, 240. - - Sparrow, the "percher" of birds, 188. - - Spear, proper form of a, 224. - - Species, modern theories on, 34. - - Sport, English ideas of, 178. - - Sport, _continued_:-- - " love of killing birds, its meaning, 175. - - Squire, derivation of word, 230. - - Stars, their value to artist and scientist, 124. - - Star-gazing, probable conditions of, by two girls, 26. - - "Stones of Venice," statement as to anatomy in, withdrawn, 159. - - Strasburg, architecture of, 202. - " art in, 82. - " drawing of house in, by Prout, 86. - - Street, E., 50. - - Strozzi, child and dog, Titian's, 151. - - Subjects in art, natural subjects of national art, 95. - - Success, one's own, and others', 31. - " effect of, on author, 31. - - Sun, power of the, 100. - " modern efforts to dispense with, 104. - " should "rule the day," 104. - - Swine, symbol of the herd of, 69. - - Swiss châlet, education needed to build, 202. - - Switzerland and Greece, two districts of, compared, 199. - " the Heracles of, 199. - " the history of, its lessons, 21. - - Sympathy, essential to learning, 236. - - - Tabernacle, Jewish, 226. - - Talking, doing, and knowing, 2, 3, 4. - - +technê+, 8. - - Tees," Turner's "Greta and, 70. - - Telescopes and eyes, 99. - - Tell, William, legendary, 215. - - Temper, trials of, 69. - " success, influence on, 31. - - Temperance, true, in recognition of work, 81. - - Temptations of knowledge, 79. - " Ulysses, their meanings, 74-5. - - Tenderness the basis of skill and knowledge, 77. - - Thales, 23. - - "Theologia," Raphael's, 46. - - Theology, more perfectly expressed by art than by literature, 46. - - Theology, of art, only recently recognised, 46. - " of more value than anatomy to art, 168. - " science and, 67. - - Thermopylæ, blue waters of, 199. - - Theseus, Phidias', 39. - - Thirst, man's best, for what, 212. - - Thought, the peace of beautiful, 205. - " right, the end of literature, 3, 206. - - Throne, a Greek word, 7. - - Titian, use of red by, 226. - - Titian's Strozzi Princess and dog, 151. - - Titmouse, a new specimen of the, 66. - - Tintoret, use of red by, 226. - " speed of, 139. - - Toy, useless, at Crystal Palace, 93. - - Trachiniæ, Sophocles', 190. - - Trachis, king of, 190. - - Tressure, the heraldic, 235. - - Truth, completely given by science and art together, 58. - - Turner, J. W. M., drawing of seen and known facts by, 125. - " early patronage of, 199. - " pines, drawing of Scotch and stone, confused, 133. - " truth of, proved by author, 128. - " works of-- - " engraving of a cloud (Educ. Series, 8 E.), 7. - " Greta and Tees, its quietude, 69-70. - " Val. Plymouth, drawing of (anecdote), 125. - " Valley of Chamouni, 147. - - Tydides, 168. - - Tyndall, Prof., "Palæontology," quoted, 100. - - - Ulysses of Dante and of Homer, 74-5. - - Unity of feeling in great art, 93. - - University, aim of _its teaching_, 4, 5, 6, 18. - " definition of a, 5. - " its function only to examine! 120. - " See s. _Cambridge_, _Oxford_. - - Unselfishness in art, 31. - " of high forms of faculties, 29. - - Unwise, man meant to be, 31. - - - Van Eyck's grace and severity, 218. - - Vases, Greek, 139. - - Vatican, frescoes, 226. - - Varie, meaning of (heraldic), 225. - - Venetian glass, 139. - - Venice, Londoners' regret at its quietude, 60. - " perfect art in, 82. - " sunset at, 125. - - Veronese, P., animals introduced by, 151. - " his "Solomon and the Queen of Sheba," 151. - - Verrey, meaning of, 225. - - Villas, London, 72. - - Virgil, Servius quoted on, 191. - " Georgics, i. 399. - - Virgin, pictures of the, bought as furniture by Oxford undergraduates, - 240. - - Votes, modern desire for, 204. - - - Wallingford, incident at, seen by author, 240. - - Water-colour exhibition, author at, 41. - - Wealth, results of modern, 63. - - Westminster, Victoria Tower at, 130. - - Windgelle, 199. - - Winds, Halcyone, daughter of the, 198. - - Wisdom, 8. - " art and, Lect. I. - " folly and, in science, 20 seq. - " its view of modern life, 64. - " novelty of, its danger, 74. - - Wit, 8. - - Wood-carving and architecture, 86. - " of dog, by shepherd boy, 88. - - Wordsworth, (Poems of sentiment and reflection, "Daisy," 40); - quoted, 51. - - Work, the morning, the best time for, 104. - - Workmen, feeling of, in great art, 93. - - Wrangler, value of art to a senior, 96. - - Wyatt, printseller at Oxford, 217. - - - Xenophon's "Memorabilia," II. i. 22, quoted, 40. - - - York, 93. - " Minster, 82. - - Zeus, 25, 190. - - Zoroaster, 150. - - - Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - Edinburgh & London - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - - The punctuation in the index was inconsistent. Usage of ',' and '.' - has been regularized, with final stops after each entry supplied - where missing. - - The index also has several errors of alphabetizing, with "pi" - entries and "Pæstum" following "pl" entries. The printed order has - been retained. - - As noted by Ruskin in the text, the index refers to the numbered - paragraphs, not page numbers. - - Printer's errors and omissions have been silently corrected. - - The oe-ligature is represented here as "oe". - - Any variants of spelling and use of hyphen are preserved except - as noted below. - - p. 78 h[ie/ei]ght Corrected. - - p. 269 "Bee, wisdom of" 193[-]196". Added, as the Bee is the - subject across those - paragraphs. - - p. 287 "Oxford ... its teaching, Added, based on the text. - - In the Index, any references to the Preface are incorrect, being - misnumbered, generally, by two pages (e.g. p. viii = p. vi). 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Eagle's Nest - Ten Lectures on the Relation of Natural Science to Art, Given Before the University of Oxford, in Lent Term, 1872 - - -Author: John Ruskin - - - -Release Date: June 11, 2013 [eBook #42917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S NEST*** - - -E-text prepared by Paul Murray, KD Weeks, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - The text includes a modest amount of Greek, which has - been transliterated here and enclosed by plus signs - (e.g., +sophia+). Ruskin abandoned the Greek characters - in later lectures, transliterating himself. These - appear as printed (not enclosed by plus signs). - - Footnotes have been located to the end of each numbered - paragraph. - - Consult the transcriber's note at the end of this text - for details. - - - - - -THE EAGLE'S NEST. - -Ten Lectures on the Relation of Natural Science to Art, -Given Before the University of Oxford, in Lent Term, 1872 - -by - -JOHN RUSKIN, LL.D., - -Honorary Student of Christ Church, and Honorary Fellow -of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. - -Twelfth Thousand - - - - - - - -London -George Allen, 156, Charing Cross Road -1900 - -[All rights reserved] - -Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. -At the Ballantyne Press - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The following Lectures have been written, not with less care, but with -less pains, than any in former courses, because no labour could have -rendered them exhaustive statements of their subjects, and I wished, -therefore, to take from them every appearance of pretending to be so: -but the assertions I have made are entirely deliberate, though their -terms are unstudied; and the one which to the general reader will appear -most startling, that the study of anatomy is destructive to art, is -instantly necessary in explanation of the system adopted for the -direction of my Oxford schools. - -At the period when engraving might have become to art what printing -became to literature, the four greatest point-draughtsmen hitherto -known, Mantegna, Sandro Botticelli, Duerer, and Holbein, occupied -themselves in the new industry. All these four men were as high in -intellect and moral sentiment as in art-power; and if they had engraved -as Giotto painted, with popular and unscientific simplicity, would have -left an inexhaustible series of prints, delightful to the most innocent -minds, and strengthening to the most noble. - -But two of them, Mantegna and Duerer, were so polluted and paralyzed by -the study of anatomy that the former's best works (the magnificent -mythology of the Vices in the Louvre, for instance) are entirely -revolting to all women and children; while Duerer never could draw one -beautiful female form or face; and, of his important plates, only four, -the Melancholia, St. Jerome in his study, St. Hubert, and The Knight and -Death, are of any use for popular instruction, because in these only, -the figures being fully draped or armed, he was enabled to think and -feel rightly, being delivered from the ghastly toil of bone-delineation. - -Botticelli and Holbein studied the face first, and the limbs -secondarily; and the works they have left are therefore (without -exception) precious; yet saddened and corrupted by the influence which -the contemporary masters of body-drawing exercised on them; and at last -eclipsed by their false fame. I purpose, therefore, in my next course of -lectures, to explain the relation of these two draughtsmen to other -masters of design, and of engraving. - -BRANTWOOD, _Sept. 2nd, 1872._ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - LECTURE I. - - _February 8, 1872._ - - PAGE - THE FUNCTION IN ART OF THE FACULTY CALLED BY - THE GREEKS +sophia+ 1 - - - LECTURE II. - - _February 10, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN SCIENCE OF THE FACULTY CALLED BY - THE GREEKS +sophia+ 25 - - - LECTURE III. - - _February 15, 1872._ - - THE RELATION OF WISE ART TO WISE SCIENCE 46 - - - LECTURE IV. - - _February 17, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN ART AND SCIENCE OF THE VIRTUE - CALLED BY THE GREEKS +sophrosyne+ 74 - - - LECTURE V. - - _February 22, 1872._ - - THE FUNCTION IN ART AND SCIENCE OF THE VIRTUE - CALLED BY THE GREEKS +autarkeia+ 89 - - - LECTURE VI. - - _February 24, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCE OF LIGHT 114 - - - LECTURE VII. - - _February 29, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF INORGANIC - FORM 138 - - - LECTURE VIII. - - _March 2, 1872._ - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF ORGANIC - FORM 161 - - - LECTURE IX. - - _March 7, 1872._ - - INTRODUCTION TO ELEMENTARY EXERCISES IN PHYSIOLOGIC - ART. THE STORY OF THE HALCYON 188 - - - LECTURE X. - - _March 9, 1872._ - - INTRODUCTION TO ELEMENTARY EXERCISES IN HISTORIC - ART. THE HERALDIC ORDINARIES 225 - - - - - THE EAGLE'S NEST. - - - - - LECTURE I. - - OF WISDOM AND FOLLY IN ART.[A] - - _8th February, 1872._ - - -1. The Lectures I have given hitherto, though, in the matter of them -conscientiously addressed to my undergraduate pupils, yet were greatly -modified in method by my feeling that this undergraduate class, to which -I wished to speak, was indeed a somewhat imaginary one; and that, in -truth, I was addressing a mixed audience, in greater part composed of -the masters of the University, before whom it was my duty to lay down -the principles on which I hoped to conduct, or prepare the way for the -conduct of, these schools, rather than to enter on the immediate work of -elementary teaching. But to-day, and henceforward most frequently, we -are to be engaged in definite, and, I trust, continuous studies; and -from this time forward, I address myself wholly to my undergraduate -pupils; and wish only that my Lectures may be serviceable to them, and, -as far as the subject may admit of it, interesting. - - [A] The proper titles of these lectures, too long for page-headings, - are given in the Contents. - - -2. And, farther still, I must ask even my younger hearers to pardon me -if I treat that subject in a somewhat narrow, and simple way. They have -a great deal of hard work to do in other schools: in these, they must -not think that I underrate their powers, if I endeavour to make -everything as easy to them as possible. No study that is worth pursuing -seriously can be pursued without effort; but we need never make the -effort painful merely for the sake of preserving our dignity. Also, I -shall make my Lectures shorter than heretofore. What I tell you I wish -you to remember; and I do not think it possible for you to remember well -much more than I can easily tell you in half-an-hour. I will promise -that, at all events, you shall always be released so well within the -hour, that you can keep any appointment accurately for the next. You -will not think me indolent in doing this; for, in the first place, I can -assure you, it sometimes takes me a week to think over what it does not -take a minute to say: and, secondly, believe me, the least part of the -work of any sound art-teacher must be his talking. Nay, most deeply -also, it is to be wished that, with respect to the study which I have to -bring before you to-day, in its relation to art, namely, natural -philosophy, the teachers of it, up to this present century, had done -less work in talking, and more in observing: and it would be well even -for the men of this century, pre-eminent and accomplished as they are in -accuracy of observation, if they had completely conquered the old habit -of considering, with respect to any matter, rather what is to be said, -than what is to be known. - - -3. You will, perhaps, readily admit this with respect to science; and -believe my assertion of it with respect to art. You will feel the -probable mischief, in both these domains of intellect, which must follow -on the desire rather to talk than to know, and rather to talk than to -do. But the third domain, into the midst of which, here, in Oxford, -science and art seem to have thrust themselves hotly, like intrusive -rocks, not without grim disturbance of the anciently fruitful -plain;--your Kingdom or Princedom of Literature? Can we carry our -statement into a third parallelism, for that? It is ill for Science, we -say, when men desire to talk rather than to know; ill for Art, when they -desire to talk rather than to do. Ill for Literature, when they desire -to talk,--is it? and rather than--what else? Perhaps you think that -literature means nothing else than talking?--that the triple powers of -science, art, and scholarship, mean simply the powers of knowing, doing, -and saying. But that is not so in any wise. The faculty of saying or -writing anything well, is an art, just as much as any other; and founded -on a science as definite as any other. Professor Max Mueller teaches you -the science of language; and there are people who will tell you that the -only art I can teach you myself, is the art of it. But try your triple -parallelism once more, briefly, and see if another idea will not occur -to you. In science, you must not talk before you know. In art, you must -not talk before you do. In literature you must not talk before -you--think. - -That is your third Province. The Kingdom of Thought, or Conception. - -And it is entirely desirable that you should define to yourselves the -three great occupations of men in these following terms:-- - - SCIENCE. The knowledge of things, whether - Ideal or Substantial. - - ART. The modification of Substantial - things by our Substantial Power. - - LITERATURE. The modification of Ideal things - by our Ideal Power. - - -4. But now observe. If this division be a just one, we ought to have a -word for literature, with the 'Letter' left out of it. It is true that, -for the most part, the modification of ideal things by our ideal power -is not complete till it is expressed; nor even to ourselves delightful, -till it is communicated. To letter it and label it--to inscribe and to -word it rightly,--this is a great task, and it is the part of -literature which can be most distinctly taught. But it is only the -formation of its body. And the soul of it can exist without the body; -but not at all the body without the soul; for that is true no less of -literature than of all else in us or of us--"litera occidit, spiritus -autem vivificat." - -Nevertheless, I must be content to-day with our old word. We cannot say -'spiriture' nor 'animature,' instead of literature; but you must not be -content with the vulgar interpretation of the word. Remember always that -you come to this University,--or, at least, your fathers came,--not to -learn how to say things, but how to think them. - - -5. "How to think them! but that is only the art of logic," you perhaps -would answer. No, again, not at all: logic is a method, not a power; and -we have defined literature to be the modification of ideal things by -ideal power, not by mechanical method. And you come to the University to -get that power, or develop it; not to be taught the mere method of using -it. - -I say you come to the University for this; and perhaps some of you are -much surprised to hear it! You did not know that you came to the -University for any such purpose. Nay, perhaps you did not know that you -had come to a University at all? You do not at this instant, some of -you, I am well assured, know what a University means. Does it mean, for -instance--can you answer me in a moment, whether it means--a place -where everybody comes to learn something; or a place where somebody -comes to learn everything? It means--or you are trying to make it -mean--practically and at present, the first; but it means theoretically, -and always, the last; a place where only certain persons come, to learn -_everything_; that is to say, where those who wish to be able to think, -come to learn to think: not to think of mathematics only, nor of morals, -nor of surgery, nor chemistry, but of everything, rightly. - - -6. I say you do not all know this; and yet, whether you know it or -not,--whether you desire it or not,--to some extent the everlasting -fitness of the matter makes the facts conform to it. For we have at -present, observe, schools of three kinds, in operation over the whole of -England. We have--I name it first, though, I am sorry to say, it is last -in influence--the body consisting of the Royal Academy, with the -Institute of Architects, and the schools at Kensington, and their -branches; teaching various styles of fine or mechanical art. We have, in -the second place, the Royal Society, as a central body; and, as its -satellites, separate companies of men devoted to each several science: -investigating, classing, and describing facts with unwearied industry. -And lastly and chiefly, we have the great Universities, with all their -subordinate public schools, distinctively occupied in regulating,--as I -think you will at once admit,--not the language merely, nor even the -language principally, but the modes of philosophical and imaginative -thought in which we desire that youth should be disciplined, and age -informed and majestic. The methods of language, and its range; the -possibilities of its beauty, and the necessities for its precision, are -all dependent upon the range and dignity of the unspoken conceptions -which it is the function of these great schools of literature to awaken, -and to guide. - - -7. The range and dignity of _conceptions_! Let us pause a minute or two -at these words, and be sure we accept them. - -First, what _is_ a conception? What is this separate object of our -work, as scholars, distinguished from artists, and from men of science? - -We shall discover this better by taking a simple instance of the three -agencies. - -Suppose that you were actually on the plain of Paestum, watching the -drift of storm-cloud which Turner has here engraved.[B] If you had -occupied yourself chiefly in schools of science, you would think of the -mode in which the electricity was collected; of the influence it had on -the shape and motion of the cloud; of the force and duration of its -flashes, and of other such material phenomena. If you were an artist, -you would be considering how it might be possible, with the means at -your disposal, to obtain the brilliancy of the light, or the depth of -the gloom. Finally, if you were a scholar, as distinguished from either -of these, you would be occupied with the imagination of the state of the -temple in former times; and as you watched the thunderclouds drift past -its columns, and the power of the God of the heavens put forth, as it -seemed, in scorn of the departed power of the god who was thought by the -heathen to shake the earth--the utterance of your mind would become, -whether in actual words or not, such as that of the Psalmist:--"Clouds -and darkness are round about Him--righteousness and judgment are the -habitation of His throne." Your thoughts would take that shape, of their -own accord, and if they fell also into the language, still your -essential scholarship would consist, not in your remembering the verse, -still less in your knowing that "judgment" was a Latin word, and -"throne" a Greek one; but in your having power enough of conception, and -elevation enough of character, to understand the nature of justice, and -be appalled before the majesty of dominion. - - [B] Educational Series, No. 8, E. - - -8. You come, therefore, to this University, I repeat once again, that -you may learn how to form conceptions of proper range or grasp, and -proper dignity, or worthiness. Keeping then the ideas of a separate -school of art, and separate school of science, what have you to learn in -these? You would learn in the school of art, the due range and dignity -of deeds; or doings--(I prefer the word to "makings," as more general), -and in the school of science, you would have to learn the range and -dignity of knowledges. - -Now be quite clear about this: be sure whether you really agree with me -or not. - -You come to the School of Literature, I say, to learn the range and -dignity of conceptions. - -To the School of Art, to learn the range and dignity of deeds. - -To the School of Science, to learn the range and dignity of knowledges. - -Do you agree to that, or not? I will assume that you admit my triple -division; but do you think, in opposition to me, that a school of -science is still a school of science, whatever sort of knowledge it -teaches; and a school of art still a school of art, whatever sort of -deed it teaches; and a school of literature still a school of -literature, whatever sort of notion it teaches? - -Do you think that? for observe, my statement denies that. My statement -is, that a school of literature teaches you to have one sort of -conception, not another sort; a school of art to do a particular sort of -deed, not another sort; a school of science to possess a particular sort -of knowledge, not another sort. - - -9. I assume that you differ with me on this point;--some of you -certainly will. Well then, let me go back a step. You will all go thus -far with me, that--now taking the Greek words--the school of literature -teaches you to have +nous+, or conception of things, instead of -+anoia+,--no conception of things; that the school of art teaches -you +techne+ of things, instead of +atechnia+; and the school -of science +episteme+, instead of +agnoia+ or 'ignorantia.' But, -you recollect, Aristotle names two other faculties with these -three,--+phronesis+, namely, and +sophia+. He has altogether five, -+techne+, +episteme+, +phronesis+, +sophia+, +nous+; that is to say, -in simplest English,--art, science, sense, wisdom, and wit. We have got -our art, science, and wit, set over their three domains; and we old -people send you young ones to those three schools, that you may not -remain artless, scienceless, nor witless. But how of the sense, and the -wisdom? What domains belong to these? Do you think our trefoil division -should become cinquefoil, and that we ought to have two additional -schools; one of Philosophia, and one of Philophronesia? If Aristotle's -division were right it would be so. But his division is wrong, and he -presently shows it is; for he tells you in the next page, (in the -sentence I have so often quoted to you,) that "the virtue of art is the -wisdom which consists in the wit of what is honourable." Now that is -perfectly true; but it of course vitiates his division altogether. He -divides his entire subject into _A_, _B_, _C_, _D_, and _E_; and then he -tells you that the virtue of _A_ is the _B_ which consists in _C_. Now -you will continually find, in this way, that Aristotle's assertions are -right, but his divisions illogical. It is quite true that the virtue of -art is the wisdom which consists in the wit of what is honourable; but -also the virtue of science is the wit of what is honourable, and in the -same sense, the virtue of +nous+, or wit itself, consists in its _being_ -the wit or conception of what is honourable. +Sophia+, therefore, is not -only the +arete technes+, but, in exactly the same sense, the +arete -epistemes+, and in this sense, it is the +arete noou+. And if not -governed by +sophia+, each school will teach the vicious condition of -its own special faculty. As +sophia+ is the +arete+ of all three, so -+moria+ will be the +kakia+ of all three. - - -10. Now in this, whether you agree with me or not, let me be at least -sure you understand me. +Sophia+, I say, is the virtue, +moria+ is the -vice, of all the three faculties of art, science, and literature. There -is for each of them a negative and a positive side, as well as a zero. -There is a nescience for zero in science--with wise science on one side, -foolish science on the other: +atechnia+ for zero in art, with wise art -on one side, foolish art on the other; and +anoia+ for zero in +nous+, -with wise +nous+ on one side, foolish +nous+ on the other. - - -11. You will smile at that last expression, 'foolish +nous+.' Yet it is, -of all foolish things, the commonest and deadliest. We continually -complain of men, much more of women, for reasoning ill. But it does not -matter how they reason, if they don't conceive basely. Not one person in -a hundred is capable of seriously reasoning; the difference between man -and man is in the quickness and quality, the accipitrine intensity, the -olfactory choice, of his +nous+. Does he hawk at game or carrion? What -you choose to grasp with your mind is the question;--not how you handle -it afterwards. What does it matter how you build, if you have bad bricks -to build with; or how you reason, if every idea with which you begin is -foul or false? And in general all fatal false reasoning proceeds from -people's having some one false notion in their hearts, with which they -are resolved that their reasoning _shall_ comply. - -But, for better illustration, I will now take my own special subject out -of the three;--+techne+. I have said that we have, for its zero, -+atechnia+, or artlessness--in Latin, 'inertia,' opposed to 'ars.' Well, -then, we have, from that zero, wise art on the one side, foolish art on -the other; and the finer the art, the more it is capable of this living -increase, or deadly defect. I will take, for example, first, a very -simple art, then a finer one; but both of them arts with which most of -you are thoroughly acquainted. - - -12. One of the simplest pieces of perfect art, which you are yourselves -in the habit of practising, is the stroke of an oar given in true time. -We have defined art to be the wise modification of matter by the body -(substantial things by substantial power, Sec. 3). With a good oar-stroke -you displace a certain quantity of water in a wise way. Supposing you -missed your stroke, and caught a crab, you would displace a certain -quantity of water in a foolish way, not only ineffectually, but in a way -the reverse of what you intended. The perfectness of the stroke implies -not only absolutely accurate knowledge or science of the mode in which -water resists the blade of an oar, but the having in past time met that -resistance repeatedly with greater and greater rightness of adaptation -to the end proposed. That end being perfectly simple,--the advance of -the boat as far as possible with a given expenditure of strength, you at -once recognize the degree in which the art falls short of, or the -artlessness negatives, your purpose. But your being '+sophos+,' as an -oarsman, implies much more than this mere art founded on pure science. -The fact of your being able to row in a beautiful manner depends on -other things than the knowledge of the force of water, or the repeated -practice of certain actions in resistance to it. It implies the practice -of those actions under a resolved discipline of the body, involving -regulation of the passions. It signifies submission to the authority, -and amicable concurrence with the humours, of other persons; and so far -as it is beautifully done at last, absolutely signifies therefore a -moral and intellectual rightness, to the necessary extent influencing -the character honourably and graciously. This is the sophia, or wit, of -what is most honourable, which is concerned in rowing, without which it -must become no rowing, or the reverse of rowing. - - -13. Let us next take example in an art which perhaps you will think -(though I hope not) much inferior to rowing, but which is in reality a -much higher art--dancing. I have just told you (Sec. 11) how to test -the rank of arts--namely, by their corruptibility, as you judge of the -fineness of organic substance. The moria,[C] or folly, of rowing, is -only ridiculous, but the moria, or folly, of dancing, is much worse than -ridiculous; and, therefore, you may know that its sophia, or wisdom, -will be much more beautiful than the wisdom of rowing. Suppose, for -instance, a minuet danced by two lovers, both highly bred, both of noble -character, and very much in love with each other. You would see, in -that, an art of the most highly finished kind, under the government of a -sophia which dealt with the strongest passions, and most exquisite -perceptions of beauty, possible to humanity. - - [C] If the English reader will pronounce the o in this word as in - fold, and in sophia as in sop, but accenting the o, not the i, I - need not any more disturb my pages with Greek types. - - -14. For example of the contrary of these, in the same art, I cannot give -you one more definite than that which I saw at, I think, the Gaiety -Theatre--but it might have been at any London theatre now,--two years -ago. - -The supposed scene of the dance was Hell, which was painted in the -background with its flames. The dancers were supposed to be demons, and -wore black masks, with red tinsel for fiery eyes; the same red light was -represented as coming out of their ears also. They began their dance by -ascending through the stage on spring trap-doors, which threw them at -once ten feet into the air; and its performance consisted in the -expression of every kind of evil passion, in frantic excess. - - -15. You will not, I imagine, be at a loss to understand the sense in -which the words sophia and moria are to be rightly used of these two -methods of the same art. But those of you who are in the habit of -accurate thinking will at once perceive that I have introduced a new -element into my subject by taking an instance in a higher art. The folly -of rowing consisted mainly in not being able to row; but this folly of -dancing does not consist in not being able to dance, but in dancing -well with evil purpose; and the better the dancing, the worse the -result. - -And now I am afraid I must tease you by asking your attention to what -you may at first think a vain nicety in analysis, but the nicety is here -essential, and I hope throughout this course of Lectures, not to be so -troublesome to you again. - - -16. The mere negation of the power of art--the zero of it--you say, in -rowing, is ridiculous. It is, of course, not less ridiculous in dancing. -But what do you mean by ridiculous? You mean contemptible, so as to -provoke laughter. The contempt, in either case, is slight, in ordinary -society; because, though a man may neither know how to row, or dance, he -may know many other things. But suppose he lived where he could not know -many other things? By a stormy sea-coast, where there could be no -fresco-painting, in a poor country, where could be none of the fine arts -connected with wealth, and in a simple, and primitive society, not yet -reached by refinements of literature; but where good rowing was -necessary for the support of life, and good dancing, one of the most -vivid aids to domestic pleasure. You would then say that inability to -row, or to dance, was far worse than ridiculous; that it marked a man -for a good-for-nothing fellow, to be regarded with indignation, as well -as contempt. - -Now, remember, the inertia or zero of art always involves this kind of -crime, or at least, pitiableness. The want of opportunity of learning -takes away the moral guilt of artlessness; but the want of opportunity -of learning such arts as are becoming in given circumstances, may indeed -be no crime in an individual, but cannot be alleged in its defence by a -nation. National ignorance of decent art is always criminal, unless in -earliest conditions of society; and then it is brutal. - - -17. To that extent, therefore, culpably or otherwise, a kind of moria, -or folly, is always indicated by the zero of art-power. But the true -folly, or assuredly culpable folly, is in the exertion of our art power -in an evil direction. And here we need the finesse of distinction, which -I am afraid will be provoking to you. Observe, first, and simply, that -the possession of any art-power at all implies a sophia of _some_ kind. -These demon dancers, of whom I have just spoken, were earning their -bread by severe and honest labour. The skill they possessed could not -have been acquired but by great patience and resolute self-denial; and -the very power with which they were able to express, with precision, -states of evil passion, indicated that they had been brought up in a -society which, in some measure, knew evil from good, and which had, -therefore, some measure of good in the midst of it. Nay, the farther -probability is, that if you inquired into the life of these men, you -would find that this demon dance had been invented by some one of them -with a great imaginative power, and was performed by them not at all in -preference of evil, but to meet the demand of a public whose admiration -was capable of being excited only by violence of gesture, and vice of -emotion. - - -18. In all cases, therefore, observe, where the opportunity of learning -has been given; the existence of the art-power indicates sophia and its -absence indicates moria. That great fact I endeavoured to express to -you, two years since, in my third introductory Lecture. In the present -course I have to show you the action of the final, or higher sophia, -which directs the skill of art to the best purposes; and of the final, -or lower moria, which misdirects them to the worst. And the two points -I shall endeavour to bring before you throughout will be these:--First, -that the object of University teaching is to form your conceptions; not -to acquaint you with arts, nor sciences. It is to give you a notion of -what is meant by smith's work, for instance;--but not to make you -blacksmiths. It is to give you a notion of what is meant by medicine, -but not to make you physicians. The proper academy for blacksmiths is a -blacksmith's forge; the proper academy for physicians is an hospital. -Here you are to be taken away from the forge, out of the hospital, out -of all special and limited labour and thought, into the 'Universitas' of -labour and thought, that you may in peace, in leisure, in calm of -disinterested contemplation, be enabled to conceive rightly the laws of -nature, and the destinies of Man. - - -19. Then the second thing I have to show you is that over these three -kingdoms of imagination, art, and science, there reigns a virtue or -faculty, which from all time, and by all great people, has been -recognised as the appointed ruler and guide of every method of labour, -or passion of soul; and the most glorious recompense of the toil, and -crown of the ambition of man. "She is more precious than rubies, and all -the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Lay fast -hold upon her; let her not go; keep her, for she is thy life." - -Are not these, and the innumerable words like to these, which you -remember as I read them, strange words, if Aristotle's statement -respecting wisdom be true; that it never contemplates anything that can -make men happy, "+he men gar sophia ouden theorei ex hon estai eudaimon -anthropos+"? - -When we next meet, therefore, I purpose to examine what it is which -wisdom, by preference, contemplates; what choice she makes among the -thoughts and sciences open to her, and to what purpose she employs -whatever science she may possess. - -And I will briefly tell you, beforehand, that the result of the inquiry -will be, that instead of regarding none of the sources of happiness, she -regards nothing else; that she measures all worthiness by pure felicity; -that we are permitted to conceive her as the cause even of gladness to -God--"I was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him,"--and that -we are commanded to _know_ her as queen of the populous world, -"rejoicing in the habitable parts of the Earth, and whose delights are -with the sons of Men." - - - - - LECTURE II. - - OF WISDOM AND FOLLY IN SCIENCE. - - _10th February, 1872._ - - -20. In my last lecture I asserted the positive and negative powers of -literature, art, and science; and endeavoured to show you some of the -relations of wise art to foolish art. To-day we are to examine the -nature of these positive and negative powers in science; it being the -object of every true school to teach the positive or constructive power, -and by all means to discourage, reprove, and extinguish the negative -power. - -It is very possible that you may not often have thought of, or clearly -defined to yourselves, this destructive or deadly character of some -elements of science. You may indeed have recognized with Pope that a -little knowledge was dangerous, and you have therefore striven to drink -deep; you may have recognized with Bacon, that knowledge might partially -become venomous; and you may have sought, in modesty and sincerity, -antidote to the inflating poison. But that there is a ruling spirit or -+sophia+, under whose authority you are placed, to determine for you, -first the choice, and then the use of all knowledge whatsoever; and that -if you do not appeal to that ruler, much more if you disobey her, all -science becomes to you ruinous in proportion to its accumulation, and as -a net to your soul, fatal in proportion to the fineness of its -thread,--this, I imagine, few of you, in the zeal of learning, have -suspected, and fewer still have pressed their suspicion so far as to -recognize or believe. - - -21. You must have nearly all heard of, many must have seen, the singular -paintings; some also may have read the poems, of William Blake. The -impression that his drawings once made is fast, and justly, fading away, -though they are not without noble merit. But his poems have much more -than merit; they are written with absolute sincerity, with infinite -tenderness, and, though in the manner of them diseased and wild, are in -verity the words of a great and wise mind, disturbed, but not deceived, -by its sickness; nay, partly exalted by it, and sometimes giving forth -in fiery aphorism some of the most precious words of existing -literature. One of these passages I will ask you to remember; it will -often be serviceable to you-- - - "Doth the Eagle know what is in the pit, - Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?" - -It would be impossible to express to you in briefer terms the great -truth that there is a different kind of knowledge good for every -different creature, and that the glory of the higher creatures is in -ignorance of what is known to the lower. - - -22. And, above all, this is true of man; for every other creature is -compelled by its instinct to learn its own appointed lesson, and must -centralize its perception in its own being. But man has the choice of -stooping in science beneath himself, and striving in science beyond -himself; and the "Know thyself" is, for him, not a law to which he must -in peace submit; but a precept which of all others is the most painful -to understand, and the most difficult to fulfil. Most painful to -understand, and humiliating; and this alike, whether it be held to -refer to the knowledge beneath us, or above. For, singularly enough, men -are always most conceited of the meanest science:-- - - "Doth the Eagle know what is in the pit, - Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?" - -It is just those who grope with the mole, and cling with the bat, who -are vainest of their sight and of their wings. - - -23. "Know _thyself_;" but can it indeed be sophia,--can it be the noble -wisdom, which thus speaks to science? Is not this rather, you will ask, -the voice of the lower virtue of prudence, concerning itself with right -conduct, whether for the interests of this world or of the future? Does -not sophia regard all that is above and greater than man; and by so much -as we are forbidden to bury ourselves in the mole's earth-heap, by so -much also, are we not urged to raise ourselves towards the stars? - -Indeed, it would at first seem so; nay, in the passage of the Ethics, -which I proposed to you to-day for question, you are distinctly told so. -There are, it is said, many different kinds of phronesis, by which every -animal recognizes what is for its own good: and man, like any other -creature, has his own separate phronesis telling him what he is to seek, -and to do, for the preservation of his life: but above all these forms -of prudence, the Greek sage tells you, is the sophia of which the -objects are unchangeable and eternal, the methods consistent, and the -conclusions universal: and this wisdom has no regard whatever to the -things in which the happiness of man consists, but acquaints itself only -with the things that are most honourable; so that "we call Anaxagoras -and Thales, and such others, wise indeed, but not prudent, in that they -know nothing of what is for their own advantage, but know surpassing -things, marvellous things, difficult things, and divine things." - - -24. Now here is a question which evidently touches _us_ closely. We -profess at this day to be an especially prudent nation;--to regard only -the things which are for our own advantage; to leave to other races the -knowledge of surpassing things, marvellous things, divine things, or -beautiful things; and in our exceeding prudence we are, at this moment, -refusing the purchase of, perhaps, the most interesting picture by -Raphael in the world, and, certainly, one of the most beautiful works -ever produced by the art-wisdom of man, for five-and-twenty thousand -pounds, while we are debating whether we shall not pay three hundred -millions to the Americans, as a fine for selling a small frigate to -Captain Semmes. Let me reduce these sums from thousands of pounds, to -single pounds; you will then see the facts more clearly; (there is not -one person in a million who knows what a "million" means; and that is -one reason the nation is always ready to let its ministers spend a -million or two in cannon, if they can show they have saved -twopence-halfpenny in tape). These are the facts then, stating pounds -for thousands of pounds; you are offered a Nativity, by Raphael, for -five-and-twenty pounds, and cannot afford it; but it is thought you may -be bullied into paying three hundred thousand pounds, for having sold a -ship to Captain Semmes. I do not say you will pay it. Still your present -position is one of deprecation and humility, and that is the kind of -result which you bring about by acting with what you call "practical -common sense," instead of Divine wisdom. - - -25. Perhaps you think I am losing Aristotle's notion of common sense, by -confusing it with our vulgar English one; and that selling ships or -ammunition to people whom we have not courage to fight either for or -against, would not by Aristotle have been held a phronetic, or prudent -proceeding. Be it so; let us be certain then, if we can, what Aristotle -does mean. Take the instance I gave you in the last lecture, of the -various modes of feeling in which a master of literature, of science, -and of art, would severally regard the storm round the temples of -Paestum. - -The man of science, we said, thought of the origin of the electricity; -the artist of its light in the clouds, and the scholar, of its relation -to the power of Zeus and Poseidon. There you have Episteme; Techne; and -Nous; well, now what does Phronesis do? - -Phronesis puts up his umbrella, and goes home as fast as he can. -Aristotle's Phronesis at least does; having no regard for marvellous -things. But are you sure that Aristotle's Phronesis is indeed the right -sort of Phronesis? May there not be a commonsense, as well as an art, -and a science, under the command of sophia? Let us take an