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diff --git a/14062.txt b/14062.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22d72b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/14062.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9747 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Miscellanies, by Oscar Wilde, Edited by +Robert Ross + + +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: Miscellanies + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: November 16, 2004 [eBook #14062] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISCELLANIES*** + + + + + +Transcribed from the 1908 edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + + +MISCELLANIES BY OSCAR WILDE + + +DEDICATION: TO WALTER LEDGER + + +Since these volumes are sure of a place in your marvellous library I +trust that with your unrivalled knowledge of the various editions of +Wilde you may not detect any grievous error whether of taste or type, of +omission or commission. But should you do so you must blame the editor, +and not those who so patiently assisted him, the proof readers, the +printers, or the publishers. Some day, however, I look forward to your +bibliography of the author, in which you will be at liberty to criticise +my capacity for anything except regard and friendship for +yourself.--Sincerely yours, + +ROBERT ROSS + +May 25, 1908. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The concluding volume of any collected edition is unavoidably fragmentary +and desultory. And if this particular volume is no exception to a +general tendency, it presents points of view in the author's literary +career which may have escaped his greatest admirers and detractors. The +wide range of his knowledge and interests is more apparent than in some +of his finished work. + +What I believed to be only the fragment of an essay on Historical +Criticism was already in the press, when accidentally I came across the +remaining portions, in Wilde's own handwriting; it is now complete though +unhappily divided in this edition. {0a} Any doubt as to its +authenticity, quite apart from the calligraphy, would vanish on reading +such a characteristic passage as the following:--' . . . For, it was in +vain that the middle ages strove to guard the buried spirit of progress. +When the dawn of the Greek spirit arose, the sepulchre was empty, the +grave clothes laid aside. Humanity had risen from the dead.' It was +only Wilde who could contrive a literary conceit of that description; but +readers will observe with different feelings, according to their +temperament, that he never followed up the particular trend of thought +developed in the essay. It is indeed more the work of the Berkeley Gold +Medallist at Dublin, or the brilliant young Magdalen Demy than of the +dramatist who was to write Salome. The composition belongs to his Oxford +days when he was the unsuccessful competitor for the Chancellor's English +Essay Prize. Perhaps Magdalen, which has never forgiven herself for +nurturing the author of Ravenna, may be felicitated on having escaped the +further intolerable honour that she might have suffered by seeing crowned +again with paltry academic parsley the most highly gifted of all her +children in the last century. Compared with the crude criticism on The +Grosvenor Gallery (one of the earliest of Wilde's published prose +writings), Historical Criticism is singularly advanced and mature. Apart +from his mere scholarship Wilde developed his literary and dramatic +talent slowly. He told me that he was never regarded as a particularly +precocious or clever youth. Indeed many old family friends and +contemporary journalists maintain sturdily that the talent of his elder +brother William was much more remarkable. In this opinion they are +fortified, appropriately enough, by the late Clement Scott. I record +this interesting view because it symbolises the familiar phenomenon that +those nearest the mountain cannot appreciate its height. + +The exiguous fragment of La Sainte Courtisane is the next unpublished +work of importance. At the time of Wilde's trial the nearly completed +drama was entrusted to Mrs. Leverson, who in 1897 went to Paris on +purpose to restore it to the author. Wilde immediately left the +manuscript in a cab. A few days later he laughingly informed me of the +loss, and added that a cab was a very proper place for it. I have +explained elsewhere that he looked on his plays with disdain in his last +years, though he was always full of schemes for writing others. All my +attempts to recover the lost work failed. The passages here reprinted +are from some odd leaves of a first draft. The play is of course not +unlike Salome, though it was written in English. It expanded Wilde's +favourite theory that when you convert some one to an idea, you lose your +faith in it; the same motive runs through Mr. W. H. Honorius the hermit, +so far as I recollect the story, falls in love with the courtesan who has +come to tempt him, and he reveals to her the secret of the Love of God. +She immediately becomes a Christian, and is murdered by robbers; Honorius +the hermit goes back to Alexandria to pursue a life of pleasure. Two +other similar plays Wilde invented in prison, Ahab and Isabel and +Pharaoh; he would never write them down, though often importuned to do +so. Pharaoh was intensely dramatic and perhaps more original than any of +the group. None of these works must be confused with the manuscripts +stolen from 16 Tite Street in 1895--namely the enlarged version of Mr. W. +H., the completed form of A Florentine Tragedy, and The Duchess of Padua +(which existing in a prompt copy was of less importance than the others); +nor with The Cardinal of Arragon, the manuscript of which I never saw. I +scarcely think it ever existed, though Wilde used to recite proposed +passages for it. + +In regard to printing the lectures I have felt some diffidence: the +majority of them were delivered from notes, and the same lectures were +repeated in different towns in England and America. The reports of them +in the papers are never trustworthy; they are often grotesque travesties, +like the reports of after-dinner speeches in the London press of today. I +have included only those lectures of which I possess or could obtain +manuscript. + +The aim of this edition has been completeness; and it is complete so far +as human effort can make it; but besides the lost manuscripts there must +be buried in the contemporary press many anonymous reviews which I have +failed to identify. The remaining contents of this book do not call for +further comment, other than a reminder that Wilde would hardly have +consented to their republication. But owing to the number of anonymous +works wrongly attributed to him, chiefly in America, and spurious works +published in his name, I found it necessary to violate the laws of +friendship by rejecting nothing I knew to be authentic. It will be seen +on reference to the letters on The Ethics of Journalism that Wilde's name +appearing at the end of poems and articles was not always a proof of +authenticity even in his lifetime. + +Of the few letters Wilde wrote to the press, those addressed to Whistler +I have included with greater misgiving than anything else in this volume. +They do not seem to me more amusing than those to which they were the +intended rejoinders. But the dates are significant. Wilde was at one +time always accused of plagiarising his ideas and his epigrams from +Whistler, especially those with which he decorated his lectures, the +accusation being brought by Whistler himself and