instance of a -more subtle kind. - - -26. Suppose that two young ladies, (I assume in my present lectures, -that none are present, and that we may say among ourselves what we like; -and we do like, do we not, to suppose that young ladies excel us only in -prudence, and not in wisdom?) let us suppose that two young ladies go to -the observatory on a winter night, and that one is so anxious to look at -the stars that she does not care whether she gives herself cold, or not; -but the other is prudent, and takes care, and looks at the stars only as -long as she can without catching cold. In Aristotle's mind the first -young lady would properly deserve the name of Sophia, and the other that -of Prudence. But in order to judge them fairly, we must assume that they -are acting under exactly the same conditions. Assume that they both -equally desire to look at the stars; then, the fact that one of them -stops when it would be dangerous to look longer, does not show that she -is less wise,--less interested, that is to say, in surpassing and -marvellous things;--but it shows that she has more self-command, and is -able therefore to remember what the other does not think of. She is -equally wise, and more sensible. But suppose that the two girls are -originally different in disposition; and that the one, having much more -imagination than the other, is more interested in these surpassing and -marvellous things; so that the self-command, which is enough to stop the -other, who cares little for the stars, is not enough to stop her who -cares much for them;--you would say, then, that, both the girls being -equally sensible, the one that caught cold was the wisest. - - -27. Let us make a farther supposition. Returning to our first condition, -that both the girls desire equally to look at the stars; let us put it -now that both have equal self-command, and would therefore, supposing no -other motives were in their minds, together go on star-gazing, or -together stop star-gazing; but that one of them has greater -consideration for her friends than the other, and though she would not -mind catching cold for her own part, would mind it much for fear of -giving her mother trouble. She will leave the stars first, therefore; -but should we be right now in saying that she was only more sensible -than her companion, and not more wise? This respect for the feelings of -others, this understanding of her duty towards others, is a much higher -thing than the love of stars. It is an imaginative knowledge, not of -balls of fire or differences of space, but of the feelings of living -creatures, and of the forces of duty by which they justly move. This is -a knowledge, or perception, therefore, of a thing more surpassing and -marvellous than the stars themselves, and the grasp of it is reached by -a higher sophia. - - -28. Will you have patience with me for one supposition more? We may -assume the attraction of the spectacle of the heavens to be equal in -degree, and yet, in the minds of the two girls, it may be entirely -different in kind. Supposing the one versed somewhat in abstract -Science, and more or less acquainted with the laws by which what she now -sees may be explained; she will probably take interest chiefly in -questions of distance and magnitude, in varieties of orbit, and -proportions of light. Supposing the other not versed in any science of -this kind, but acquainted with the traditions attached by the religion -of dead nations to the figures they discerned in the sky: she will care -little for arithmetical or geometrical matters, but will probably -receive a much deeper emotion, from witnessing in clearness what has -been the amazement of so many eyes long closed; and recognizing the same -lights, through the same darkness, with innocent shepherds and -husbandmen, who knew only the risings and settings of the immeasurable -vault, as its lights shone on their own fields or mountains; yet saw -true miracle in them, thankful that none but the Supreme Ruler could -bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion. I -need not surely tell you, that in this exertion of the intellect and the -heart, there would be a far nobler sophia than any concerned with the -analysis of matter, or the measurement of space. - - -29. I will not weary you longer with questions, but simply tell you, -what you will find ultimately to be true, that sophia is the form of -thought, which makes common sense unselfish,--knowledge unselfish,--art -unselfish,--and wit and imagination unselfish. Of all these, by -themselves, it is true that they are partly venomous; that, as knowledge -puffeth up, so does prudence--so does art--so does wit; but, added to -all these, wisdom, or (you may read it as an equivalent word), added to -all these--charity, edifieth. - - -30. Note the word; builds forward, or builds up, and builds securely -because on modest and measured foundation, wide, though low, and in the -natural and living rock. - -Sophia is the faculty which recognizes in all things their bearing upon -life, in the entire sum of life that we know, bestial and human; but, -which, understanding the appointed objects of that life, concentrates -its interest and its power on Humanity, as opposed on the one side to -the Animalism which it must rule, and distinguished on the other side -from the Divinity which rules it, and which it cannot imagine. - -It is as little the part of a wise man to reflect much on the nature of -beings above him, as of beings beneath him. It is immodest to suppose -that he can conceive the one, and degrading to suppose that he should be -busied with the other. To recognize his everlasting inferiority, and his -everlasting greatness; to know himself, and his place; to be content to -submit to God without understanding Him; and to rule the lower creation -with sympathy and kindness, yet neither sharing the passion of the wild -beast, nor imitating the science of the Insect;--this you will find is -to be modest towards God, gentle to His creatures, and wise for -himself. - - -31. I think you will now be able to fasten in your minds, first the idea -of unselfishness, and secondly, that of modesty, as component elements -of sophia; and having obtained thus much, we will at once make use of -our gain, by rendering more clear one or two points respecting its -action on art, that we may then see more surely its obscurer function in -science. - -It is absolutely unselfish, we say, not in the sense of being without -desire, or effort to gratify that desire; on the contrary, it longs -intensely to see, or know the things it is rightly interested in. But it -is not interested specially in itself. In the degree of his wisdom, an -artist is unconcerned about his work as his own;--concerned about it -only in the degree in which he would be, if it were another -man's--recognizing its precise value, or no value, from that outer -standpoint. I do not think, unless you examine your minds very -attentively, that you can have any conception of the difficulty of doing -this. Absolutely to do it is impossible, for we are all intended by -nature to be a little unwise, and to derive more pleasure, therefore, -from our own success than that of others. But the intense degree of the -difference is usually unmeasured by us. In preparing the drawings for -you to use as copies in these schools, my assistant and I are often -sitting beside each other; and he is at work, usually, on the more -important drawing of the two. I so far recognize that greater -importance, when it exists, that if I had the power of determining which -of us should succeed, and which fail, I should be wise enough to choose -his success rather than my own. But the actual effect on my own mind, -and comfort, is very different in the two cases. If _he_ fails, I am -sorry, but not mortified;--on the contrary, perhaps a little pleased. I -tell him, indulgently, 'he will do better another time,' and go down -with great contentment to my lunch. But, if _I_ fail, though I would -rather, for the sake of the two drawings, have had it so, the effect on -my temper is very different. I say, philosophically, that it was better -so--but I can't eat any lunch. - - -32. Now, just imagine what this inherently selfish -passion--unconquerable as you will find it by the most deliberate and -maintained efforts--fancy what it becomes, when instead of striving to -subdue, we take every means in our power to increase and encourage it; -and when all the circumstances around us concur in the deadly -cultivation. In all base schools of Art, the craftsman is dependent for -his bread on originality; that is to say, on finding in himself some -fragment of isolated faculty, by which his work may be recognized as -distinct from that of other men. We are ready enough to take delight in -our little doings, without any such stimulus;--what must be the effect -of the popular applause which continually suggests that the little thing -we can separately do is as excellent as it is singular! and what the -effect of the bribe, held out to us through the whole of life, to -produce--it being also at our peril _not_ to produce--something -different from the work of our neighbours? In all great schools of art -these conditions are exactly reversed. An artist is praised in these, -not for what is different in him from others, nor for solitary -performance of singular work; but only for doing most strongly what all -are endeavouring; and for contributing, in the measure of his strength, -to some great achievement, to be completed by the unity of multitudes, -and the sequence of ages. - - -33. And now, passing from art to science, the unselfishness of sophia is -shown by the value it therein attaches to every part of knowledge, new -or old, in proportion to its real utility to mankind, or largeness of -range in creation. The selfishness which renders sophia impossible, and -enlarges the elastic and vaporous kingdom of folly, is shown by our -caring for knowledge only so far as we have been concerned in its -discovery, or are ourselves skilled and admired in its communication. If -there is an art which "puffeth up," even when we are surrounded by -magnificence of achievement of past ages, confessedly not by us to be -rivalled, how much more must there be a science which puffeth up, when, -by the very condition of science, it must be an advance on the -attainments of former time, and however slight, or however slow, is -still always as the leaf of a pleasant spring compared to the dried -branches of years gone by? And, for the double calamity of the age in -which we live, it has chanced that the demand of the vulgar and the dull -for originality in Art, is associated with the demand of a sensual -economy for originality in science; and the praise which is too readily -given always to discoveries that are new, is enhanced by the reward -which rapidity of communication now ensures to discoveries that are -profitable. What marvel if future time shall reproach us with having -destroyed the labours, and betrayed the knowledge of the greatest -nations and the wisest men, while we amused ourselves with fantasy in -art, and with theory in science: happy, if the one was idle without -being vicious, and the other mistaken without being mischievous. Nay, -truth, and success, are often to us more deadly than error. Perhaps no -progress more triumphant has been made in any science than that of -Chemistry; but the practical fact which will remain for the -contemplation of the future, is that we have lost the art of painting on -glass, and invented gun-cotton and nitroglycerine. "Can you imagine," -the future will say, "those English fools of the nineteenth century, who -went about putting up memorials of themselves in glass which they could -not paint, and blowing their women and children to pieces with -cartridges they would not fight with?" - - -34. You may well think, gentlemen, that I am unjust and prejudiced in -such sayings;--you may imagine that when all our mischievous inventions -have done their worst, and the wars they provoked by cowardice have been -forgotten in dishonour, our great investigators will be remembered, as -men who laid first the foundations of fruitful knowledge, and vindicated -the majesty of inviolable law. No, gentlemen; it will not be so. In a -little while, the discoveries of which we are now so proud will be -familiar to all. The marvel of the future will not be that we should -have discerned them, but that our predecessors were blind to them. We -may be envied, but shall not be praised, for having been allowed first -to perceive and proclaim what could be concealed no longer. But the -misuse we made of our discoveries will be remembered against us, in -eternal history; our ingenuity in the vindication, or the denial, of -species, will be disregarded in the face of the fact that we destroyed, -in civilized Europe, every rare bird and secluded flower; our chemistry -of agriculture will be taunted with the memories of irremediable famine; -and our mechanical contrivance will only make the age of the -mitrailleuse more abhorred than that of the guillotine. - - -35. Yes, believe me, in spite of our political liberality, and poetical -philanthropy; in spite of our almshouses, hospitals, and Sunday-schools; -in spite of our missionary endeavours to preach abroad what we cannot -get believed at home; and in spite of our wars against slavery, -indemnified by the presentation of ingenious bills,--we shall be -remembered in history as the most cruel, and therefore the most unwise, -generation of men that ever yet troubled the earth:--the most cruel in -proportion to their sensibility,--the most unwise in proportion to their -science. No people, understanding pain, ever inflicted so much: no -people, understanding facts, ever acted on them so little. You execrate -the name of Eccelin of Padua, because he slew two thousand innocent -persons to maintain his power; and Dante cries out against Pisa that she -should be sunk in the sea, because, in revenge for treachery, she put to -death, by the slow pangs of starvation, not the traitor only, but his -children. But we men of London, we of the modern Pisa, slew, a little -while since, _five hundred_ thousand men instead of _two_ thousand--(I -speak in official terms, and know my numbers)--these we slew, all -guiltless; and these we slew, not for defence, nor for revenge, but most -literally in _cold_ blood; and these we slew, fathers and children -together, by slow starvation--simply because, while we contentedly kill -our own children in competition for places in the Civil Service, we -never ask, when once they have got the places, whether the Civil Service -is done. - - -36. That was our missionary work in Orissa, some three or four years -ago;--our Christian miracle of the five loaves, assisted as we are in -its performance, by steam-engines for the threshing of the corn, and by -railroads for carrying it, and by proposals from English noblemen to cut -down all the trees in England, for better growing it. That, I repeat, is -what we did, a year or two ago; what are we doing now? Have any of you -chanced to hear of the famine in Persia? Here, with due science, we -arrange the roses in our botanic garden, thoughtless of the country of -the rose. With due art of horticulture, we prepare for our harvest of -peaches;--it might perhaps seriously alarm us to hear, next autumn, of a -coming famine of peaches. But the famine of all things, in the country -of the peach--do you know of it, care for it:--quaint famine that it is, -in the fruitfullest, fairest, richest of the estates of earth; from -which the Magi brought their treasures to the feet of Christ? - -How much of your time, scientific faculty, popular literature, has been -given, since this year began, to ascertain what England can do for the -great countries under her command, or for the nations that look to her -for help; and how much to discuss the chances of a single impostor's -getting a few thousands a year? - -Gentlemen, if your literature, popular and other; or your art, popular -and other; or your science, popular and other, is to be eagle-eyed, -remember that question I to-day solemnly put to you--will you hawk at -game or carrion? Shall it be only said of the thoughts of the heart of -England--"Wheresoever the _carcase_ is, thither shall the eagles be -gathered together"? - - - - - LECTURE III. - - THE RELATION OF WISE ART TO WISE SCIENCE. - - _"The morrow after St. Valentine's," 1872._ - - -37. Our task to-day is to examine the relation between art and science, -each governed by sophia, and becoming capable, therefore, of consistent -and definable relation to each other. Between foolish art and foolish -science, there may indeed be all manner of reciprocal mischievous -influence; but between wise art and wise science there is essential -relation, for each other's help and dignity. - -You observe, I hope, that I always use the term 'science,' merely as the -equivalent of 'knowledge.' I take the Latin word, rather than the -English, to mark that it is knowledge of constant things, not merely of -passing events: but you had better lose even that distinction, and -receive the word "scientia" as merely the equivalent of our English -"knowledge," than fall into the opposite error of supposing that -science means systematization or discovery. It is not the arrangement of -new systems, nor the discovery of new facts, which constitutes a man of -science; but the submission to an eternal system; and the proper grasp -of facts already known. - - -38. And, at first, to-day, I use the word "art" only of that in which it -is my special office to instruct you; graphic imitation; or, as it is -commonly called, Fine art. Of course, the arts of construction,--building, -carpentering, and the like, are directly dependent on many sciences, -but in a manner which needs no discussion, so that we may put that -part of the business out of our way. I mean by art, to-day, only imitative -art; and by science, to-day, not the knowledge of general laws, but of -existent facts. I do not mean by science, for instance, the knowledge -that triangles with equal bases and between parallels, are equal, but -the knowledge that the stars in Cassiopeia are in the form of a =W=. - -Now, accepting the terms 'science' and 'art' under these limitations, -wise art is only the reflex or shadow of wise science. Whatever it is -really desirable and honourable to know, it is also desirable and -honourable to know as completely and as long as possible; therefore, to -present, or re-present, in the most constant manner; and to bring again -and again, not only within the thoughts, but before the eyes; describing -it, not with vague words, but distinct lines, and true colours, so as to -approach always as nearly as may be to the likeness of the thing itself. - - -39. Can anything be more simple, more evidently or indisputably natural -and right, than such connection of the two powers? That you should -desire to know what you ought; what is worthy of your nature, and -helpful to your life: to know that;--nothing less,--nothing more; and to -keep record and definition of such knowledge near you, in the most vivid -and explanatory form? - -Nothing, surely, can be more simple than this; yet the sum of art -judgment and of art practice is in this. You are to recognize, or know, -beautiful and noble things--notable, notabilia, or nobilia; and then you -are to give the best possible account of them you can, either for the -sake of others, or for the sake of your own forgetful or apathetic -self, in the future. - -Now as I gave you and asked you to remember without failing, an aphorism -which embraced the law of wise knowledge, so, to-day, I will ask you to -remember, without fail, one, which absolutely defines the relation of -wise art to it. I have, already, quoted our to-day's aphorism to you, at -the end of my fourth lecture on sculpture. Read the few sentences at the -end of that lecture now, down to - - "THE BEST, IN THIS KIND, ARE BUT SHADOWS." - -That is Shakspeare's judgment of his own art. And by strange -coincidence, he has put the words into the mouth of the hero whose -shadow, or semblance in marble, is admittedly the most ideal and heroic -we possess, of man; yet, I need not ask you, whether of the two, if it -were granted you to see the statue by Phidias, or the hero Theseus -himself, you would choose rather to see the carved stone, or the living -King. Do you recollect how Shakspeare's Theseus concludes his sentence, -spoken of the poor tradesmen's kindly offered art, in the "Midsummer -Night's Dream"? - -"The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if -imagination amend them." - -It will not burden your memories painfully, I hope, though it may not -advance you materially in the class list, if you will learn this entire -sentence by heart, being, as it is, a faultless and complete epitome of -the laws of mimetic art. - - -40. "BUT SHADOWS!" Make them as beautiful as you can; use them only to -enable you to remember and love what they are cast by. If ever you -prefer the skill of them to the simplicity of the truth, or the pleasure -of them to the power of the truth, you have fallen into that vice of -folly, (whether you call her +kakia+ or +moria+,) which concludes the -subtle description of her given by Prodicus, that she might be seen -continually +eis ten heautes skian apoblepein+--to look with love, and -exclusive wonder, at _her own_ shadow. - - -41. There is nothing that I tell you with more eager desire that you -should believe--nothing with wider ground in my experience for requiring -you to believe, than this, that you never will love art well, till you -love what she mirrors better. - -It is the widest, as the clearest experience I have to give you; for the -beginning of all my own right art work in life, (and it may not be -unprofitable that I should tell you this,) depended not on my love of -art, but of mountains and sea. All boys with any good in them are fond -of boats, and of course I liked the mountains best when they had lakes -at the bottom; and I used to walk always in the middle of the loosest -gravel I could find in the roads of the midland counties, that I might -hear, as I trod on it, something like the sound of the pebbles on -sea-beach. No chance occurred for some time to develop what gift of -drawing I had; but I would pass entire days in rambling on the -Cumberland hill-sides, or staring at the lines of surf on a low sand; -and when I was taken annually to the Water-colour Exhibition, I used to -get hold of a catalogue before-hand, mark all the Robsons, which I knew -would be of purple mountains, and all the Copley Fieldings, which I knew -would be of lakes or sea; and then go deliberately round the room to -these, for the sake, observe, not of the pictures, in any wise, but only -of the things painted. - -And through the whole of following life, whatever power of judgment I -have obtained, in art, which I am now confident and happy in using, or -communicating, has depended on my steady habit of always looking for the -subject principally, and for the art, only as the means of expressing -it. - - -42. At first, as in youth one is almost sure to be, I was led too far by -my certainty of the rightness of this principle: and provoked into its -exclusive assertion by the pertinacity with which other writers denied -it: so that, in the first volume of "Modern Painters," several passages -occurred setting the subject or motive of the picture so much above the -mode of its expression, that some of my more feebly gifted disciples -supposed they were fulfilling my wishes by choosing exactly the subjects -for painting which they were least able to paint. But the principle -itself, I maintain, now in advanced life, with more reverence and -firmness than in earliest youth: and though I believe that among the -teachers who have opposed its assertion, there are few who enjoy the -mere artifices of composition or dexterities of handling so much as I, -the time which I have given to the investigation of these has only -farther assured me that the pictures were noblest which compelled me to -forget them. - - -43. Now, therefore, you see that on this simple theory, you have only to -ask what will be the subjects of wise science; these also, will be, so -far as they can be imitatively or suggestively represented, the subjects -of wise art: and the wisdom of both the science and art will be -recognized by their being lofty in their scope, but simple in their -language; clear in fancy, but clearer in interpretation; severe in -discernment, but delightful in display. - - -44. For example's sake, since we have just been listening to Shakspeare -as a teacher of science and art, we will now examine him as a _subject_ -of science and art. - -Suppose we have the existence and essence of Shakspeare to investigate, -and give permanent account of; we shall see that, as the scope and -bearing of the science become nobler, art becomes more helpful to it; -and at last, in its highest range, even necessary to it; but still only -as its minister. - -We examine Shakspeare, first, with the science of chemistry, which -informs us that Shakspeare consists of about seventy-five parts in the -hundred of water, some twelve or fifteen of nitrogen, and the rest, -lime, phosphorus, and essential earthy salts. - -We next examine him by the science of anatomy, which tells us (with -other such matters,) that Shakspeare has seven cervical, twelve dorsal, -and five lumbar vertebrae; that his fore arm has a wide sphere of -rotation; and that he differs from other animals of the ape species by -being more delicately prehensile in the fingers, and less perfectly -prehensile in the toes. - -We next approach Shakspeare with the science of natural history, which -tells us the colour of his eyes and hair, his habits of life, his -temper, and his predilection for poaching. - -There ends, as far as this subject is concerned, our possible science of -substantial things. Then we take up our science of ideal things: first -of passion, then of imagination; and we are told by these that -Shakspeare is capable of certain emotions, and of mastering or -commanding them in certain modes. Finally, we take up our science of -theology, and ascertain that he is in relation, or in supposed relation, -with such and such a Being, greater than himself. - - -45. Now, in all these successive stages of scientific description, we -find art become powerful as an aid or record, in proportion to the -importance of the inquiry. For chemistry, she can do scarcely anything: -merely keep note of a colour, or of the form of a crystal. For anatomy, -she can do somewhat more; and for natural history, almost all things: -while in recording passion, and affectionate intellect, she walks hand -in hand with the highest science; and to theology, can give nobler aid -even than verbal expression of literature. - - -46. And in considering this power of hers, remember that the theology of -art has only of late been thought deserving of attention: Lord Lindsay, -some thirty years ago, was the first to recognize its importance; and -when I entered upon the study of the schools of Tuscany in 1845, his -"Christian Mythology" was the only guide I could trust. Even as late as -1860, I had to vindicate the true position, in Christian science, of -Luini, the despised pupil of Leonardo. But only assuming, what with -general assent I might assume, that Raphael's dispute of the -Sacrament--(or by its less frequently given, but true name--Raphael's -Theologia,) is the most perfect effort yet made by art to illustrate -divine science, I am prepared hereafter to show you that the most -finished efforts of theologic literature, as compared with that piece of -pictorial interpretation, have expressed less fully the condition of -wise religious thought; and have been warped more dangerously into -unwise religious speculation. - - -47. Upon these higher fields of inquiry we are not yet to enter. I shall -endeavour for some time only to show you the function of modest art, as -the handmaid of natural science; and the exponent, first of the beauty -of the creatures subject to your own human life; and then of the history -of that life in past time; of which one chief source of illustration is -to be found in the most brilliant, and in its power on character, -hitherto the most practically effective of the arts--Heraldry. - -In natural history, I at first intended to begin with the lower types of -life; but as the enlarged schools now give me the means of extending the -use of our examples, we will at once, for the sake of more general -service, take up ornithology, of the uses of which, in general culture, -I have one or two grave words to say. - - -48. Perhaps you thought that in the beginning of my lecture to-day I too -summarily dismissed the arts of construction and action. But it was not -in disrespect to them; and I must indeed ask you carefully to note one -or two points respecting the arts of which an example is set us by -birds;--building, and singing. - -The other day, as I was calling on the ornithologist whose collection of -birds is, I suppose, altogether unrivalled in Europe,--(at once a -monument of unwearied love of science, and an example, in its treatment, -of the most delicate and patient art)--Mr. Gould--he showed me the nest -of a common English bird; a nest which, notwithstanding his knowledge of -the dexterous building of birds in all the world, was not without -interest even to him, and was altogether amazing and delightful to me. -It was a bullfinch's nest, which had been set in the fork of a sapling -tree, where it needed an extended foundation. And the bird had built -this first story of her nest with withered stalks of clematis blossom; -and with nothing else. These twigs it had interwoven lightly, leaving -the branched heads all at the outside, producing an intricate Gothic -boss of extreme grace and quaintness, apparently arranged both with -triumphant pleasure in the art of basket-making, and with definite -purpose of obtaining ornamental form. - - -49. I fear there is no occasion to tell you that the bird had no purpose -of the kind. I say that I _fear_ this, because I would much rather have -to undeceive you in attributing too much intellect to the lower animals, -than too little. But I suppose the only error which, in the present -condition of natural history, you are likely to fall into, is that of -supposing that a bullfinch is merely a mechanical arrangement of nervous -fibre, covered with feathers by a chronic cutaneous eruption; and -impelled by a galvanic stimulus to the collection of clematis. - - -50. You would be in much greater, as well as in a more shameful, error, -in supposing this, than if you attributed to the bullfinch the most -deliberate rivalship with Mr. Street's prettiest Gothic designs. The -bird has exactly the degree of emotion, the extent of science, and the -command of art, which are necessary for its happiness; it had felt the -clematis twigs to be lighter and tougher than any others within its -reach, and probably found the forked branches of them convenient for -reticulation. It had naturally placed these outside, because it wanted a -smooth surface for the bottom of its nest; and the beauty of the result -was much more dependent on the blossoms than the bird. - - -51. Nevertheless, I am sure that if you had seen the nest,--much more, -if you had stood beside the architect at work upon it,--you would have -greatly desired to express your admiration to her; and chat if -Wordsworth, or any other simple and kindly person, could even wish, for -a little flower's sake, - - "That to this mountain daisy's self were known - The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown - On the smooth surface of this naked stone," - -much more you would have yearned to inform the bright little -nest-builder of your sympathy; and to explain to her, on art principles, -what a pretty thing she was making. - - -52. Does it never occur to you, then, that to some of the best and -wisest artists among ourselves, it may not be always possible to explain -what pretty things they are making; and that, perhaps, the very -perfection of their art is in their knowing so little about it? - -Whether it has occurred to you or not, I assure you that it is so. The -greatest artists, indeed, will condescend, occasionally, to be -scientific;--will labour, somewhat systematically, about what they are -doing, as vulgar persons do; and are privileged, also, to enjoy what -they have made more than birds do; yet seldom, observe you, as being -beautiful, but very much in the sort of feeling which we may fancy the -bullfinch had also,--that the thing, whether pretty or ugly, could not -have been better done; that they could not have made it otherwise, and -are thankful it is no worse. And, assuredly, they have nothing like the -delight in their own work which it gives to other people. - - -53. But putting the special simplicities of good artists out of -question, let me ask you, in the second place, whether it is not -possible that the same sort of simplicity might be desirable in the -whole race of mankind; and that we ought all to be doing human work -which would appear better done to creatures much above us, than it does -to ourselves. Why should not _our_ nests be as interesting things to -angels, as bullfinches' nests are to us? - -You will, probably, both smile at, and shrink from, such a supposition, -as an insolent one. But to my thought, it seems, on the contrary, the -only modest one. That _we_ should be able to admire the work of angels -seems to me the impertinent idea; not, at all, that they should be able -to admire ours. - - -54. Under existing circumstances, I confess the difficulty. It cannot be -imagined that either the back streets of our manufacturing towns, or the -designs of our suburban villas, are things which the angels desire to -look into: but it seems to me an inevitable logical conclusion that if -we are, indeed, the highest of the brute creation, we should, at least, -possess as much unconscious art as the lower brutes; and build nests -which shall be, for ourselves, entirely convenient; and may, perhaps, in -the eyes of superior beings, appear more beautiful than to our own. - - -55. "Which shall be, for ourselves, entirely _convenient_." Note the -word;--becoming, decorous, harmonious, satisfying. We may not be able to -build anything sublime; but, at all events, we should, like other -flesh-invested creatures, be able to contrive what was decent, and it -should be a human privilege to think that we may be admired in heaven -for our contrivance. - -I have some difficulty in proceeding with what I want to say, because I -know you must partly think I am jesting with you. I feel indeed some -disposition to smile myself; not because I jest, but in the sense of -contrast between what, logically, it seems, ought to be; and what we -must confess, not jestingly, to be the facts. How great also,--how -quaint, the confusion of sentiment in our minds, as to this matter! We -continually talk of honouring God with our buildings; and yet, we dare -not say, boldly, that, in His sight, we in the least expect to honour -ourselves by them! And admitting, though I by no means feel disposed to -admit, that here and there we may, at present, be honouring Him by work -that is worthy of the nature He gave us, in how many places, think you, -are we offending Him by work that is disgraceful to it? - - -56. Let me return, yet for an instant, to my bird and her nest. If not -actually complacent and exultant in her architecture, we may at least -imagine that she, and her mate, and the choir they join with, cannot but -be complacent and exultant in their song. I gave you, in a former -lecture, the skylark as a type of mastership in music; and -remembering--some of you, I suppose, are not likely soon to forget,--the -saint to whom yesterday was dedicated, let me read to you to-day some of -the prettiest English words in which our natural feeling about such song -is expressed. - - "And anone, as I the day espide, - No lenger would I in my bed abide, - But unto a wood that was fast by, - I went forth alone boldely, - And held the way downe by a brook side, - - Till I came to a laund of white and green, - So faire one had I never in been, - The ground was green, ypoudred with daisie, - The floures and the greves like hie, - All greene and white, was nothing els seene. - - There sat I downe among the faire flours, - And saw the birds trip out of hir hours, - There as they rested hem all the night, - They were so joyfull of the dayes light, - They began of May for to done honours. - - They coud that service all by rote, - There was many a lovely note, - Some sang loud, as they had plained, - And some in other manner voice yfained, - And some all out with the full throte. - - They proyned hem and made hem right gay, - And daunceden and lepten on the spray, - And evermore two and two in fere, - Right so as they had chosen hem to yere - In Feverere, upon saint Valentines day." - -You recollect, perhaps, the dispute that follows between the cuckoo and -the nightingale, and the promise which the sweet singer makes to Chaucer -for rescuing her. - - "And then came the Nightingale to me - And said Friend, forsooth I thanke thee - That thou hast liked me to rescue, - And one avow to Love make I now - That all this May, I will thy singer be. - - I thanked her, and was right well apaied, - Yea, quoth she, and be not thou dismaied, - Tho' thou have heard the cuckoo erst than me; - For, if I live, it shall amended be, - The next May, if I be not affraied." - -"If I be not affraied." Would she not put the "if" more timidly now, in -making the same promise to any of you, or in asking for the judgment -between her and her enemy, which was to be past, do you remember, on -this very day of the year, so many years ago, and within eight miles of -this very spot? - - "And this shall be without any Nay - On the morrow after St. Valentine's day, - Under a maple that is faire and green - Before the chamber window of the Queen - At Woodstoke, upon the greene lawn. - - She thanked them, and then her leave took - And into an hawthorn by that broke. - And there she sate, and sang upon that tree - '_Terme of life love hath withheld me_' - So loud, that I with that song awoke." - - -57. "Terme of life love hath withheld me!" Alas, how have we men -reversed this song of the nightingale! so that our words must be "Terme -of life, hatred hath withheld me." - -This, then, was the old English science of the song of birds; and -perhaps you are indignant with me for bringing any word of it back to -you? You have, I doubt not, your new science of song, as of -nest-building: and I am happy to think you could all explain to me, or -at least you will be able to do so before you pass your natural science -examination, how, by the accurate connection of a larynx with a bill, -and by the action of heat, originally derived from the sun, upon the -muscular fibre, an undulatory motion is produced in the larynx, and an -opening and shutting one in the bill, which is accompanied, necessarily, -by a piping sound. - - -58. I will not dispute your statement; still less do I wish to answer -for the absolute truth of Chaucer's. You will find that the complete -truth embraces great part of both; and that you may study, at your -choice, in any singing bird, the action of universal heat on a -marvellous mechanism, or of individual life, on a frame capable of -exquisite passion. But the point I wish you to consider is the relation -to this lower creature's power, of your own human agencies in the -production of sound, where you can best unite in its harmony. - - -59. I had occasion only the other day to wait for half an hour at the -bottom of Ludgate Hill. Standing as much out of the way as I could, -under the shadow of the railroad bridge, I watched the faces, all eager, -many anxious, and some intensely gloomy, of the hurried passers by; and -listened to the ceaseless crashing, whistling, and thundering sounds -which mingled with the murmur of their steps and voices. And in the -midst of the continuous roar, which differed only from that of the -wildest sea in storm by its complexity and its discordance, I was -wondering, if the sum of what all these people were doing, or trying to -do, in the course of the day, could be made manifest, what it would come -to. - - -60. The sum of it would be, I suppose, that they had all contrived to -live through the day in that exceedingly unpleasant manner, and that -nothing serious had occurred to prevent them from passing the following -day likewise. Nay, I knew also that what appeared in their way of life -painful to me, might be agreeable to them; and it chanced, indeed, a -little while afterwards, that an active and prosperous man of business, -speaking to one of my friends of the disappointment he had felt in a -visit to Italy, remarked, especially, that he was not able to endure -more than three days at Venice, because there was no noise there. - - -61. But, granting the contentment of the inhabitants of London in -consistently producing these sounds, how shall we say this vocal and -instrumental art of theirs may compare, in the scheme of Nature, with -the vocal art of lower animals? We may indeed rank the danger-whistle of -the engines on the bridge as an excruciating human improvement on that -of the marmot; and the trampling of feet and grinding of wheels, as the -human accentuation of the sounds produced by insects, by the friction of -their wings or thighs against their sides: but, even in this comparison, -it may cause us some humiliation to note that the cicada and the -cricket, when pleased to sing in their vibratory manner, have leisure -to rest in their delight; and that the flight of the firefly is silent. -But how will the sounds we produce compare with the song of birds? This -London is the principal nest of men in the world; and I was standing in -the centre of it. In the shops of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, on each -side of me, I do not doubt I could have bought any quantity of books for -children, which by way of giving them religious, as opposed to secular, -instruction, informed them that birds praised God in their songs. Now, -though, on the one hand, you may be very certain that birds are not -machines, on the other hand it is just as certain that they have not the -smallest intention of praising God in their songs; and that we cannot -prevent the religious education of our children more utterly than by -beginning it in lies. But it might be expected of _ourselves_ that we -should do so, in the songs we send up from our principal nest! And -although, under the dome at the top of Ludgate Hill, some attempt of the -kind may be made every seventh day, by a limited number of persons, we -may again reflect, with humiliation, that the birds, for better or -worse, sing all, and every day; and I could not but ask myself, with -momentarily increasing curiosity, as I endeavoured to trace the emotions -and occupations of the persons who passed by me, in the expression of -their faces--what would be the effect on them, if any creatures of -higher order were suddenly to appear in the midst of them with any such -message of peace, and invitation to rejoicing, as they had all been -professing to commemorate at Christmas. - - -62. Perhaps you recollect, in the lectures given on landscape during the -spring of this year, my directing your attention to a picture of -Mantegna's in the loan exhibition, representing a flight of twelve -angels in blue sky, singing that Christmas song. I ought to tell you, -however, that one of our English artists of good position dissented from -my opinion about the picture; and remarked that in England "we wanted -good art, and not funny art." Whereas, to me, it is this vocal and -architectural art of Ludgate Hill which appears funny art; and not -Mantegna's. But I am compelled to admit that could Mantegna's picture -have been realized, the result would, in the eyes of most men, have been -funnier still. For suppose that over Ludgate Hill the sky had indeed -suddenly become blue instead of black; and that a flight of twelve -angels, "covered with silver wings, and their feathers with gold," had -alighted on the cornice of the railroad bridge, as the doves alight on -the cornices of St. Mark's at Venice; and had invited the eager men of -business below, in the centre of a city confessedly the most prosperous -in the world, to join them for five minutes in singing the first five -verses of such a psalm as the 103rd--"Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and -_all that is within me_" (the opportunity now being given for the -expression of their most hidden feelings) "all that is within me, bless -His holy name, and forget not all His benefits." Do you not even thus, -in mere suggestion, feel shocked at the thought, and as if my now -reading the words were profane? And cannot you fancy that the sensation -of the crowd at so violent and strange an interruption of traffic, might -be somewhat akin to that which I had occasion in my first lecture on -sculpture to remind you of,--the feeling attributed by Goethe to -Mephistopheles at the song of the angels: "Discord I hear, and -intolerable jingling"? - - -63. Nay, farther, if indeed none of the benefits bestowed on, or -accomplished by, the great city, were to be forgotten, and if search -were made, throughout its confines, into the results of its wealth, -might not the literal discord in the words themselves be greater than -the felt discord in the sound of them? - -I have here in my hand a cutting from a newspaper, which I took with me -three years ago, to a meeting in the interest of social science, held in -the rooms of the Society of Arts, and under the presidency of the Prime -Minister of England. Under the (so called) 'classical' paintings of -Barry, representing the philosophy and poetry of the ancients, Mr. -Gladstone was in the chair; and in his presence a member of the Society -for the Promotion of Social Science propounded and supported the -statement, not irrelevant to our present inquiry, that the essential -nature of man was that of a beast of prey. Though, at the time, -(suddenly called upon by the author of "Tom Brown at Oxford,") I feebly -endeavoured to contradict that Socially Scientific person, I do not at -present desire to do so. I have given you a creature of prey for -comparison of knowledge. "Doth the eagle know what is in the pit?"