his various disciples. +It should be noted that all the works by which Wilde is known throughout +Europe were written _after_ the two friends quarrelled. That Wilde +derived a great deal from the older man goes without saying, just as he +derived much in a greater degree from Pater, Ruskin, Arnold and Burne- +Jones. Yet the tedious attempt to recognise in every jest of his some +original by Whistler induces the criticism that it seems a pity the great +painter did not get them off on the public before he was forestalled. +Reluctance from an appeal to publicity was never a weakness in either of +the men. Some of Wilde's more frequently quoted sayings were made at the +Old Bailey (though their provenance is often forgotten) or on his death- +bed. + +As a matter of fact, the genius of the two men was entirely different. +Wilde was a humourist and a humanist before everything; and his wittiest +jests have neither the relentlessness nor the keenness characterising +those of the clever American artist. Again, Whistler could no more have +obtained the Berkeley Gold Medal for Greek, nor have written The +Importance of Being Earnest, nor The Soul of Man, than Wilde, even if +equipped as a painter, could ever have evinced that superb restraint +distinguishing the portraits of 'Miss Alexander,' 'Carlyle,' and other +masterpieces. Wilde, though it is not generally known, was something of +a draughtsman in his youth. I possess several of his drawings. + +A complete bibliography including all the foreign translations and +American piracies would make a book of itself much larger than the +present one. In order that Wilde collectors (and there are many, I +believe) may know the authorised editions and authentic writings from the +spurious, Mr. Stuart Mason, whose work on this edition I have already +acknowledged, has supplied a list which contains every _genuine_ and +_authorised_ English edition. This of course does not preclude the +chance that some of the American editions are authorised, and that some +of Wilde's genuine works even are included in the pirated editions. + +I am indebted to the Editors and Proprietors of the Queen for leave to +reproduce the article on 'English Poetesses'; to the Editor and +Proprietors of the Sunday Times for the article entitled 'Art at Willis's +Rooms'; and to Mr. William Waldorf Astor for those from the Pall Mall +Gazette. + +ROBERT ROSS + + + + +THE TOMB OF KEATS + + +(Irish Monthly, July 1877.) + +As one enters Rome from the Via Ostiensis by the Porta San Paolo, the +first object that meets the eye is a marble pyramid which stands close at +hand on the left. + +There are many Egyptian obelisks in Rome--tall, snakelike spires of red +sandstone, mottled with strange writings, which remind us of the pillars +of flame which led the children of Israel through the desert away from +the land of the Pharaohs; but more wonderful than these to look upon is +this gaunt, wedge-shaped pyramid standing here in this Italian city, +unshattered amid the ruins and wrecks of time, looking older than the +Eternal City itself, like terrible impassiveness turned to stone. And so +in the Middle Ages men supposed this to be the sepulchre of Remus, who +was slain by his own brother at the founding of the city, so ancient and +mysterious it appears; but we have now, perhaps unfortunately, more +accurate information about it, and know that it is the tomb of one Caius +Cestius, a Roman gentleman of small note, who died about 30 B.C. + +Yet though we cannot care much for the dead man who lies in lonely state +beneath it, and who is only known to the world through his sepulchre, +still this pyramid will be ever dear to the eyes of all English-speaking +people, because at evening its shadows fall on the tomb of one who walks +with Spenser, and Shakespeare, and Byron, and Shelley, and Elizabeth +Barrett Browning in the great procession of the sweet singers of England. + +For at its foot there is a green, sunny slope, known as the Old +Protestant Cemetery, and on this a common-looking grave, which bears the +following inscription: + + This grave contains all that was mortal of a young English poet, who + on his deathbed, in the bitterness of his heart, desired these words + to be engraven on his tombstone: HERE LIES ONE WHOSE NAME WAS WRIT IN + WATER. February 24, 1821. + +And the name of the young English poet is John Keats. + +Lord Houghton calls this cemetery 'one of the most beautiful spots on +which the eye and heart of man can rest,' and Shelley speaks of it as +making one 'in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so +sweet a place'; and indeed when I saw the violets and the daisies and the +poppies that overgrow the tomb, I remembered how the dead poet had once +told his friend that he thought the 'intensest pleasure he had received +in life was in watching the growth of flowers,' and how another time, +after lying a while quite still, he murmured in some strange prescience +of early death, 'I feel the flowers growing over me.' + +But this time-worn stone and these wildflowers are but poor memorials {3} +of one so great as Keats; most of all, too, in this city of Rome, which +pays such honour to her dead; where popes, and emperors, and saints, and +cardinals lie hidden in 'porphyry wombs,' or couched in baths of jasper +and chalcedony and malachite, ablaze with precious stones and metals, and +tended with continual service. For very noble is the site, and worthy of +a noble monument; behind looms the grey pyramid, symbol of the world's +age, and filled with memories of the sphinx, and the lotus leaf, and the +glories of old Nile; in front is the Monte Testaccio, built, it is said, +with the broken fragments of the vessels in which all the nations of the +East and the West brought their tribute to Rome; and a little distance +off, along the slope of the hill under the Aurelian wall, some tall gaunt +cypresses rise, like burnt-out funeral torches, to mark the spot where +Shelley's heart (that 'heart of hearts'!) lies in the earth; and, above +all, the soil on which we tread is very Rome! + +As I stood beside the mean grave of this divine boy, I thought of him as +of a Priest of Beauty slain before his time; and the vision of Guido's +St. Sebastian came before my eyes as I saw him at Genoa, a lovely brown +boy, with crisp, clustering hair and red lips, bound by his evil enemies +to a tree, and though pierced by arrows, raising his eyes with divine, +impassioned gaze towards the Eternal Beauty of the opening heavens. And +thus my thoughts shaped themselves to rhyme: + + HEU MISERANDE PUER + + Rid of the world's injustice and its pain, + He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue; + Taken from life while life and love were new + The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, + Fair as Sebastian and as foully slain. + No cypress shades his grave, nor funeral yew, + But red-lipped daisies, violets drenched with dew, + And sleepy poppies, catch the evening rain. + + O proudest heart that broke for misery! + O saddest poet that the world hath seen! + O sweetest singer of the English land! + Thy name was writ in water on the sand, + But our tears shall keep thy memory green, + And make it flourish like a Basil-tree. + + Borne, 1877. + +Note.--A later version of this sonnet, under the title of 'The Grave of +Keats,' is given in the Poems, page 157. + + + + +THE GROSVENOR GALLERY, 1877 + + +(Dublin University Magazine, July 1877.) + +That 'Art is long and life is short' is a truth which every one feels, or +ought to feel; yet surely those who were in London last May, and had in +one week the opportunities of hearing Rubenstein play the Sonata +Impassionata, of seeing Wagner conduct the Spinning-Wheel Chorus from the +Flying Dutchman, and of studying art at the Grosvenor Gallery, have very +little to complain of as regards human existence and art-pleasures. + +Descriptions of music are generally, perhaps, more or less failures, for +music is a matter of individual feeling, and the beauties and lessons +that one draws from hearing lovely sounds are mainly personal, and depend +to a large extent on one's own state of mind and culture. So leaving +Rubenstein and Wagner to be celebrated by Franz Huffer, or Mr. Haweis, or +any other of our picturesque writers on music, I will describe some of +the pictures now being shown in the Grosvenor Gallery. + +The origin of this Gallery is as follows: About a year ago the idea +occurred to Sir Coutts Lindsay of building a public gallery, in which, +untrammelled by the difficulties or meannesses of 'Hanging Committees,' +he could exhibit to the lovers of art the works of certain great living +artists side by side: a gallery in which the student would not have to +struggle through an endless monotony of mediocre works in order to reach +what was worth looking at; one in which the people of England could have +the opportunity of judging of the merits of at least one great master of +painting, whose pictures had been kept from public exhibition by the +jealousy and ignorance of rival artists. Accordingly, last May, in New +Bond Street, the Grosvenor Gallery was opened to the public. + +As far as the Gallery itself is concerned, there are only three rooms, so +there is no fear of our getting that terrible weariness of mind and eye +which comes on after the 'Forced Marches' through ordinary picture +galleries. The walls are hung with scarlet damask above a dado of dull +green and gold; there are luxurious velvet couches, beautiful flowers and +plants, tables of gilded and inlaid marbles, covered with Japanese china +and the latest 'Minton,' globes of 'rainbow glass' like large +soap-bubbles, and, in fine, everything in decoration that is lovely to +look on, and in harmony with the surrounding works of art. + +Burne-Jones and Holman Hunt are probably the greatest masters of colour +that we have ever had in England, with the single exception of Turner, +but their styles differ widely. To draw a rough distinction, Holman Hunt +studies and reproduces the colours of natural objects, and deals with +historical subjects, or scenes of real life, mostly from the East, +touched occasionally with a certain fancifulness, as in the Shadow of the +Cross. Burne-Jones, on the contrary, is a dreamer in the land of +mythology, a seer of fairy visions, a symbolical painter. He is an +imaginative colourist too, knowing that all colour is no mere delightful +quality of natural things, but a 'spirit upon them by which they become +expressive to the spirit,' as Mr. Pater says. Watts's power, on the +other hand, lies in his great originative and imaginative genius, and he +reminds us of AEschylus or Michael Angelo in the startling vividness of +his conceptions. Although these three painters differ much in aim and in +result, they yet are one in their faith, and love, and reverence, the +three golden keys to the gate of the House Beautiful. + +On entering the West Gallery the first picture that meets the eye is Mr. +Watts's Love and Death, a large painting, representing a marble doorway, +all overgrown with white-starred jasmine and sweet brier-rose. Death, a +giant form, veiled in grey draperies, is passing in with inevitable and +mysterious power, breaking through all the flowers. One foot is already +on the threshold, and one relentless hand is extended, while Love, a +beautiful boy with lithe brown limbs and rainbow-coloured wings, all +shrinking like a crumpled leaf, is trying, with vain hands, to bar the +entrance. A little dove, undisturbed by the agony of the terrible +conflict, waits patiently at the foot of the steps for her playmate; but +will wait in vain, for though the face of Death is hidden from us, yet we +can see from the terror in the boy's eyes and quivering lips, that, +Medusa-like, this grey phantom turns all it looks upon to stone; and the +wings of Love are rent and crushed. Except on the ceiling of the Sistine +Chapel in Rome, there are perhaps few paintings to compare with this in +intensity of strength and in marvel of conception. It is worthy to rank +with Michael Angelo's God Dividing the Light from the Darkness. + +Next to it are hung five pictures by Millais. Three of them are +portraits of the three daughters of the Duke of Westminster, all in white +dresses, with white hats and feathers; the delicacy of the colour being +rather injured by the red damask background. These pictures do not +possess any particular merit beyond that of being extremely good +likenesses, especially the one of the Marchioness of Ormonde. Over them +is hung a picture of a seamstress, pale and vacant-looking, with eyes red +from tears and long watchings in the night, hemming a shirt. It is meant +to illustrate Hood's familiar poem. As we look on it, a terrible +contrast strikes us between this miserable pauper-seamstress and the +three beautiful daughters of the richest duke in the world, which breaks +through any artistic reveries by its awful vividness. + +The fifth picture is a profile head of a young man with delicate aquiline +nose, thoughtful oval face, and artistic, abstracted air, which will be +easily recognised as a portrait of Lord Ronald Gower, who is himself +known as an artist and sculptor. But no one would discern in these five +pictures the genius that painted the Home at Bethlehem and the portrait +of John Ruskin which is at Oxford. + +Then come eight pictures by Alma Tadema, good examples of that accurate +drawing of inanimate objects which makes his pictures so real from an +antiquarian point of view, and of the sweet subtlety of colouring which +gives to them a magic all their own. One represents some Roman girls +bathing in a marble tank, and the colour of the limbs in the water is +very perfect indeed; a dainty attendant is tripping down a flight of +steps with a bundle of towels, and in the centre a great green sphinx in +bronze throws forth a shower of sparkling water for a very pretty +laughing girl, who stoops gleefully beneath it. There is a delightful +sense of coolness about the picture, and one can almost imagine that one +hears the splash of water, and the girls' chatter. It is wonderful what +a world of atmosphere and reality may be condensed into a very small +space, for this picture is only about eleven by two and a half inches. + +The most ambitious of these pictures is one of Phidias Showing the Frieze +of the Parthenon to his Friends. We are supposed to be on a high +scaffolding level with the frieze, and the effect of great height +produced by glimpses of light between the planking of the floor is very +cleverly managed. But there is a want of individuality among the +connoisseurs clustered round Phidias, and the frieze itself is very +inaccurately coloured. The Greek boys who are riding and leading the +horses are painted Egyptian red, and the whole design is done in this +red, dark blue, and black. This sombre colouring is un-Greek; the +figures of these boys were undoubtedly tinted with flesh colour, like the +ordinary Greek statues, and the whole tone of the colouring of the +original frieze was brilliant and light; while one of its chief beauties, +the reins and accoutrements of burnished metal, is quite omitted. This +painter