--and -in this great nest of ours in London, it would be well if to all our -children the virtue of the creature of prey were fulfilled, and that, -indeed, the stir and tumult of the city were "as the eagle stirreth up -her nest and fluttereth over her young." But the slip of paper I had -then, and have now, in my hand,[D] contains information about the state -of the nest, inconsistent with such similitude. I am not answerable for -the juxtaposition of paragraphs in it. The first is a proposal for the -building of a new church in Oxford, at the cost of twenty thousand -pounds; the second is the account of the inquest on a woman and her -child who were starved to death in the Isle of Dogs. The bodies were -found lying, without covering, on a bed made of heaped rags; and there -was no furniture in the room but a wooden stool, on which lay a tract -entitled "_The Goodness of God._" The husband, who had been out of work -for six months, went mad two days afterwards; and being refused entrance -at the workhouse because it was "full of mad people," was carried off, -the "Pall Mall Gazette" says not where. - - [D] "Pall Mall Gazette," January 29th, 1869. - - -64. Now, gentlemen, the question I wish to leave with you to-day is -whether the Wisdom which rejoices in the habitable parts of the earth, -and whose delights are with the sons of men, can be supposed, under -circumstances such as these, to delight herself in that most closely and -increasingly inhabited portion of the globe which we ourselves now dwell -on; and whether, if she cannot grant us to surpass the art of the -swallow or the eagle, she may not require of us at least, to reach the -level of their happiness. Or do you seriously think that, either in the -life of Ludgate Hill, or death of the Isle of Dogs; in the art of -Ludgate Hill, or idleness of the Isle of Dogs; and in the science and -sanity of Ludgate Hill, or nescience and insanity of the Isle of Dogs, -we have, as matters stand now, any clear encouragement to repeat, in -that 103rd psalm, the three verses following the five I named; and to -believe in our hearts, as we say with our lips, that we have yet, -dwelling among us, unoffended, a God "who forgiveth all our iniquities, -who healeth all our diseases; who redeemeth our life from destruction, -who crowneth us with loving-kindness and tender mercies, and _who -satisfieth our mouth with good things, so that our youth is_ RENEWED -LIKE THE EAGLE'S"? - - - - - LECTURE IV. - - THE POWER OF MODESTY IN SCIENCE AND ART. - - _17th February, 1872._ - - -65. I believe, gentlemen, that some of you must have been -surprised,--and, if I succeeded in making my last lecture clearly -intelligible, many ought to have been surprised,--at the limitations I -asked you to admit with respect to the idea of science, and the position -which I asked you to assign to it. We are so much, by the chances of our -time, accustomed to think of science as a process of discovery, that I -am sure some of you must have been gravely disconcerted by my -requesting, and will to-day be more disconcerted by my firmly -recommending, you to use the word, and reserve the thought, of science, -for the acquaintance with things long since discovered, and established -as true. We have the misfortune to live in an epoch of transition from -irrational dulness to irrational excitement; and while once it was the -highest courage of science to question anything, it is now an agony to -her to leave anything unquestioned. So that, unawares, we come to -measure the dignity of a scientific person by the newness of his -assertions, and the dexterity of his methods in debate; entirely -forgetting that science cannot become perfect, as an occupation of -intellect, while anything remains to be discovered; nor wholesome as an -instrument of education, while anything is permitted to be debated. - - -66. It appears, doubtless, a vain idea to you that an end should ever be -put to discovery; but remember, such impossibility merely signifies that -mortal science must remain imperfect. Nevertheless, in many directions, -the limit to practically useful discovery is rapidly being approached; -and you, as students, would do well to suppose that it has been already -attained. To take the science of ornithology, for instance: I suppose -you would have very little hope of shooting a bird in England, which -should be strange to any master of the science, or of shooting one -anywhere, which would not fall under some species already described. And -although at the risk of life, and by the devotion of many years to -observation, some of you might hope to bring home to our museum a -titmouse with a spot on its tail which had never before been seen, I -strongly advise you not to allow your studies to be disturbed by so -dazzling a hope, nor your life exclusively devoted even to so important -an object. In astronomy, the fields of the sky have not yet, indeed, -been ransacked by the most costly instruments; and it may be in store -for some of you to announce the existence, or even to analyse the -materials, of some luminous point which may be seen two or three times -in the course of a century, by any one who will journey to India for the -purpose; and, when there, is favoured by the weather. But, for all -practical purposes, the stars already named and numbered are as many as -we require to hear of; and if you thoroughly know the visible motions, -and clearly conceive the known relations, even of those which can be -seen by the naked eye, you will have as much astronomy as is necessary, -either for the occupation of thought or the direction of navigation. - - -67. But, if you were discontented with the limit I proposed for your -sciences, much more, I imagine, you were doubtful of the ranks I -assigned to them. It is not, I know, in your modern system, the general -practice to put chemistry, the science of atoms, lowest, and theology, -the science of Deity, highest: nay, many of us have ceased to think of -theology as a science at all, but rather as a speculative pursuit, in -subject, separate from science; and in temper, opposed to her. - -Yet it can scarcely be necessary for me to point out to you, in so many -terms, that what we call theology, if true, is a science; and if false, -is not theology; or that the distinction even between natural science -and theology is illogical: for you might distinguish indeed between -natural and unnatural science, but not between natural and spiritual, -unless you had determined first that a spirit had no nature. You will -find the facts to be, that entirely true knowledge is both possible and -necessary--first of facts relating to matter, and then of the forces and -passions that act on or in matter;--that, of all these forces, the -noblest we can know is the energy which either imagines, or perceives, -the existence of a living power greater than its own; and that the study -of the relations which exist between this energy, and the resultant -action of men, are as much subjects of pure science as the curve of a -projectile. The effect, for instance, upon your temper, intellect, and -conduct during the day, of your going to chapel with or without belief -in the efficacy of prayer, is just as much a subject of definite -science, as the effect of your breakfast on the coats of your stomach. -Which is the higher knowledge, I have, with confidence, told you; and am -not afraid of any test to which you may submit my assertion. - - -68. Assuming such limitation, then, and such rank, for our knowledge; -assuming, also, what I have now, perhaps to your weariness, told you, -that graphic art is the shadow, or image, of knowledge,--I wish to point -out to you to-day the function, with respect to both, of the virtue -called by the Greeks '+sophrosyne+' 'safeness of mind,' corresponding to -the 'salus' or 'sanitas' mentis, of the Latins; 'health of heart' is, -perhaps, the best English; if we receive the words 'mens,' '+menis+,' or -'+phren+,' as expressing the passionate soul of the human being, -distinguished from the intellectual; the 'mens sana' being possible to -all of us, though the contemplative range of height her wisdom may be -above our capacities; so that to each of us Heaven only permits the -ambition of being +sophos+, but commands the resolution to be +sophron+. - - -69. And, without discussing the use of the word by different writers, I -will tell you that the dearest and safest idea of the mental state -itself is to be gained from the representations of it by the words of -ancient Christian religion, and even from what you may think its -superstitions. Without any discussion also as to the personal existence -or traditional character of evil spirits, you will find it a practical -fact, that external temptations and inevitable trials of temper, have -power against you which your health and virtue depend on your resisting; -that, if not resisted, the evil energy of them will pass into your own -heart, +phren+, or +menis+; and that the ordinary and vulgarized phrase -"the Devil, or betraying Spirit, is _in him_" is the most scientifically -accurate which you can apply to any person so influenced. You will find -also that, in the compass of literature, the casting out of, or -cleansing from, such a state is best symbolized for you by the image of -one who had been wandering wild and naked _among tombs_, sitting still, -clothed, and in his right mind, and that in whatever literal or -figurative sense you receive the Biblical statement of what followed, -this is absolutely certain, that the herd of swine hastening to their -destruction, in perfect sympathy with each other's fury, is the most -accurate symbol ever given, in literature, of consummate human -+aphrosyne+. - - * * * * * - -(The conditions of insanity,[E] delighting in scenes of death, which -affect at the present time the arts of revolutionary Europe, were -illustrated in the sequel of this lecture: but I neither choose to take -any permanent notice of the examples I referred to, nor to publish any -part of what I said, until I can enter more perfectly into the analysis -of the elements of evil passion which always distorted and polluted even -the highest arts of Greek and Christian loyal religion; and now occupy -in deadly entireness, the chambers of imagination, devastated, and left -desolate of joy, by impiety, and disobedience. - -In relation to the gloom of gray colour characteristic especially of the -modern French revolutionary school, I entered into some examination of -the conditions of real temperance and reserve in colour, showing that it -consisted not in refusing colour, but in governing it; and that the most -pure and bright colours might be thus perfectly governed, while the most -dull were probably also the most violent and intemperate. But it would -be useless to print this part of the lecture without the -colour-illustrations used. - -Passing to the consideration of intemperance and immodesty in the choice -even of landscape subjects, I referred thus for contrast, to the -quietude of Turner's "Greta and Tees.") - - [E] I use this word always meaning it to be understood literally, - and in its full force. - - -70. If you wish to feel the reserve of this drawing, look, first, into -the shops at their display of common chromo-lithotints; see how they are -made up of Matterhorns, Monte Rosas, blue glaciers, green lakes, white -towers, magnificent banditti, romantic peasantry, or always-successful -sportsmen or fishermen in Highland costume; and then see what Turner is -content with. No Matterhorns are needful, or even particularly pleasing -to him. A bank, some eight or ten feet high, of Yorkshire shale is -enough. He would not thank you for giving him all the giant forests of -California:--would not be so much interested in them nor half so happy -among them, as he is here with a switch of oak sapling, which the Greta -has pulled down among the stones, and teased awhile, and which, now that -the water is lower, tries to get up again, out of its way. - -He does not want any towers or towns. Here you are to be contented with -three square windows of a country gentleman's house. He does not want -resplendent banditti. Behold! here is a brown cow and a white one: what -would you have more? And this scarcely-falling rapid of the Tees--here -pausing to circle round a pool, and there laughing as it trips over a -ledge of rock, six or seven inches high, is more to him--infinitely -more--than would be the whole colossal drainage of Lake Erie into Lake -Ontario, which Carlyle has justly taken for a type of the Niagara of our -national precipitous +aphrosyne+. - - -71. I need not point out to you the true temperance of colour in this -drawing--how slightly green the trees are, how softly blue the sky. - -Now I put a chromo-lithotint beside it. - -Well, why is that good, this bad? Simply because if you think, and -work, and discipline yourselves nobly, you will come to like the Greta -and Tees; if not, you will come to like _this_. The one is what a strong -man likes; the other what a weak one likes: that is modest, full of true -+aidos+, noble restraint, noble reverence;--this has no +aidos+, no -fear, no measure;--not even purpose, except, by accumulation of whatever -it can see or snatch, to move the vile apathy of the public +aphrosyne+ -into sensation. - - -72. The apathy of +aphrosyne+--note the expression! You might think that -it was +sophrosyne+, which was apathetic, and that intemperance was full -of passion. No; the exact contrary is the fact. It is death in ourselves -which seeks the exaggerated external stimulus. I must return for a -moment to the art of modern France. - -The most complete rest and refreshment I can get, when I am overworked, -in London (for if I try to rest in the fields, I find them turned into -villas in the course of the week before) is in seeing a French play. But -the French act so perfectly that I am obliged to make sure beforehand -that all is to end well, or it is as bad as being helplessly present at -some real misery. - -I was beguiled the other day, by seeing it announced as a "Comedie," -into going to see "Frou-Frou." Most of you probably know that the three -first of its five acts _are_ comedy, or at least playful drama, and that -it plunges down, in the two last, to the sorrowfullest catastrophe of -all conceivable--though too frequent in daily life--in which -irretrievable grief is brought about by the passion of a moment, and the -ruin of all that she loves, caused by the heroic error of an entirely -good and unselfish person. The sight of it made me thoroughly ill, and I -was not myself again for a week. - -But, some time afterwards, I was speaking of it to a lady who knew -French character well; and asked her how it was possible for a people so -quick in feeling to endure the action before them of a sorrow so -poignant. She said, "It is because they have not sympathy enough: they -are interested only by the external scene, and are, in truth, at -present, dull, not quick in feeling. My own French maid went the other -evening to see that very play: when she came home, and I asked her what -she thought of it, she said 'it was charming, and she had amused herself -immensely.' 'Amused! but is not the story very sad?' 'Oh, yes, -mademoiselle, it is bien triste, but it is charming; and then, how -pretty Frou-Frou looks in her silk dress!'" - - -73. Gentlemen, the French maid's mode of regarding the tragedy is, if -you think of it, a most true image of the way in which fashionable -society regards the world-suffering, in the midst of which, so long as -it can amuse itself, all seems to it well. If the ball-room is bright, -and the dresses pretty, what matter how much horror is beneath or -around? Nay, this apathy checks us in our highest spheres of thought, -and chills our most solemn purposes. You know that I never join in the -common outcries against Ritualism; yet it is too painfully manifest to -me that the English Church itself has withdrawn her eyes from the -tragedy of all churches, to perk herself up anew with casement and -vestment, and say of herself, complacently, in her sacred +poikilia+, -"How pretty Frou-Frou is, in her silk dress!" - - -74. We recognize, however, without difficulty, the peril of -insatiableness and immodesty in the pleasures of Art. Less recognized, -but therefore more perilous, the insatiableness and immodesty of Science -tempt us through our very virtues. The fatallest furies of scientific -+aphrosyne+ are consistent with the most noble powers of self-restraint -and self-sacrifice. It is not the lower passions, but the loftier hopes -and most honourable desires which become deadliest when the charm of -them is exalted by the vanity of science. The patience of the wisest of -Greek heroes never fails, when the trial is by danger or pain; but do -you recollect that, before his trial by the song of the Sirens, the sea -becomes calm? And in the few words which Homer has told you of their -song, you have not perhaps yet with enough care observed that the form -of temptation is precisely that to which a man victorious over every -fleshly trial would be likely to yield. The promise is not that his body -shall be gratified, but that his soul shall rise into rapture; he is not -urged, as by the subtlety of Comus, to disdain the precepts of wisdom, -but invited, on the contrary, to learn,--as you are all now invited by -the +aphrosyne+ of your age,--better wisdom from the wise. - -"For we know all" (they say) "that was done in Troy according to the -will of the gods, and we know everything that is upon the all-nourishing -earth." - -All heavenly and earthly knowledge, you see. I will read you Pope's -expansion of the verses; for Pope never alters idly, but always -illustrates when he expands. - - - "Oh stay, oh pride of Greece! - - (You hear, they begin by flattery). - - Ulysses, stay, - Oh cease thy course, and listen to our lay. - Blest is the man ordained our voice to hear, - The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear. - Approach! Thy soul shall into raptures rise; - Approach! and learn new wisdom from the wise. - We know whate'er the kings of mighty name - Achieved at Ilion in the field of Fame, - Whate'er beneath the Sun's bright journey lies. - Oh, stay, and learn new wisdom from the wise." - -Is it not singular that so long ago the danger of this novelty of wisdom -should have been completely discerned? Is it not stranger still that -three thousand years have passed by, and we have not yet been able to -learn the lesson, but are still eager to add to our knowledge, rather -than to use it; and every day more passionate in discovering,--more -violent in competition,--are every day more cold in admiration, and more -dull in reverence? - - -75. But, gentlemen, Homer's Ulysses, bound to the mast, survives. -Dante's Ulysses is bound to the mast in another fashion. He, -notwithstanding the protection of Athena, and after all his victories -over fate, is still restless under the temptation to seek new wisdom. He -goes forth past the Pillars of Hercules, cheers his crew amidst the -uncompassed solitudes of the Atlantic, and perishes in sudden Charybdis -of the infinite sea. In hell, the restless flame in which he is wrapt -continually, among the advisers of evil, is seen, from the rocks above, -like the firefly's flitting to and fro; and the waving garment of -torture, which quivers as he speaks, and aspires as he moves, condemns -him to be led in eternal temptation, and to be delivered from evil -nevermore. - - - - - LECTURE V. - - THE POWER OF CONTENTMENT IN SCIENCE AND ART. - - _22nd February, 1872._ - - -76. I must ask you, in order to make these lectures of any permanent -use, to be careful in keeping note of the main conclusion at which we -arrive in the course of each, and of the sequence of such results. In -the first, I tried to show you that Art was only wise when unselfish in -her labour; in the second, that Science was only wise when unselfish in -her statement; in the third, that wise Art was the shadow, or visible -reflection, of wise Science; and in the fourth, that all these -conditions of good must be pursued temperately and peacefully. I have -now farther to tell you that they must be pursued independently. - - -77. You have not often heard me use that word "independence." And, in -the sense in which of late it has been accepted, you have never heard -me use it but with contempt. For the true strength of every human soul -is to be dependent on as many nobler as it can discern, and to be -depended upon, by as many inferior as it can reach. - -But to-day I use the word in a widely different sense. I think you must -have felt, in what amplification I was able to give you of the idea of -wisdom as an unselfish influence in Art and Science, how the highest -skill and knowledge were founded in human tenderness, and that the -kindly Art-wisdom which rejoices in the habitable parts of the earth, is -only another form of the lofty Scientific charity, which rejoices 'in -the truth.' And as the first order of Wisdom is to know thyself--though -the least creature that can be known--so the first order of Charity is -to be sufficient for thyself, though the least creature that can be -sufficed; and thus contented and appeased, to be girded and strong for -the ministry to others. If sufficient to thy day is the evil thereof, -how much more should be the good! - - -78. I have asked you to recollect one aphorism respecting Science, one -respecting Art; let me--and I will ask no more at this time of -asking--press you to learn, farther, by heart, those lines of the Song -of the Sirens: six lines of Homer, I trust, will not be a weariness to -you-- - - +ou gar po tis tede parelase nei melaine, - prin g' hemeon meligeryn apo stomaton op' akousai; - all' hoge terpsamenos neitai, kai pleiona eidos. - idmen gar toi panth', hos eni Troie eureie - Argeioi Troes te theon ioteti mogesan; - idmen d', hossa genetai epi chthoni poulyboteire.+ - - HOM., _Od._, xii. 186. - -"No one ever rowed past this way in his black ship, before he had -listened to the honey-sweet singing of our lips. But he stays pleased, -though he may know much. For we know all things which the Greeks and -Trojans did in the wide Trojan plain, by the will of the gods, and we -know what things take place in the much nourishing earth." And this, -remember, is absolutely true. No man ever went past in the black -ship,--obeying the grave and sad law of life by which it is appointed -for mortals to be victors on the ocean,--but he was tempted, as he drew -near that deadly island, wise as he might be, (+kai pleiona eidos+,) by -the voices of those who told him that they knew everything which had -been done by the will of God, and everything which took place in earth -for the service of man. - - -79. Now observe those two great temptations. You are to know everything -that has been done by the will of God: and to know everything that is -_vital_ in the earth. And try to realize to yourselves, for a little -while, the way in which these two siren promises have hitherto troubled -the paths of men. Think of the books that have been written in false -explanation of Divine Providence: think of the efforts that have been -made to show that the particular conduct which we approve in others, or -wish ourselves to follow, is according to the will of God. Think what -ghastly convulsions in thought, and vileness in action, have been fallen -into by the sects which thought they had adopted, for their patronage, -the perfect purposes of Heaven. Think of the vain research, the wasted -centuries of those who have tried to penetrate the secrets of life, or -of its support. The elixir vitae, the philosopher's stone, the germ-cells -in meteoric iron, '+epi chthoni poulyboteire+' But at this day, when we -have loosed the last band from the masts of the black ship, and when, -instead of plying every oar to escape, as the crew of Homer's Ulysses, -we row like the crew of Dante's Ulysses, and of our oars make wings for -our foolish flight, - - E, volta nostra poppe nel mattino - De' remi facemmo ale al folle volo-- - -the song of the sirens becomes fatal as never yet it has been in time. -We think ourselves privileged, first among men, to know the secrets of -Heaven, and fulfil the economy of earth; and the result is, that of all -the races that yet have been put to shame by their false wisdom or false -art,--which have given their labour for that which is not bread, and -their strength for that which satisfieth not,--we have most madly -abandoned the charity which is for itself sufficing, and for others -serviceable, and have become of all creatures the most insufficient to -ourselves, and the most malignant to our neighbours. Granted a given -degree of knowledge--granted the '+kai pleiona eidos+' in science, in -art, and in literature,--and the present relations of feeling between -France and Germany, between England and America, are the most horrible -at once in their stupidity and malignity, that have ever taken place on -the globe we inhabit, even though all its great histories, are of sin, -and all its great songs, of death. - - -80. Gentlemen, I pray you very solemnly to put that idea of knowing all -things in Heaven and Earth out of your hearts and heads. It is very -little that we can ever know, either of the ways of Providence, or the -laws of existence. But that little is enough, and exactly enough: to -strive for more than that little is evil for us; and be assured that -beyond the need of our narrow being,--beyond the range of the kingdom -over which it is ordained for each of us to rule in serene +autarkeia+ -and self-possession, he that increaseth toil, increaseth folly; and he -that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow. - - -81. My endeavour, therefore, to-day will be to point out to you how in -the best wisdom, that there may be happy advance, there must first be -happy contentment; that, in one sense, we must always be entering its -kingdom as a little child, and pleased yet for a time _not_ to put away -childish things. And while I hitherto have endeavoured only to show how -modesty and gentleness of disposition purified Art and Science, by -permitting us to recognize the superiority of the work of others to our -own--to-day, on the contrary, I wish to indicate for you the uses of -infantine self-satisfaction; and to show you that it is by no error or -excess in our nature, by no corruption or distortion of our being, that -we are disposed to take delight in the little things that we can do -ourselves, more than in the great things done by other people. So only -that we recognize the littleness and the greatness, it is as much a part -of true Temperance to be pleased with the little we know, and the little -we can do, as with the little that we have. On the one side Indolence, -on the other Covetousness, are as much to be blamed, with respect to our -Arts, as our possessions; and every man is intended to find an exquisite -personal happiness in his own small skill, just as he is intended to -find happiness in his own small house or garden, while he respects, -without coveting, the grandeur of larger domains. - - -82. Nay, more than this: by the wisdom of Nature, it has been appointed -that more pleasure may be taken in small things than in great, and more -in rude Art than in the finest. Were it otherwise, we might be disposed -to complain of the narrow limits which have been set to the perfection -of human skill. - -I pointed out to you, in a former lecture, that the excellence of -sculpture had been confined in past time to the Athenian and Etrurian -vales. The absolute excellence of painting has been reached only by the -inhabitants of a single city in the whole world; and the faultless -manner of religious architecture holds only for a period of fifty years -out of six thousand. We are at present tormenting ourselves with the -vain effort to teach men everywhere to rival Venice and Athens,--with -the practical result of having lost the enjoyment of Art -altogether;--instead of being content to amuse ourselves still with the -painting and carving which were possible once, and would be pleasant -always, in Paris, and London, at Strasbourg, and at York. - -I do not doubt that you are greatly startled at my saying that greater -pleasure is to be received from inferior Art than from the finest. But -what do you suppose makes all men look back to the time of childhood -with so much regret, (if their childhood has been, in any moderate -degree, healthy or peaceful)? That rich charm, which the least -possession had for us, was in consequence of the poorness of our -treasures. That miraculous aspect of the nature around us, was because -we had seen little, and knew less. Every increased possession loads us -with a new weariness; every piece of new knowledge diminishes the -faculty of admiration; and Death is at last appointed to take us from a -scene in which, if we were to stay longer, no gift could satisfy us, and -no miracle surprise. - - -83. Little as I myself know, or can do, as compared with any man of -essential power, my life has chanced to be one of gradual progress in -the things which I began in childish choice; so that I can measure with -almost mathematical exactitude the degree of feeling with which less and -greater degrees of wealth or skill affect my mind. - -I well remember the delight with which, when I was beginning mineralogy, -I received from a friend, who had made a voyage to Peru, a little bit of -limestone about the size of a hazel nut, with a small film of native -silver adhering to its surface. I was never weary of contemplating my -treasure, and could not have felt myself richer had I been master of the -mines of Copiapo. - -I am now about to use as models for your rock drawings stones which my -year's income, when I was a boy, would not have bought. But I have long -ceased to take any pleasure in their possession; and am only thinking, -now, to whom else they can be of use, since they can be of no more to -me. - - -84. But the loss of pleasure to me caused by advance in knowledge of -drawings has been far greater than that induced by my riches in -minerals. - -I have placed, in your reference series, one or two drawings of -architecture, made when I was a youth of twenty, with perfect ease to -myself, and some pleasure to other people. A day spent in sketching then -brought with it no weariness, and infinite complacency. I know better -now what drawing should be; the effort to do my work rightly fatigues me -in an hour, and I never care to look at it again from that day forward. - - -85. It is true that men of great and real power do the best things with -comparative ease; but you will never hear them express the complacency -which simple persons feel in partial success. There is nothing to be -regretted in this; it is appointed for all men to enjoy, but for few to -achieve. - -And do not think that I am wasting your time in dwelling on these simple -moralities. From the facts I have been stating we must derive this great -principle for all effort. That we must endeavour to _do_, not what is -absolutely best, but what is easily within our power and adapted to our -temper and condition. - - -86. In your educational series is a lithographic drawing, by Prout, of -an old house in Strasbourg. The carvings of its woodwork are in a style -altogether provincial, yet of which the origin is very distant. The -delicate Renaissance architecture of Italy was affected, even in its -finest periods, by a tendency to throw out convex masses at the bases of -its pillars; the wood-carvers of the 16th century adopted this bulged -form as their first element of ornamentation, and these windows of -Strasbourg are only imitations by the German peasantry of what, in its -finest type, you must seek as far away as the Duomo of Bergamo. - -But the burgher, or peasant, of Alsace enjoyed his rude imitation, -adapted, as it was, boldly and frankly to the size of his house and the -grain of the larch logs of which he built it, infinitely more than the -refined Italian enjoyed the floral luxuriance of his marble; and all the -treasures of a great exhibition could not have given him the tenth part -of the exultation with which he saw the gable of his roof completed over -its jutting fret-work; and wrote among the rude intricacies of its -sculpture, in flourished black letter, that "He and his wife had built -their house with God's help, and prayed Him to let them live long in -it,--they, and their children." - - -87. But it is not only the rustic method of architecture which I wish -you to note in this plate; it is the rustic method of drawing also. The -manner in which these blunt timber carvings are drawn by Prout is just -as provincial as the carvings themselves. Born in a faraway district of -England, and learning to draw, unhelped, with fishing-boats for his -models; making his way instinctively until he had command of his pencil -enough to secure a small income by lithographic drawing; and finding -picturesque character in buildings from which all the finest lines of -their carving had been effaced by time; possessing also an instinct in -the expression of such subjects so peculiar as to win for him a -satisfying popularity, and, far better, to enable him to derive -perpetual pleasure in the seclusion of country hamlets, and the quiet -streets of deserted cities,--Prout had never any motive to acquaint -himself with the refinements, or contend with the difficulties, of a -more accomplished art. So far from this, his manner of work was, by its -very imperfection, in the most perfect sympathy with the subjects he -enjoyed. The broad chalk touches in which he has represented to us this -house at Strasbourg are entirely sufficient to give true idea of its -effect. To have drawn its ornaments with subtlety of Leonardesque -delineation would only have exposed their faults, and mocked their -rusticity. The drawing would have become painful to you from the sense -of the time which it had taken to represent what was not worth the -labour, and to direct your attention to what could only, if closely -examined, be matter of offence. But here you have a simple and -provincial draughtsman happily and adequately expressing a simple and -provincial architecture; nor could either builder or painter have become -wiser, but to their loss. - - -88. Is it then, you will ask me, seriously to be recommended, and, -however recommendable, is it possible, that men should remain contented -with attainments which they know to be imperfect? and that now, as in -former times, large districts of country, and generations of men, should -be enriched or amused by the products of a clumsy ignorance? I do not -know how far it is possible, but I know that wherever you desire to have -true art, it is necessary. Ignorance, which is contented and clumsy, -will produce what is imperfect, but not offensive. But ignorance -_dis_contented and dexterous, learning what it cannot understand, and -imitating what it cannot enjoy, produces the most loathsome forms of -manufacture that can disgrace or mislead humanity. Some years since, as -I was looking through the modern gallery at the quite provincial German -School of Duesseldorf, I was fain to leave all their epic and religious -designs, that I might stay long before a little painting of a shepherd -boy carving his dog out of a bit of deal. The dog was sitting by, with -the satisfied and dignified air of a personage about for the first time -in his life to be worthily represented in sculpture; and his master was -evidently succeeding to his mind in expressing the features of his -friend. The little scene was one which, as you know, must take place -continually among the cottage artists who supply the toys of Nuremberg -and Berne. Happy, these! so long as, undisturbed by ambition, they spend -their leisure time in work pretending only to amuse, yet capable, in its -own way, of showing accomplished dexterity, and vivid perception of -nature. We, in the hope of doing great things, have surrounded our -workmen with Italian models, and tempted them with prizes into -competitive mimicry of all that is best, or that we imagine to be best, -in the work of every people under the sun. And the result of our -instruction is only that we are able to produce--I am now quoting the -statement I made last May, "the most perfectly and roundly ill-done -things" that ever came from human hands. I should thankfully put upon my -chimney-piece the wooden dog cut by the shepherd boy; but I should be -willing to forfeit a large sum rather than keep in my room the number 1 -of the Kensington Museum--thus described in its catalogue--"Statue in -black and white marble, of a Newfoundland dog standing on a serpent, -which rests on a marble cushion;--the pedestal ornamented with Pietra -Dura fruits in relief." - - -89. You will, however, I fear, imagine me indulging in my usual paradox, -when I assure you that all the efforts we have been making to surround -ourselves with heterogeneous means of instruction, will have the exactly -reverse effect from that which we intend;--and that, whereas formerly we -were able only to do a little well, we are qualifying ourselves now to -do everything ill. Nor is the result confined to our workmen only. The -introduction of French dexterity and of German erudition has been -harmful chiefly to our most accomplished artists--and in the last -Exhibition of our Royal Academy there was, I think, no exception to the -manifest fact that every painter of reputation painted worse than he did -ten years ago. - - -90. Admitting, however, (not that I suppose you will at once admit, but -for the sake of argument, supposing,) that this is true, what, we have -further to ask, can be done to discourage ourselves from calamitous -emulation, and withdraw our workmen from the sight of what is too good -to be of use to them? - -But this question is not one which can be determined by the needs, or -limited to the circumstances of Art. To live generally more modest and -contented lives; to win the greatest possible pleasure from the smallest -things; to do what is likely to be serviceable to our immediate -neighbours, whether it seem to them admirable or not; to make no -pretence of admiring what has really no hold upon our hearts; and to be -resolute in refusing all additions to our learning, until we have -perfectly arranged and secured what learning we have got;--these are -conditions, and laws, of unquestionable +sophia+ and +sophrosyne+, which -will indeed lead us up to fine art if we are resolved to have it fine; -but will also do what is much better, make rude art precious. - - -91. It is not, however, by any means necessary that provincial art -_should_ be rude, though it may be singular. Often it is no less -delicate than quaint, and no less refined in grace than original in -character. This is likely always to take place when a people of -naturally fine artistic temper work with the respect which, as I -endeavoured to show you in a former lecture, ought always to be paid to -local material and circumstance. - -I have placed in your educational series the photograph of the door of a -wooden house in Abbeville, and of the winding stair above; both so -exquisitely sculptured that the real vine-leaves which had wreathed -themselves about their pillars, cannot, in the photograph, be at once -discerned from the carved foliage. The latter, quite as graceful, can -only be known for art by its quaint setting. - -Yet this school of sculpture is altogether provincial. It could only -have risen in a richly-wooded chalk country, where the sapling trees -beside the brooks gave example to the workman of the most intricate -tracery, and the white cliffs above the meadows furnished docile -material to his hand. - - -92. I have now, to my sorrow, learned to despise the elaborate -intricacy, and the playful realizations, of the Norman designers; and -can only be satisfied by the reserved and proud imagination of the -master schools. But the utmost pleasure I now take in these is almost as -nothing, compared to the joy I used to have, when I knew no better, in -the fretted pinnacles of Rouen, and white lace, rather than stonework, -of the chapels of Reu and Amboise. - -Yet observe that the first condition of this really precious provincial -work is its being the best that can be done under the given -circumstances; and the second is, that though provincial, it is not in -the least frivolous or ephemeral, but as definitely civic, or public, in -design, and as permanent in the manner of it, as the work of the most -learned academies: while its execution brought out the energies of each -little state, not necessarily in rivalship, but severally in the -perfecting of styles which Nature had rendered it impossible for their -neighbours to imitate. - - -93. This civic unity, and the feeling of the workman that he is -performing his part in a great scene which is to endure for centuries, -while yet, within the walls of his city, it is to be a part of his own -peculiar life, and to be separate from all the world besides, developes, -together, whatever duty he acknowledges as a patriot, and whatever -complacency he feels as an artist. - -We now build, in our villages, by the rules of the Academy of London; -and if there be a little original vivacity or genius in any provincial -workman, he is almost sure to spend it in making a ridiculous toy. -Nothing is to me much more pathetic than the way that our neglected -workmen thus throw their lives away. As I was walking the other day -through the Crystal Palace, I came upon a toy which had taken the -leisure of five years to make; you dropped a penny into the chink of it, -and immediately a little brass steam-engine in the middle started into -nervously hurried action; some bell-ringers pulled strings at the bottom -of a church steeple which had no top; two regiments of cavalry marched -out from the sides, and manoeuvred in the middle; and two well-dressed -persons in a kind of opera-box expressed their satisfaction by approving -gestures. - -In old Ghent, or Bruges, or York, such a man as the one who made this -toy, with companions similarly minded, would have been taught how to -employ himself, not to their less amusement, but to better purpose; and -in their five years of leisure hours they would have carved a flamboyant -crown for the belfry-tower, and would have put chimes into it that would -have told the time miles away, with a pleasant tune for the hour, and a -variation for the quarters, and cost the passers-by in all the city and -plain not so much as the dropping of a penny into a chink. - - -94. Do not doubt that I feel, as strongly as any of you can feel, the -utter impossibility at present of restoring provincial simplicity to our -country towns. - -My despondency respecting this, and nearly all other matters which I -know to be necessary, is at least as great,--it is certainly more -painful to me,--in the decline of life,--than that which any of my -younger hearers can feel. But what I have to tell you of the unchanging -principles of nature, and of art, must not be affected by either hope or -fear. And if I succeed in convincing you what these principles are, -there are many practical consequences which you may deduce from them, if -ever you find yourselves, as young Englishmen are often likely to find -themselves, in authority over foreign tribes of peculiar or limited -capacities. - -Be assured that you can no more drag or compress men into perfection -than you can drag or compress plants. If ever you find yourselves set in -a position of authority, and are entrusted to determine modes of -education, ascertain first what the people you would teach have been in -the habit of doing, and encourage them to do _that_ better. Set no other -excellence before their eyes; disturb none of their reverence for the -past; do not think yourselves bound to dispel their ignorance, or to -contradict their superstitions; teach them only gentleness and truth; -redeem them by example from habits which you know to be unhealthy or -degrading; but cherish, above all things, _local associations_, and -_hereditary skill_. - -It is the curse of so-called civilization to pretend to originality by -the wilful invention of new methods of error, while it quenches wherever -it has power, the noble originality of nations, rising out of the purity -of their race, and the love of their native land. - - -95. I could say much more, but I think I have said enough to justify for -the present what you might otherwise have thought singular in the -methods I shall adopt for your exercise in the drawing schools. I shall -indeed endeavour to write down for you the laws of the art which is -centrally best; and to exhibit to you a certain number of its -unquestionable standards: but your own actual practice shall be limited -to objects which will explain to you the meaning, and awaken you to the -beauty, of the art of your own country. - -The first series of my lectures on sculpture must have proved to you -that I do not despise either the workmanship or the mythology of Greece; -but I must assert with more distinctness than even in my earliest works, -the absolute unfitness of all its results to be made the guides of -English students or artists. - -Every nation can represent, with prudence, or success, only the -realities in which it delights. What you have with you, and before you, -daily, dearest to your sight and heart, _that_, by the magic of your -hand, or of your lips, you can gloriously express to others; and what -you ought to have in your sight and heart,--what, if you have not, -nothing else can be truly seen or loved,--is the human life of your own -people, understood in its history, and admired in its presence. - -And unless that be first made beautiful, idealism must be false and -imagination monstrous. - -It is your influence on the existing world which, in your studies here, -you ought finally to consider; and although it is not, in that -influence, my function to direct you, I hope you will not be -discontented to know that I shall ask no effort from your art-genius, -beyond the rational suggestion of what we may one day hope to see -actually realized in England, in the sweetness of her landscape, and the -dignity of her people. - - * * * * * - -In connection with the subject of this lecture, I may mention to you -that I have received an interesting letter, requesting me to assist in -promoting some improvements designed in the city of Oxford. - -But as the entire charm and educational power of the city of Oxford, so -far as that educational power depended on reverent associations, or on -visible solemnities and serenities of architecture, have been already -destroyed; and, as far as our own lives extend, destroyed, I may say, -for ever, by the manufacturing suburb which heaps its ashes on one side, -and the cheap-lodging suburb which heaps its brickbats on the other; I -am myself, either as antiquary or artist, absolutely indifferent to what -happens next; except on grounds respecting the possible health, -cleanliness, and decency which may yet be obtained for the increasing -population. - -How far cleanliness and decency bear on art and science, or on the -changed functions of the university to its crowd of modern students, I -have partly to consider in connection with the subject of my next -lecture, and I will reserve therefore any definite notice of these -proposed improvements in the city, until the next occasion of meeting -you. - - - - - LECTURE VI. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCE OF LIGHT. - - _24th February, 1872._ - - -96. I have now, perhaps to the exhaustion of your patience, but you will -find, not without real necessity, defined the manner in which the mental -tempers, ascertained by philosophy to be evil or good, retard and -advance the parallel studies of science and art. - -In this and the two next following lectures I shall endeavour to state -to you the literal modes in which the virtues of art are connected with -the principles of exact science; but now, remember, I am speaking, not -of the consummate science of which art is the image; but only of what -science we have actually attained, which is often little more than -terminology (and even that uncertain), with only a gleam of true science -here and there. - -I will not delay you by any defence of the arrangement of sciences I -have chosen. Of course we may at once dismiss chemistry and pure -mathematics from our consideration. Chemistry can do nothing for art but -mix her colours, and tell her what stones will stand weather; (I wish, -at this day, she did as much;) and with pure mathematics we have nothing -whatever to do; nor can that abstract form of high mathesis stoop to -comprehend the simplicity of art. To a first wrangler at Cambridge, -under the present conditions of his trial, statues will necessarily be -stone dolls, and imaginative work unintelligible. We have, then, in true -fellowship with art, only the sciences of light and form, (optics and -geometry). If you will take the first syllable of the word 'geometry' to -mean earth in the form of flesh, as well as of clay, the two words sum -every science that regards graphic art, or of which graphic art can -represent the conclusions. - - -97. To-day we are to speak of optics, the science of seeing;--of that -power, whatever it may be, which (by Plato's definition), "through the -eyes, manifests colour to us." - -Hold that definition always, and remember that 'light' means accurately -the power that affects the eyes of animals with the sensation proper to -them. The study of the effect of light on nitrate of silver is -chemistry, not optics; and what is light to _us_ may indeed shine on a -stone; but is not light to the stone. The "fiat lux" of creation is, -therefore, in the deep sense of it, "fiat anima." - -We cannot say that it is merely "fiat oculus," for the effect of light -on living organism, even when sightless, cannot be separated from its -influence on sight. A plant consists essentially of two parts, root and -leaf: the leaf by nature seeks light, the root by nature seeks darkness: -it is not warmth or cold, but essentially light and shade, which are to -them, as to us, the appointed conditions of existence. - - -98. And you are to remember still more distinctly that the words "fiat -lux" mean indeed "fiat anima," because even the power of the eye itself, -as such, is _in_ its animation. You do not see _with_ the lens of the -eye. You see _through_ that, and by means of that, but you see with the -soul of the eye. - - -99. A great physiologist said to me the other day--it was in the -rashness of controversy, and ought not to be remembered, as a deliberate -assertion, therefore I do not give his name, still he did say--that -sight was "altogether mechanical." The words simply meant, if they meant -anything, that all his physiology had never taught him the difference -between eyes and telescopes. Sight is an absolutely spiritual -phenomenon; accurately, and only, to be so defined; and the "Let there -be light," is as much, when you understand it, the ordering of -intelligence, as the ordering of vision. It is the appointment of change -of what had been else only a mechanical effluence from things unseen to -things unseeing,--from stars that did not shine to earth that could not -perceive;--the change, I say, of that blind vibration into the glory of -the sun and moon for human eyes; so rendering possible also the -communication out of the unfathomable truth, of that portion of truth -which is good for us, and animating to us, and is set to rule over the -day and night of our joy and sorrow. - - -100. The sun was set thus 'to rule the day.' And of late you have -learned that he was set to rule everything that we know of. You have -been taught that, by the Sirens, as a piece of entirely new knowledge, -much to be exulted over. We painters, indeed, have been for some time -acquainted with the general look of the sun, and long before there were -painters there were wise men,--Zoroastrian and other,--who had suspected -that there was power in the sun; but the Sirens of yesterday have -somewhat new, it seems, to tell you of his authority, +epi chthoni -poulyboteire+. I take a passage, almost at random, from a recent -scientific work. - -"Just as the phenomena of water-formed rocks all owe their existence -directly or indirectly chiefly to the sun's energy, so also do the -phenomena interwoven with life. This has long been recognised by various -eminent British and foreign physicists; and in 1854 Professor ----, in -his memoir on the method of palaeontology, asserted that organisms were -but _manifestations of applied physics and applied chemistry_. Professor ----- puts the generalisations of physicists in a few words: When -speaking of the sun, it is remarked--'He rears the whole vegetable -world, and through it the animal; the lilies of the field are his -workmanship, the verdure of the meadows, and the cattle upon a thousand -hills. He forms the muscle, he urges the blood, he builds the brain. His -fleetness is in the lion's foot; he springs in the panther, he soars in -the eagle, he slides in the snake. He builds the forest and hews it -down, the power which raised the tree and that which wields the axe -being one and the same.'" - -All this is exceedingly true; and it is new in _one_ respect, namely, in -the ascertainment that the quantity of solar force necessary to produce -motive power is measurable, and, in its sum, unalterable. For the rest, -it was perfectly well known in Homer's time, as now, that animals could -not move till they were warm; and the fact that the warmth which enables -them to do so is finally traceable to the sun, would have appeared to a -Greek physiologist, no more interesting than, to a Greek poet, would -have been the no less certain fact, that "Tout ce qui se peut dire de -beau est dans les dictionnaires; il n'y a que les mots qui sont -transposes"--Everything fine, that can be said, is in the dictionaries; -it is only that the words are transposed. - -Yes, indeed; but to the +poietes+ the gist of the matter is _in_ the -transposition. The sun does, as the delighted physicist tells you, -unquestionably "slide in the snake;" but how comes he to adopt that -manner, we artists ask, of (literally) transposition? - - -101. The summer before last, as I was walking in the woods near the -Giesbach, on the Lake of Brientz, and moving very quietly, I came -suddenly on a small steel-gray serpent, lying in the middle of the path; -and it was greatly surprised to see me. Serpents, however, always have -complete command of their feelings, and it looked at me for a quarter of -a minute without the slightest change of posture: then, with an almost -imperceptible motion, it began to withdraw itself beneath a cluster of -leaves. Without in the least hastening its action, it gradually -concealed the whole of its body. I was about to raise one of the leaves, -when I saw what I thought was the glance of another serpent, in the -thicket at the path side; but it was the same one, which having once -withdrawn itself from observation beneath the leaves, used its utmost -agility to spring into the wood; and with so instantaneous a flash of -motion, that I never saw it leave the covert, and only caught the gleam -of light as it glided away into the copse. - - -102. Now, it was to me a matter of supreme indifference whether the -force which the creature used in this action was derived from the sun, -the moon, or the gas-works at Berne. What was, indeed, a matter of -interest to me, was just that which would have struck a peasant, or a -child;--namely, the calculating wisdom of the creature's device; and the -exquisite grace, strength, and precision of the action by which it was -accomplished. - - -103. I was interested then, I say, more in the device of the creature, -than in its source of motion. Nevertheless, I am pleased to hear, from -men of science, how necessarily that motion proceeds from the sun. But -where did its _device_ come from? There is no wisdom, no device in the -dust, any more than there is warmth in the dust. The springing of the -serpent is from the sun:--the wisdom of the serpent,--whence that? - - -104. From the sun also, is the only answer, I suppose, possible to -physical science. It is not a false answer: quite true, like the other, -up to a certain point. To-day, in the strength of your youth, you may -know what it is to have the power of the sun taken out of your arms and -legs. But when you are old, you will know what it is to have the power -of the sun taken out of your minds also. Such a thing may happen to you, -sometimes, even now; but it will continually happen to you when you are -my age. You will no more, then, think over a matter to any good purpose -after twelve o'clock in the day. It may be possible to think over, and, -much more, to talk over, matters, to little, or to bad, purpose after -twelve o'clock in the day. The members of your national legislature do -their work, we know, by gaslight; but you don't suppose the power of the -sun is in any of _their_ devices? Quite seriously, all the vital -functions,--and, like the rest and with the rest, the pure and wholesome -faculties of the brain,--rise and set with the sun: your digestion and -intellect are alike dependent on its beams; your thoughts, like your -blood, flow from the force of it, in all scientific accuracy and -necessity. Sol illuminatio nostra est; Sol salus nostra; Sol sapientia -nostra. - -And it is the final act and outcome of lowest national atheism, since it -cannot deny the sun, at least to strive to do without it; to blast the -day in heaven with smoke, and prolong the dance, and the council, by -night, with tapers, until at last, rejoicing--Dixit insipiens in corde -suo, non est Sol. - - -105. Well, the sliding of the serpent, and the device of the serpent, we -admit, come from the sun. The flight of the dove, and its -harmlessness,--do they also? - -The flight,--yes, assuredly. The Innocence?--It is a new question. How -of that? Between movement and non-movement--nay, between sense and -non-sense--the difference rests, we say, in the power of Apollo; but -between malice and innocence, where shall we find the root of _that_ -distinction? - - -106. Have you ever considered how much literal truth there is in the -words--"The light of the body is the eye. If, therefore, thine eye be -evil"--and the rest? How _can_ the eye be evil? How, if evil, can it -fill the whole body with darkness? - -What is the meaning of having one's body _full_ of darkness? It cannot -mean merely being blind. Blind, you may fall in a ditch if you move; but -you may be well, if at rest. But to be evil-eyed, is not that worse than -to have no eyes? and instead of being only in darkness, to have darkness -in _us_, portable, perfect, and eternal? - - -107. Well, in order to get at the meaning we may, indeed, now appeal to -physical science, and ask her to help us. How many manner of eyes are -there? You physical-science students should be able to tell us painters -that. We only know, in a vague way, the external aspect and expression -of eyes. We see, as we try to draw the endlessly-grotesque creatures -about us, what infinite variety of instruments they have; but you know, -far better than we do, how those instruments are constructed and -directed. You know how some play in their sockets with independent -revolution,--project into near-sightedness on pyramids of bone,--are -brandished at the points of horns,--studded over backs and -shoulders,--thrust at the ends of antennae to pioneer for the head, or -pinched up into tubercles at the corners of the lips. But how do the -creatures see out of all these eyes? - - -108. No business of ours, you may think? Pardon me. This is no Siren's -question--this is altogether business of ours, lest, perchance, any of -us should see partly in the same manner. Comparative sight is a far more -important question than comparative anatomy. It is no matter, though we -sometimes walk--and it may often be desirable to climb--like apes; but -suppose we only _see_ like apes, or like lower creatures? I can tell -you, the science of optics is an essential one to us; for exactly -according to these infinitely grotesque directions and multiplications -of instrument you have correspondent, not only intellectual but moral, -faculty in the soul of the creatures. Literally, if the eye be pure, the -body is pure; but, if the light of the body be but darkness, how great -is that darkness! - - -109. Have you ever looked attentively at the study I gave you of the -head of the rattle-snake? The serpent will keep its eyes fixed on you -for an hour together, a vertical slit in each admitting such image of -you as is possible to the rattlesnake retina, and to the rattlesnake -mind. How much of you do you think it sees? I ask that, first, as a pure -physical question. I do not know; it is not my business to know. You, -from your schools of physical science, should bring me answer. How much -of a man can a snake see? What sort of image of him is received through -that deadly vertical cleft in the iris;--through the glazed blue of the -ghastly lens? Make me a picture of the appearance of a man, as far as -you can judge it can take place on the snake's retina. Then ask -yourselves, farther, how much of speculation is possible to the snake, -touching this human aspect? - - -110. Or, if that seem too far beneath possible inquiry, how say you of -a tiger's eye, or a cat's? A cat may look at a king;--yes; but can it -_see_ a king when it looks at him? The beasts of prey never seem to me -to _look_, in our sense, at all. Their eyes are fascinated by the motion -of anything, as a kitten's by a ball;--they fasten, as if drawn by an -inevitable attraction, on their food. But when a cat caresses you, it -never looks at you. Its heart seems to be in its back and paws, not its -eyes. It will rub itself against you, or pat you with velvet tufts, -instead of talons; but you may talk to it an hour together, yet not -rightly catch its eye. Ascend higher in the races of being--to the fawn, -the dog, the horse; you will find that, according to the clearness of -sight, is indeed the kindness of sight, and that at last the noble eyes -of humanity look through humanity, from heart into heart, and with no -mechanical vision. And the Light of the body is the eye--yes, and in -happy life, the light of the heart also. - - -111. But now note farther: there is a mathematical power in the eye -which may far transcend its moral power. When the moral power is feeble, -the faculty of measurement, or of distinct delineation, may be supreme; -and of comprehension none. But here, again, I want the help of the -physical science schools. I believe the eagle has no scent, and hunts by -sight, yet flies higher than any other bird. Now, I want to know what -the appearance is to an eagle, two thousand feet up, of a sparrow in a -hedge, or of a partridge in a stubble-field. What kind of definition on -the retina do these brown spots take to manifest themselves as signs of -a thing eatable; and if an eagle sees a partridge so, does it see -everything else so? And then tell me, farther, does it see only a square -yard at a time, and yet, as it flies, take summary of the square yards -beneath it? When next you are travelling by express sixty miles an hour, -past a grass bank, try to see a grasshopper, and you will get some idea -of an eagle's optical business, if it takes only the line of ground -underneath it. Does it take more? - - -112. Then, besides this faculty of clear vision, you have to consider -the faculty of metric vision. Neither an eagle, nor a kingfisher, nor -any other darting bird, can see things with both their eyes at the same -time as completely as you and I can; but think of their faculty of -measurement as compared with ours! You will find that it takes you -months of labour before you can acquire accurate power, even of -_deliberate_ estimate of distances with the eye; it is one of the points -to which, most of all, I have to direct your work. And the curious thing -is that, given the degree of practice, you will measure ill or well with -the eye in proportion to the quantity of life in you. No one can measure -with a glance, when they are tired. Only the other day I got half an -inch out of a foot, in drawing merely a coat of arms, because I was -tired. But fancy what would happen to a swallow, if _it_ was half an -inch out in a foot, in flying round a corner! - - -113. Well, that is the first branch of the questions which we want -answered by optical science;--the actual distortion, contraction, and -other modification, of the sight of different animals, as far as it can -be known from the forms of their eyes. Then, secondly, we ourselves need -to be taught the connection of the sense of colour with health; the -difference in the physical conditions which lead us to seek for gloom, -or brightness of hue; and the nature of purity in colour, first in the -object seen, and then in the eye which prefers it. - - * * * * * - -(The portion of lecture here omitted referred to illustrations of -vulgarity and delicacy in colour, showing that the vulgar colours, even -when they seemed most glaring, were in reality impure and dull; and -destroyed each other by contention; while noble colour, intensely bright -and pure, was nevertheless entirely governed and calm, so that every -colour bettered and aided all the rest.) - - -114. You recollect how I urged you in my opening course of lectures -rather to work in the school of crystalline colour than in that of -shade. - -Since I gave that first course of lectures, my sense of the necessity of -this study of brightness primarily, and of purity and gaiety beyond all -other qualities, has deeply been confirmed by the influence which the -unclean horror and impious melancholy of the modern French school--most -literally the school of death--has gained over the popular mind. I will -not dwell upon the evil phrenzy to-day. But it is in order, at once to -do the best I can, in counteraction of its deadly influence, though not -without other and constant reasons, that I give you heraldry, with all -its splendour and its pride, its brightness of colour, and -honourableness of meaning, for your main elementary practice. - - -115. To-day I have only time left to press on your thoughts the deeper -law of this due joy in colour and light. - -On any morning of the year, how many pious supplications, do you -suppose, are uttered throughout educated Europe for "light"? How many -lips at least pronounce the word, and, perhaps, in the plurality of -instances, with some distinct idea attached to it? It is true the -speakers employ it only as a metaphor. But why is their language thus -metaphorical? If they mean merely to ask for spiritual knowledge or -guidance, why not say so plainly, instead of using this jaded figure of -speech? No boy goes to his father when he wants to be taught, or helped, -and asks his father to give him 'light.' He asks what he wants, advice -or protection. Why are not we also content to ask our Father for what we -want, in plain English? - -The metaphor, you will answer, is put into our mouths, and felt to be a -beautiful and necessary one. - -I admit it. In your educational series, first of all examples of modern -art, is the best engraving I could find of the picture which, founded -on that idea of Christ's being the Giver of Light, contains, I believe, -the most true and useful piece of religious vision which realistic art -has yet embodied. But why is the metaphor so necessary, or, rather, how -far is it a metaphor at all? Do you think the words 'Light of the World' -mean only 'Teacher or Guide of the World'? When the Sun of Justice is -said to rise with health in its wings, do you suppose the image only -means the correction of error? Or does it even mean so much? The Light -of Heaven is needed to do that perfectly. But what we are to pray for is -the Light of the _World_; nay, the Light "that lighteth _every man that -cometh into the world_." - - -116. You will find that it is no metaphor--nor has it ever been so. - -To the Persian, the Greek, and the Christian, the sense of the power of -the God of Light has been one and the same. That power is not merely in -teaching or protecting, but in the enforcement of purity of body, and of -equity or justice in the heart; and this, observe, not heavenly purity, -nor final justice; but, now, and here, actual purity in the midst of the -world's foulness,--practical justice in the midst of the world's -iniquity. And the physical strength of the organ of sight,--the physical -purity of the flesh, the actual love of sweet light and stainless -colour,--are the necessary signs, real, inevitable, and visible, of the -prevailing presence, with any nation, or in any house, of the "Light -that lighteth every man that cometh into the world." - - -117. _Physical_ purity;--actual love of sweet light, and of fair colour. -This is one palpable sign, and an entirely needful one, that we have got -what we pretend to pray for every morning. That, you will find, is the -meaning of Apollo's war with the Python--of your own St. George's war -with the dragon. You have got that battle stamped again on every -sovereign in your pockets, but do you think the sovereigns are helping, -at this instant, St. George in his battle? Once, on your gold of the -Henrys' times, you had St. Michael and the dragon, and called your coins -'angels.' How much have they done lately, of angelic work, think you, in -purifying the earth? - - -118. Purifying, literally, purging and cleansing. That is the first -"sacred art" all men have to learn. And the words I deferred to the -close of this lecture, about the proposed improvements in Oxford, are -very few. Oxford is, indeed, capable of much improvement, but only by -undoing the greater part of what has been done to it within the last -twenty years; and, at present, the one thing that I would say to -well-meaning persons is, 'For Heaven's sake--literally for Heaven's -sake--let the place alone, and clean it.' I walked last week to -Iffley--not having been there for thirty years. I did not know the -church inside; I found it pitch-dark with painted glass of barbarous -manufacture, and the old woman who showed it infinitely proud of letting -me in at the front door instead of the side one. But close by it, not -fifty yards down the hill, there was a little well--a holy well it -should have been; beautiful in the recess of it, and the lovely ivy and -weeds above it, had it but been cared for in a human way; but so full of -frogs that you could not have dipped a cup in it without catching one. - -What is the use of pretty painted glass in your churches when you have -the plagues of Egypt outside of them? - - -119. I walked back from Iffley to Oxford by what was once the most -beautiful approach to an academical city of any in Europe. Now it is a -wilderness of obscure and base buildings. You think it a fine thing to -go into Iffley church by the front door;--and you build cheap -lodging-houses over all the approach to the chief university of English -literature! That, forsooth, is your luminous cloister, and porch of -Polygnotus to your temple of Apollo. And in the centre of that temple, -at the very foot of the dome of the Radclyffe, between two principal -colleges, the lane by which I walked from my own college half an hour -ago, to this place,--Brasen-nose Lane--is left in a state as loathsome -as a back-alley in the East end of London. - - -120. These, I suppose, are the signs of extending liberality, and -disseminated advantages of education. - -Gentlemen, if, as was lately said by a leading member of your -Government, the function of a university be only to examine, it may -indeed examine the whole mob of England in the midst of a dunghill; but -it cannot teach the gentlemen of England in the midst of a dunghill; no, -nor even the people of England. How many of her people it _ought_ to -teach is a question. We think, now-a-days, our philosophy is to light -every man that cometh into the world, and to light every man equally. -Well, when indeed you give up all other commerce in this island, and, as -in Bacon's "New Atlantis," only buy and sell to get God's first -creature, which was light, there may be some equality of gain for us in -that possession. But until then,--and we are very far from such a -time--the light cannot be given to all men equally. Nay, it is becoming -questionable whether, instead of being equally distributed to all, it -may not be equally withdrawn from us all: whether the ideas of purity -and justice,--of loveliness which is to sanctify our peace,--and of -justice which is to sanctify our battle, are not vanishing from the -purpose of our policy, and even from the conception of our education. - -The uses, and the desire, of seclusion, of meditation, of restraint, and -of correction--are they not passing from us in the collision of worldly -interests, and restless contests of mean hope, and meaner fear? What -light, what health, what peace, or what security,--youths of England--do -you come here now to seek? In what sense do you receive--with what -sincerity do you adopt for yourselves--the ancient legend of your -schools, "Dominus illuminatio mea, et salus mea; quem timebo"? - - -121. Remember that the ancient theory on which this university was -founded,--not the theory of any one founder, observe, nor even the -concluded or expressed issue of the wisdom of many; but the tacit -feeling by which the work and hope of all were united and -completed--was, that England should gather from among her children a -certain number of purest and best, whom she might train to become, each -in their day of strength, her teachers and patterns in religion, her -declarers and doers of justice in law and her leaders in battle. Bred, -it might be, by their parents, in the fond poverty of learning, or -amidst the traditions and discipline of illustrious houses,--in either -manner separate, from their youth up, to their glorious offices--they -came here to be kindled into the lights that were to be set on the hills -of England, brightest of the pious, the loyal, and the brave. Whatever -corruption blighted, whatever worldliness buried, whatever sin polluted -their endeavour, this conception of its meaning remained; and was indeed -so fulfilled in faithfulness, that to the men whose passions were -tempered, and whose hearts confirmed, in the calm of these holy places, -you, now living, owe all that is left to you of hope in heaven, and all -of safety or honour that you have to trust and defend on earth. - -Their children have forfeited, some by guilt, and many in folly, the -leadership they inherited; and every man in England now is to do and to -learn what is right in his own eyes. How much need, therefore, that we -should learn first of all what eyes are; and what vision they ought to -possess--science of sight granted only to clearness of soul; but granted -in its fulness even to mortal eyes: for though, after the skin, worms -may destroy their body, happy the pure in heart, for they, yet in their -flesh, shall see the Light of Heaven, and know the will of God. - - - - - LECTURE VII. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF INORGANIC FORM. - - _February 9th, 1872._ - - -122. I did not wish in my last lecture, after I had directed your -attention to the special bearing of some of the principles I pleaded -for, to enforce upon you any farther general conclusions. But it is -necessary now to collect the gist of what I endeavoured to show you -respecting the organs of sight; namely, that in proportion to the -physical perfectness or clearness of them is the degree in which they -are raised from the perception of prey to the perception of beauty and -of affection. The imperfect and brutal instrument of the eye may be -vivid with malignity, or wild with hunger, or manifoldly detective with -microscopic exaggeration, assisting the ingenuity of insects with a -multiplied and permanent monstrosity of all things round them; but the -noble human sight, careless of prey, disdainful of minuteness, and -reluctant to anger, becomes clear in gentleness, proud in reverence, and -joyful in love. And finally, the physical splendour of light and colour, -so far from being the perception of a mechanical force by a mechanical -instrument, is an entirely spiritual consciousness, accurately and -absolutely proportioned to the purity of the moral nature, and to the -force of its natural and wise affections. - - -123. That was the sum of what I wished to show you in my last lecture; -and observe, that what remains to me doubtful in these things,--and it -is much--I do not trouble you with. Only what I know that on experiment -you can ascertain for yourselves, I tell you, and illustrate, for the -time, as well as I can. Experiments in art are difficult, and take years -to try; you may at first fail in them, as you might in a chemical -analysis; but in all the matters which in this place I shall urge on -your attention I can assure you of the final results. - -That, then, being the sum of what I could tell you with certainty -respecting the methods of sight, I have next to assure you that this -faculty of sight, disciplined and pure, is the only proper faculty -which the graphic artist is to use in his inquiries into nature. His -office is to show her appearances; his duty is to know them. It is not -his duty, though it may be sometimes for his convenience, while it is -always at his peril, that he knows more;--knows the _causes_ of -appearances, or the essence of the things that produce them. - - -124. Once again, therefore, I must limit my application of the word -science with respect to art. I told you that I did not mean by 'science' -such knowledge as that triangles on equal bases and between parallels -are equal, but such knowledge as that the stars in Cassiopeia are in the -form of a _W_. But, farther still, it is not to be considered as -science, for an artist, that they are stars at all. What _he_ has to -know is that they are luminous points which twinkle in a certain manner, -and are pale yellow, or deep yellow, and may be quite deceptively -imitated at a certain distance by brass-headed nails. This he ought to -know, and to remember accurately, and his art knowledge--the science, -that is to say--of which his art is to be the reflection, is the sum of -knowledges of this sort; his memory of the look of the sun and moon at -such and such times, through such and such clouds; his memory of the -look of the mountains,--of the look of sea,--of the look of human faces. - - -125. Perhaps you would not call that 'science' at all. It is no matter -what either you or I call it. It _is_ science of a certain order of -facts. Two summers ago, looking from Verona at sunset, I saw the -mountains beyond the Lago di Garda of a strange blue, vivid and rich -like the bloom of a damson. I never saw a mountain-blue of that -particular quality before or since. My science as an artist consists in -my knowing that sort of blue from every other sort, and in my perfect -recollection that this particular blue had such and such a green -associated with it in the near fields. I have nothing whatever to do -with the atmospheric causes of the colour: that knowledge would merely -occupy my brains wastefully, and warp my artistic attention and energy -from their point. Or to take a simpler instance yet: Turner, in his -early life, was sometimes good-natured, and would show people what he -was about. He was one day making a drawing of Plymouth harbour, with -some ships at the distance of a mile or two, seen against the light. -Having shown this drawing to a naval officer, the naval officer -observed with surprise, and objected with very justifiable indignation, -that the ships of the line had no port-holes. "No," said Turner, -"certainly not. If you will walk up to Mount Edgecumbe, and look at the -ships against the sunset, you will find you can't see the port-holes." -"Well, but," said the naval officer, still indignant, "you know the -port-holes are there." "Yes," said Turner, "I know that well enough; but -my business is to draw what I see, and not what I know is there." - - -126. Now, that is the law of all fine artistic work whatsoever; and, -more than that, it is, on the whole, perilous to you, and undesirable, -that you _should_ know what is there. If, indeed, you have so perfectly -disciplined your sight that it cannot be influenced by prejudice;--if -you are sure that none of your knowledge of what is there will be -allowed to assert itself; and that you can reflect the ship as simply as -the sea beneath it does, though you may know it with the intelligence of -a sailor,--then, indeed, you may allow yourself the pleasure, and what -will sometimes be the safeguard from error, of learning what ships or -stars, or mountains, are in reality; but the ordinary powers of human -perception are almost certain to be disturbed by the knowledge of the -real nature of what they draw: and, until you are quite fearless of your -faithfulness to the appearances of things, the less you know of their -reality the better. - - -127. And it is precisely in this passive and naive simplicity that art -becomes, not only greatest in herself, but most useful to science. If -she _knew_ anything of what she was representing, she would exhibit that -partial knowledge with complacency; and miss the points beside it, and -beyond it. Two painters draw the same mountain; the one has got -unluckily into his head some curiosity about glacier marking; and the -other has a theory of cleavage. The one will scratch his mountain all -over;--the other split it to pieces; and both drawings will be equally -useless for the purposes of honest science. - - -128. Any of you who chance to know my books cannot but be surprised at -my saying these things; for, of all writers on art, I suppose there is -no one who appeals so often as I do to physical science. But observe, I -appeal as a critic of art, never as a master of it. Turner made drawings -of mountains and clouds which the public said were absurd. I said, on -the contrary, they were the only true drawings of mountains and clouds -ever made yet: and I proved this to be so, as only it could be proved, -by steady test of physical science: but Turner had drawn his mountains -rightly, long before their structure was known to any geologist in -Europe; and has painted perfectly truths of anatomy in clouds which I -challenge any meteorologist in Europe to explain at this day. - - -129. And indeed I was obliged to leave "Modern Painters" incomplete, or, -rather, as a mere sketch of intention, in analysis of the forms of cloud -and wave, because I had not scientific data enough to appeal to. Just -reflect for an instant how absolutely whatever has been done in art to -represent these most familiar, yet most spectral forms of cloud--utterly -inorganic, yet, by spiritual ordinance, in their kindness fair, and in -their anger frightful,--how all that has yet been done to represent -them, from the undulating bands of blue and white which give to heraldry -its nebule bearing, to the finished and deceptive skies of Turner, has -been done without one syllable of help from the lips of science.