is more at home in the Greco-Roman art of the Empire and later +Republic than he is in the art of the Periclean age. + +The most remarkable of Mr. Richmond's pictures exhibited here is his +Electra at the Tomb of Agamemnon--a very magnificent subject, to which, +however, justice is not done. Electra and her handmaidens are grouped +gracefully around the tomb of the murdered King; but there is a want of +humanity in the scene: there is no trace of that passionate Asiatic +mourning for the dead to which the Greek women were so prone, and which +AEschylus describes with such intensity; nor would Greek women have come +to pour libations to the dead in such bright-coloured dresses as Mr. +Richmond has given them; clearly this artist has not studied AEschylus' +play of the Choephori, in which there is an elaborate and pathetic +account of this scene. The tall, twisted tree-stems, however, that form +the background are fine and original in effect, and Mr. Richmond has +caught exactly that peculiar opal-blue of the sky which is so remarkable +in Greece; the purple orchids too, and daffodil and narcissi that are in +the foreground are all flowers which I have myself seen at Argos. + +Sir Coutts Lindsay sends a life-size portrait of his wife, holding a +violin, which has some good points of colour and position, and four other +pictures, including an exquisitely simple and quaint little picture of +the Dower House at Balcarres, and a Daphne with rather questionable flesh- +painting, and in whom we miss the breathlessness of flight. + + I saw the blush come o'er her like a rose; + The half-reluctant crimson comes and goes; + Her glowing limbs make pause, and she is stayed + Wondering the issue of the words she prayed. + +It is a great pity that Holman Hunt is not represented by any of his +really great works, such as the Finding of Christ in the Temple, or +Isabella Mourning over the Pot of Basil, both of which are fair samples +of his powers. Four pictures of his are shown here: a little Italian +child, painted with great love and sweetness, two street scenes in Cairo +full of rich Oriental colouring, and a wonderful work called the +Afterglow in Egypt. It represents a tall swarthy Egyptian woman, in a +robe of dark and light blue, carrying a green jar on her shoulder, and a +sheaf of grain on her head; around her comes fluttering a flock of +beautiful doves of all colours, eager to be fed. Behind is a wide flat +river, and across the river a stretch of ripe corn, through which a gaunt +camel is being driven; the sun has set, and from the west comes a great +wave of red light like wine poured out on the land, yet not crimson, as +we see the Afterglow in Northern Europe, but a rich pink like that of a +rose. As a study of colour it is superb, but it is difficult to feel a +human interest in this Egyptian peasant. + +Mr. Albert Moore sends some of his usual pictures of women, which as +studies of drapery and colour effects are very charming. One of them, a +tall maiden, in a robe of light blue clasped at the neck with a glowing +sapphire, and with an orange headdress, is a very good example of the +highest decorative art, and a perfect delight in colour. + +Mr. Spencer Stanhope's picture of Eve Tempted is one of the remarkable +pictures of the Gallery. Eve, a fair woman, of surpassing loveliness, is +leaning against a bank of violets, underneath the apple tree; naked, +except for the rich thick folds of gilded hair which sweep down from her +head like the bright rain in which Zeus came to Danae. The head is +drooped a little forward as a flower droops when the dew has fallen +heavily, and her eyes are dimmed with the haze that comes in moments of +doubtful thought. One arm falls idly by her side; the other is raised +high over her head among the branches, her delicate fingers just meeting +round one of the burnished apples that glow amidst the leaves like +'golden lamps in a green night.' An amethyst-coloured serpent, with a +devilish human head, is twisting round the trunk of the tree and breathes +into the woman's ear a blue flame of evil counsel. At the feet of Eve +bright flowers are growing, tulips, narcissi, lilies, and anemones, all +painted with a loving patience that reminds us of the older Florentine +masters; after whose example, too, Mr. Stanhope has used gilding for +Eve's hair and for the bright fruits. + +Next to it is another picture by the same artist, entitled Love and the +Maiden. A girl has fallen asleep in a wood of olive trees, through whose +branches and grey leaves we can see the glimmer of sky and sea, with a +little seaport town of white houses shining in the sunlight. The olive +wood is ever sacred to the Virgin Pallas, the Goddess of Wisdom; and who +would have dreamed of finding Eros hidden there? But the girl wakes up, +as one wakes from sleep one knows not why, to see the face of the boy +Love, who, with outstretched hands, is leaning towards her from the midst +of a rhododendron's crimson blossoms. A rose-garland presses the boy's +brown curls, and he is clad in a tunic of oriental colours, and +delicately sensuous are his face and his bared limbs. His boyish beauty +is of that peculiar type unknown in Northern Europe, but common in the +Greek islands, where boys can still be found as beautiful as the +Charmides of Plato. Guido's St. Sebastian in the Palazzo Rosso at Genoa +is one of those boys, and Perugino once drew a Greek Ganymede for his +native town, but the painter who most shows the influence of this type is +Correggio, whose lily-bearer in the Cathedral at Parma, and whose wild- +eyed, open-mouthed St. Johns in the 'Incoronata Madonna' of St. Giovanni +Evangelista, are the best examples in art of the bloom and vitality and +radiance of this adolescent beauty. And so there is extreme loveliness +in this figure of Love by Mr. Stanhope, and the whole picture is full of +grace, though there is, perhaps, too great a luxuriance of colour, and it +would have been a relief had the girl been dressed in pure white. + +Mr. Frederick Burton, of whom all Irishmen are so justly proud, is +represented by a fine water-colour portrait of Mrs. George Smith; one +would almost believe it to be in oils, so great is the lustre on this +lady's raven-black hair, and so rich and broad and vigorous is the +painting of a Japanese scarf she is wearing. Then as we turn to the east +wall of the gallery we see the three great pictures of Burne-Jones, the +Beguiling of Merlin, the Days of Creation, and the Mirror of Venus. The +version of the legend of Merlin's Beguiling that Mr. Burne-Jones has +followed differs from Mr. Tennyson's and from the account in the Morte +d'Arthur. It is taken from the Romance of Merlin, which tells the story +in this wise: + + It fell on a day that they went through the forest of Breceliande, and + found a bush that was fair and high, of white hawthorn, full of + flowers, and there they sat in the shadow. And Merlin fell on sleep; + and when she felt that he was on sleep she arose softly, and began her + enchantments, such as Merlin had taught her, and made the ring nine + times, and nine times the enchantments. + + . . . . . + + And then he looked about him, and him seemed he was in the fairest + tower of the world, and the most strong; neither of iron was it + fashioned, nor steel, nor timber, nor of stone, but of the air, + without any other thing; and in sooth so strong it is that it may + never be undone while the world endureth. + +So runs the chronicle; and thus Mr. Burne-Jones, the 'Archimage of the +esoteric unreal,' treats the subject. Stretched upon a low branch of the +tree, and encircled with the glory of the white hawthorn-blossoms, half +sits, half lies, the great enchanter. He is not drawn as Mr. Tennyson +has described him, with the 'vast and shaggy mantle of a beard,' which +youth gone out had left in ashes; smooth and clear-cut and very pale is +his face; time has not seared him with wrinkles or the signs of age; one +would hardly know him to be old were it not that he seems very weary of +seeking into the mysteries of the world, and that the great sadness that +is born of wisdom has cast a shadow on him. But now what availeth him +his wisdom or his arts? His eyes, that saw once so clear, are dim and +glazed with coming death, and his white and delicate hands that wrought +of old such works of marvel, hang listlessly. Vivien, a tall, lithe +woman, beautiful and subtle to look on, like a snake, stands in front of +him, reading the fatal spell from the enchanted book; mocking the utter +helplessness of him whom once her lying tongue had called + + Her lord and liege, + Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve, + Her god, her Merlin, the one passionate love + Of her whole life. + +In her brown crisp hair is the gleam of a golden snake, and she is clad +in a silken robe of dark violet that clings tightly to her limbs, more +expressing than hiding them; the colour of this dress is like the colour +of a purple sea-shell, broken here and there with slight gleams of silver +and pink and azure; it has a strange metallic lustre like the iris-neck +of the dove. Were this Mr. Burne-Jones's only work it would be enough of +itself to make him rank as a great painter. The picture is full of +magic; and the colour is truly a spirit dwelling on things and making +them expressive to the spirit, for the delicate tones of grey, and green, +and violet seem to convey to us the idea of languid sleep, and even the +hawthorn-blossoms have lost their wonted brightness, and are more like +the pale moonlight to which Shelley compared them, than the sheet of +summer snow we see now in our English fields. + +The next picture is divided into six compartments, each representing a +day in the Creation of the World, under the symbol of an angel holding a +crystal globe, within which is shown the work of a day. In the first +compartment stands the lonely angel of the First Day, and within the +crystal ball Light is being separated from Darkness. In the fourth +compartment are four angels, and the crystal glows like a heated opal, +for within it the creation of the Sun, Moon, and Stars is passing; the +number of the angels increases, and the colours grow more vivid till we +reach the sixth compartment, which shines afar off like a rainbow. Within +it are the six angels of the Creation, each holding its crystal ball; and +within the crystal of the sixth angel one can see Adam's strong brown +limbs and hero form, and the pale, beautiful body of Eve. At the feet +also of these six winged messengers of the Creator is sitting the angel +of the Seventh Day, who on a harp of gold is singing the glories of that +coming day which we have not yet seen. The faces of the angels are pale +and oval-shaped, in their eyes is the light of Wisdom and Love, and their +lips seem as if they would speak to us; and strength and beauty are in +their wings. They stand with naked feet, some on shell-strewn sands +whereon tide has never washed nor storm broken, others it seems on pools +of water, others on strange flowers; and their hair is like the bright +glory round a saint's head. + +The scene of the third picture is laid on a long green valley by the sea; +eight girls, handmaidens of the Goddess of Love, are collected by the +margin of a long pool of clear water, whose surface no wandering wind or +flapping bird has ruffled; but the large flat leaves of the water-lily +float on it undisturbed, and clustering forget-me-nots rise here and +there like heaps of scattered turquoise. + +In this Mirror of Venus each girl is reflected as in a mirror of polished +steel. Some of them bend over the pool in laughing wonder at their own +beauty, others, weary of shadows, are leaning back, and one girl is +standing straight up; and nothing of her is reflected in the pool but a +glimmer of white feet. This picture, however, has not the intense pathos +and tragedy of the Beguiling of Merlin, nor the mystical and lovely +symbolism of the Days of the Creation. Above these three pictures are +hung five allegorical studies of figures by the same artist, all worthy +of his fame. + +Mr. Walter Crane, who has illustrated so many fairy tales for children, +sends an ambitious work called the Renaissance of Venus, which in the +dull colour of its 'sunless dawn,' and in its general want of all the +glow and beauty and passion that one associates with this scene reminds +one of Botticelli's picture of the same subject. After Mr. Swinburne's +superb description of the sea-birth of the goddess in his Hymn to +Proserpine, it is very strange to find a cultured artist of feeling +producing such a vapid Venus as this. The best thing in it is the +painting of an apple tree: the time of year is spring, and the leaves +have not yet come, but the tree is laden with pink and white blossoms, +which stand out in beautiful relief against the pale blue of the sky, and +are very true to nature. + +M. Alphonse Legros sends nine pictures, and there is a natural curiosity +to see the work of a gentleman who holds at Cambridge the same +professorship as Mr. Ruskin does at Oxford. Four of these are studies of +men's heads, done in two hours each for his pupils at the Slade Schools. +There is a good deal of vigorous, rough execution about them, and they +are marvels of rapid work. His portrait of Mr. Carlyle is +unsatisfactory; and even in No. 79, a picture of two scarlet-robed +bishops, surrounded by Spanish monks, his colour is very thin and meagre. +A good bit of painting is of some metal pots in a picture called Le +Chaudronnier. + +Mr. Leslie, unfortunately, is represented only by one small work, called +Palm-blossom. It is a picture of a perfectly lovely child that reminds +one of Sir Joshua's cherubs in the National Gallery, with a mouth like +two petals of a rose; the under-lip, as Rossetti says quaintly somewhere, +'sucked in, as if it strove to kiss itself.' + +Then we come to the most abused pictures in the whole Exhibition--the +'colour symphonies' of the 'Great Dark Master,' Mr. Whistler, who +deserves the name of '[Greek] as much as Heraclitus ever did. Their +titles do not convey much information. No. 4 is called Nocturne in Black +and Gold, No. 6A Nocturne in Blue and Silver, and so on. The first of +these represents a rocket of golden rain, with green and red fires +bursting in a perfectly black sky, two large black smudges on the picture +standing, I believe, for a tower which is in 'Cremorne Gardens' and for a +crowd of lookers-on. The other is rather prettier; a rocket is breaking +in a pale blue sky over a large dark blue bridge and a blue and silver +river. These pictures are certainly worth looking at for about as long +as one looks at a real rocket, that is, for somewhat less than a quarter +of a minute. + +No. 7 is called Arrangement in Black No. 3, apparently some pseudonym for +our greatest living actor, for out of black smudgy clouds comes looming +the gaunt figure of Mr. Henry Irving, with the yellow hair and pointed +beard, the ruff, short cloak, and tight hose in which he appeared as +Philip II. in Tennyson's play Queen Mary. One hand is thrust into his +breast, and his legs are stuck wide apart in a queer stiff position that +Mr. Irving often adopts preparatory to one of his long, wolflike strides +across the stage. The figure is life-size, and, though apparently one- +armed, is so ridiculously like the original that one cannot help almost +laughing when one sees it. And we may imagine that any one who had the +misfortune to be shut up at night in the Grosvenor Gallery would hear +this Arrangement in Black No. 3 murmuring in the well-known Lyceum +accents: + + By St. James, I do protest, + Upon the faith and honour of a Spaniard, + I am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty. + Simon, is supper ready? + +Nos. 8 and 9 are life-size portraits of two young ladies, evidently +caught in a black London fog; they look like sisters, but are not related +probably, as one is a Harmony in Amber and Black, the other only an +Arrangement in Brown. + +Mr. Whistler, however, sends one really good picture to this exhibition, +a portrait of Mr. Carlyle, which is hung in the entrance hall; the +expression on the old man's face, the texture and colour of his grey +hair, and the general sympathetic treatment, show Mr. Whistler {19} to be +an artist of very great power when he likes. + +There is not so much in the East Gallery that calls for notice. Mr. +Leighton is unfortunately represented only by two little heads, one of an +Italian girl, the other called A Study. There is some delicate flesh +painting of red and brown in these works that reminds one of a russet +apple, but of course they are no samples of this artist's great strength. +There are two good portraits--one of Mrs. Burne-Jones, by Mr. Poynter. +This lady has a very delicate, artistic face, reminding us, perhaps, a +little of one of the angels her husband has painted. She is represented +in a white dress, with a perfectly gigantic old-fashioned watch hung to +her waist, drinking tea from an old blue china cup. The other is a head +of the Duchess of Westminster by Mr. Forbes-Robertson, who both as an +actor and an artist has shown great cleverness. He has succeeded very +well in reproducing the calm, beautiful profile and lustrous golden hair, +but the shoulders are ungraceful, and very unlike the original. The +figure of a girl leaning against a wonderful screen, looking terribly +'misunderstood,' and surrounded by any amount of artistic china and +furniture, by Mrs. Louise Jopling, is worth looking at too. It is called +It Might Have Been, and the girl is quite fit to be the heroine of any +sentimental novel. + +The two largest contributors to this gallery are Mr. Ferdinand Heilbuth +and Mr. James Tissot. The first of these two artists sends some +delightful pictures from Rome, two of which are particularly pleasing. +One is of an old Cardinal in the Imperial scarlet of the Caesars meeting +a body of young Italian boys in purple soutanes, students evidently in +some religious college, near the Church of St. John Lateran. One of the +boys is being presented to the Cardinal, and looks very nervous under the +operation; the rest gaze in wonder at the old man in his beautiful dress. +The other picture is a view in the gardens of the Villa Borghese; a +Cardinal has sat down on a marble seat in the shade of the trees, and is +suspending his meditation for a moment to smile at a pretty child to whom +a French bonne is pointing out the gorgeously dressed old gentleman; a +flunkey in attendance on the Cardinal looks superciliously on. + +Nearly all of Mr. Tissot's pictures are deficient in feeling and depth; +his young ladies are too fashionably over-dressed to interest the +artistic eye, and he has a hard unscrupulousness in painting +uninteresting objects in an uninteresting way. There is some good colour +and drawing, however, in his painting of a withered chestnut tree, with +the autumn sun glowing through the yellow leaves, in a picnic scene, No. +23; the remainder of the picture being something in the photographic +style of Frith. + +What a gap in art there is between such a picture as the Banquet of the +Civic Guard in Holland, with its beautiful grouping of noble-looking men, +its exquisite Venetian glass aglow with light and wine, and Mr. Tissot's +over-dressed, common-looking people, and ugly, painfully accurate +representation of modern soda-water bottles! + +Mr. Tissot's Widower, however, shines in qualities which his other +pictures lack; it is full of depth and suggestiveness; the grasses and +wild, luxuriant growth of the foreground are a revel of natural life. + +We must notice besides in this gallery Mr. Watts's two powerful portraits +of Mr. Burne-Jones and Lady Lindsay. + +To get to the Water-Colour Room we pass through a small sculpture +gallery, which contains some busts of interest, and a pretty terra-cotta +figure of a young sailor, by Count Gleichen, entitled Cheeky, but it is +not remarkable in any way, and contrasts very unfavourably with the +Exhibition of Sculpture at the Royal Academy, in which are three really +fine works of art--Mr. Leighton's Man Struggling with a Snake, which may +be thought worthy of being looked on side by side with the Laocoon of the +Vatican, and Lord Ronald Gower's two statues, one of a dying French +Guardsman at the Battle of Waterloo, the other of Marie Antoinette being +led to execution with bound hands, Queenlike and noble to the last. + +The collection of water-colours is mediocre; there is a good effect of +Mr. Poynter's, the east wind seen from a high cliff sweeping down on the +sea like the black wings of some god; and some charming pictures of Fairy +Land by Mr. Richard Doyle, which would make good illustrations for one of +Mr. Allingham's Fairy-Poems, but the tout-ensemble is poor. + +Taking a general view of the works exhibited here, we see that this dull +land of England, with its short summer, its dreary rains and fogs, its +mining districts and factories, and vile deification of machinery, has +yet produced very great masters of art, men with a subtle sense and love +of what is beautiful, original, and noble in imagination. + +Nor are the art-treasures of this country at all exhausted by this +Exhibition; there are very many great pictures by living artists hidden +away in different places, which those of us who are yet boys have never +seen, and which our elders must wish to see again. + +Holman Hunt has done better work than the Afterglow in Egypt; neither +Millais, Leighton, nor Poynter has sent any of the pictures on which his +fame rests; neither Burne-Jones nor Watts shows us here all the glories +of his art; and the name of that strange genius who wrote the Vision of +Love revealed in Sleep, and the names of Dante Rossetti and of the +Marchioness of Waterford, cannot be found in the catalogue. And so it is +to be hoped that this is not the only exhibition of paintings that we +shall see in the Grosvenor Gallery; and Sir Coutts Lindsay, in showing us +great works of art, will be most materially aiding that revival of +culture and love of beauty which in great part owes its birth to Mr. +Ruskin, and which Mr. Swinburne, and Mr. Pater, and Mr. Symonds, and Mr. +Morris, and many others, are fostering and keeping alive, each in his own +peculiar fashion. + + + + +THE GROSVENOR GALLERY 1879 + + +(Saunders' Irish Daily News, May 5, 1879.) + +While the yearly exhibition of the Royal Academy may be said to present +us with the general characteristics of ordinary English art at its most +commonplace level, it is at the Grosvenor Gallery that we are enabled to +see the highest development of the modern artistic spirit as well as what +one might call its specially accentuated tendencies. + +Foremost among the