[F] - - [F] Rubens' rainbow, in the Loan Exhibition this year, was of dull - blue, _darker_ than the sky, in a scene lighted from the side of - the rainbow. Rubens is not to be blamed for ignorance of optics, - but for never having so much as looked at a rainbow carefully: and - I do not believe that my friend Mr. Alfred Hunt, whose study of - rainbow, in the rooms of the Water Colour Society last year, was - unrivalled, for vividness and truth, by any I know, learned how to - paint it by studying optics. - - -130. The rain which flooded our fields the Sunday before last, was -followed, as you will remember, by bright days, of which Tuesday the -20th was, in London, notable for the splendour, towards the afternoon, -of its white cumulus clouds. There has been so much black east wind -lately, and so much fog and artificial gloom, besides, that I find it is -actually some two years since I last saw a noble cumulus cloud under -full light. I chanced to be standing under the Victoria Tower at -Westminster, when the largest mass of them floated past, that day, from -the north-west; and I was more impressed than ever yet by the awfulness -of the cloud-form, and its unaccountableness, in the present state of -our knowledge. The Victoria Tower, seen against it, had no magnitude: it -was like looking at Mont Blanc over a lamp-post. The domes of cloud-snow -were heaped as definitely; their broken flanks were as grey and firm as -rocks, and the whole mountain, of a compass and height in heaven which -only became more and more inconceivable as the eye strove to ascend it, -was passing behind the tower with a steady march, whose swiftness must -in reality have been that of a tempest: yet, along all the ravines of -vapour, precipice kept pace with precipice, and not one thrust another. - - -131. What is it that hews them out? Why is the blue sky pure -there,--cloud solid here; and edged like marble: and why does the state -of the blue sky pass into the state of cloud, in that calm advance? - -It is true that you can more or less imitate the forms of cloud with -explosive vapour or steam; but the steam melts instantly, and the -explosive vapour dissipates itself. The cloud, of perfect form, proceeds -unchanged. It is not an explosion, but an enduring and advancing -presence. The more you think of it, the less explicable it will become -to you. - - -132. That this should yet be unexplained in the kingdom of the air is, -however, no marvel, since aspects of a similar kind are unexplained in -the earth, which we tread, and in the water which we drink and wash -with. You seldom pass a day without receiving some pleasure from the -cloudings in marble; can you explain how the stone was clouded? You -certainly do not pass a day without washing your hands. Can you explain -the frame of a soap-bubble? - - -133. I have allowed myself, by way of showing at once what I wanted to -come to, to overlook the proper arrangement of my subject, and I must -draw back a little. - -For all his own purposes, merely graphic, we say, if an artist's eye is -fine and faithful, the fewer points of science he has in his head, the -better. But for purposes _more_ than graphic, in order that he may feel -towards things as he should, and choose them as _we_ should, he ought to -know something about them; and if he is quite sure that he can receive -the science of them without letting himself become uncandid and narrow -in observation, it is very desirable that he should be acquainted with a -little of the alphabet of structure,--just as much as may quicken and -certify his observation, without prejudicing it. Cautiously, therefore, -and receiving it as a perilous indulgence, he may venture to learn, -perhaps as much astronomy as may prevent his carelessly putting the new -moon wrong side upwards; and as much botany as will prevent him from -confusing, which I am sorry to say Turner did, too often, Scotch firs -with stone pines. He may concede so much to geology as to choose, of two -equally picturesque views, one that illustrates rather than conceals the -structure of a crag: and perhaps, once or twice in his life, a portrait -painter might advantageously observe how unlike a skull is to a face. -And for you, who are to use your drawing as one element in general -education, it is desirable that physical science should assist in the -attainment of truth which a real painter seizes by practice of eye. - - -134. For this purpose I shall appeal to your masters in science to -furnish us, as they have leisure, with some simple and readable accounts -of the structure of things which we have to draw continually. Such -scientific accounts will not usually much help us to draw them, but will -make the drawing, when done, far more valuable to us. - -I have told you, for instance, that nobody--at least, no painter--can at -present explain the structure of a bubble. To know that structure will -not help you to draw sea-foam, but it will make you look at sea-foam -with greater interest. - -I am not able now to watch the course of modern science, and may perhaps -be in error in thinking that the frame of a bubble is still unexplained. -But I have not yet met, by any chance, with an account of the forces -which, under concussion, arrange the particles of a fluid into a -globular film; though, from what I know of cohesion, gravity, and the -nature of the atmosphere, I can make some shift to guess at the kind of -action that takes place in forming a single bubble. But how one bubble -absorbs another without breaking it; or what exact methods of tension -prepare for the change of form, and establish it in an instant, I am -utterly at a loss to conceive. - -Here, I think, then, is one familiar matter which up to the possible -point, science might condescendingly interpret for us. The exhaustion of -the film in preparation for its change: the determination of the smaller -bubble to yield itself up to the larger; the instantaneous flash into -the new shape, and the swift adjustment of the rectangular lines of -intersection in the marvellous vaulting--all this I want to be -explained to us, so that, if we cannot understand it altogether, we may -at least know exactly how far we do, and how far we do not. - - -135. And, next to the laws of the formation of a bubble, I want to see, -in simple statement, those of the formation of a bottle. Namely, the -laws of its resistance to fracture, from without and within, by -concussion or explosion; and the due relations of form to thickness of -material; so that, putting the problem in a constant form, we may know, -out of a given quantity of material, how to make the strongest bottle -under given limitations as to shape. For instance,--you have so much -glass given you: your bottle is to hold two pints, to be flat-bottomed, -and so narrow and long in the neck that you can grasp it with your hand. -What will be its best ultimate form? - - -136. Probably, if you thought it courteous, you would laugh at me just -now; and, at any rate, are thinking to yourselves that _this_ art -problem at least needs no scientific investigation, having been -practically solved, long ago, by the imperative human instinct for the -preservation of bottled stout. But you are only feeling now, gentlemen, -and recognizing in one instance, what I tell you of all. Every -scientific investigation is, in the same sense as this would be, useless -to the trained master of any art. To the soap-bubble blower, and -glass-blower,--to the pot-maker and bottle-maker,--if dexterous -craftsmen, your science is of no account; and the imp of their art may -be imagined as always looking triumphantly and contemptuously, out of -its successfully-produced bottle, on the vain analysis of centrifugal -impulse and inflating breath. - - -137. Nevertheless, in the present confusion of instinct and opinion as -to beautiful form, it is desirable to have these two questions more -accurately dealt with. For observe what they branch into. The coloured -segments of globe out of which foam is constituted, are portions of -spherical vaults constructed of fluent particles. You cannot have the -principles of spherical vaulting put in more abstract terms. - -Then considering the arch as the section of a vault, the greater number -of Gothic arches may be regarded as the intersections of two spherical -vaults. - -Simple Gothic foliation is merely the triple, quadruple, or variously -multiple repetition of such intersection. - -And the beauty--(observe this carefully)--the beauty of Gothic arches, -and of their foliation, always involves reference to the strength of -their structure; but only to their structure as _self-sustaining; not as -sustaining superincumbent weight_. In the most literal of senses, "the -earth hath bubbles as the water hath; and these are of them." - - -138. What do you think made Michael Angelo look back to the dome of -Santa Maria del Fiore, saying, "Like thee I will not build one, better -than thee I cannot"? To you or to me there is nothing in that dome -different from hundreds of others. Which of you, who have been at -Florence, can tell me honestly he saw anything wonderful in it? But -Michael Angelo knew the exact proportion of thickness to weight and -curvature which enabled it to stand as securely as a mountain of -adamant, though it was only a film of clay, as frail, in proportion to -its bulk, as a sea shell. Over the massy war towers of the city it -floated; fragile, yet without fear. "Better than thee I cannot." - - -139. Then think what the investigation of the bottle branches into, -joined with that of its necessary companion, the cup. There is a sketch -for you of the cup of cups, the pure Greek +kantharos+, which is always -in the hand of Dionusos, as the thunderbolt is in that of Zeus. Learn -but to draw that thoroughly, and you won't have much more to learn of -abstract form; for the investigation of the kinds of line that limit -this will lead you into all the practical geometry of nature; the -ellipses of her sea-bays in perspective; the parabolas of her waterfalls -and fountains in profile; the catenary curves of their falling festoons -in front; the infinite variety of accelerated or retarded curvature in -every condition of mountain debris. But do you think mere science can -measure for you any of these things? That book on the table is one of -the four volumes of Sir William Hamilton's "Greek Vases." He has -measured every important vase vertically and horizontally, with -precision altogether admirable, and which may, I hope, induce you to -have patience with me in the much less complex, though even more -scrupulous, measurements which I shall require on my own examples. Yet -English pottery remains precisely where it was, in spite of all this -investigation. Do you fancy a Greek workman ever made a vase by -measurement? He dashed it from his hand on the wheel, and it was -beautiful: and a Venetian glass-blower swept you a curve of crystal from -the end of his pipe; and Reynolds or Tintoret swept you a curve of -colour from their pencils, as a musician the cadence of a note, -unerring, and to be measured, if you please, afterwards, with the -exactitude of Divine law. - - -140. But, if the truth and beauty of art are thus beyond attainment by -help of science, how much more its invention? I must defer what I have -chiefly to say on this head till next lecture; but to-day I can -illustrate, simply, the position of invention with respect to science in -one very important group of inorganic forms--those of drapery. - - -141. If you throw at random over a rod a piece of drapery of any -material which will fall into graceful folds, you will get a series of -sinuous folds in catenary curves: and any given disposition of these -will be nearly as agreeable as any other; though, if you throw the stuff -on the rod a thousand times, it will not fall twice alike. - - -142. But suppose, instead of a straight rod, you take a beautiful nude -statue, and throw the piece of linen over that. You may encumber and -conceal its form altogether; you may entirely conceal portions of the -limbs, and show others; or you may leave indications, under the thin -veil, of the contours which are hidden; but in ninety-nine cases out of -a hundred you will wish the drapery taken off again; you will feel that -the folds are in some sort discrepant and harmful, and eagerly snatch -them away. However passive the material, however softly accommodated to -the limbs, the wrinklings will always look foreign to the form, like the -drip of a heavy shower of rain falling off it, and will load themselves -in the hollows uncomfortably. You will have to pull them about; to -stretch them one way, loosen them in another, and supply the quantity of -government which a living person would have given to the dress, before -it becomes at all pleasing to you. - - -143. Doing your best, you will still not succeed to your mind, provided -you have, indeed, a mind worth pleasing. No adjustment that you can -make, on the quiet figure, will give any approximation to the look of -drapery which has previously accommodated itself to the action which -brought the figure into the position in which it stays. On a really -living person, gracefully dressed, and who has paused from graceful -motion, you will get, again and again, arrangements of fold which you -can admire: but they will not remain to be copied, the first following -movement alters all. If you had your photographic plate ready and could -photograph--I don't know if it has been tried--girls, like waves, as -they move, you would get what was indeed lovely; and yet, when you -compared even such results with fine sculpture, you would see that there -was something wanting;--that, in the deepest sense, _all_ was yet -wanting. - - -144. Yet this is the most that the plurality of artists can do, or think -of doing. They draw the nude figure with careful anatomy; they put their -model or their lay figure into the required position; they arrange -draperies on it to their mind, and paint them from the reality. All such -work is absolutely valueless,--worse than valueless in the end of it, -blinding us to the qualities of fine work. - -In true design it is in this matter of drapery as in all else. There is -not a fold too much, and all that are given aid the expression, whether -of movement or character. Here is a bit of Greek sculpture, with many -folds; here is a bit of Christian sculpture with few. From the many, -not one could be removed without harm, and to the few, not one could be -added. This alone is art, and no science will ever enable you to do -this, but the poetic and fabric instincts only. - - -145. Nevertheless, however far above science, your work must comply with -all the requirements of science. The first thing you have to ask is, Is -it scientifically right? That is still nothing, but it is essential. In -modern imitations of Gothic work the artists think it religious to be -wrong, and that Heaven will be propitious only to saints whose stoles or -petticoats stand or fall into incredible angles. - -All that nonsense I will soon get well out of your heads by enabling you -to make accurate studies from real drapery, so that you may be able to -detect in a moment whether the folds in any design are natural and true -to the form, or artificial and ridiculous. - - -146. But this, which is the science of drapery, will never do more than -guard you in your first attempts in the art of it. Nay, when once you -have mastered the elements of such science, the most sickening of all -work to you will be that in which the draperies are all right,--and -nothing else is. In the present state of our schools one of the chief -mean merits against which I shall have to warn you is the imitation of -what milliners admire: nay, in many a piece of the best art I shall have -to show you that the draperies are, to some extent, intentionally -ill-done, _lest_ you should look at them. Yet, through every complexity -of desirableness, and counter-peril, hold to the constant and simple law -I have always given you--that the best work must be right in the -beginning, and lovely in the end. - - -147. Finally, observe that what is true respecting these simple forms of -drapery is true of all other inorganic form. It must become organic -under the artist's hand by his invention. As there must not be a fold in -a vestment too few or too many, there must not, in noble landscape, be a -fold in a mountain, too few or too many. As you will never get from real -linen cloth, by copying it ever so faithfully, the drapery of a noble -statue, so you will never get from real mountains, copy them never so -faithfully, the forms of noble landscape. Anything more beautiful than -the photographs of the Valley of Chamouni, now in your print-sellers' -windows, cannot be conceived. For geographical and geological purposes -they are worth anything; for art purposes, worth--a good deal less than -zero. You may learn much from them, and will mislearn more. But in -Turner's "Valley of Chamouni" the mountains have not a fold too much, -nor too little. There are no such mountains at Chamouni: they are the -ghosts of eternal mountains, such as have been, and shall be, for -evermore. - - -148. So now in sum, for I may have confused you by illustration,-- - -I. You are, in drawing, to try only to represent the appearances of -things, never what you know the things to be. - -II. Those appearances you are to test by the appliance of the scientific -laws relating to aspect; and to learn, by accurate measurement, and the -most fixed attention, to represent with absolute fidelity. - -III. Having learned to represent actual appearances faithfully, if you -have any human faculty of your own, visionary appearances will take -place to you which will be nobler and more true than any actual or -material appearances; and the realization of these is the function of -every fine art, which is founded absolutely, therefore, in truth, and -consists absolutely in imagination. And once more we may conclude with, -but now using them in a deeper sense, the words of our master--"The best -in this kind are but shadows." - - * * * * * - -It is to be our task, gentlemen, to endeavour that they may be at least -so much. - - - - - LECTURE VIII. - - THE RELATION TO ART OF THE SCIENCES OF ORGANIC FORM. - - _March 2nd, 1872._ - - -149. I have next in order to speak of the relation of art to science, in -dealing with its own principal subject--organic form, as the expression -of life. And, as in my former lecture, I will tell you at once what I -wish chiefly to enforce upon you. - -First,--but this I shall have no time to dwell upon,--That the true -power of art must be founded on a general knowledge of organic nature, -not of the human frame only. - -Secondly.--That in representing this organic nature, quite as much as in -representing inanimate things, Art has nothing to do with structures, -causes, or absolute facts; but only with appearances. - -Thirdly.--That in representing these appearances, she is more hindered -than helped by the knowledge of things which do not externally appear; -and therefore, that the study of anatomy generally, whether of plants, -animals, or man, is an impediment to graphic art. - -Fourthly.--That especially in the treatment and conception of the human -form, the habit of contemplating its anatomical structure is not only a -hindrance, but a degradation; and farther yet, that even the study of -the external form of the human body, more exposed than it may be -healthily and decently in daily life, has been essentially destructive -to every school of art in which it has been practised. - - -150. These four statements I undertake, in the course of our future -study, gradually to confirm to you. In a single lecture I, of course, -have time to do little more than clearly state and explain them. - -First, I tell you that art should take cognizance of all living things, -and know them, so as to be able to name, that is to say, in the truest -distinctive way, to describe them. The Creator daily brings, before the -noblest of His creatures, every lower creature, that whatsoever Man -calls it, may be the name thereof. - -Secondly.--In representing, nay, in thinking of, and caring for, these -beasts, man has to think of them essentially with their skins on them, -and with their souls in them. He is to know how they are spotted, -wrinkled, furred, and feathered: and what the look of them is, in the -eyes; and what grasp, or cling, or trot, or pat, in their paws and -claws. He is to take every sort of view of them, in fact, except -one,--the Butcher's view. He is never to think of them as bones and -meat. - -Thirdly.--In the representation of their appearance, the knowledge of -bones and meat, of joint and muscle, is more a hindrance than a help. - -Lastly.--With regard to the human form, such knowledge is a degradation -as well as a hindrance; and even the study of the nude is injurious, -beyond the limits of honour and decency in daily life. - -Those are my four positions. I will not detain you by dwelling on the -first two--that we should know every sort of beast, and know it with its -skin on it, and its soul within it. What you feel to be a -paradox--perhaps you think an incredible and insolent paradox--is my -telling you that you will be hindered from doing this by the study of -anatomy. I address myself, therefore, only to the last two points. - - -151. Among your standard engravings, I have put that of the picture by -Titian, in the Strozzi Palace, of a little Strozzi maiden feeding her -dog. I am going to put in the Rudimentary Series, where you can always -get at it (R. 125), this much more delightful, though not in all points -standard, picture by Reynolds, of an infant daughter of George the -Third's, with her Skye terrier. - -I have no doubt these dogs are the authentic pets, given in as true -portraiture as their mistresses; and that the little Princess of -Florence and Princess of England were both shown in the company which, -at that age, they best liked;--the elder feeding her favourite, and the -baby with her arms about the neck of hers. - -But the custom of putting either the dog, or some inferior animal, to be -either in contrast, or modest companionship, with the nobleness of human -form and thought, is a piece of what may be called mental comparative -anatomy, which has its beginning very far back in art indeed. One of -quite the most interesting Greek vases in the British Museum is that of -which the painting long went under the title of "Anacreon and his Dog." -It is a Greek lyric poet, singing with lifted head, in the action given -to Orpheus and Philammon in their moments of highest inspiration; while, -entirely unaffected by and superior to the music, there walks beside him -a sharp-nosed and curly-tailed dog, painted in what the exclusive -admirers of Greek art would, I suppose, call an ideal manner; that is to -say, his tail is more like a display of fireworks than a tail; but the -ideal evidently founded on the material existence of a charming, though -supercilious, animal not unlike the one which is at present the chief -solace of my labours in Oxford, Dr. Acland's dog Bustle. I might go much -farther back than this; but at all events, from the time of the golden -dog of Pandareos, the fawn of Diana, and the eagle, owl, and peacock of -the great Greek gods, you find a succession of animal types--centralized -in the Middle Ages, of course, by the hound and the falcon--used in art -either to symbolize, or contrast with, dignity in human persons. In -modern portraiture, the custom has become vulgarized by the anxiety of -everybody who sends their picture, or their children's, to the Royal -Academy, to have it demonstrated to the public by the exhibition of a -pony, and a dog with a whip in its mouth, that they live, at the proper -season, in a country house. But by the greater masters the thing is done -always with a deep sense of the mystery of the comparative existences of -living creatures, and of the methods of vice and virtue exhibited by -them. Albert Duerer scarcely ever draws a scene in the life of the -Virgin, without putting into the foreground some idle cherubs at play -with rabbits or kittens; and sometimes lets his love of the grotesque -get entirely the better of him, as in the engraving of the Madonna with -the monkey. Veronese disturbs the interview of the queen of Sheba with -Solomon, by the petulance of the queen of Sheba's Blenheim spaniel, whom -Solomon had not treated with sufficient respect; and when Veronese is -introduced himself, with all his family, to the Madonna, I am sorry to -say that his own pet dog turns its back to the Madonna, and walks out of -the room. - - -152. But among all these symbolic playfulnesses of the higher masters, -there is not one more perfect than this study by Reynolds of the infant -English Princess with her wire-haired terrier. He has put out his whole -strength to show the infinite differences, yet the blessed harmonies, -between the human and the lower nature. First, having a blue-eyed,[G] -soft baby to paint, he gives its full face, as round as may be, and -rounds its eyes to complete openness, because somebody is coming whom it -does not know. But it opens its eyes in quiet wonder, and is not -disturbed, but behaves as a princess should. Beside this soft, -serenely-minded baby, Reynolds has put the roughest and roughest-minded -dog he could think of. Instead of the full round eyes, you have only the -dark places in the hair where you know the terrier's eyes must be--sharp -enough, if you could see them--and very certainly seeing you, but not at -all wondering at you, like the baby's. For the terrier has instantly -made up his mind about you; and above all, that you have no business -there; and is growling and snarling in his fiercest manner, though -without moving from his mistress's side, or from under her arm. You have -thus the full contrast between the grace and true charm of the child, -who "thinketh no evil" of you, and the uncharitable narrowness of -nature in the grown-up dog of the world, who thinks nothing but evil of -you. But the dog's virtue and faithfulness are not told less clearly; -the baby evidently uses the creature just as much for a pillow as a -playmate;--buries its arm in the rough hair of it with a loving -confidence, half already converting itself to protection: and baby will -take care of dog, and dog of baby, through all chances of time and -fortune. - - [G] I have not seen the picture: in the engraving the tint of the - eyes would properly represent grey or blue. - - -153. Now the exquisiteness with which the painter has applied all his -skill in composition, all his dexterity in touch of pencil, and all his -experience of the sources of expression, to complete the rendering of -his comparison, cannot, in any of the finest subtleties of it, be -explained; but the first steps of its science may be easily traced; and -with little pains you may see how a simple and large mass of white is -opposed to a rugged one of grey; how the child's face is put in front -light, that no shadow may detract from the brightness which makes her, -as in Arabian legends, "a princess like to the full moon"--how, in this -halo, the lips and eyes are brought out in deep and rich colour, while -scarcely a gleam of reflection is allowed to disturb the quietness of -the eyes;--(the terrier's, you feel, would glitter enough, if you could -see them, and flash back in shallow fire; but the princess's eyes are -thinking, and do not flash;)--how the quaint cap surrounds, with its not -wholly painless formalism, the courtly and patient face, opposed to the -rugged and undressed wild one; and how the easy grace of soft limb and -rounded neck is cast, in repose, against the uneasily gathered up -crouching of the short legs, and petulant shrug of the eager shoulders, -in the ignobler creature. - - -154. Now, in his doing of all this, Sir Joshua was thinking of, and -seeing, whatever was best in the creatures, within and without. Whatever -was most perfectly doggish--perfectly childish--in soul and body. The -absolute truth of outer aspect, and of inner mind, he seizes infallibly; -but there is one part of the creatures which he never, for an instant, -thinks of, or cares for,--their bones. Do you suppose that, from first -to last, in painting such a picture, it would ever enter Sir Joshua's -mind to think what a dog's skull would look like, beside a baby's? The -quite essential facts to him are those of which the skull gives no -information--that the baby has a flattish pink nose, and the dog a bossy -black one. You might dissect all the dead dogs in the water supply of -London without finding out, what, as a painter, it is here your only -business precisely to know,--what sort of shininess there is on the end -of a terrier's nose; and for the position and action of the creatures, -all the four doctors together, who set Bustle's leg for him the other -day, when he jumped out of a two-pair-of-stairs window to bark at the -volunteers, could not have told Sir Joshua how to make his crouching -terrier look ready to snap, nor how to throw the child's arm over its -neck in complete, yet not languid, rest. - - -155. Sir Joshua, then, does not think of, or care for, anatomy, in this -picture; but if he had, would it have done him harm? You may easily see -that the child's limbs are not drawn with the precision that Mantegna, -Duerer, or Michael Angelo would have given them. Would some of their -science not have bettered the picture? - -I can show you exactly the sort of influence their science would have -had. - -In your Rudimentary Series, I have placed in sequence two of Duerer's -most celebrated plates (R. 65, R. 66), the coat of arms with the skull, -and the Madonna crowned by angels; and that you may see precisely what -qualities are, and are not, in this last, I have enlarged the head by -photography, and placed it in your Reference Series (117). You will find -the skull is perfectly understood, and exquisitely engraved, but the -face, imperfectly understood and coarsely engraved. No man who has -studied the skull as carefully as Duerer did, ever could engrave a face -beautifully, for the perception of the bones continually thrusts itself -upon him in wrong places, and in trying to conquer or modify it, he -distorts the flesh. Where the features are marked, and full of -character, he can quit himself of the impression; but in the rounded -contour of women's faces he is always forced to think of the skull; and -even in his ordinary work often draws more of bones and hair, than face. - - -156. I could easily give you more definite, but very disagreeable, -proofs of the evil of knowing the anatomy of the human face too -intimately: but will rather give you further evidence by examining the -skull and face of the creature who has taught us so much already,--the -eagle. - -Here is a slight sketch of the skull of the golden eagle. It may be -interesting to you sometimes to make such drawings roughly for the sake -of the points of mechanical arrangement--as here in the circular bones -of the eye-socket; but don't suppose that drawing these a million of -times over will ever help you in the least to draw an eagle itself. On -the contrary, it would almost to a certainty hinder you from noticing -the essential point in an eagle's head--the projection of the brow. All -the main work of the eagle's eye is, as we saw, in looking down. To keep -the sunshine above from teasing it, the eye is put under a triangular -penthouse, which is precisely the most characteristic thing in the -bird's whole aspect. Its hooked beak does not materially distinguish it -from a cockatoo, but its hooded eye does. But that projection is not -accounted for in the skull; and so little does the anatomist care about -it, that you may hunt through the best modern works on ornithology, and -you will find eagles drawn with all manner of dissections of skulls, -claws, clavicles, sternums, and gizzards; but you won't find so much as -one poor falcon drawn with a falcon's eye. - - -157. But there is another quite essential point in an eagle's head, in -comprehending which, again, the skull will not help us. The skull in the -human creature fails in three essential points. It is eyeless, noseless, -and lipless. It fails only in an eagle in the two points of eye and lip; -for an eagle has no nose worth mentioning; his beak is only a -prolongation of his jaws. But he has lips very much worth mentioning, -and of which his skull gives no account. One misses them much from a -human skull:--"Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how -oft,"--but from an eagle's you miss them more, for he is distinct from -other birds in having with his own eagle's eye, a dog's lips, or very -nearly such; an entirely fleshy and ringent mouth, bluish pink, with a -perpetual grin upon it. - -So that if you look, not at his skull, but at him, attentively enough, -you will precisely get Aeschylus's notion of him, essential in the Greek -mind--+ptenos kyon daphoinos aietos+--and then, if you want to see the -use of his beak or bill, as distinguished from a dog's teeth, take a -drawing from the falconry of the Middle Ages, and you will see how a -piece of flesh becomes a _rag_ to him, a thing to tear up,--+diartamesei -somatos mega rakos+. There you have it precisely, in a falcon I got out -of Mr. Coxe's favourite fourteenth century missal. - -Now look through your natural history books from end to end; see if you -can find one drawing, with all their anatomy, which shows you either the -eagle's eye, his lips, or this essential use of his beak, so as to -enable you thoroughly to understand those two lines of Aeschylus: then, -look at this Greek eagle on a coin of Elis, R. 50, and this Pisan one, -in marble, Edu. 131, and you will not doubt any more that it is better -to look at the living birds, than to cut them to pieces. - - -158. Anatomy, then,--I will assume that you grant, for the moment, as I -will assuredly prove to you eventually,--will not help us to draw the -true appearances of things. But may it not add to our intelligent -conception of their nature? - -So far from doing this, the anatomical study which has, to our much -degradation and misfortune, usurped the place, and taken the name, at -once of art and of natural history, has produced the most singularly -mischievous effect on the faculty of delineation with respect to -different races of animals. In all recent books on natural history, you -will find the ridiculous and ugly creatures clone well, the noble and -beautiful creatures done, I do not say merely ill, but in no wise. You -will find the law hold universally that apes, pigs, rats, weasels, -foxes, and the like,--but especially apes,--are drawn admirably; but not -a stag, not a lamb, not a horse, not a lion;--the nobler the creature, -the more stupidly it is always drawn, not from feebleness of art power, -but a far deadlier fault than that--a total want of sympathy with the -noble qualities of any creature, and a loathsome delight in their -disgusting qualities. And this law is so thoroughly carried out that the -great French historian of the mammalia, St. Hilaire, chooses, as his -single example of the highest of the race, the most nearly bestial type -he can find, human, in the world. Let no girl ever look at the book, nor -any youth who is willing to take my word; let those who doubt me, look -at the example he has given of womankind. - - -159. But admit that this is only French anatomy, or ill-studied anatomy, -and that, rightly studied, as Dr. Acland, for instance, would teach it -us, it might do us some kind of good. - -I must reserve for my lectures on the school of Florence any analysis of -the effect of anatomical study on European art and character; you will -find some notice of it in my lecture on Michael Angelo; and in the -course of that analysis, it will be necessary for me to withdraw the -statement made in the "Stones of Venice," that anatomical science was -helpful to great men, though harmful to mean ones. I am now certain that -the greater the intellect, the more fatal are the forms of degradation -to which it becomes liable in the course of anatomical studies; and that -to Michael Angelo, of all men, the mischief was greatest, in destroying -his religious passion and imagination, and leading him to make every -spiritual conception subordinate to the display of his knowledge of the -body. To-day, however, I only wish to give you my reasons for -withdrawing anatomy from your course of study in these schools. - - -160. I do so, first, simply with reference to our time, convenience, and -systematic method. It has become a habit with drawing-masters to confuse -this particular science of anatomy with their own art of drawing, though -they confuse no other science with that art. Admit that, in order to -draw a tree, you should have a knowledge of botany: Do you expect me to -teach you botany here? Whatever I want you to know of it I shall send -you to your Professor of Botany and to the Botanic Gardens, to learn. I -may, perhaps, give you a rough sketch of the lines of timber in a bough, -but nothing more. - -So again, admit that, to draw a stone, you need a knowledge of geology. -I have told you that you do not, but admit it. Do you expect me to teach -you, here, the relations between quartz and oxide of iron; or between -the Silurian and Permian systems? If you care about them, go to -Professor Phillips, and come back to me when you know them. - -And, in like manner, admit that, to draw a man, you want the knowledge -of his bones:--you do not; but admit that you do. Why should you expect -me, here, to teach you the most difficult of all the sciences? If you -want to know it, go to an hospital, and cut dead bodies to pieces till -you are satisfied; then come to me, and I'll make a shift to teach you -to draw, even then--though your eyes and memory will be full of horrible -things which Heaven never meant you so much as a glance at. But don't -expect me to help you in that ghastly work: any more than among the -furnaces and retorts in Professor Maskelyne's laboratory. - - -161. Let us take one more step in the logical sequence. You do not, I -have told you, need either chemistry, botany, geology, or anatomy, to -enable you to understand art, or produce it. But there is one science -which you _must_ be acquainted with. You must very intensely and -thoroughly know--how to behave. You cannot so much as feel the -difference between two casts of drapery, between two tendencies of -line,--how much less between dignity and baseness of gesture,--but by -your own dignity of character. But, though this is an essential science, -and although I cannot teach you to lay one line beside another rightly, -unless you have this science, you don't expect me in these schools to -teach you how to behave, if you happen not to know it before! - - -162. Well, here is one reason, and a sufficiently logical one, as you -will find it on consideration, for the exclusion of anatomical study -from _all_ drawing schools. But there is a more cogent reason than this -for its exclusion, especially from elementary drawing-schools. It may be -sometimes desirable that a student should see, as I said, how very -unlike a face a skull is; and at a leisure moment he may, without much -harm, observe the equivocation between knees and ankles by which it is -contrived that his legs, if properly made at the joints, will only bend -backwards, but a crane's forwards. But that a young boy, or girl, -brought up fresh to the schools of art from the country, should be set -to stare, against every particle of wholesome grain in their natures, at -the Elgin marbles, and to draw them with dismal application, until they -imagine they like them, makes the whole youthful temper rotten with -affectation, and sickly with strained and ambitious fancy. It is still -worse for young persons to be compelled to endure the horror of the -dissecting-room, or to be made familiar with the conditions of actual -bodily form, in a climate where the restraints of dress must for ever -prevent the body from being perfect in contour, or regarded with -entirely simple feeling. - - -163. I have now, perhaps too often for your patience, told you that you -must always draw for the sake of your subject--never for the sake of -your picture. What you wish to see in reality, that you should make an -effort to show, in pictures and statues; what you do not wish to see in -reality, you should not try to draw. - -But there is, I suppose, a very general impression on the mind of -persons interested in the arts, that because nations living in cold -climates are necessarily unfamiliar with the sight of the naked body, -therefore, art should take it upon herself to show it them; and that -they will be elevated in thought, and made more simple and grave in -temper, by seeing, at least in colour and marble, what the people of the -south saw in its verity. - - -164. I have neither time nor inclination to enter at present into -discussion of the various effects, on the morality of nations, of more -or less frank showing of the nude form. There is no question that if -shown at all, it should be shown fearlessly, and seen constantly; but I -do not care at present to debate the question: neither will I delay you -by any expression of my reasons for the rule I am about to give. Trust -me, I have many; and I can assert to you as a positive and perpetual -law, that so much of the nude body as in the daily life of the nation -may be shown with modesty, and seen with reverence and delight,--so -much, and no more, ought to be shown by the national arts, either of -painting or sculpture. What, more than this, either art exhibits, will, -assuredly, pervert taste, and, in all probability, morals. - - -165. It will, assuredly, pervert taste in this essential point, that the -polite ranks of the nation will come to think the _living_ creature and -its dress exempt from the highest laws of taste; and that while a man or -woman must, indeed, be seen dressed or undressed with dignity, in -marble, they may be dressed or undressed, if not with _in_dignity, at -least, with less than dignity, in the ball-room, and the street. Now the -law of all living art is that the man and woman must be more beautiful -than their pictures, and their pictures as decorous as the living man or -woman; and that real dress, and gesture, and behaviour, should be more -graceful than any marble or colour can effect similitude of. - - -166. Thus the idea of a different dress in art and reality, of which -that of art is to be the ideal one, perverts taste in dress; and the -study of the nude which is rarely seen, as much perverts taste in art. - -Of all pieces of art that I know, skilful in execution, and not criminal -in intention;--without any exception, quite the most vulgar, and in the -solemn sense of the word, most abominable, are the life studies which -are said to be the best made in modern times,--those of Mulready, -exhibited as models in the Kensington Museum. - - -167. How far the study of the seldom-seen nude leads to perversion of -morals, I will not, to-day, inquire; but I beg you to observe that even -among the people where it was most frank and pure, it unquestionably led -to evil far greater than any good which demonstrably can be traced to -it. Scarcely any of the moral power of Greece depended on her admiration -of beauty, or strength in the body. The power of Greece depended on -practice in military exercise, involving severe and continual ascetic -discipline of the senses; on a perfect code of military heroism and -patriotic honour; on the desire to live by the laws of an admittedly -divine justice; and on the vivid conception of the presence of spiritual -beings. The mere admiration of physical beauty in the body, and the arts -which sought its expression, not only conduced greatly to the fall of -Greece, but were the cause of errors and crimes in her greatest time, -which must for ever sadden our happiest thoughts of her, and have -rendered her example almost useless to the future. - - -168. I have named four causes of her power; discipline of senses; -romantic ideal of heroic honour; respect for justice; and belief in God. -There was a fifth--the most precious of all--the belief in the purity -and force of life in man; and that true reverence for domestic -affection, which, in the strangest way, being the essential strength of -every nation under the sun, had yet been lost sight of as the chief -element of Greek virtue, though the Iliad itself is nothing but the -story of the punishment of the rape of Helen; and though every Greek -hero called himself chiefly by his paternal name,--Tydides, rather than -Diomed;--Pelides, rather than Achilles. - -Among the new knowledges which the modern sirens tempt you to pursue, -the basest and darkest is the endeavour to trace the origin of life, -otherwise than in Love. Pardon me, therefore, if I give you a piece of -theology to-day: it is a science much closer to your art than anatomy. - - -169. All of you who have ever read your Gospels carefully must have -wondered, sometimes, what could be the meaning of those words,--"If any -speak against the Son of Man it shall be forgiven; but if against the -Holy Spirit, it shall not be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the -next." - -The passage may have many meanings which I do not know; but one meaning -I know positively, and I tell you so just as frankly as I would that I -knew the meaning of a verse in Homer. - -Those of you who still go to chapel say every day your creed; and, I -suppose, too often, less and less every day believing it. Now, you may -cease to believe two articles of it, and,--admitting Christianity to be -true,--still be forgiven. But I can tell you--you must _not_ cease to -believe the third! - -You begin by saying that you believe in an Almighty Father. Well, you -may entirely lose the sense of that Fatherhood, and yet be forgiven. - -You go on to say that you believe in a Saviour Son. You may entirely -lose the sense of that Sonship, and yet be forgiven. - -But the third article--disbelieve if you dare! - -"I believe in the Holy Ghost, _the Lord and Giver of life_." - -Disbelieve that; and your own being is degraded into the state of dust -driven by the wind; and the elements of dissolution have entered your -very heart and soul. - -All Nature, with one voice--with one glory,--is set to teach you -reverence for the life communicated to you from the Father of Spirits. -The song of birds, and their plumage; the scent of flowers, their -colour, their very existence, are in direct connection with the mystery -of that communicated life: and all the strength, and all the arts of -men, are measured by, and founded upon, their reverence for the passion, -and their guardianship of the purity, of Love. - - -170. Gentlemen,--the word by which I at this moment address you--by -which it is the first of all your duties through life, to permit all men -to address you with truth--that epithet of 'gentle,' as you well know, -indicates the intense respect for race and fatherhood--for family -dignity and chastity,--which was visibly the strength of Rome, as it had -been, more disguisedly, the strength of Greece. But have you enough -noticed that your Saxon word 'kindness' has exactly the same relation to -'kin,' and to the Chaucerian 'kind,' that 'gentle' has to 'gentilis'? - -Think out that matter a little, and you will find that--much as it -looks like it--neither chemistry, nor anatomy, nor republicanism, are -going to have it all their own way--in the making of either beasts, or -gentlemen. They look sometimes, indeed, as if they had got as far as two -of the Mosaic plagues, and manufactured frogs in the ditches, and lice -on the land; but their highest boasters will not claim, yet, so much -even as that poor victory. - - -171. My friends, let me very strongly recommend you to give up that hope -of finding the principle of life in dead bodies; but to take all pains -to keep the life pure and holy in the living bodies you have got; and, -farther, not to seek your national amusement in the destruction of -animals, nor your national safety in the destruction of men; but to look -for all your joy to kindness, and for all your strength to domestic -faith, and law of ancestral honour. Perhaps you will not now any more -think it strange that in beginning your natural history studies in this -place, I mean to teach you heraldry, but not anatomy. For, as you learn -to read the shields, and remember the stories, of the great houses of -England, and find how all the arts that glorified them were founded on -the passions that inspired, you will learn assuredly, that the utmost -secret of national power is in living with honour, and the utmost -secrets of human art are in gentleness and truth. - - - - - LECTURE IX. - - THE STORY OF THE HALCYON. - - _March 10th, 1872._ - - -172. I must to-day briefly recapitulate the purport of the preceding -lectures, as we are about now to enter on a new branch of our subject. - -I stated, in the first two, that the wisdom of art and the wisdom of -science consisted in their being each devoted unselfishly to the service -of men; in the third, that art was only the shadow of our knowledge of -facts; and that the reality was always to be acknowledged as more -beautiful than the shadow. In the fourth lecture I endeavoured to show -that the wise modesty of art and science lay in attaching due value to -the power and knowledge of other people, when greater than our own; and -in the fifth, that the wise self-sufficiency of art and science lay in a -proper enjoyment of our own knowledge and power, after it was thus -modestly esteemed. The sixth lecture stated that sight was a distinctly -spiritual power, and that its kindness or tenderness was proportioned to -its clearness. Lastly, in the seventh and eighth lectures, I asserted -that this spiritual sight, concerned with external aspects of things, -was the source of all necessary knowledge in art; and that the artist -has no concern with invisible structures, organic or inorganic. - - -173. No concern with invisible structures. But much with invisible -things; with passion, and with historical association. And in these two -closing lectures, I hope partly to justify myself for pressing on your -attention some matters as little hitherto thought of in drawing-schools, -as the exact sciences have been highly, and, I believe, unjustly, -esteemed;--mythology, namely, and heraldry. - -I can but in part justify myself now. Your experience of the interest -which may be found in these two despised sciences will be my best -justification. But to-day (as we are about to begin our exercises in -bird-drawing) I think it may interest you to review some of the fables -connected with the natural history of a single bird, and to consider -what effect the knowledge of such tradition is likely to have on our -mode of regarding the animated creation in general. - - -174. Let us take an instance of the feeling towards birds which is -especially characteristic of the English temper at this day, in its -entire freedom from superstition. - -You will find in your Rudimentary Series (225), Mr. Gould's plate of the -lesser Egret,--the most beautiful, I suppose, of all birds that visit, -or, at least, once visited, our English shores. Perfectly delicate in -form, snow-white in plumage, the feathers like frost-work of dead -silver, exquisitely slender, separating in the wind like the streams of -a fountain, the creature looks a living cloud rather than a bird. - -It may be seen often enough in South France and Italy. The last (or last -but one?) known of in England came thirty years ago, and this was its -reception, as related by the present happy possessor of its feathers and -bones:-- - -"The little Egret in my possession is a most beautiful specimen: it was -killed by a labourer with a stick, in Ake Carr, near Beverley, about -1840, and was brought to me, tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, covered -with black wet mud and blood, in which state it was sent to Mr. Reed, -of Doncaster, and restored by him in a most marvellous manner." - - -175. Now, you will feel at once that, while the peasant was beating this -bird into a piece of bloody flesh with his stick, he could not, in any -true sense, see the bird; that he had no pleasure either in the sight of -that, or of anything near it. - -You feel that he would become capable of seeing it in exact proportion -to his desire not to kill it; but to watch it in its life. - -Well, that is a quite general law: in the degree in which you delight in -the life of any creature, you can see it; no otherwise. - -And you would feel, would you not, that if you could enable the peasant -rightly to see the bird, you had in great part educated him? - - -176. You would certainly have gone, at least, the third of the way -towards educating him. Then the next thing to be contrived would be that -he should be able to see a man rightly, as well as a bird; to understand -and love what was good in a man, so that supposing his master was a good -man, the sight of his master should be a joy to him. You would say that -he was therein better educated than if he wanted to put a gun through a -hedge and shoot his master. - -Then the last part of education will be--whatever is meant by that -beatitude of the pure in heart--seeing God rightly, of which I shall not -speak to-day. - - -177. And in all these phases of education, the main point, you observe, -is that it _should_ be a beatitude: and that a man should learn -"+chairein orthos+:" and this rejoicing is above all things to be in -actual sight; you have the truth exactly in the saying of Dante when he -is brought before Beatrice, in heaven, that his eyes "satisfied -themselves for their ten years' thirst." - -This, then, I repeat, is the sum of education. All literature, art, and -science are vain, and worse, if they do not enable you to be glad; and -glad justly. - -And I feel it distinctly my duty, though with solemn and true deference -to the masters of education in this university, to say that I believe -our modern methods of teaching, and especially the institution of severe -and frequent examination, to be absolutely opposed to this great end; -and that the result of competitive labour in youth is infallibly to -make men know all they learn wrongly, and hate the habit of learning; so -that instead of coming to Oxford to rejoice in their work, men look -forward to the years they are to pass under her teaching as a deadly -agony, from which they are fain to escape, and sometimes for their life, -_must_ escape, into any method of sanitary frivolity. - - -178. I go back to my peasant and his egret. You all think with some -horror of this man, beating the bird to death, as a brutal person. He is -so; but how far are we English gentlemen, as a body, raised above him? -We are more delicately nurtured, and shrink from the notion of bruising -the creature and spoiling its feathers. That is so far right, and well. -But in all probability this countryman, rude and cruel though he might -be, had some other object in the rest of his day than the killing of -birds. And very earnestly I ask you, have English gentlemen, as a class, -any other real object in their whole existence than killing birds? If -they discern a duty, they will indeed do it to the death; but have the -English aristocracy at this moment any clear notion of their duty? I -believe solemnly, and without jest, their idea of their caste is that -its life should be, distinctively from inferior human lives, spent in -shooting. - -And that is not an idea of caste with which England, at this epoch, can -any longer be governed. - - -179. I have no time to-day to push my argument farther; but I have said -enough, I think, to induce you to bear with me in the statement of my -main theorem--that reading and writing are in no sense education, unless -they contribute to this end of making us feel kindly towards all -creatures; but that drawing, and especially physiologic drawing, is -vital education of a most precious kind. Farther, that more good would -be done by any English nobleman who would keep his estate lovely in its -native wildness; and let every animal live upon it in peace that chose -to come there, than will be done, as matters are going now, by the talk -of all the Lords in Parliament as long as we live to listen to them; and -I will even venture to tell you my hope, though I shall be dead long -before its possible fulfilment, that one day the English people will, -indeed, so far recognize what education means as to surround this -university with the loveliest park in England, twenty miles square; that -they will forbid, in that environment, every unclean, mechanical, and -vulgar trade and manufacture, as any man would forbid them in his own -garden;--that they will abolish every base and ugly building, and nest -of vice and misery, as they would cast out a devil;--that the streams of -the Isis and Cherwell will be kept pure and quiet among their fields and -trees; and that, within this park, every English wild flower that can -bloom in lowland will be suffered to grow in luxuriance, and every -living creature that haunts wood and stream know that it has happy -refuge. - -And now to our immediate work. - - -180. The natural history of anything, or of any creature, divides itself -properly into three branches. - -We have first to collect and examine the traditions respecting the -thing, so that we may know what the effect of its existence has hitherto -been on the minds of men, and may have at our command what data exist to -help us in our inquiries about it, or to guide us in our own thoughts of -it. - -We have secondly to examine and describe the thing, or creature, in its -actual state, with utmost attainable veracity of observation. - -Lastly, we have to examine under what laws of chemistry and physics the -matter of which the thing is made has been collected and constructed. - -Thus we have first to know the poetry of it--_i.e._, what it has been to -man, or what man has made of it. - -Secondly, the actual facts of its existence. - -Thirdly, the physical causes of these facts, if we can discover them. - - -181. Now, it is customary, and may be generally advisable, to confine -the term 'natural history' to the last two branches of knowledge only. I -do not care what we call the first branch; but, in the accounts of -animals that I prepare for my schools at Oxford, the main point with me -will be the mythology of them; the second, their actual state and -aspect, (second, this, because almost always hitherto only half known); -and the anatomy and chemistry of their bodies, I shall very rarely, and -partially, as I told you, examine at all: but I shall take the greatest -pains to get at the creature's habits of life; and know all its -ingenuities, humours, delights, and intellectual powers. That is to say, -what art it has, and what affection; and how these are prepared for in -its external form. - - -182. I say, deliberately and energetically, 'prepared for,' in -opposition to the idea, too prevalent in modern philosophy, of the -form's being fortuitously developed by repetition of impulse. It is of -course true that the aspects and characters of stones, flowers, birds, -beasts, and men, are inseparably connected with the conditions under -which they are appointed to have existence; but the method of this -connection is infinitely varied; so far from fortuitous, it appears -grotesquely, often terrifically arbitrary; and neither stone, flower, -beast, nor man can understand any single reason of the arbitrament, or -comprehend why its Creator made it thus. - - -183. To take the simplest of instances,--which happens also to be one of -the most important to you as artists,--it is appointed that vertebrated -animals shall have no more than four legs, and that, if they require to -fly, the two legs in front must become wings, it being against law that -they should have more than these four members in ramification from the -spine. - -Can any law be conceived more arbitrary, or more apparently causeless? -What strongly planted three-legged animals there might have been! what -symmetrically radiant five-legged ones! what volatile six-winged ones! -what circumspect seven-headed ones! Had Darwinism been true, we should -long ago have split our heads in two with foolish thinking, or thrust -out, from above our covetous hearts, a hundred desirous arms and -clutching hands; and changed ourselves into Briarean Cephalopoda. But -the law is around us, and within; unconquerable; granting, up to a -certain limit, power over our bodies to circumstance and will; beyond -that limit, inviolable, inscrutable, and, so far as we know, eternal. - - -184. For every lower animal, similar laws are established; under the -grasp of these it is capable of change, in visibly permitted oscillation -between certain points; beyond which, according to present experience, -it cannot pass. The adaptation of the instruments it possesses in its -members to the conditions of its life is always direct, and occasionally -beautiful; but in the plurality of instances, partial, and involving -painful supplementary effort. Some animals have to dig with their noses, -some to build with their tails, some to spin with their stomachs: their -dexterities are usually few--their awkwardnesses numberless;--a lion is -continually puzzled how to hold a bone; and an eagle can scarcely pull -the meat off one, without upsetting himself. - - -185. Respecting the origin of these variously awkward, imperfectly, or -grotesquely developed phases of form and power, you need not at present -inquire: in all probability the race of man is appointed to live in -wonder, and in acknowledgment of ignorance; but if ever he is to know -any of the secrets of his own or of brutal existence, it will assuredly -be through discipline of virtue, not through inquisitiveness of science. -I have just used the expression, "had Darwinism been true," implying its -fallacy more positively than is justifiable in the present state of our -knowledge; but very positively I can say to you that I have never heard -yet one logical argument in its favour, and I have heard, and read, many -that were beneath contempt. For instance, by the time you have copied -one or two of your exercises on the feather of the halcyon, you will be -more interested in the construction and disposition of plume-filaments -than heretofore; and you may, perhaps, refer, in hope of help, to Mr. -Darwin's account of the peacock's feather. I went to it myself, hoping -to learn some of the existing laws of life which regulate the local -disposition of the colour. But none of these appear to be known; and I -am informed only that peacocks have grown to be peacocks out of brown -pheasants, because the young feminine brown pheasants like fine -feathers. Whereupon I say to myself, "Then either there was a distinct -species of brown pheasants originally born with a taste for fine -feathers; and therefore with remarkable eyes in their heads,--which -would be a much more wonderful distinction of species than being born -with remarkable eyes in their tails,--or else all pheasants would have -been peacocks by this time!" And I trouble myself no more about the -Darwinian theory. - -When you have drawn some of the actual patterns of plume and scale with -attention, I believe you will see reason to think that spectra of -organic species may be at least as distinct as those of metals or gases; -but learn at all events what they are now, and never mind what they have -been. - - -186. Nor need you care for methods of classification any more than for -the origin of classes. Leave the physiologists to invent names, and -dispute over them; your business is to know the creature, not the name -of it momentarily fashionable in scientific circles. What practical -service you can get from the order at present adopted, take, without -contention; and as far as possible, use English words, or be sure you -understand the Latin ones. - - -187. For instance, the order at present adopted in arranging the species -of birds, is, as you know, founded only on their ways of using their -feet. - -Some catch or snatch their prey, and are called "Snatchers"--RAPTORES. - -Some perch on branches, and are called "In-sitters," or -"Upon-sitters"--INSESSORES. - -Some climb and cling on branches, and are called "Climbers"--SCANSORES. - -Some scratch the ground, and are called "Scratchers"--RASORES. - -Some stand or wade in shallow water, and, having long legs, are called -"Stilt-walkers"--GRALLATORES. - -Some float, and make oars of their feet, and are called -"Swimmers"--NATATORES. - - -188. This classification is unscholarly, because there are many -snatchers and scratchers who perch as well as the sitters; and many of -the swimmers sit, when ashore, more neatly than the sitters themselves; -and are most grave insessors, in long rows, on rock or sand: also, -'insessor' does not mean properly a sitter, but a besieger; and it is -awkward to call a bird a 'Rasor.' Still, the use of the feet is (on the -whole) characteristic, and convenient for first rough arrangement; only, -in general reference, it will be better to use plain English words than -those stiff Latin ones, or their ugly translations. Linnaeus, for all his -classes except the stilt-walkers, used the name of the particular birds -which were the best types of their class; he called the snatchers -"hawks" (Accipitres), the swimmers, geese, (Anseres), the scratchers, -fowls, (Gallinae), and the perchers, sparrows, (Passeres). He has no -class of climbers; but he has one since omitted by Cuvier, "pies," -which, for certain mythological reasons presently to be noted, I will -ask you to keep. This will give you seven orders, altogether, to be -remembered; and for each of these we will take the name of its most -representative bird. The hawk has best right undoubtedly to stand for -the snatchers; we will have his adversary, the heron, for the -stilt-walkers; you will find this very advisable, no less than -convenient; because some of the beaks of the stilt-walkers turn down, -and some turn up; but the heron's is straight, and so he stands well as -a pure middle type. Then, certainly, gulls will better represent the -swimmers than geese; and pheasants are a prettier kind of scratchers -than fowls. We will take parrots for the climbers, magpies for the pies, -and sparrows for the perchers. Then take them in this order: Hawks, -parrots, pies, sparrows, pheasants, gulls, herons; and you can then -easily remember them. For you have hawks at one end, the herons at the -other, and sparrows in the middle, with pies on one side and pheasants -opposite, for which arrangement you will find there is good reason; then -the parrots necessarily go beside the hawks, and the gulls beside the -herons. - - -189. The bird whose mythic history I am about to read to you belongs -essentially and characteristically to that order of pies, picae, or -painted birds, which the Greeks continually opposed in their thoughts -and traditions to the singing birds, representing the one by the -magpie, and the other by the nightingale. The myth of Autolycus and -Philammon, and Pindar's exquisite story of the infidelity of Coronis, -are the centres of almost countless traditions, all full of meaning, -dependent on the various +poikilia+, to eye and ear, of these opposed -races of birds. The Greek idea of the Halcyon united both these sources -of delight. I will read you what notices of it I find most interesting, -not in order of date, but of brevity; the simplest first. - - -190. "And the King of Trachis, the child of the Morning Star, married -Alcyone. And they perished, both of them, through their pride; for the -king called his wife, Hera; and she her husband, Zeus: but Zeus made -birds of them (+autous aporneose+), and he made the one a Halcyon, and -the other a Sea-mew."--_Appollodorus_, i. 7, 4. - -"When the King of Trachis, the son of Hesperus, or of Lucifer, and -Philonis, perished in shipwreck, his wife Alcyone, the daughter of Aeolus -and Aegiale, for love of him, threw herself into the sea;--who both, by -the mercy of the gods, were turned into the birds called Halcyons. These -birds, in the winter-time, build their nests, and lay their eggs, and -hatch their young on the sea; and the sea is quiet in those days, which -the sailors call the Halcyonia."--_Hyginus, Fab._ LXV. - - -191. "Now the King of Trachis, the son of Lucifer, had to wife Halcyone. -And he, wishing to consult the oracle of Apollo concerning the state of -his kingdom, was forbidden to go, by Halcyone, nevertheless he went; and -perished by shipwreck. And when his body was brought to his wife -Halcyone, she threw herself into the sea. Afterwards, by the mercy of -Thetis and Lucifer, they were both turned into the sea-birds called -Halcyons. And you ought to know that Halcyone is the woman's name, and -is always a feminine noun; but the bird's name is Halcyon, masculine and -feminine, and so also its plural, Halcyones. Also those birds make -their nests in the sea, in the middle of winter; in which days the calm -is so deep that hardly anything in the sea can be moved. Thence, also, -the days themselves are called Halcyonia."--_Servius, in Virg. Georg._ -i. 399. - - -192. "And the pairing of birds, as I said, is for the most part in -spring time, and early summer; except the halcyon's. For the halcyon has -its young about the turn of days in winter, wherefore, when those days -are fine, they are called 'Halcyonine' (+alkyoneioi+); seven, indeed, -before the turn, and seven after it, as Simonides poetized, -(+epoiesen+). - - 'As, when in the wintry month - Zeus gives the wisdom of calm to fourteen days, - Then the people of the land call it - The hour of wind-hiding, the sacred - Nurse of the spotted Halcyon.' - -"And in the first seven days the halcyon is said to lay her eggs, and in -the latter seven to bring forth and nourish her young. Here, indeed, in -the seas of Greece, it does not always chance that the Halcyonid days -are at the solstice; but in the Sicilian sea, almost always. But the -aethuia and the laros bring forth their young, (two, or three) among the -rocks by the sea-shore; but the laros in summer, the aethuia in first -spring, just after the turn of days; and they sit on them as other birds -do. And none of these birds lie torpid in holes during the winter; but -the halcyon is, of all, seen the seldomest, for it is seen scarcely at -all, except just at the setting and turn of Pleias, and then it will but -show itself once, and away; flying, perhaps, once round a ship at -anchor, and then it is gone instantly."--_Aristotle, Hist. Av._, v. 8, -9. - - -193. "Now we are ready enough to extol the bee for a wise creature, and -to consent to the laws by which it cares for the yellow honey, because -we adore the pleasantness and tickling to our palates that is in the -sweetness of that; but we take no notice of the wisdom and art of other -creatures in bringing up their young, as for instance, the halcyon, who -as soon as she has conceived, makes her nest by gathering the thorns of -the sea-needle-fish; and, weaving these in and out, and joining them -together at the ends, she finishes her nest; round in the plan of it, -and long, in the proportion of a fisherman's net; and then she puts it -where it will be beaten by the waves, until the rough surface is all -fastened together and made close. And it becomes so hard that a blow -with iron or stone will not easily divide it; but, what is more -wonderful still, is that the opening of the nest is made so exactly to -the size and measure of the halcyon that nothing larger can get into it, -and nothing smaller!--so they say;--no, not even the sea itself, even -the least drop of it."--_Plutarch: De Amore Prolis._ - -I have kept to the last Lucian's dialogue, "the Halcyon," to show you -how the tone of Christian thought, and tradition of Christ's walking on -the sea, began to steal into heathen literature. - - -SOCRATES--CHAEREPHON. - - -194. "_Chaerephon._ What cry is that, Socrates, which came to us from -the beach? how sweet it was; what can it be? the things that live in the -sea are all mute. - -"_Socrates._ Yet it is a sea-creature, Chaerephon; the bird called -Halcyon, concerning which the old fable runs that she was the daughter -of Aeolus, and, mourning in her youth for her lost husband, was winged by -divine power, and now flies over the sea, seeking him whom she could not -find, sought throughout the earth. - -"_Chaerephon._ And is that indeed the Halcyon's cry? I never heard it -yet; and in truth it is very pitiful. How large is the bird, Socrates? - -"_Socrates._ Not great; but it has received great honour from the Gods, -because of its lovingness; for while it is making its nest, all the -world has the happy days which it calls halcyonidae, excelling all others -in their calmness, though in the midst of storm; of which you see this -very day is one, if ever there was. Look, how clear the sky is, and the -sea waveless and calm, like a mirror! - -"_Chaerephon._ You say truly, and yesterday was just such another. But -in the name of the Gods, Socrates, how is one to believe those old -sayings, that birds were ever changed into women, or women into birds, -for nothing could seem more impossible? - - -195. "_Socrates._ Ah, dear Chaerephon, it is likely that we are poor and -blunt judges of what is possible and not: for we judge by comparing to -human power a power unknown to us, unimaginable, and unseen. Many -things, therefore, that are easy, seem to us difficult; and many things -unattainable that may be attained; being thus thought of, some through -the inexperience, and some through the infantine folly, of our minds. -For in very deed every man may be thought of as a child--even the oldest -of us,--since the full time of life is little, and as a baby's compared -to universal time. And what should we have to say, my good friend, who -know nothing of the power of gods or of the spirits of Nature, whether -any of such things are possible or not? You saw, Chaerephon, what a -storm there was, the day before yesterday; it makes one tremble even to -think of it again;--that lightning, and thunder, and sudden tempest, so -great that one would have thought all the earth falling to ruin; and -yet, in a little while, came the wonderful establishing of calm, which -has remained even till now. Whether, then, do you think it the greater -work, to bring such a calm out of that tormenting whirlwind, and reduce -the universe to peace, or to change the form of a woman into that of a -bird? For indeed we see how very little children, who know how to knead -clay, do something like this also; often out of one lump they will make -form after form, of different natures: and surely to the spirit-powers -of Nature, being in vast and inconjecturable excess beyond ours, all -such things must be in their hands easy. Or how much do you think heaven -greater than thyself--can you say, perchance? - -"_Chaerephon._ Who of men, O Socrates, could imagine or name any of -these things? - - -196. "_Socrates._ Nay; do we not see also, in comparing man with man, -strange differences in their powers and imbecilities? for complete -manhood, compared with utter infancy, as of a child five or ten days -old, has difference in power, which we may well call miraculous: and -when we see man excel man so far, what shall we say that the strength of -the whole heaven must appear, against ours, to those who can see them -together, so as to compare them? Also, to you and me, and to many like -us, sundry things are impossible that are easy to other people; as -singing to those ignorant of music, and reading or writing to those -ignorant of letters;--more impossible than to make women birds, or birds -of women. For Nature, as with chance throw, and rough parable, making -the form of a footless and wingless beast in changeable matter; then -putting on feet and wings, and making it glitter all over with fair -variegation and manifold colour, at last brings out, for instance, the -wise bee, maker of the divine honey; and out of the voiceless and -spiritless egg she brings many kinds of flying and foot-going and -swimming creatures, using besides (as runs the old Logos) the sacred art -of the great Aether.[H] We then, being altogether mortal and mean, and -neither able to see clearly great things nor small, and, for the most -part being unable to help ourselves even in our own calamities,--what -can we have to say about the powers of the immortals, either over -halcyons or nightingales? But the fame of fable such as our fathers gave -it to us, this, to my children, O thou bird singing of sorrow, I will -deliver concerning thy hymns: and I myself will sing often of this -religious and human love of thine, and of the honour thou hast for it -from the Gods. Wilt not thou do likewise, O Chaerephon? - -"_Chaerephon._ It is rightly due indeed, O Socrates, for there is -two-fold comfort in this, both for men and women, in their relations -with each other. - -"_Socrates._ Shall we not then salute the halcyon, and so go back to the -city by the sands, for it is time? - -"_Chaerephon._ Indeed let us do so." - - [H] Note this sentence respecting the power of the creative Athena. - - -197. The note of the scholiast on this dialogue is the only passage in -which I can find any approximately clear description of the Greek -halcyon. It is about as large, he says, as a small sparrow; (the -question how large a Greek sparrow was we must for the present allow to -remain open;) and it is mixed of green and blue, with gleaming of purple -above, and it has a slender and long beak: the beak is said to be -"chloros," which I venture to translate "green," when it is used of the -feathers, but it may mean anything, used of the beak. Then follows the -same account as other people's, of the nest-building, except that the -nest is compared in shape to a medicinal gourd. And then the writer goes -on to say that there are two species of halcyons--one larger than the -other, and silent, but the smaller, fond of singing (+odike+); and that -the females of these are so true to their mates that, when the latter -grow old, the female bird flies underneath them, and carries them -wherever they would like to go; and after they die will not eat nor -drink anything, and so dies too. "And there is a certain kind of them, -of which, if any one hear the voice, it is an altogether true sign to -him that he will die in a short time." - - -198. You will, I think, forgive me, if after reading to you these lovely -fables, I do not distract you, or detain, with the difficult -investigation of the degree in which they are founded on the not yet -sufficiently known facts of the Kingfisher's life. - -I would much rather that you should remain impressed with the effect -which the lovely colour and fitful appearance of the bird have had on -the imagination of men. I may satisfy you by the assurance that the -halcyon of England is also the commonest halcyon of Greece and of -Palestine; and I may at once prove to you the real gain of being -acquainted with the traditions of it, by reading to you two stanzas, -certainly among the most familiar to your ears in the whole range of -English poetry; yet which, I am well assured, will sound, after what we -have been reflecting upon to-day, almost as if they were new to you. -Note especially how Milton's knowledge that Halcyone was the daughter of -the Winds, and Ceyx the son of the Morning Star, affects the course of -his thought in the successive stanzas-- - - "But peaceful was the night, - Wherein the Prince of light - His reign of peace upon earth began: - The winds with wonder whist, - Smoothly the waters kist, - Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, - Who now hath quite forgot to rave, - While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. - - "The stars, with deep amaze, - Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, - Bending one way their precious influence; - And will not take their flight, - For all the morning light - Of Lucifer, that often warn'd them thence; - But in their glimmering orbs did glow, - Until their Lord Himself bespake, and bid them go." - - -199. I should also only weary you if I attempted to give you any -interpretation of the much-entangled web of Greek fables connected with -the story of Halcyone. You observe that in all these passages I have -said "King of Trachis" instead of Ceyx. That is partly because I don't -know how to pronounce Ceyx either in Greek or English; but it is chiefly -to make you observe that this story of the sea-mew and Halcyon, now -known through all the world, like the sea-mew's cry, has its origin in -the "Rough country," or crag-country, under Mount OEta, made sacred to -the Greek mind by the death of Heracles; and observe what strange -connection that death has with the Halcyon's story. Heracles goes to -this "Rough country" to seek for rest; all the waves and billows of his -life having--as he thinks now--gone over him. But he finds death. - -As far as I can form any idea of this "rough, or torn, country" from the -descriptions of Colonel Leake or any other traveller, it must resemble -closely the limestone cliffs just above Altorf, which break down to the -valley from the ridge of the Windgelle, and give source, at their foot, -to faultlessly clear streams,--green-blue among the grass. - -You will find Pausanias noting the springs of Thermopylae as of the -bluest water he ever saw; and if you fancy the Lake Lucerne to be the -sea bay running inland from Artemisium, you will have a clear and -useful, nor in any serious way, inaccurate, image of the scene where the -Greeks thought their best hero should die. You may remember also, with -advantage, that Morgarten--the Thermopylae of Switzerland--lies by the -little lake of Egeri, not ten miles from this bay of Altorf; and that -the Heracles of Switzerland is born under those Trachinian crags. - -If, farther, you remember that the Halcyon would actually be seen -flitting above the blue water of the springs, like one of their waves -caught up and lighted by the sun; and the sea-mews haunting the cliffs, -you will see how physical circumstances modify the under-tone of the -words of every mythic tradition. - -I cannot express to you how strange--how more and more strange every -day--it seems to me, that I cannot find a single drawing, nor definite -account, of scenes so memorable as this, to point you to; but must guess -and piece their image together for you as best I can from their Swiss -similitudes. No English gentleman can pass through public school-life -without knowing his Trachiniae; yet I believe, literally, we could give -better account of the forms of the mountains in the moon, than we could -of OEta. And what has art done to help us? How many Skiddaws or -Benvenues, for one OEta,--if one! And when the English gentleman -becomes an art-patron, he employs his painter-servant only to paint -himself and his house; and when Turner was striving, in his youth, to -enforce the mythology, and picture these very scenes in Greece, and -putting his whole strength into the endeavour to conceive them, the -noble pictures remained in his gallery; and for bread, he had to -paint ---- Hall, the seat of ----, Esquire, with the carriage drive, the -summer-house, and the squire going out hunting. - -If, indeed, the squire would make his seat worth painting, and would -stay there, and would make the seats, or, shall we call them, forms, of -his peasantry, worth painting too, he would be interpreting the fable of -the Halcyon to purpose. - -But you must, at once, and without any interpreter, feel for yourselves -how much is implied in those wonderful words of Simonides--written six -hundred years before Christ;--"when in the wild winter months, Zeus -gives the _wisdom of calm_;" and how much teaching there is for us in -the imagination of past days,--this dream-picture of what is true in -days that are, and are to come,--that perfect domestic love not only -makes its nest upon the waves, but that the waves will be calm that it -may. - - -200. True, I repeat, for all ages, and all people, that, indeed, are -desirous of peace, and loving in trouble! But what fable shall we -invent, what creature on earth or sea shall we find, to symbolize this -state of ours in modern England? To what sorrowful birds shall _we_ be -likened, who make the principal object of our lives dispeace, and -unrest; and turn our wives and daughters out of their nests, to work for -themselves? - -Nay, strictly speaking, we have not even got so much as nests to turn -them out of. I was infinitely struck, only the other day, by the saying -of a large landed proprietor (a good man, who was doing all he could for -his tenantry, and building new cottages for them), that the best he -_could_ do for them, under present conditions of wages, and the like, -was, to give them good drainage and bare walls. - -"I am obliged," he said to me, "to give up all thought of anything -artistic, and even then, I must lose a considerable sum on every cottage -I build." - - -201. Now, there is no end to the confused states of wrong and misery -which that landlord's experience signifies. In the first place, no -landlord has any business with building cottages for his people. Every -peasant should be able to build his own cottage,--to build it to his -mind; and to have a mind to build it too. In the second place, note the -unhappy notion which has grown up in the modern English mind, that -wholesome and necessary delight in what is pleasant to the eye, is -artistic affectation. You have the exponent of it all in the central and -mighty affectation of the Houses of Parliament. A number of English -gentlemen get together to talk; they have no delight whatever in any -kind of beauty; but they have a vague notion that the appointed place -for their conversation should be dignified and ornamental; and they -build over their combined heads the absurdest and emptiest piece of -filigree,--and, as it were, eternal foolscap in freestone,--which ever -human beings disgraced their posterity by. Well, all that is done, -partly, and greatly, in mere jobbery; but essentially also in a servile -imitation of the Hotel-de-Ville builders of old time; but the English -gentleman has not the remotest idea that when Hotels-de-Ville were -built, the ville enjoyed its hotel;--the town had a real pride in its -town hall, and place of council, and the sculptures of it had precious -meaning for all the populace. - - -202. And in like manner, if cottages are ever to be wisely built again, -the peasant must enjoy his cottage, and be himself its artist, as a bird -is. Shall cock-robins and yellow-hammers have wit enough to make -themselves comfortable, and bullfinches peck a Gothic tracery out of -dead clematis,--and your English yeoman be fitted by his landlord with -four dead walls and a drain-pipe? That is the result of your spending -300,000_l._ a year at Kensington in science and art, then? You have made -beautiful machines, too, wherewith you save the peasant the trouble of -ploughing and reaping, and threshing; and after being saved all that -time and toil, and getting, one would think, leisure enough for his -education, you have to lodge him also, as you drop a puppet into a deal -box, and you lose money in doing it! and two hundred years ago, without -steam, without electricity, almost without books, and altogether without -help from "Cassell's Educator" or the morning newspapers, the Swiss -shepherd could build himself a chalet, daintily carved, and with -flourished inscriptions, and with red and blue and white +poikilia+; and -the burgess of Strasburg could build himself a house like this I showed -you, and a spire such as all men know; and keep a precious book or two -in his public library, and praise God for all: while we,--what are _we_ -good for, but to damage the spire, knock down half the houses, and burn -the library,--and declare there is no God but Chemistry? - - -203. What _are_ we good for? Are even our machines of destruction useful -to us? Do they give us real power? Once, indeed, not like halcyons, but -like sea-eagles, we had our homes upon the sea; fearless alike of storm -or enemy, winged like the wave petrel; and as Arabs of an indeed -pathless desert, we dwelt in the presence of all our brethren. Our -pride is fallen; no reed shaken with the wind, near the little singing -halcyon's nest, is more tremulous than we are now; though we have built -iron nests on the sea, with walls impregnable. We have lost our -pride--but have we gained peace? Do we even care to seek it, how much -less strive to make it? - - -204. Have you ever thought seriously of the meaning of that blessing -given to the peace-makers? People are always expecting to get peace in -heaven; but you know whatever peace they get there will be ready made. -Whatever making of peace _they_ can be blest for, must be on the earth -here: not the taking of arms against, but the building of nests amidst, -its "sea of troubles." Difficult enough, you think? Perhaps so, but I do -not see that any of us try. We complain of the want of many things--we -want votes, we want liberty, we want amusement, we want money. Which of -us feels, or knows, that he wants peace? - - -205. There are two ways of getting it, if you do want it. The first is -wholly in your own power; to make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts. -Those are nests on the sea indeed, but safe beyond all others; only -they need much art in the building. None of us yet know, for none of us -have yet been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we may build of -beautiful thought--proof against all adversity. Bright fancies, -satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses -of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain -make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us--houses built without hands, -for our souls to live in. - - -206. And in actual life, let me assure you, in conclusion, the first -'wisdom of calm,' is to plan, and resolve to labour for, the comfort and -beauty of a home such as, if we could obtain it, we would quit no more. -Not a compartment of a model lodging-house, not the number so-and-so of -Paradise Row; but a cottage all of our own, with its little garden, its -pleasant view, its surrounding fields, its neighbouring stream, its -healthy air, and clean kitchen, parlours, and bedrooms. Less than this, -no man should be content with for his nest; more than this few should -seek: but if it seem to you impossible, or wildly imaginary, that such -houses should ever be obtained for the greater part of the English -people, again believe me, the obstacles which are in the way of our -obtaining them are the things which it must be the main object now of -all true science, true art, and true literature to overcome. Science -does its duty, not in telling us the causes of spots in the sun; but in -explaining to us the laws of our own life, and the consequences of their -violation. Art does its duty, not in filling monster galleries with -frivolous, or dreadful, or indecent pictures; but in completing the -comforts and refining the pleasures of daily occurrence, and familiar -service: and literature does its duty, not in wasting our hours in -political discussion, or in idle fiction; but in raising our fancy to -the height of what may be noble, honest, and felicitous in actual -life;--in giving us, though we may ourselves be poor and unknown, the -companionship of the wisest fellow-spirits of every age and -country,--and in aiding the communication of clear thoughts and faithful -purposes, among distant nations, which will at last breathe calm upon -the sea of lawless passion, and change into such halcyon days the winter -of the world, that the birds of the air may have their nests in peace, -and the Son of Man, where to lay His head. - - - - - LECTURE X. - - THE HERALDIC ORDINARIES. - - _March 9th, 1872._ - - -207. In my last lecture, I endeavoured to illustrate to you the use of -art to the science of physiology. I am to-day to introduce to you its -elementary forms as an exponent of the science of history. Which, -speaking with perfect accuracy, we ought to call, also, "physiology," or -_natural_ history of man; for it ought to be in truth the history of his -Nature; and not merely of the accidents which have befallen him. Do we -not too much confuse the important part of the science with the -unimportant? - -In giving the natural history of the lion, you do not care materially -where such and such a lion was trapped, or how many sheep it had eaten. -You want to know what sort of a minded and shaped creature it is, or -ought to be. But in all our books of human history we only care to tell -what has happened to men, and how many of each other they have, in a -manner, eaten, when they are, what Homer calls +demoboroi+, -people-eaters; and we scarcely understand, even to this day, how they -are truly minded. Nay, I am not sure that even this art of heraldry, -which has for its main object the telling and proclamation of our chief -minds and characters to each other, and keeping record of descent by -race, as far as it is possible, (or, under the present aspect of -Darwinism, pleasant,) to trace it;--I am not sure that even heraldry has -always understood clearly what it had to tell. But I am very sure it has -not been understood in the telling. - - -208. Some of you have, I hope, looked at this book[I] of Arthur Helps, -on 'War and Culture,' about which I cannot now say what I would, because -he has done me the grace of dedicating it to me; but you will find in -it, directly bearing on our present subject, this story about heraldry: - - [I] Conversations on War and General Culture. - -"A friend of mine, a physician, became entangled in the crowd at -Kennington on that memorable evening when a great Chartist row was -expected, and when Louis Napoleon armed himself with a constable's -staff to support the cause of order. My friend observed a young man of -pleasant appearance, who was very busy in the crowd, and appeared to be -a leader amongst them. Gradually, by the pressure