great works now exhibited at this gallery are Mr. +Burne-Jones's Annunciation and his four pictures illustrating the Greek +legend of Pygmalion--works of the very highest importance in our aesthetic +development as illustrative of some of the more exquisite qualities of +modern culture. In the first the Virgin Mary, a passionless, pale woman, +with that mysterious sorrow whose meaning she was so soon to learn +mirrored in her wan face, is standing, in grey drapery, by a marble +fountain, in what seems the open courtyard of an empty and silent house, +while through the branches of a tall olive tree, unseen by the Virgin's +tear-dimmed eyes, is descending the angel Gabriel with his joyful and +terrible message, not painted as Angelico loved to do, in the varied +splendour of peacock-like wings and garments of gold and crimson, but +somewhat sombre in colour, set with all the fine grace of nobly-fashioned +drapery and exquisitely ordered design. In presence of what may be +called the mediaeval spirit may be discerned both the idea and the +technique of the work, and even still more so in the four pictures of the +story of Pygmalion, where the sculptor is represented in dress and in +looks rather as a Christian St. Francis, than as a pure Greek artist in +the first morning tide of art, creating his own ideal, and worshipping +it. For delicacy and melody of colour these pictures are beyond praise, +nor can anything exceed the idyllic loveliness of Aphrodite waking the +statue into sensuous life: the world above her head like a brittle globe +of glass, her feet resting on a drift of the blue sky, and a choir of +doves fluttering around her like a fall of white snow. Following in the +same school of ideal and imaginative painting is Miss Evelyn Pickering, +whose picture of St. Catherine, in the Dudley of some years ago, +attracted such great attention. To the present gallery she has +contributed a large picture of Night and Sleep, twin brothers floating +over the world in indissoluble embrace, the one spreading the cloak of +darkness, while from the other's listless hands the Leathean poppies fall +in a scarlet shower. Mr. Strudwich sends a picture of Isabella, which +realises in some measure the pathos of Keats's poem, and another of the +lover in the lily garden from the Song of Solomon, both works full of +delicacy of design and refinement of detail, yet essentially weak in +colour, and in comparison with the splendid Giorgione-like work of Mr. +Fairfax Murray, are more like the coloured drawings of the modern German +school than what we properly call a painting. The last-named artist, +while essentially weak in draughtsmanship, yet possesses the higher +quality of noble colour in the fullest degree. + +The draped figures of men and women in his Garland Makers, and Pastoral, +some wrought in that single note of colour which the earlier Florentines +loved, others with all the varied richness and glow of the Venetian +school, show what great results may be brought about by a youth spent in +Italian cities. And finally I must notice the works contributed to this +Gallery by that most powerful of all our English artists, Mr. G. F. +Watts, the extraordinary width and reach of whose genius were never more +illustrated than by the various pictures bearing his name which are here +exhibited. His Paolo and Francesca, and his Orpheus and Eurydice, are +creative visions of the very highest order of imaginative painting; +marked as it is with all the splendid vigour of nobly ordered design, the +last-named picture possesses qualities of colour no less great. The +white body of the dying girl, drooping like a pale lily, and the clinging +arms of her lover, whose strong brown limbs seem filled with all the +sensuous splendour of passionate life, form a melancholy and wonderful +note of colour to which the eye continually returns as indicating the +motive of the conception. Yet here I would dwell rather on two pictures +which show the splendid simplicity and directness of his strength, the +one a portrait of himself, the other that of a little child called +Dorothy, who has all that sweet gravity and look of candour which we like +to associate with that old-fashioned name: a child with bright rippling +hair, tangled like floss silk, open brown eyes and flower-like mouth; +dressed in faded claret, with little lace about the neck and throat, +toned down to a delicate grey--the hands simply clasped before her. This +is the picture; as truthful and lovely as any of those Brignoli children +which Vandyke has painted in Genoa. Nor is his own picture of +himself--styled in the catalogue merely A Portrait--less wonderful, +especially the luminous treatment of the various shades of black as shown +in the hat and cloak. It would be quite impossible, however, to give any +adequate account or criticism of the work now exhibited in the Grosvenor +Gallery within the limits of a single notice. Richmond's noble picture +of Sleep and Death Bearing the Slain Body of Sarpedon, and his bronze +statue of the Greek athlete, are works of the very highest order of +artistic excellence, but I will reserve for another occasion the +qualities of his power. Mr. Whistler, whose wonderful and eccentric +genius is better appreciated in France than in England, sends a very +wonderful picture entitled The Golden Girl, a life-size study in amber, +yellow and browns, of a child dancing with a skipping-rope, full of +birdlike grace and exquisite motion; as well as some delightful specimens +of etching (an art of which he is the consummate master), one of which, +called The Little Forge, entirely done with the dry point, possesses +extraordinary merit; nor have the philippics of the Fors Clavigera +deterred him from exhibiting some more of his 'arrangements in colour,' +one of which, called a Harmony in Green and Gold, I would especially +mention as an extremely good example of what ships lying at anchor on a +summer evening are from the 'Impressionist point of view.' + +Mr. Eugene Benson, one of the most cultured of those many Americans who +seem to have found their Mecca in modern Rome, has sent a picture of +Narcissus, a work full of the true Theocritean sympathy for the natural +picturesqueness of shepherd life, and entirely delightful to all who love +the peculiar qualities of Italian scenery. The shadows of the trees +drifting across the grass, the crowding together of the sheep, and the +sense of summer air and light which fills the picture, are full of the +highest truth and beauty; and Mr. Forbes-Robertson, whose picture of +Phelps as Cardinal Wolsey has just been bought by the Garrick Club, and +who is himself so well known as a young actor of the very highest +promise, is represented by a portrait of Mr. Hermann Vezin which is +extremely clever and certainly very lifelike. Nor amongst the minor +works must I omit to notice Miss Stuart-Wortley's view on the river +Cherwell, taken from the walks of Magdalen College, Oxford,--a little +picture marked by great sympathy for the shade and coolness of green +places and for the stillness of summer waters; or Mrs. Valentine +Bromley's Misty Day, remarkable for the excellent drawing of a breaking +wave, as well as for a great delicacy of tone. Besides the Marchioness +of Waterford, whose brilliant treatment of colour is so well known, and +Mr. Richard Doyle, whose water-colour drawings of children and of fairy +scenes are always so fresh and bright, the qualities of the Irish genius +in the field of art find an entirely adequate exponent in Mr. Wills, who +as a dramatist and a painter has won himself such an honourable name. +Three pictures of his are exhibited here: the Spirit of the Shell, which +is perhaps too fanciful and vague in design; the Nymph and Satyr, where +the little goat-footed child has all the sweet mystery and romance of the +woodlands about him; and the Parting of Ophelia and Laertes, a work not +only full of very strong drawing, especially in the modelling of the male +figure, but a very splendid example of the power of subdued and reserved +colour, the perfect harmony of tone being made still more subtle by the +fitful play of reflected light on the polished armour. + +I shall reserve for another notice the wonderful landscapes of Mr. Cecil +Lawson, who has caught so much of Turner's imagination and mode of +treatment, as well as a consideration of the works of Herkomer, Tissot +and Legros, and others of the modern realistic school. + +Note.