of the crowd, the two -were brought near together, and the good doctor had some talk with this -fiery partisan. They exchanged confidences; and to his astonishment, the -doctor found that this furious young Chartist gained his livelihood, and -a very good livelihood too, by heraldic painting--by painting the -coats-of-arms upon carriages. Now, if you can imagine this young man's -darling enterprise to have been successful, if Chartism had prevailed, -what would have become of the painting of arms upon carriage-panels? I -believe that my good doctor insinuated this suggestion to the young man, -and that it was received with disdain. I must own, therefore, that the -_utile_, even when brought home to a man's self, has much less to do -with people's political opinions and desires, than might at first be -supposed. Indeed, I would venture to maintain, that _no great change has -ever been produced in the world by motives of self-interest_. Sentiment, -that thing which many wise people affect to despise, is the commanding -thing as regards popular impulses and popular action." - - -209. This last sentence would have been wholly true, had Mr. Helps -written 'no great _living_ change.' The changes of Dissolution are -continually produced by self-interest,--for instance, a great number of -the changes in your methods of life in England just now, and many of -those in your moral temper, are produced by the percentage on the sale -of iron. And I should have otherwise interpreted the heroism of the -young Chartist, and said that he was moved on the 10th of April, by a -deep under-current of self-interest; that by overthrowing Lordship, he -expected to get much more for himself than his salary as an heraldic -painter; and that he had not, in painting his carriage-panels, sentiment -enough, or even sentiment at all. - -"Paint me my arms,--" said Giotto, as the youth threw him his white -shield with that order--"he speaks as if he were one of the Bardi!" Our -English panel-painter had lost the consciousness that there yet remained -above him, so much as one, of the Bardi. - -May not that be somewhat the Bardi's fault? in that they have not taught -their Giottos, lately, the function of heraldry, or of any other higher -historical painting. - -We have, especially, to-day, to consider what that function is. - - -210. I said that the function of historical painting, in representing -animals, is to discern and record what is best and most beautiful in -their ways of life, and their forms; so also, in representing man, it is -to record of man what has been best in his acts and way of life, and -fairest in his form. - -But this way of the life of man has been a long one. It is difficult to -know it--more difficult to judge; to do either with complete equity is -impossible; but it is always possible to do it with the charity which -does not rejoice in iniquity. - - -211. Among the many mistakes we have lately fallen into, touching that -same charity, one of the worst is our careless habit of always thinking -of her as pitiful, and to be concerned only with miserable and wretched -persons; whereas her chief joy is in being reverent, and concerned -mainly with noble and venerable persons. Her poorest function is the -giving of pity; her highest is the giving of _praise_. For there are -many men, who, however fallen, do not like to be pitied; but all men, -however far risen, like to be praised. - - -212. I had occasion in my last lecture to express my regret that the -method of education in this country has become so distinctly -competitive. It is necessary, however, to distinguish carefully between -the competition which is for the means of existence, and that which is -for the praise of learning. For my own part, so far as they affect our -studies here, I equally regret both: but competition for money I regret -absolutely; competition for praise, only when it sets the reward for too -short and narrow a race. I want you to compete, not for the praise of -what you know, but for the praise of what you become; and to compete -only in that great school, where death is the examiner, and God the -judge. For you will find, if you look into your own hearts, that the two -great delights, in loving and praising, and the two great thirsts, to be -loved and praised, are the roots of all that is strong in the deeds of -men, and happy in their repose. We yet, thank Heaven, are not ashamed to -acknowledge the power of love; but we confusedly and doubtfully allege -that of honour; and though we cannot but instinctively triumph still, -over a won boat-race, I suppose the best of us would shrink somewhat -from declaring that the love of praise was to be one of the chief -motives of their future lives. - - -213. But I believe you will find it, if you think, not only one of the -chief, but absolutely the chief, motive of human action; nay, that love -itself is, in its highest state, the rendering of an exquisite praise to -body and soul; and our English tongue is very sacred in this; for its -Saxon word, love, is connected, through the old French verb, loer, -(whence louange), with the Latin, 'laus,' not 'amor.' - -And you may sum the duty of your life in the giving of praise worthily, -and being yourselves worthy of it. - - -214. Therefore in the reading of all history, your first purpose must be -to seek what is to be praised; and disdain the rest: and in doing so, -remember always that the most important part of the history of man is -that of his imagination. What he actually does, is always in great part -accidental; it is at best a partial fulfilment of his purpose; and what -we call history is often, as I said, merely a record of the external -accidents which befall men getting together in large crowds. The real -history of mankind is that of the slow advance of resolved deed -following laboriously just thought: and all the greatest men live in -their purpose and effort more than it is possible for them to live in -reality. If you would praise them more worthily, it is for what they -conceived and felt; not merely for what they have done. - - -215. It is therefore a true historian's work diligently to separate the -deed from the imagination; and when these become inconsistent, to -remember that the imagination, if precious at all, is indeed the most -precious. It is no matter how much, or how little of the two first books -of Livy may be literally true. The history of the Romans is the history -of the nation which could _conceive_ the battle of the Lake Regillus. I -have rowed in rough weather on the Lake of the four cantons often enough -to know that the legend of Tell is, in literal detail, absurd: but the -history of Switzerland is that of the people who expressed their -imagination of resistance to injustice by that legend, so as to animate -their character vitally to this day. - - -216. But in no part of history does the ideal separate itself so far -from the reality; and in no part of it is the ideal so necessary and -noble, as in your own inherited history--that of Christian Chivalry. - -For all English gentlemen this is the part of the tale of the race of -man which it is most essential for them to know. They may be proud that -it is also the greatest part. All that hitherto has been achieved of -best,--all that has been in noble preparation instituted,--is begun in -the period, and rooted in the conception, of Chivalry. - -You must always carefully distinguish that conception from the base -strength of the resultless passions which distort and confuse it. -Infinitely weaker, the ideal is eternal and creative; the clamorous -rages pass away,--ruinous it may be, prosperous it may be, for their -time;--but insignificant for ever. You find kings and priests alike, -always inventing expedients to get money; you find kings and priests -alike, always inventing pretexts to gain power. If you want to write a -practical history of the Middle Ages, and to trace the real reasons of -the things that actually happened, investigate first the history of the -money; and then of the quarrels for office and territory. But the -things that actually happened were of small consequence--the thoughts -that were developed are of infinite consequence. - - -217. As I was walking back from Hincksey last evening, somewhat -discomfited by the look of bad weather, and more in myself, as I thought -over this closing lecture, wondering how far you thought I had been -talking idly to you, instead of teaching you to draw, through this term, -I stopped before Messrs. Wyatt's window; caught--as it was intended -every one should be--by this display of wonderful things. And I was very -unhappy as I looked, for it seemed to me you could not but think the -little I could show you how to do quite valueless; while here were -produced, by mysteries of craft which you might expect me at once to -explain, brilliant water-colours in purple and gold, and photographs of -sea-waves, and chromolithotints of beautiful young ladies, and -exquisitely finished engravings of all sorts of interesting scenes, and -sublime personages: patriots, saints, martyrs, penitents, and who not! -and what not! all depicted with a dexterity which it has cost the -workmen their life's best energy to learn, and requires great cleverness -thus to apply. While, in your room for study, there are only ugly -photographs of Duerers and Holbeins, and my rude outlines from leaves, -and you scarcely ever hear me say anything in praise of that delightful -and elaborate modern art at all. - - -218. So I bought this Madonna,[J] which was the prettiest thing I saw: -and it will enable me to tell you why this modern art is, indeed, so -little to be studied, even at its best. I think you will all like the -plate, and you ought to like it; but observe in what its beauty -consists. First, in very exquisite line engraving: against that I have -nothing to say, feeling the greatest respect for the industry and skill -it requires. Next, in a grace and severity of action which we all are -ready to praise; but this is not the painter's own bestowing; the trick -of it is learned from Memling and Van Eyck, and other men of the -northern religious school. The covering of the robe with jewels is -pleasing to you; but that is learned from Angelico and John Bellini; and -if you will compare the jewel-painting in the John Bellini (Standard No. -5), you will find this false and formal in comparison. Then the face is -much dignified by having a crown set on it--which is copied from the -ordinary thirteenth century form, and ill done. The face itself is -studied from a young German mother's, and is only by the painter's want -of skill made conventional in expression, and formal in feature. It -would have been wiser and more difficult to have painted her as Raphael -or Reynolds would, with true personal resemblance, perfected in -expression. - - [J] Now, Ref. 104. - - -219. Nevertheless, in its derivative way, this is very lovely. But I -wish you to observe that it is derivative in all things. The dress is -derivative; the action, derivative: above all, the conception is -derivative altogether, from that great age of Christian chivalry, which, -in art and thought alike, surpassed the Greek chivalry, because it added -to their enthusiasm of patriotism the enthusiasm of imaginative love, -sanctified by this ruling vision of the Madonna, as at once perfect maid -and perfect mother. - -And your study of the art of the middle ages must begin in your -understanding how the men of them looked on Love as the source of all -honour, as of life; and how, from the least thing to the greatest, the -honouring of father and mother, the noble esteem of children, and the -sincere respect for race, and for the courtesies and prides that graced -and crowned its purity, were the sources of all their virtue, and all -their joy. - - -220. From the least things, I say, to the greatest. I am to speak to-day -of one of, apparently, the least things; which is, indeed, one of the -greatest. How much of the dignity of this Madonna, do you suppose, -depends on the manner she bears her dress, her crown, her jewels, and -her sceptre? - -In peasant and prince alike, you will find that, ultimately, character -is truly heralded in dress; and that splendour in dress is as necessary -to man as colour to birds and flowers, but splendour with more meaning. -Splendour observe, however, in the true Latin sense of the word; -_brightness_ of colour; not gaudiness: what I have been telling you of -colour in pictures will apply equally to colour in dress: vulgarity -consists in the insolence and discord of it, not in brightness. - - -221. For peasant and prince alike, in healthy national order, brightness -of dress and beautiful arrangement of it are needful. No indication of -moral decline is more sure than the squalor of dress among the lower -orders, and the fear or shame of the higher classes to bear their proper -insignia. - -Such fear and shame are singularly expressed, here in Oxford, at this -hour. The nobleman ceases to wear the golden tassel in his cap, so -accepting, and publicly heralding his acceptance of, the popular opinion -of him that he has ceased to _be_ a nobleman, or noteworthy person.[K] -And the members of the University, generally, shrink from wearing their -academical dress, so accepting, and publicly heralding their acceptance -of, the popular opinion that everybody else may be as good scholars as -they. On the other hand, I see continually in the streets young men in -bright costumes of blue and white; in such evidently proud heraldry -proclaiming their conviction that the chief object of residence in -Oxford is learning to row; the rowing itself being, I imagine, not for -real boat service, but for purposes of display. - - [K] "Another stride that has been taken appears in the perishing of - heraldry. Whilst the privileges of nobility are passing to the - middle class, the badge is discredited, and the titles of - lordship are getting musty and cumbersome. I wonder that sensible - men have not been already impatient of them. They belong, with - wigs, powder, and scarlet coats, to an earlier age, and may be - advantageously consigned, with paint and tattoo, to the - dignitaries of Australia and Polynesia."--R.W. EMERSON (English - Traits). - - -222. All dress is thus heraldic; a soldier's dress only more definitely -so, in proclaiming the thing he means to die as well as to live for; but -all is heraldic, from the beggar's rag to the king's diadem; it may be -involuntarily, it may be, insolently; but when the characters of men are -determined, and wise, their dress becomes heraldic reverently, and in -order. "Togam e tugurio proferre uxorem Raciliam jubet;" and Edie -Ochiltree's blue gown is as honourably heraldic as a knight's ermine. - - -223. The beginning of heraldry, and of all beautiful dress, is, however, -simply in the wearing of the skins of slain animals. You may discredit, -as much as you choose, the literal meaning of that earliest statement, -"Unto Adam also, and to his wife, did the Lord God make coats of skin, -and clothed them:" but the figurative meaning of it only becomes the -stronger. For if you think of the skins of animals as giving the four -great materials of dress--leather, fur, wool, and down, you will see in -this verse the summary of what has ever since taken place in the method -of the providence of the Maker of Man and beast, for the clothing of -the naked creature who was to rule over the rest. - - -224. The first practical and savage use of such dress was that the skin -of the head of the beast became a covering for the head of its slayer; -the skin of its body his coat; the skin of the fore legs was knotted in -front, and the skin of the hind legs and tail became tassels, the jags -of the cut edges forming a kind of fringe here and there. - -You have thus the first conception of a helmet with the mane of the -animal for its crest or plume, and the first conception of a cuirass -variously fringed, striped, or spotted; in complete accoutrement for -war, you have to add spear, (or arrow), and shield. The spear is -properly a beam of wood, iron pointed; the shield a disk of leather, -iron fronted. - -And armed strength for conflict is symbolized for all future time by the -Greeks, under the two types of Heracles and Athena; the one with the low -lion's crest and the arrow, the other with the high horse's crest, and -the spear; one with the lion-skin, the other with the goat-skin;--both -with the round shield. - - -225. The nebris of Dionusos and leopard-skin of the priests of Egypt -relate to astronomy, not war; and the interest in their spots and bars, -as variously symbolic, together with real pleasure in their -grotesqueness, greatly modified the entire system of Egyptian -colour-decoration. On the earliest Greek vases, also, the spots and bars -of the animals are carried out in spots or chequers upon the ground, -(sometimes representing flowers), and the delight in "divers colours of -needlework," and in fantasy of embroidery, gradually refine and illumine -the design of Eastern dress. But only the patterns derived from the -colours of animals become classical in heraldry under the general name -of "furres," one of them "vaire" or verrey ("the variegated fur,") -rudely figuring the material composed of the skins of small animals sewn -together, alternately head to tail; the other, ermine, peculiarly -honourable, from the costliness, to southern nations, of the fur it -represents. - - -226. The name of the principal heraldic colour has a similar origin: the -"rams' skins dyed red" which were used for the curtains of the Jewish -tabernacle, were always one of the principal articles of commerce -between the east and west: in mediaeval Latin they were called "gulae," -and in the French plural "gules," so that to be dressed in "gules" came -gradually to mean being dressed in the particular red of those skins, -which was a full soft scarlet, not dazzling, but warm and glowing. It is -used, in opposition to darker purple, in large masses in the fresco -painting of later Rome;--is the dominant colour of ornamental writing in -the middle ages (giving us the ecclesiastical term "rubric"), and -asserts itself finally, and most nobly, in the fresco paintings of -Ghirlandajo and Luini. I have tried to represent very closely the tint -of it Luini has given to St. Catherine's mantle, in my study in your -schools. Titian keeps it also as the keynote of his frescoes; so also -Tintoret; but Raphael, Correggio, and Michael Angelo, all substituted -orange for it in opposition to purple; and the entire scheme of colour -in the Vatican frescoes is of orange and purple, broken by green and -white, on a ground of grey. This orange and purple opposition in meaner -hands became gaudy and feeble, and the system of mediaeval colour was at -last totally destroyed by it; the orange remaining to this day the -favourite, and most distinctive, hue in bad glass painting. - - -227. The forms of dress, however, derived from the skins of animals are -of much more importance than the colours. Of these the principal is the -crest, which is properly the mane of lion or horse. The skin of the -horse was neither tough, nor of convenient size for wearing; but the -classical Greek helmet is only an adaptation of the outline of its head, -with the mane floating behind: many Etruscan helmets have ears also, -while in mediaeval armour, light plates, cut into the shape of wings of -birds, are often placed on each side of the crest, which then becomes -not the mane of the animal merely, but the image of the entire creature -which the warrior desires to be renowned for having slain. - - -228. The Heraldic meaning of the crest is accordingly, first, that the -Knight asserts himself to have prevailed over the animal it represents; -and to be stronger than such a creature would be, therefore, against his -human enemies. Hence, gradually, he considers himself invested with the -power and character of the slain creature itself; and, as it were, to -have taken from it, for his spoil, not its skin only but its strength. -The crest, therefore, is the heraldic indication of personality, and is -properly to be distinguished from the bearing on the shield, because -that indicated race; but the crest, personal character and valour. - - -229. I have traced the practical truth which is the foundation of this -idea of the transmitted strength of the slain creature becoming the -inheritance of its victor, in the account given of the coins of -Camarina, in "The Queen of the Air." But it is strange and sad to -reflect how much misery has resulted, in the history of man, from the -imaginative excuse for cruelty afforded by the adopted character of -savage animals; and how many wolves, bears, lions, and eagles, have been -national symbols, instead of gentler creatures. Even the heraldic symbol -of Christ is in Italy oftener the lion than the lamb: and among the -innumerable painters of his Desert Prophet, only Filippo Lippi -understood the full meaning of the raiment of camel's hair, and made him -wear the camel's skin, as Heracles the Lion's. - - -230. Although the crest is thus essentially an expression of personal -character, it practically becomes hereditary; and the sign on shield and -helmet is commonly the same. But the shield has a system of bearings -peculiar to itself, to which I wish especially to direct your attention -to-day. - -Our word 'shield' and the German 'schild' mean 'the covering thing,' -that behind which you are sheltered, but you must be careful to -distinguish it from the word shell, which means properly a scale or -plate, developed like a fish's scale, for the protection of the body. - -There are properly only two kinds of shields, one round and the other -square, passing into oval and oblong; the round one being for use in -free action, the square one for adjustment to ground or walls; but, on -horseback, the lower part of the shield must be tapered off, in order to -fall conveniently on the left side of the horse. - -And, therefore, practically you have two great forms of shield; the -Greek round one, for fighting on foot, or in the chariot, and the Gothic -pointed one, for fighting on horseback. The oblong one for motionless -defence is, however, almost always given to the mythic figure of -Fortitude, and the bearings of the Greek and Gothic shields are always -designed with reference to the supposed figures of the circle and -square. - -The Greek word for the round shield is aspis.' I have no doubt, merely -a modification, of 'apsis,' the potter's wheel; the proper word for the -Gothic shield is 'ecu,' from the Latin 'scutum,' meaning a shield -covered with leather. From 'ecu' you have 'ecuyer;'--from scutum -'scutiger,' both passing into our English 'squire.' - - -231. The aspis of the Greeks might be much heavier than the Gothic -shield, because a Greek never rode fully armed; his object was to allow -both to his horse and to himself the most perfect command of limb -compatible with protection; if, therefore, he was in full armour, and -wanted his horse to carry him, he put a board upon wheels, and stood on -that, harnessing sometimes to it four horses of the highest breed -abreast. Of all hitherto practised exertions of manual dexterity, the -driving thus at full speed over rough ground, standing in the chariot, -is, as far as I know, the greatest ever attained by general military -discipline. - -It is true that to do anything perfectly well is about equally -difficult; and I suppose that in a chariot race, a tournament, or a -modern game at cricket, the manual art of the most highly-trained men -would be almost equally fine; still, practically, in Gothic chivalry, -the knight trusted more to his weight and less to his skill than a -Greek did; nor could a horse's pace under armour ever render precision -of aim so difficult as at unarmed speed. - - -232. Another great difference of a parallel kind exists in the knight's -body armour. A Greek never hopes to turn a lance by his cuirass, nor to -be invulnerable except by enchantment, in his body-armour, because he -will not have it cumbrous enough to impede his movements; but he makes -his shield, if possible, strong enough to stop a lance, and carries it -as he would a piece of wall: a Gothic knight, on the contrary, -endeavoured to make his coat armour invulnerable, and carried the shield -merely to ward thrusts on the left side, never large enough to encumber -the arm that held the reins. All fine design in Gothic heraldry is -founded, therefore, on the form of a short, but pointed shield, convex -enough to throw the point of a spear aside easily; a form roughly -extending from the beginning of the twelfth to the middle of the -fifteenth century, but of which the most beautiful types are towards the -end of the thirteenth. - - -233. The difference in method of device between the Gothic and classic -shields resulted partly from this essential difference in form. The -pointed shield, having definitely two sides, like a pointed arch, and a -determined position, naturally suggested an arrangement of bearings -definitely on one side or the other, or above, or below the centre, -while the Greek shield had its boss, or its main bearing, in the centre -always, with subordinate decoration round. Farther, the Gothic fineness -of colour-instinct seized at once on this division of parts as an -opportunity for inlaying or counterchanging colours; and finally, the -respect for race, carried out by registry of the remotest branches of -noble families, compelled the Gothic heralds of later times to use these -methods of dividing or quartering in continually redoubled complexity. - - -234. Essentially, therefore, as distinguished from the classic shield, -the Gothic one is particoloured beneath its definite bearings, or -rather, bi-coloured; for the tinctures are never more than two in the -main design of them; and the specific methods of arrangement of these -two masses of colour have deeper and more ancient heraldic significance -than, with few exceptions, their superimposed bearings. I have arranged -the twelve principal ones[L] in the 7th of your rudimentary exercises, -and they will be entirely fixed in your minds by once drawing it. - - [L] Charges which "doe peculiarly belong to this art, and are of - ordinary use therein, in regard whereof they are called - 'ordinaries.'"--See GUILLIM, sect. ii. chap. iii. (Ed. 1638.) - - "They have also the title of honourable ordinaries in that the - court armour is much honoured thereby." The French call them - "pieces honorables." - - -235. Observe respecting them. - -1. The Chiefe; a bar of colour across the upper part of the shield, -signifies authority or chief-dom, as the source of all order, power, and -peace. - -2. The cross, as an ordinary, distinguished from the cross as a bearing, -consists simply of two bars dividing the shield into four quarters; and, -I believe, that it does not in this form stand properly as a symbol of -Christian faith, but only as one of Christian patience and fortitude. -The cross as a symbol of faith is terminated within the field. - -3. The Fesse, a horizontal bar across the middle of the shield, -represents the knight's girdle, or anything that binds and secures, or -continues. The word is a corruption of fascia. Sir Francis Drake -received for arms from Queen Elizabeth a Fesse waved between two -pole-stars, where it stands for the waved surface of the sea, and -partly, also, to signify that Sir Francis put a girdle round the earth; -and the family of Drummond carries three diminutive Fesses, or bars, -waved, because their ancestor brought Queen Margaret safe through many -storms. - -4. The Bend, an oblique bar descending from right to left of the holder -of the shield, represents the sword belt. The Latin balteus and balteum -are, I believe, the origin of the word. They become bendellus and -bendellum; then bandeau and bande. Benda is the word used for the riband -round the neck of St. Etheldreda, in the account of her death quoted by -Du Cange. I believe, also, the fesse stands often for the cross-bar of -the castle gate, and the bend for its very useful diagonal bar: this is -only a conjecture, but I believe as likely to be true as the idea, -certainly admitted in heraldry, that the bend sometimes stands for a -scaling ladder: so also the next four most important ordinaries have all -an architectural significance. - -5. The Pale, an upright bar dividing the shield in half, is simply an -upright piece of timber in a palisade. It signifies either defence or -enclosure. - -6. The Pile, a wedge-shaped space of colour with the point downwards, -represents what we still call a pile; a piece of timber driven into -moist ground to secure the foundation of any building. - -7. The Canton, a square space of colour in either of the upper corners -of the shield, signifies the corner-stone of a building. The origin and -various use of this word are very interesting. The Greek +kanthos+, used -by Aristotle for the corner of the eyes, becomes canto, and then -cantonus. The French coin (corner), is usually derived from the Latin -cuneus; but I have no doubt it is one corruption of canton: the -mediaeval-Latin cantonus is either an angle or recess, or a four-square -corner-stone. The heraldic canton is the corner-stone of a building, and -the French cantonnier is a road-mender, because the essential thing in -repairing a road is to get its corner or edge firm. - -8. The Chevron, a band bent at an angle (properly a right angle), with -its point upwards, represents the gable or roof of a house. Thus the -four last-named ordinaries represent the four essentials of a fixed -habitation: the pale, its enclosure within a given space of ground; the -pile, its foundation; the canton, its wall, and the chevron its roof. - -9. The Orle, a narrow band following the outline of the shield midway -between its edge and centre, is a more definite expression of enclosure -or fortification by moat or rampart. The relations of this word, no less -than that of the canton, are singular, and worth remembering. Du Cange -quotes under it an order of the municipality of Piacenza, that always, -in the custom-house where the salt-tax was taken, "a great orled disk" -should be kept; "dischus magnus orlatus," _i.e._, a large plate, with a -rim, in which every day fresh salt should be placed. Then note that the -word disk is used in the Middle Ages, either for a plate, or a table, -(the "holy disk" is the patina of the sacrament), but most generally for -a table, whence you get the old German disch; our dish, the French -disner, diner; and our dinner. The disk cut out into a ring becomes a -quoit, which is the simplest form of orle. The word 'orle' itself comes, -I believe, from ora, in old Latin, which took a diminutive, orula; or -perhaps the 'l' was put in merely to distinguish, to the ear, a -margined thing, 'orlatus,' from a gilded thing, 'auratus.' It stands for -the hem of a robe, or the fillet of a crown, as well as for any margin; -and it is given as an ordinary to such as have afforded protection and -defence, because it defends what is within it. Reduced to a narrow band, -it becomes a 'Tressure.' If you have a sovereign of 1860 to 1870 in your -pocket, and look at the right hand upper corner of the Queen's arms, you -will see the Scottish Lion within the tressure decorated with -fleur-de-lys, which Scotland bears in memory of her treaty with -Charlemagne. - -10. The Gyron, a triangular space of colour with its point in the centre -of the shield, derives its name from the old Latin gyro, a fold, "pars -vestis qua laxior fit, et in superiori parte contracta, in largiorem -formam in imo se explicat." The heraldic 'gyron,' however, also has a -collateral reference to, and root in, the word 'gremium,' bosom or lap; -and it signifies properly the chief fold or fall of the dress either -over the bosom, or between the knees; and has whatever symbolic -expression may be attributed to that fold, as a sign of kindness or -protection. The influence of the lines taken by softly falling drapery -in giving gentleness to the action of figures was always felt by the -Gothic artists as one of the chief elements of design; and the two -constantly repeated figures of Christ holding souls in the 'gremium' of -His robe, and of the Madonna casting hers over suppliants, gave an -inevitably recognised association to them. - -11. The Flasque, a space of colour terminated by a curved line on each -flank of the shield, derives its name from the Latin flecto, and is the -bearing of honour given for successful embassy. It must be counted among -the ordinaries, but is of rare occurrence in what groups of authentic -bearings I have examined. - -12. The Saltire, from salir, represents the securest form of machine for -mounting walls; it has partly the same significance as the ladder of the -Scaligers, but, being properly an ordinary, and not a bearing, has the -wider general meaning of successful ascent, not that of mere local -attack. As a bearing, it is the St. Andrew's Cross. - - -236. These twelve forms of ordinary then, or first colour divisions of -the shield, represent symbolically the establishment, defence, and -exaltation of the Knight's house by his Christian courage; and are in -this symbolism, different from all other military bearings. They are -throughout essentially founded on the "quartering" or division of the -field into four spaces by the sign of the Cross: and the history of the -chivalry of Europe is absolutely that of the connection of domestic -honour with Christian faith, and of the exaltation of these two -sentiments into the highest enthusiasm by cultivated imagination. - -The means of this culture by the finer arts; the errors, or falls, of -the enthusiasm so excited; its extinction by avarice, pride, and lust, -in the period of the (so called) Renaissance, and the possibility of a -true Renaissance, or Restoration, of courage and pure hope to Christian -men in their homes and industries, must form the general subject of the -study into which I have henceforth to lead you. In a future course of -lectures it will be my endeavour to show you, in the elementary forms of -Christian architecture, the evidence of such mental development and -decline in Europe from the tenth to the seventeenth century; but -remember that my power or any one else's, to show you truths of this -kind, must depend entirely on the degree of sympathy you have in -yourselves with what is decorous and generous. I use both these words -advisedly, and distinctively, for every high quality of art consists -either in some expression of what is decent,--becoming,--or disciplined -in character, or of what is bright and generous in the forces of human -life. - -I need not say that I fear no want of such sympathy in you; yet the -circumstances in which you are placed are in many respects adverse to -it. - - -237. I find, on returning to the University after a period of thirty -years, the scope of its teaching greatly extended, the zeal of its -masters certainly undiminished; and, as far as I can judge, the feeling -of the younger members of the University better, and their readiness to -comply with all sound advice, greater, than in my time. What scandals -there have been among us, I think have been in great part accidental, -and consequent chiefly on the intense need for excitement of some -trivial kind, which is provoked by our restless and competitive work. In -temper, in general amenability to right guidance, and in their sense of -the advantages open to them, more may now be hoped than ever yet from -the students of Oxford--one thing only I find wanting to them -altogether--distinctness of aim. - - -238. In their new schools of science they learn the power of machinery -and of physical elements, but not that of the soul; I am afraid, in our -new schools of liberal religion they learn rather to doubt their own -faiths than to look with patience or respect on those of others; and in -our new schools of policy, to efface the canons of the past, without -having formed any distinct conception of those which must regulate the -institutions of the future. - - -239. It is therefore a matter of very deep rejoicing to me that, in -bringing before your examination the best forms of English art, I am -necessarily leading you to take interest in the history of your country -at the time when, so to speak, it became England. You see how, in every -college which is now extending or renewing its buildings, the adopted -style is approximately that of the thirteenth century;--it being felt, -and rightly felt, by a continually-extending instinct, that only then -the national mind had unimpaired power of ideal conception. Whatever -else we may have advanced in, there is no dispute that, in the great -arts, we have steadily, since that thirteenth century, declined: and I -have, therefore, since accepting this professorship, partly again taken -up my abandoned idea of writing the story of that century, at least in -England; of writing it, or, at all events, collecting it, with the help -of my pupils, if they care to help me. By myself, I can do nothing; yet -I should not ask them to help me if I were not certain that at this -crisis of our national existence the fixing the minds of young and old -upon the customs and conception of chivalry is the best of all moral -education. One thing I solemnly desire to see all children -taught--obedience; and one to all persons entering into life--the power -of unselfish admiration. - - -240. The incident which I have related in my fourth lecture on -sculpture, seen by me last year on the bridge of Wallingford, is a -sufficient example of the courtesies in which we are now bringing up our -peasant children. Do you think that any science or art we can teach them -will make them happy under such conditions? Nay, in what courtesy or in -what affection are we even now carefully training ourselves;--above all, -in what form of duty or reverence to those to whom we owe all our power -of understanding even what duty or reverence means? I warned you in my -former lecture against the base curiosity of seeking for the origin of -life in the dust; in earth instead of heaven: how much more must I warn -you against forgetting the true origin of the life that is in your own -souls, of that good which you have heard with your ears, and your -fathers have told you. You buy the picture of the Virgin as furniture -for your rooms; but you despise the religion, and you reject the memory, -of those who have taught you to love the aspect of whatsoever things and -creatures are good and pure: and too many of you, entering into life, -are ready to think, to feel, to act, as the men bid you who are -incapable of worship, as they are of creation;--whose power is only in -destruction: whose gladness only in disdain; whose glorying is in their -shame. You know well, I should think, by this time, that I am not one to -seek to conceal from you any truth of nature, or superstitiously -decorate for you any form of faith; but I trust deeply--(and I will -strive, for my poor part, wholly, so to help you in steadfastness of -heart)--that you, the children of the Christian chivalry which was led -in England by the Lion-Heart, and in France by Roland, and in Spain by -the Cid, may not stoop to become as these, whose thoughts are but to -invent new foulness with which to blaspheme the story of Christ, and to -destroy the noble works and laws that have been founded in His name. - -Will you not rather go round about this England and tell the towers -thereof, and mark well her bulwarks, and consider her palaces, that you -may tell it to the generation following? Will you not rather honour with -all your strength, with all your obedience, with all your holy love and -never-ending worship, the princely sires, and pure maids, and nursing -mothers, who have bequeathed and blest your life?--that so, for you -also, and for your children, the days of strength, and the light of -memory, may be long in this lovely land which the Lord your God has -given you. - - - - -INDEX. - - - - -INDEX. - -[_The references are not to the page, but to the numbered paragraphs, -common to all the editions of this work_]. - - Abbeville, house at, 91. - - Academy, London, and village architecture, 93. - " Royal, 6. - - Achilles, 168. - - Acland, Dr., 159. - " his dog "Bustle," 151. - - Actions and aims, 214. - - Advance and contentment in knowledge, 81. - - Aeschylus, Prom. Vinct., 1022, quoted, 157. - - Aestheticism, modern, and sombre colours, 114. - - Aethuia, the bird, 192. - - Affectation, artistic, 201. - - Age, feeling of increasing, 104. - " the present, its dulness and excitement, 65. - " " its vanity in art and science, 33. - - +Agnoia+, 8. - - +Aidos+ in art, 71. - - Aims and actions, 214. - - Alabama, the, 24. - - Alcyone, 190. - - Alsace, inscription on peasant's house in, 86. - " peasants of, their delight and art, _ib._ - - Altorf, 199. - - Amboise, chapel of, 92. - - America and England, relations of, 79. - - Amusement, modern forms of, 71, 72. - - Anacreon and his dog, (Greek vase), 151. - - Anatomy, a degradation in painting man, 150. - " a hindrance " " animals, _ib._ - " comparative mental, 151. - " destroys art, _pref._ vii. - " its effect on the artist's mind and power, 158. - " its place in relation to art, 149, _seq._ - " most fatal to the greatest minds, 159. - " Sir J. Reynolds, and, 154. - " statement as to, in _Stones of Venice_, withdrawn, 159. - - Anaxagoras, 23. - - Angelico's jewel painting, 218. - - Angels, modern feeling about, 62. - " their interest in human work, 53. - ---- (the coins), 117. - - Ancestral honour, power of, 171. - - Animalism, humanity, divinity, 30. - - Animal history, modern books of, fail and why, 158. See s. _Nat. - Hist._ - - Animals, artist's right view of their nature, 150. - " each knows its own good, 23. - " desire to kill, in inverse ratio to power to see and love, - 175. - " man's relation to, 30. - " use of, as types in art, 151. - " wearing of their skins, begins heraldry, 223. - - +Anoia+, 8. - - Apathy, modern, 72, 73. - - +Aphrosyne+, in men, nations, and art, 69-71, 74. - - Apollo, 105. - " temple of, 119. - " the Python and, 117. - - Apollodorus, quoted on the Halcyon, 190. - - Apsis and Aspis, 230. - - Arabs, 203. - - Architects, Institute of British, 6, 93. - - Architecture, decline of English, 239. - " evidence of mental development in, 236. - " short reign of perfect, 82. - " woodcarving and, 86. - See s. _Abbeville_, _Academy_, _Alsace_, _Amboise_, _Apsis_, - _Bergamo_, _Chalet_, _Cottages_, _Hotels_, _Rouen_, _York_. - - Aristotle, "common sense" in, 25. - " division of faculties, 8. - " +sophia+ and prudence in, 26. - - _Quoted_:-- - Ethics vi. 7. 12. on wisdom and prudence, 19, 23. - Hist. Av. i. 9. 2. on +kanthos+ 235. - " v. 8. 9. on the Halcyon, 192. - - Armorial bearings, meaning of, 228. - - Art-- - aim of what it should be, 3, 76. - anatomy, fatal to, _pref._ vii. - characteristics of:-- - eagle eyes, 36. - love of nature, 41. - modesty, Lect. iv., 74. - " of wise appreciation, 172. - originality, to what extent, 32, 33. - refinement and rudeness, 90-91. - sight before knowledge, 125-26. - simplicity before skill, 40. - temperance, 90. - unconsciousness, 53-54. - unity of feeling, 93. - unselfishness as essential to wisdom, 76, 172. - wisdom and folly in Lect. i. - definition of great:-- - it begins rightly, ends beautifully, 146. - it needs no addition, bears no taking away, 147. - See below s. _Meaning._ - difference between good and bad, 71. - education in:-- - generally, 94. - the teacher need not talk much, 2. - ethics and, 18. - the science of right conduct essential to it, 161. - imitative, Shakespeare quoted on, 39. - influenced by:-- - local surroundings, 91. - love of death, esp., modern, 69. - meaning of, 38. - national art, proper subjects of, 95. - " ignorance of art, 16. - nature and:-- - art less beautiful than reality, 172. - general knowledge of organic nature essential to art, 149. - science and:-- - art above science, but must comply with it, 145. - " does not teach science, 160. - " the handmaid and shadow of science, 47, 68, 76, 172. - highest sciences need art most, 45, 96. - simplest art the most useful to, 127. - subjects of art and, the same, 43. - the masters of art, beyond all science, 136. - wise art and wise, Lect. iii. See s. _Nature_, _Use_, - _Science_. - self-sufficiency of. See above s. _Characteristics._ - subject of, appearances rather than facts, 149. - theology of, only recently recognised, 46. - truth complete given by art _and_ science, 58. See s. _Artist._ - use and value of, - as a means of record, 38-9, - as expressing nature, 41. - practical, 206. - to history and physiology, 38-39, 47, 207 seq. - to religion, 46. [See above s. _Science._ - See s. _Aestheticism_, _Affectation_, _Anatomy_, _Animals_, - _Architecture_, _Author_, _Beauty_, _Chromo-lithotint_, - _Cleanliness_, _Colour_, _Competition_, _Death_, _Decency_, - _Drawing_, _Dress_, _Folly_, _French_, _Gothic_, _History_, - _Indolence_, _Invention_, +kakia+, _Knowledge_, _Lindsay_, - _Madonna_, _Nature_, _Nude_, _Photography_, _Royal Academy_, - _Science_. - - Artemisium, 199. - - Artist-- - modesty of, 31. - modesty about, enjoyment in, and feeling as to their own work, 52. - science needed by an, 124-25, 133. - he must know as well as see, 123. - subjects of, not invisible structures, though often invisible - things, 172-3. - See s. _Angelico_, _Barry_, _Bellini_, _Botticelli_, _Copley - Fielding_, _Correggio_, _Duerer_, _Ghirlandajo_, _Giotto_, - _Holbein_, _Hunt (A.)_, _Hunt (Holman)_, _Leonardo_, _Lippi_, - _Luini_, _Mantegna_, _M. Angelo_, _Mulready_, _Raphael_, - _Reynolds_, _Robson_, _Titian_, _Tintoret_, _Turner_, - _Van Eyck_. - - Artistic affectation in England, 201. - - Aspis and apsis, 230. - - Associations, local, to be cherished, 94. - - Astronomy-- - how far valuable discovery yet possible in, 66. - two young ladies studying, 26. See s. _Stars._ - +atechnia+ 8. - - Atheism, modern, 202. - " " tries to dispense with the sun, 104. - - Athena, power of, 196, and _n._ - " protects Ulysses, 75. - " typical of what, 224. - - Atlantic, Ulysses in the, 75. - - +autarcheia+, 80. - - Author: (1) _Generally_, (2) _Teaching_, (3) _Books, &c._ - - 1. _Generally_:-- - drawings by, his own pleasure in them, 84. - " leaf-outlines, 217. - early boyhood, its tendencies, 41. - feeling of increasing age, 104. - life of, progressive from his childish pleasures, 83. - love of art, its foundation and growth, 41. - " " and of nature combined, 42. - story of a serpent and, 101. - study of Tuscan art begun (1846), 46. - success and failure, effect on, 31. - various movements of:-- - at Crystal Palace, 93. - Duesseldorf, 88. - Hincksey, Oxford, 217. - Iffley Church, 118. - London, watching traffic, 59. - Lucerne, rowing. 215. - Verona (1870), 125. - Wallingford, 240. - Westminster (watching clouds), 130. - See s. _Acland_, _Frou-frou_, _Helps_, _Mineralogy_, - _Sight_, _Water-Colour Exhibition_. - 2. _Teaching of:_-- - cannot follow modern science, 134. - despairs of return to simplicity, 94. - feeling for Norman art, 92. - his abuse of modernism, 34. - " reverence for mythology, 95. - on Luini, his position shown (1860), 46. - " study of the S. Catherine, 226. - on Turner, his defence of him, 128. - result of his teaching on his early disciples, 42. - Ritualism, not deceived by, 73. - teaches only what he knows, 123. - work at Oxford, - thought spent in preparing his lectures, _pref._, 2, 217. - assistants, 31. - audiences, 1. - plan for lectures, 236. - - 3. _Books, Lectures, &c.:_-- - constant appeals to physical science in, 128. - fine writing in, 3 - paradoxes in, 89. - _Quoted or referred to:_-- - Aratra Pantalici, (12), 62. - " " (88-9), 240. - " " (142), 39. - Ariadne Florentina, (141) _pref._ viii. - Arrows of the Chace (ii. 178), 212. - Eagle's Nest--pains of writing, _pref._ vii. - " teaching of, needed, 172. - Fors Clavigera (Letter v., p. 4), 88. - Giotto and his Works in Padua (p. 25), 204. - Lecturer on Art (60), 18. - " " (66), 18. - " Landscape (1871), 62. - Munera Pulveris (106), 212. - Modern painters, incomplete, 129. - " " tone of Vol. I., 42. - Queen of the Air (135), 52. - " " (162 _seq._), 229. - Sesame and Lilies (97), 3. - Stones of Venice (iii. 2, 23 _seq._), 159. - - Authority, heraldic sign of, 235, 1. - - Autolycus and Philammon, myths of, 189. - - Bacon, quoted on venomous knowledge, 20. - _New Atlantis_, ref. to, 120. - - Bardi, the, 209. - - Barry, classical paintings of, 63. - - Beauty, Greek love of, 167. - - Bee, wisdom of the, 193-196. - - Behaviour, knowledge of right, essential to art, 161. - - Belfry, 93. - - Bellini, jewel painting of, 218. - - Bend, the heraldic, 235. - - Benvenue, 199. - - Bergamo, Duomo of, 86. - - Berne, gas works at, 102. - " carving at, 88. - - Beverley, lesser egret last seen in England at, 174. - - Bible, statements of mental condition in the, 69. - Quoted or referred to:-- - Gen. i. 3. Let there be light, 99. - " ii. 19. Brought to Adam to see what he would call - them, 150. - " iii. 21. Unto Adam also and his wife ... coats of - skin, 223. - Exod. xx. 12. Long in the land the Lord ... giveth thee, - 240. - " xxv. 5. Rams' skins dyed red, 226. - Deut. xxxii. 11. An eagle ... fluttereth over her young, 63. - Judges v. 30. Divers colours of needlework, 225. - Job xix. 26. _After_ my flesh shall I see God, 121. - Ps. xiv. 1. The fool hath said in his heart, 104. - " xxvii. 1. The Lord is my light ... whom shall I fear, - 104-120. - Ps. xlviii. 13. Mark well her bulwarks, consider her - palaces, 240. - " xcvii. 2. Clouds and darkness are round about him, 7. - " ciii. 1-5. Bless the Lord ... youth renewed like the - eagle's, 63-4. - " cxxxvi. 8. The sun to rule the day, 100. - Prov. iii. 15. She is more precious than rubies, 19. - " iv. 13. Take fast hold on instruction, 19. - " viii. 30-31. I was daily His delight ... rejoicing ... - with the sons of men, 19, 64. - Eccl. i. 18. He that increaseth knowledge increaseth - sorrow, 80. - Malachi iv. 2. Sun of _justice_ ... with healing in his - wings, 115. - Matt. v. 8. Blessed the pure in heart ... shall see God, - 121, 176. - " vi. 22-23. The light of the body is the eye, 106, 108, 110. - " viii. 20. Son of Man hath not where to lay his head, 205. - " x. 16. Wise as serpents, 103-105. - " xi. 7. A reed shaken with the wind, 203. - " xii. 31-32. Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, 169. - " xv. 14. Blind ... fall into the ditch, 106. - " xxiv. 28. Where the carcase is, etc., 36. - Mark v. 3. Dwelling among the tombs, 69. - " v. 15. Clothed and in his right mind, 69. - " x. 15. Receive the Kingdom as a little child, 81. - John i. 9. Light that lighteth every man, 115, 116, 120. - 1 Cor. viii. 1. Knowledge puffeth up, 29. - " xiii. 5. Charity ... thinketh no evil, 152. - " " 6. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, 210. - " " 11. Put away childish things, 81. - 2 Cor. iii. 6. The letter Killeth, 4. - " v. 1. Houses not built by hands, 205. - 1 Peter i. 12. Things the angels desire to look into, 54. - - Birds, builders and singers, 48. - " classifications of (raptores, rasores, &c.), 187-9. - " English temper towards, illustrated 174-5. - " praising God, 61. - " rare, becoming extinct, 34. - " shooting them, the first idea of English gentlemen, 178. - See s. _Aethuia_, _Bullfinch_, _Clematis_, _Cuvier_, _Egret_, - _Gould_, _Gull_, _Halcyon_, _Hawk_, _Heron_, _Kingfisher_, - _Laros_, _Nest_, _Nightingale_, _Ornithology_, _Peacock_, - _Pheasant_, _Skylark_. - - Blake, Wm., as painter and as poet, 21. - " quoted, "The Book of Thel," "Doth the eagle know," &c., 21, - 22, 63. - - Blindness of mind and body, 106. - - Boat race, 212. - - Boats, loved by all boys, 41. - - Books, children's, 61. - - Botanic gardens at Oxford, 160. - - Botticelli, as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - - " his study of face and limb, _pref._ viii. - - Bottle, science of the formation of a, 135. - - Brutes, man's relation to the, 30. See s. _Animals_. - - Briareus, 183. - - British Museum, Greek Vase, "Anacreon and his dog" at, 151. - - Bruges, 93. - - Bubble, soap, unexplained, 132, 134. - - Bullfinch's nest, 48. - - Bustle, Dr. Acland's dog, author's delight in, 151, 154. - - - California, 70. - - Camarina, 229. - - Cambridge wranglers, value of art to, 96. - - Canton, the heraldic, 235. - - Carlyle, T., "Shooting Niagara," 70. - - Carrion and game, choice of, 11, 36. - - Cassell's _Educator_, 202. - - Cassiopeia, 124. - - Cat, its power and use of sight, 110. - " "may look at a king," _ib._ - - Ceyx, son of the Morning Star, 198. - - Chaerephon, in Lucian's dialogue on the Halcyon, 194. - - Chalet, education needed to build a Swiss, 202. - - Chamouni, Turner's drawing of, 147. - - Chance, and design in nature, 182, seq. - - Change, and living change, how wrought, 208-9. - - Chapel, attendance at, in Oxford, 169. - - Character, evidenced by dress, 220. - - Chariot, use of Greek, 231. - - Charity, true, more reverent than pitiful, 211. - - Charlemagne's treaty with Scotland, 235. - - Chartism, story of a Chartist herald (Sir A. Helps, quoted), 208. - - Charybdis, 75. - - Chaucer, quoted, "Cuckoo and Nightingale," 37 (motto), 56. - - Chemistry, a modern God, 202. - " modern progress in, 33. - " of little use to art, 96. - - Cherwell, the, 179. - - Chevron, the heraldic, 235. - - Chiefe, the heraldic, 235. - - Child and dog, pictures by Titian and Reynolds, 151. - - Childhood, pleasures and retrospect of, 82. - - Children's books, 61. - - Chivalry, Christian and Greek, 219. - " " history of, to be learnt by gentlemen, 216. - " conception of, as an influence in education, 239. - " European, its basis, 236. - " leaders of, 240. - - Christ, heraldic symbol of, in Italy, 229. - - Christian chivalry. See s. _Chivalry_. - - Christianity, early traces of in heathen literature (Lucian), 194. - " idea of God as Light, 116. - " its statements of mental health, 69. - - Chromo-lithotints, style of, 69-71. - - Church of England, 73. - - Cid, The, 240. - - Civilization, false, 94. - - Civil Service, the, and Orissa, 35. - - Classification, scientific, 186-7. - - Cleanliness and art, 95. - - Clematis, a bird's nest of, 48. - - Clouds, 129-30. - " effect of storm-clouds on scientist, artist, and scholar, 7. - " forms of, unexplained by science, 131. - - Coins, English "angels," 117. - " engravings of, 157. See s. _Angels_, _Sovereign_. - - Colonization, Englishmen likely to be colonists, 94. - - Colour, connection of with health, 113. - " design in, on Gothic shields, 233. - " gloomy, in art, 69. - " in dress, originates in the skins of animals, 226-7. - " love of light, 113, 116, 117. - " perception of, a spiritual and moral power, 122. - " pure, delight in, 113, 115. - " school of shade and of crystalline colour, 114. - " temperance of, 71. - - Common-sense in the English, 24, 25. See s. _Aristotle_. - - Competition in art, 88. - " in education, 177, 212. - - Conceit of science, 22. - - Conceptions, range of dignity of, and literature, 7-8. - " reason and, 11. - - Consideration for others demands imagination, 27. - - Contentment and advance in knowledge, 81. - - Copiapo, 83. - - Copley Fielding, 41. - - "Coronis," Pindar's, 189. - - Correggio, use of orange for red by, 226. - - Corruptibility of art, 11, 13. - - Cottages, who should build peasants', and how, 201. - - Courtesy, instance of modern, 240. - - Covetousness in art, 81. - - Coxe, Mr. (Bodleian Library, Oxford), 157. - - Crane, legs of a, 162. - - Creation, man's relation to the brute, 30. - - Creatures, different knowledge fit for different, 21. - - Creed, Apostles', its first three clauses, 169. - - Crest, heraldic meaning of the, 228. - " personal, but becomes hereditary, 230. - - Cross, heraldic, 235. - " heraldic quartering and the, 236. - - Crystal Palace, toy at the, 93. - - Cuirass, earliest form of, 224. - - Cup, forms of, 139. - - Cuvier, classification of birds, 188. - - - Daisy, Wordsworth on a, 51. - - Dancing, fair and foul, 13, 14. - - Dante, quoted or referred to-- - " " _De remi, facemmo ale al folle volo_, 79. - " " on Pisa's cruelty, 35. - " " on the sight of Beatrice, 177. - " " on Ulysses, 75. - - Darwin, account of peacock's feather, 185. - - Darwinism, 153-155, 207. - - Death, connection with the myth of the Halcyon, 199. - " love of, by modern art, 69. - - Decency and art, 95. - - Deeds, taught by art, 8. - - Defence, heraldic sign of, 235. (s.). - - Delights, man's best, 212. - - Dependence, 77. - - Derivative beauty in modern art, 219. - - Design in nature, 152, seq. - - Desires, man's best, 212. - - Devices on Greek and Gothic shields, 233. - - Devil, personality of the, 69. - " truth of the expression, "the Devil in him," _ib._ - - Dictionaries, contain "Tout ce qu'il y a de plus beau," 100. - - Dinner, derivation of word, 235. - - Diomed, 168. - - Dionysus' cup, 139. - " nebris, 225. - - Disc or disk, 235. - - Discovery of one age, the common knowledge of the next, 34. - " science and, 65, 66. - " vain passion for, 74. - " value of, in itself, 33. - - Divinity, Humanity, Animalism, 30. - - Doctor, Helps' story of a, in Chartist riots, 208. - - Dog, Anacreon and his (Greek vase), 151. - " carved by boy, 88. - " Dr. Acland's dog "Bustle," 151. - " meaning of its introduction in portraits, 151. - " by Titian and Reynolds, their pictures of children and, _ib._ - - Doing, knowing, and talking, 2, 3, 4. - - Domestic love, in peace, 168. - " " its place and influence, 199. - - Doncaster, Mr. Reed, bird-stuffer of, 174. - - Drake, Sir Francis, arms of, 235. - - Drapery, effect of gentleness gained by, 235. - " its laws, 141, seq. - " on persons and statues, 143. - - Drawing, a vital part of education, and why, 179. - " rules of, use of sight and science in, 148. - " "draw for your subject, not your picture," 163. - - Dress, a sign of character, 220. - " earliest forms of, 223-4. - " Eastern, 225. - " form and colour of, originates in skins of animals, 226-7. - " heraldic, 222, 225. - " national, should be the same in life and art, 166. - " squalor of, a sign of national decay, 221. - - Drummond armorial bearings, 235. - - Du Cange, on St. Etheldreda, 235. - " " on the orle quoted, 235. - - Duerer, 217. - " anatomy in pictures of, 155; influence of anatomy on, - _pref._ viii. - " animals introduced by, 151. - " beautiful faces rare in, _pref._ viii. - " engraving of, _pref._ vii. - " his "Sir, it cannot be better done," 52. - " love of grotesque in, 151. - works of:-- - " Knight and Death, _pref._ viii. - " Melancholia, " - " St. Hubert, " - " St. Jerome, " - - Duesseldorf, art at, 88. - - - Eagle, the, 184. - " characteristics of, 156-7. - " sight and scent of, 111. - - _Eagles Nest, The._ See s. _Author_. (3) _Books_. - - Ease of great work, 85. - - Eastern dress, 225. - - Eccelin of Padua, 35. - - Ecu, derivation of, 230. - - Edify, meaning of word in "Charity edifieth," 30. - - Education, aim of, morality not knowledge, 212. - " a matter of feeling, not of knowledge, 179. - " competition in, 212. - " conception of chivalry as an influence in, 239. - " means power of true sight, animals, man, God, 175-6. - " modern architecture and, 202. - " modern, 120. - " " its error and toilsomeness, _ib._ - " national, 94. - " science as an instrument of, 65. - " sympathy essential to learning, 236. - " true, brings delight in seeing things, 177. - " " summed in enjoyment, _ib._ - - Effort in study, how far necessary, 2. - - Egeri, lakes of, 199. - - Egret, the leper, 174. - - Egyptian leopard, of what typical, 125. - " plagues, 118. - - Elgin marbles, as models for students, 162. - - Elis, coins of, 157. - - Elizabeth, Queen, arms given to Sir F. Drake by, 235. - - Embassy, heraldic sign of, 235, 2. - - Emerson, on distinctive class dress, 221, _n._ - - Emulation in art, 90. - - England, and America, relations of, 79. - " chivalry of, led by Richard Coeur de Lion, 240. - " Church of, 73. - " colonisation by, 94. - " glory and power of old, 203. - " misery of modern, its fallen temper, 203. - " power of help in, 36. - " prudence of the English as a nation, 24. - " schools of, the, 6. - - Engraving, lines in, representative of colour, 152. - - Enjoyment and Achievement, 85. - - +episteme+, 8. - - Erie, Lake, 70. - - Ermine, the, 225. - - Etheldreda's, St., "bend" (heraldic), 235. - - Ethics and art, 18. - See s. _Actions_, _Aims_, _Amusement_, _Behaviour_, _Character_, - _Chivalry_, _Dancing_, _Education_, _Evil_, _Imagination_, - _Intemperance_, _Passions_. - - Etruscan helmet derived from horse's head, 227. - - Euclid quoted, 124. - - Evil correlative with good, 17. - - Examinations, frequent, an error of modern education, 177. - - Experiments in art, 123. - - Eye, "if thine eye be evil," 106. - - Eyes, different kinds of, 107. - " noble and ignoble, 122. - " not telescopes, 99. - - - Faculties of art, science and literature, in extreme, 10. - - Failure, effect of, on author, 31. - - Faith, heraldic sign of, 235, 2. - - Famine, in Persia, 36. - - Fascia, origin of fesse, 235. - - Fesse, the heraldic, 235. - - "Fiat lux, fiat anima," 97-8. - - Fields, in London, 72. - - Film, nature of, a difficult study, 134. - - Flasque, the heraldic, 235. - - Fleet Street, 61. - - Florence, the Duomo of, 138. - " schools of, 159. - - Flowers, loss of rare, nowadays, 34. - - Fog, in England, 130. - - Folly, in art, Lect. i., and ii. - " in science, 20, _seq._ - " vanity of, 40. - - Forgiveness, the sin for which there is no, 169. - - Fortification, heraldic sign of, 235, 9. - - Fortitude, her shield, 230. - - France, chivalry of, led by Roland, 240. - " Germany and, their relations, 79. - - French art, dexterity in, effect of, 89. - " use of colour, in art schools, deadly, 96, 114. - - French plays. See s. _Frou-frou_. - - Fresco-painting, 226. - - Frogs at Iffley, 118. - - _Frou-frou_, play of, its effect on author, 72. - " statement as to, by a French lady, 72. - - Furres, heraldic meaning of, 225. - - - Gaiety Theatre, dancing at, 14. - - Game and carrion, choice of, 11, 36. - - Gaslight, work done by, 104. - - Gentiles, meaning of the word, 170. - - Gentleness and kindness, alike in derivation, 170. - - Geology, Silurian and Permian systems of, 160. - - Geometry and art, 96. - " meaning of the word, _ibid._ - - George III., portrait of daughter of, by Reynolds, 151. - - German erudition, effect on art of, 89. - - Germany and France, relations of, 79. - - Ghent, workmen at, 93. - - Ghirlandajo, read in his frescoes, 226. - - Giesbach, author at the, (1870), 101. - - Giotto, "paint me my arms" anecdote, 209. - " simplicity of, _pref._ vii. - - Gladstone (W. E.), at Nat. Assoc. for Soc. Science, 63. - - Glass, painting on, a lost art, 33. - " " orange _v._ purple in, 226. - " " at Iffley, 118. - - God, birds' praise of, 61. - " man's honouring of, 55. - " " relation to, 30. - " universal idea of, as Light, 116. - - Goethe, Faust quoted, 62. - - Good and evil, in art, 17. - - Gothic art, modern imitations of, purposely wrong to nature, 145. - " " its scientific side and basis, 137. - " " its sense of strength, 137. - " shield, 230. - - Gould, Mr., the ornithologist, 48. - " " his account of the lesser egret, 174. - - Grallatores, birds called, 187. - - Great men, their greatness in their aim, not their actions, 214. - - Greece, sources and nature of her power, 167-8. - - " Switzerland and, a district of each compared, 109. - - Greek armour, 231. - " " helmet = horse's head, 227. - " " shield, 230. - " classification of birds, 189. - " idea of God as Light, 116. - " mythology, 95. - " patronymics, meaning of, 168. - " vase, dog painting on a, 151. - " vases, Sir Wm. Hamilton on, 139. - - Gremium, the, of Christ and the Madonna in art, 235. - - "Greta and Tees," Turner's, 69, 70. - - Guillim's "Heraldry" quoted, 234, n. - - Guillotine and mitrailleuse, 34. - - Gules, 226. - - Gull, the "swimmer" of birds, 188. - - Gun-cotton, 33. - - Gyron, the heraldic, 235. - - - Halcyon days, meaning of, 192. - - ---- the, its feathers, 185. - " " Greek notices of, 190 seq. - " " myth of, and death, 199. - " " Scholiasts' description of, 197. - " " story of, 172 seq. - - Hamilton, Sir W., on Greek verses, 139. - - Happiness, in Aristotle, 19. - - Hawk, the "snatcher" of birds, 188. - - Health, "mens sana, &c.," 68. - " of heart, _ibid._ - - Heat, a mode of motion, 100. - - Helen, in the "Iliad," 168. - - Helmet, earliest idea of the, 224. - " Greek and Etruscan, derived from horse's head, 227. - - Helps, Sir A., his "War and Culture" quoted, 208. - - Helps, Sir A., his "War and Culture," dedicated to author, _ib._ - - Hera, 190. - - Heraldry, a despised science, 173. - " aim of, 207. - " author's drawings of, 112. - " distinct meaning of crest and arms, 228. - " dress and, 225. - " function of, 210. - " Greek and Gothic, 230 _seq._ - " importance to art of, 173. - " natural types in, 229. - " power of, 47. - " teaching of, 171. - " the heraldic ordinaries, Lect. x., 235. - " their symbolism, 236. - " use in teaching colour, 114. - See s. _Armorial bearings_, _Bend_, _Chevron_, _Chief_, _Crest_, - _Cross_, _Drummond_, _Embassy_, _Fesse_, _Furres_, _Guillim_, - _Gules_, _Gyron_, _Helmet_, _Ordinaries_, _Orle_, _Quartering_, - _Red_, _Varie_, _Verrey_. - - Hercules, 75. - " his death, 199. - " lion's skin, and, 229. - " the, of Switzerland, 199. - " type of what, 224. - - Hereditary skill to be cherished, 94. - - Heron, the stilt-walker of birds, 188. - - Hincksey, author walking back from, 217. - - History, art as an end to, 47. - " art and, 207 seq. - " how to read, 214. - " probable view of the Nineteenth Century in, 35. - " should separate the ideal and the real, 215, 216. - " true, defined, 214. - " what it has been and should be, 207. - - Historical painting, its function, 210. - - Holbein, 217. - " as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - " study of face and limb by, _pref._ viii. - - Holy Ghost, the sin against the, 169. - - Home, the true, for which to seek, 206. - - Homer, Odyssey vi., quoted, 74, 75, 78. - " passage on the Sirens, quoted, 100. See s. _Iliad_, - _Odyssey_. - - Honour, power of, 212. - - Horse's head, gives rise to helmet-form, 227. - - Hotel de Ville, architecture of an, 201. - - Hubert, Duerer's St., _pref._ viii. - - Hughes, Tom, 63. - - Human form and art. See s. _Anatomy_, _Nude_. - - Humanity, Animalism, Divinity, 30. - - Hunt, Alfred, his rainbow, 129 _n._ - - Hunt, Holman, his "Light of the World," 115. - - Hyginus, quoted on the Halcyon, 190. - - - Idealism, 95. - - Ideal, the, and real in history to be distinguished, 215-216. - - Iffley church, author at, 118. - - Ignorance, how far essential to art, 88. - - Iliad, moral of the, 168. - - Imagination, 95. - " condition of modern, 69. - " history of the, best part of man's history, 214. - " implied in consideration for others, 27. - " its precious value, 215. - " self-command and, 26. - - Independence, in pursuit of art and science, 76, 77. - - Indolence in art, 81. - - Insanity, author's use of the word, 69 _n._ - - Inscription on house in Alsace, 86. - - Insessores, birds, 187. - - Intemperance, distinct from passion, 72. - - Invention, artistic, excels science, 140. - - Inventions of the age, 33. - " vanity of pride in, 34. - - Isis, the, 179. - - Isle of Dogs, starvation at, 63. - - - Jerome, Duerer's St., _pref._ viii. - - Judgment, a Latin word, 7. - - +kakia+ in art, how evidenced, 40. - - +kantharos+, Greek, 139. - - +kanthos+, use of, by Aristotle, 235. - - Kennington, 208. - - Kensington, art schools of, 6. - " education at, 202. - " museum, statue of dog in, 88. - " " studies of the nude in, 166. - - Kindness, derivation of the word, 170. - - King-fisher, power of sight of, 112. - " See s. _Halcyon_. - - Knight, armour of, 231-2. - " and Death, Duerer's, _pref._ viii. - - Knowing, doing, talking, 2-4. - - Knowledge, art the shadow of, 68. - " charity and, 29. - " limits of human, 80. - " perception, and their places in art, 126. - " Pope on, quoted, 20. - " "science" and, 37. - " taught by science, 8. - " tenderness the basis of high, 77. - " various kinds for various creatures, 21-2. - " venomous, quoted by Bacon, 29. - " what, good for an artist, 123-4. - - "Know thyself," a law to man, 22-3. - - - Lago di Garda, sunset at, 125. - - Lake Erie, 70. - " Ontario, 70. - - Landlord, duty of a, not to build cottages, 201. - " speech of an English, to author, 200. - " the good they can do, in keeping the land lovely, 179. - - Landscape, author's lectures on, Oxford, 1871, 62. - " choice of subject in, 69. - - Laros, the bird, 192. - - Law, evidence of, in nature, 183. - " the laws of life, the true object of science, 206. - - Leake's travels, 199. - - Lectures. See s. _Landscape_. - - Leonardo, Luini's master, 46. - " subtle delineation of, 87. - - Liberty, modern desire for, 204. - - Life, duty of, to give praise and deserve it, 213. - " its laws, the true object of science, 206. - " its source is love, 168. - " temperance of the artistic, 90. - - Light, definition of, 97. - " universal prayer for, 115. - " " ideas of God as, 116. - - Lindsay, Lord, his Christian Mythology, author's early guide, 46. - " " the first to see the theology of art, _ib._ - - Linnaeus, his classification of birds, 188. - - Lion, Charlemagne's treaty and the Scottish, 235. - " the, 184. - - Lippi, Filippo, his St. John Baptist, 229. - - Literature, eagle-eyed, 36. - " expresses theology less perfectly than does art, 46. - " right aim of, "to exalt the fancy," 3, 206. - " sphere and meaning of, 3, 4. - - Livy, Book iii. 26, quoted, 215, 222. - - Local associations, to be cherished, 94. - - Logic, a method, not a power, 5. - - London, Academy of, 93. - " art in, 82. - " as a "man's nest," 61. - " building over, 72. - " traffic, its aspect and meaning, 59-60. - " water-supply, 154. - See s. _Academy_, _Author_, _British Museum_, _Fields_, _Fog_, _Isle - of Dogs_, _Ludgate Hill_, _Noise_, _Paradise Row_, _Parliament_. - - Lord's Prayer, the, quoted, 75. - - Love, all things founded on, 169. - " derived from "laus," its meaning, 213. - " domestic, its place and influence, 199. - " power of, 212. - " the source of honour, 219. - " " life, 168. - - Lucerne, Lake of, 199. - - Lucian, on the Halcyon, 194. - - Ludgate Hill, scene of traffic at, 59. - - Luini, his position vindicated by author, 1861, 46. - " use of red in his frescoes, 226. - - - Madonna, The, her power in Christian chivalry, 219. - " " picture of, bought by author, its derivative beauty, - 218. - - Magpie, the, 188. - - Man, his honour of God, 55. - " his relation to things above and below him, 30. - " not a beast of prey, 63. - " "know thyself," a law to, 22-3. - " strength of mutual dependence amongst men, 77. - " what kind of, occupied by art, science, and literature, 3. - - Mantegna, 155. - " as an engraver, _pref._ vii. - " evil influences of anatomy on, _pref._ viii. - " his "Angels," 62. - " his "Vices," _pref._ viii. - - Marble, veins in, unexplained, 132. - - Margaret, Queen, and the Drummond arms, 235. - - Maskelyne, Prof., of Oxford, 160. - - Mathematics, of little use to art, 96. - - Matterhorn, 70. - - Max Mueller, Professor, 3. - - Mechanism, modern, 34. - - Melancholia, Duerer's, _pref._ viii. - - Memling's grace and severity, 218. - - Mephistopheles, 62. - - Michael Angelo, 155. - " " dome of Florence, and, 138. - " " effect of anatomy on, 159. - " " puts orange for red, 226. - - Middle Ages, history of the, real and ideal in, 216. - - Milton, "Comus," l. 706, referred to, 75. - " Ode to the Nativity, quoted, 198. - - Mind, effect of various tempers of, on art, 96. - " its choice of subject more important than its methods, 11. - " safe conditions of, 68-9. - " various states of the, described in the Bible, 69. - - Mineralogy, author's early, 3. - - Mitrailleuse, the age of the, 34. - - Models, may be too good, 90. - - Modern advance, probable view of, by future generations, 34-5. - " greed for money, 204. - " knowledge, its pride and folly, 79. - " life, what ideas obsolete in, 120. - See s. _Age_, _Atheism_, _Education_, _Liberty_. - - Modesty purifies art, 81. - " true, in man, 30. - - Moliere quoted, 100. - - Money, modern greed for, 204. - - Monte Rosa, 70. - - Moral temper, essential to appreciate art, 161. - - Morgarten, the Thermopylae of Switzerland, 199. - - +moria+ in art, how evidenced, 40. - " of the faculties, 9 _seq._ - - Motives, human, 212. - - Mountains, blueness of, at Verona, 125. - - Mulready's studies of the nude, 166. - - Myths of Apollo and St. George, 117. - " of Autolycus and Philammon, 189. - " physical causes as affecting, 199. - - Mythology, 95. - " of importance to art, 172. - " why a despised science, 173. - - See s. _Autolycus_, _Briareus_, _Ceyx_, _Hercules_, _Orpheus_, - _Pelides_, _Philammon_, _Pleiades_, _Polygnotus_, _Poseidon_, - _Tydides_. - - - Napoleon, Louis, 208. - - Natatores, (Birds), 187. - - National History, scientific view of, 49, 57. - " Life, sources of its power, 171. - " symbols, more cruel than gentle types chosen for, 229. - - Nativity, Raphael's, offered to the English, 24. - - Nature, art less beautiful than, 172. - " chance and design in, 152 _seq._ - " effect of, on local art, 91. - " love of art involves greater love of, 41. - " teaching of the power of the Holy Spirit in, 169. - - Natural History, its true scope and triple division, 180-1. - " " what it should amount to, 207. - " Philosophy, modern study of, 2. - - Nest, bullfinch's, 48. - " halcyon's, 193. - " true man's true, 206. - - Niagara, "Carlyle's" Shooting, 70. - - Nightingale, the Greek singing-bird, 189. - - Nineteenth century, history's probable view of the, 35. - - Nitro-glycerine, 33. - - Noble and notable, 39. - - Noise of London traffic, 60-61. - - Nomenclature, scientific, 186. - - Norman design, 92. - - Northern minds and Southern art, 163. - - Notable and noble, 39. - - +nous+, 8 _seq._, 25. - - Novelty of wisdom, its danger, 74. - - Nude, the, degrades art, 149. - " its limit, _ib._ - " its study:-- - places where Impracticable, 164. - how far desirable in England, 164. - result of, in Greece, 167. - - Nuremberg carving, 88. - - - Oarsmanship, art of, 12. - - Ochiltree, Edie. See _Scott_. - - OEta, Mt., the country round, 199. - - Ontario, Lake, 70. - - Optics and art, 96. - - Orange and purple, use of in art, 226. - - Ordinaries, the heraldic, Lect. x.; 234 _n._, 235. - - Organic form and art, 149 _seq._ - - Orion, 28. - - Orissa, 35-6. - - Orle, the heraldic, 235. - - Originality in art, its value, 32. - " how estimated in the great and base schools, _ib._ - " modern demand for it in art and science, 33. - - Ornithology, 47, 48. - " further discoveries impossible in, 66. - " modern work in, 156-7. - " modern classification criticised, 187-8. - - Orpheus, 151. - - Oxford, approach to, 119. - " Brasenose Lane, filth of, 119. - " charm and power of its buildings, Lect. v., end. - " colleges, style of their buildings, 239. - " disuse of academicals at, its meaning, 221. - " education, 177, 237. - " idea of its possible beauty, 179. - " improvements at, 118. Lect. v., end. - " new church at, 63. - " "motto" of, 120. - " printsellers' windows at, art in the, 217. - " object of study at, 95. - " its teaching, ancient idea of, 121. - " undergraduates and author's lectures, 1. - - - Padua, Eccelin of, 35. - - Painting on glass, a lost art, 33. - " perfection of, reached only in Venice, 82. See s. _Art_, - _Drawing_. - - "Pale," the heraldic, 235. - - _Pall Mall Gazette_, (Jan. 29, 1869), quoted, 63. - - Paradise Row, 206. - - Paris, art in, 82. - - Parliament, its work done by night, 104. - " the little good done by, 179. - - ---- Houses of, their affected architecture, 201. - - Parrot, the "climber," 188. - - Passion, not full of intemperance, 72. - - Passions, the, controlled in dancing, 13. - " " ruled by Sophia (+sophia+), 19. - - Patronymics, meaning of Greek, 168. - - Pausanias quoted, 199. - - Peace, man's search for, 204. - " how to be found, 205. - - Peacocks and pheasants, Darwinian connection of, 185. - - Pelides, 168. - - Perception, knowledge interferes with artistic, 126. - - Permian system of geology, 160. - - Persia, famine in, 36. - - Persian idea of God as Light, 116. - - Peru, 83. - - Pheasant, the "scratcher" of birds, 188. - " and peacock, Darwinian connection of, 185. - - Phidias' Theseus, 39. - - Philammon, 151. - " myth of Philammon and Autolycus, 189. - - Phillips, Prof., of Oxford, 160. - - Philophronesia, 8. - - Philosophia, 8. - - Photography, value of, 147. - - +phronesis+, 8, 25. - " different kinds of, 23. - - Physical circumstances, effect of, on myths, 199. - - Physiology and art, 207. - " its true meaning, 207. - - Physiologist, on sight, 99. - - Plagues of Egypt, 118, 170. - - Plants, instinct of, 97. - - Plato, his definition of sight, quoted, 97. - - Pleasure, in great and small, rude and fine art, 82. - " the greatest, given by inferior art, 82. - " decrease of, with increase of years, 82. - - Pleiades, 28. - - Plutarch, on the Halcyon, quoted, 193. - - Plymouth, Turner's drawing of, 125. - - Piacenza, the orle of, 235. - - Pictures, the reality must be better than the semblance, 165. - - Pietra dura ornament, 88. - - Pile, the heraldic, 235. - - Pindar's "Coronis" (Pyth. iii. 14, 48), 189. - - Pines, Scotch and stone, confused by Turner, 133. - - Pisa, coin of, 157. - " cruelty of, and Dante, 35. - - Paestum, plain of, 7, 25. - - Poetry, its essence, 100. - - +poikilia+, 73. - - Polygnotus, porch of, 119. - - Pool of water at Iffley, 118. - - Pope, quoted:-- - Essay on Criticism, "A little knowledge," &c., 20. - Homer, "Oh stay, oh pride of Greece, Ulysses, stay," 74. - - Poseidon, 25. - - Possibility, ancient recognition of human and divine, 195. - - Pottery, not made by rule, 139. - - Power, constructive and negative, 20. - - Praise, life's duty is to give and deserve it, 213. - " love of, in man, 212. - " what kind of, to compete for, 212. - - Prayer, efficacy of, 67. - - Prey, use of sight to beasts of, 110. - - Prodicus (of Xenophon), 40. - - Proprietor, speech of English landed, to author, 200. - - Protection, heraldic sign of, 235 (10). - - Prout, growth of his power, 86, 87. - - Provincial art, 91, 92. - - Prudence, a lower virtue, 23. - " contrasted with +sophia+, 26. - - Purification, the most sacred art, 118. - - Purity, physical, 117. - - Purple _v._ orange, use of, in art, 226. - - - Quartering, heraldic, 236. - - Quoits, disk and orle, 235. - - - Radclyffe, the, at Oxford, 119. - - Railway, power of sight on the, 111. - - Rainbows, drawings of, 129 _n_. - - Raphael, 218. - " substitutes orange for red, 226. - " works of:-- - Nativity of, offered to the English, 24. - Theologia, or Dispute of the Sacrament, 46. - - Raptores, Birds, 187. - - Rasores, Birds, 187. - - Rattlesnake, eyes of the, 109. - - Real and ideal in history to be distinguished, 215-216. - - Reason and conceptions, 11. - - Red, or "gules," its history and universal use, 226. - - Reed, Mr., of Doncaster, bird-stuffer, 174. - - Refinement, loss of pleasure with increase of, 82 seq. - - Regillus, battle of Lake, 215. - - Religionists, errors of, 79. - - Renaissance, Italian, 86. - " the so-called, 236. - - Reu, chapel of, 92. - - Reynolds (Sir J.), 218. - " anatomy and, 154. - " child and dog, by, 151-4. - " speed of, 139. - - Richard Coeur de Lion, 240. - - Ridiculous, the, 16. - - Ritualism, 73. - - Rivalry, modern, and Venetian art, 82. - - Robson, 41. - - Roland, 240. - - Roman history, its lessons, 215. - - Rome, fresco painting of, 226. - " power of domestic life in, 170. - - Rouen Cathedral, 92. - - Rowing, art of, 12. - - Royal Academy, failure of power at exhibition 1871, 89. - " " vulgar sending of portraits to the, 151. - - Royal Society, 6. - - Rubens' Rainbow, 129 _n._ - - Rubric, 226. - - - Sacrament, dispute of the, by Raphael, 46. - - Saint Andrew's Cross, 235. - " George and the Dragon, 117. - " Hilaire and natural history, 158. - " Mark's, Venice, doves at, 62. - " Michael (coin stamped with), 117. - " Paul's Cathedral, worship in, 61. - - Saltire, the heraldic, 235. - - "Sanitas," 68. - - Scaligers, arms of the, 235. - - Scansores (Birds), 187. - - Scholarship, the aim of true, 7. - - Schools of art, should encourage constructive power, 20. - - Science - aim of right, 3. - ancient and modern men of, 100. - aspects of modern, 65. - art and:-- - artistic invention unaided by, 140. - together give complete truth, 58. See s. _Art_, _Artist_. - conduct, the science of, the one s. essential to art, 161. - defined, 37, 38, 65. - discovery and, their relations, 66. - eagle-eyed, 36. - function of, to explain the laws of life, 206. - man in relation to, 22. - modesty of, in wise appreciation, Lect. IV., 72, 172. - nomenclature and, 96, 186. - originality in, demanded, 33. - power of, deadly, 20. - progress in, its vanity, 33. See below s. _Vanity_. - pursuit of:-- - selfish and unselfish, 33. - tone of right, 76. - rank and classification of different, 67, 186-87. - theology and, 67. - vanity in, its effect, 33, 74. - wisdom and folly in, 20 _seq._ - " in unselfishness, 76, 172. - See s. _Anatomy_, _Astronomy_, _Chemistry_, _Clouds_, - _Cuvier_, _Discovery_, _Folly_, _Heat_, _Invention_, - _Natural History_. - - Scotland, the Scottish Lion, 235. - " treaty with Charlemagne, _ib._ - - Scott, Sir W., Antiquary (Edie Ochiltree), referred to, 222. - - Sculpture at Abbeville, 91. - " perfection in, reached only in Athens and Etruria, 82. - - "Scutum," derivatives of, 230. - - Sea-mew, the, Greek myth of, 190. - - Self-command and imagination, 26. - - Self-interest, as a motive-power in revolution, 208-9. - - Selfishness, how far unconquerable, 31-2. - - Self-satisfaction in one's own work, right and wrong, 81. - - Semmes, Captain, and the _Alabama_, 24. - - Sense, faculty of, 8. - - Serpent, characteristics of a, 102; its wisdom, _ib._ - " anecdote of, and author, 101. - - Servius, quoted on the Halcyon, 191. - - Shadow, "folly looks at her own," 40. - - Shakespeare, on mimetic art, 39. - " his chemical, anatomical, substantial, and ideal - aspects, 44. - " as a subject of science and art, _ib._ - _Quoted_:-- - Hamlet iii. 1. "Arms against a sea of troubles," 204. - " v. 1. "Here hung those lips that I have kissed," &c., 157. - Macbeth i. 3. "The earth hath bubbles, &c.," 137. - Mids. Night's Dream v. i. "The best in this kind are but - shadows," 39, 148. - - Shell, meaning of the word, 230. - - Shepherd boy, carving dog, 88. - - Shield, forms and use of a, 224. - " Greek and Gothic, 230. - " meaning of, in heraldry and etymology, 230. - - Sight, accurate, to be acquired, 112. - " author's controversy with physiologist on, 99. - " author's sight tired, 112. - " clear, so far as kind, _ib._ - " growth of educated, 176. - " index to nobility of nature, 110. - " kinds of, physical and moral, 108. - " mathematical power of, 111. - " not mechanical, but spiritual, 99. - " noble and ignoble, 122. - " Plato's definition of, 97. - " power of metric, 112. - " source of all knowledge in art, 172. - " spiritual, 111. - " weariness, effect of, on metric power of, 112. - - Silurian system of geology, 160. - - Simonides quoted on the Halcyon, 192. - " " the "wisdom of calm," 199. - - Simplicity in estimate of one's own work, 53. - " quoted also, 199. - - Sin, the unforgiveable, 169. - - Sirens, knowledge of the, 100, 108, 168. - " song of, 74, 75, 78. - - Skiddaw, 199. - - Skill, tenderness, the basis of high, 77. - - Skull, man's, and an eagle's, 155 seq. - - Skye-terrier painted by Reynolds, 151. - - Sky-lark, the, 56. - - Social Science meeting (1869-70), 63. - - Socrates in Lucian's dialogue on the Halcyon, 194. - - Solar force, 100. - - Sophia, or +sophia+, Lect. I. - " Aristotle's definition of, 9 seq., 90. - " eternal and universal, 23. - " faculty of recognition and choice, 30. - " higher forms of, 27-28. - " modesty of true, 30-31. - " prudence, and contrasted, 26. - " ruling spirit, 20. - " sway over wise art and science, 37. - " unselfishness of true, 29, 31. - - Sophocles' Trachiniae, 199. - - +sophrosyne+, 68, 90. - - Sovereign, English (coin) and St. George, 117. - " heraldry of art (1870-1880), 235. - - Spain, chivalry of, led by the Cid, 240. - - Sparrow, the "percher" of birds, 188. - - Spear, proper form of a, 224. - - Species, modern theories on, 34. - - Sport, English ideas of, 178. - - Sport, _continued_:-- - " love of killing birds, its meaning, 175. - - Squire, derivation of word, 230. - - Stars, their value to artist and scientist, 124. - - Star-gazing, probable conditions of, by two girls, 26. - - "Stones of Venice," statement as to anatomy in, withdrawn, 159. - - Strasburg, architecture of, 202. - " art in, 82. - " drawing of house in, by Prout, 86. - - Street, E., 50. - - Strozzi, child and dog, Titian's, 151. - - Subjects in art, natural subjects of national art, 95. - - Success, one's own, and others', 31. - " effect of, on author, 31. - - Sun, power of the, 100. - " modern efforts to dispense with, 104. - " should "rule the day," 104. - - Swine, symbol of the herd of, 69. - - Swiss chalet, education needed to build, 202. - - Switzerland and Greece, two districts of, compared, 199. - " the Heracles of, 199. - " the history of, its lessons, 21. - - Sympathy, essential to learning, 236. - - - Tabernacle, Jewish, 226. - - Talking, doing, and knowing, 2, 3, 4. - - +techne+, 8. - - Tees," Turner's "Greta and, 70. - - Telescopes and eyes, 99. - - Tell, William, legendary, 215. - - Temper, trials of, 69. - " success, influence on, 31. - - Temperance, true, in recognition of work, 81. - - Temptations of knowledge, 79. - " Ulysses, their meanings, 74-5. - - Tenderness the basis of skill and knowledge, 77. - - Thales, 23. - - "Theologia," Raphael's, 46. - - Theology, more perfectly expressed by art than by literature, 46. - - Theology, of art, only recently recognised, 46. - " of more value than anatomy to art, 168. - " science and, 67. - - Thermopylae, blue waters of, 199. - - Theseus, Phidias', 39. - - Thirst, man's best, for what, 212. - - Thought, the peace of beautiful, 205. - " right, the end of literature, 3, 206. - - Throne, a Greek word, 7. - - Titian, use of red by, 226. - - Titian's Strozzi Princess and dog, 151. - - Titmouse, a new specimen of the, 66. - - Tintoret, use of red by, 226. - " speed of, 139. - - Toy, useless, at Crystal Palace, 93. - - Trachiniae, Sophocles', 190. - - Trachis, king of, 190. - - Tressure, the heraldic, 235. - - Truth, completely given by science and art together, 58. - - Turner, J. W. M., drawing of seen and known facts by, 125. - " early patronage of, 199. - " pines, drawing of Scotch and stone, confused, 133. - " truth of, proved by author, 128. - " works of-- - " engraving of a cloud (Educ. Series, 8 E.), 7. - " Greta and Tees, its quietude, 69-70. - " Val. Plymouth, drawing of (anecdote), 125. - " Valley of Chamouni, 147. - - Tydides, 168. - - Tyndall, Prof., "Palaeontology," quoted, 100. - - - Ulysses of Dante and of Homer, 74-5. - - Unity of feeling in great art, 93. - - University, aim of _its teaching_, 4, 5, 6, 18. - " definition of a, 5. - " its function only to examine! 120. - " See s. _Cambridge_, _Oxford_. - - Unselfishness in art, 31. - " of high forms of faculties, 29. - - Unwise, man meant to be, 31. - - - Van Eyck's grace and severity, 218. - - Vases, Greek, 139. - - Vatican, frescoes, 226. - - Varie, meaning of (heraldic), 225. - - Venetian glass, 139. - - Venice, Londoners' regret at its quietude, 60. - " perfect art in, 82. - " sunset at, 125. - - Veronese, P., animals introduced by, 151. - " his "Solomon and the Queen of Sheba," 151. - - Verrey, meaning of, 225. - - Villas, London, 72. - - Virgil, Servius quoted on, 191. - " Georgics, i. 399. - - Virgin, pictures of the, bought as furniture by Oxford undergraduates, - 240. - - Votes, modern desire for, 204. - - - Wallingford, incident at, seen by author, 240. - - Water-colour exhibition, author at, 41. - - Wealth, results of modern, 63. - - Westminster, Victoria Tower at, 130. - - Windgelle, 199. - - Winds, Halcyone, daughter of the, 198. - - Wisdom, 8. - " art and, Lect. I. - " folly and, in science, 20 seq. - " its view of modern life, 64. - " novelty of, its danger, 74. - - Wit, 8. - - Wood-carving and architecture, 86. - " of dog, by shepherd boy, 88. - - Wordsworth, (Poems of sentiment and reflection, "Daisy," 40); - quoted, 51. - - Work, the morning, the best time for, 104. - - Workmen, feeling of, in great art, 93. - - Wrangler, value of art to a senior, 96. - - Wyatt, printseller at Oxford, 217. - - - Xenophon's "Memorabilia," II. i. 22, quoted, 40. - - - York, 93. - " Minster, 82. - - Zeus, 25, 190. - - Zoroaster, 150. - - - Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - Edinburgh & London - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - - The punctuation in the index was inconsistent. Usage of ',' and '.' - has been regularized, with final stops after each entry supplied - where missing. - - The index also has several errors of alphabetizing, with "pi" - entries and "Paestum" following "pl" entries. The printed order has - been retained. - - As noted by Ruskin in the text, the index refers to the numbered - paragraphs, not page numbers. - - Printer's errors and omissions have been silently corrected. - - The oe-ligature is represented here as "oe". - - Any variants of spelling and use of hyphen are preserved except - as noted below. - - p. 78 h[ie/ei]ght Corrected. - - p. 269 "Bee, wisdom of" 193[-]196". Added, as the Bee is the - subject across those - paragraphs. - - p. 287 "Oxford ... its teaching, Added, based on the text. - - In the Index, any references to the Preface are incorrect, being - misnumbered, generally, by two pages (e.g. p. viii = p. vi). 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