--The other notice mentioned above did not appear. + + + + +L'ENVOI + + +An Introduction to Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf by Rennell Rodd, published by +J. M. Stoddart and Co., Philadelphia, 1882. + +Amongst the many young men in England who are seeking along with me to +continue and to perfect the English Renaissance--jeunes guerriers du +drapeau romantique, as Gautier would have called us--there is none whose +love of art is more flawless and fervent, whose artistic sense of beauty +is more subtle and more delicate--none, indeed, who is dearer to +myself--than the young poet whose verses I have brought with me to +America; verses full of sweet sadness, and yet full of joy; for the most +joyous poet is not he who sows the desolate highways of this world with +the barren seed of laughter, but he who makes his sorrow most musical, +this indeed being the meaning of joy in art--that incommunicable element +of artistic delight which, in poetry, for instance, comes from what Keats +called the 'sensuous life of verse,' the element of song in the singing, +made so pleasurable to us by that wonder of motion which often has its +origin in mere musical impulse, and in painting is to be sought for, from +the subject never, but from the pictorial charm only--the scheme and +symphony of the colour, the satisfying beauty of the design: so that the +ultimate expression of our artistic movement in painting has been, not in +the spiritual visions of the Pre-Raphaelites, for all their marvel of +Greek legend and their mystery of Italian song, but in the work of such +men as Whistler and Albert Moore, who have raised design and colour to +the ideal level of poetry and music. For the quality of their exquisite +painting comes from the mere inventive and creative handling of line and +colour, from a certain form and choice of beautiful workmanship, which, +rejecting all literary reminiscence and all metaphysical idea, is in +itself entirely satisfying to the aesthetic sense--is, as the Greeks +would say, an end in itself; the effect of their work being like the +effect given to us by music; for music is the art in which form and +matter are always one--the art whose subject cannot be separated from the +method of its expression; the art which most completely realises for us +the artistic ideal, and is the condition to which all the other arts are +constantly aspiring. + +Now, this increased sense of the absolutely satisfying value of beautiful +workmanship, this recognition of the primary importance of the sensuous +element in art, this love of art for art's sake, is the point in which we +of the younger school have made a departure from the teaching of Mr. +Ruskin,--a departure definite and different and decisive. + +Master indeed of the knowledge of all noble living and of the wisdom of +all spiritual things will he be to us ever, seeing that it was he who by +the magic of his presence and the music of his lips taught us at Oxford +that enthusiasm for beauty which is the secret of Hellenism, and that +desire for creation which is the secret of life, and filled some of us, +at least, with the lofty and passionate ambition to go forth into far and +fair lands with some message for the nations and some mission for the +world, and yet in his art criticism, his estimate of the joyous element +of art, his whole method of approaching art, we are no longer with him; +for the keystone to his aesthetic system is ethical always. He would +judge of a picture by the amount of noble moral ideas it expresses; but +to us the channels by which all noble work in painting can touch, and +does touch, the soul are not those of truths of life or metaphysical +truths. To him perfection of workmanship seems but the symbol of pride, +and incompleteness of technical resource the image of an imagination too +limitless to find within the limits of form its complete expression, or +of a love too simple not to stammer in its tale. But to us the rule of +art is not the rule of morals. In an ethical system, indeed, of any +gentle mercy good intentions will, one is fain to fancy, have their +recognition; but of those that would enter the serene House of Beauty the +question that we ask is not what they had ever meant to do, but what they +have done. Their pathetic intentions are of no value to us, but their +realised creations only. Pour moi je prefere les poetes qui font des +vers, les medecins qui sachent guerir, les peintres qui sachent peindre. + +Nor, in looking at a work of art, should we be dreaming of what it +symbolises, but rather loving it for what it is. Indeed, the +transcendental spirit is alien to the spirit of art. The metaphysical +mind of Asia may create for itself the monstrous and many-breasted idol, +but to the Greek, pure artist, that work is most instinct with spiritual +life which conforms most closely to the perfect facts of physical life +also. Nor, in its primary aspect, has a painting, for instance, any more +spiritual message or meaning for us than a blue tile from the wall of +Damascus, or a Hitzen vase. It is a beautifully coloured surface, +nothing more, and affects us by no suggestion stolen from philosophy, no +pathos pilfered from literature, no feeling filched from a poet, but by +its own incommunicable artistic essence--by that selection of truth which +we call style, and that relation of values which is the draughtsmanship +of painting, by the whole quality of the workmanship, the arabesque of +the design, the splendour of the colour, for these things are enough to +stir the most divine and remote of the chords which make music in our +soul, and colour, indeed, is of itself a mystical presence on things, and +tone a kind of sentiment. + +This, then--the new departure of our younger school--is the chief +characteristic of Mr. Rennell Rodd's poetry; for, while there is much in +his work that may interest the intellect, much that will excite the +emotions, and many-cadenced chords of sweet and simple sentiment--for to +those who love Art for its own sake all other things are added--yet, the +effect which they pre-eminently seek to produce is purely an artistic +one. Such a poem as The Sea-King's Grave, with all its majesty of melody +as sonorous and as strong as the sea by whose pine-fringed shores it was +thus nobly conceived and nobly fashioned; or the little poem that follows +it, whose cunning workmanship, wrought with such an artistic sense of +limitation, one might liken to the rare chasing of the mirror that is its +motive; or In a Church, pale flower of one of those exquisite moments +when all things except the moment itself seem so curiously real, and when +the old memories of forgotten days are touched and made tender, and the +familiar place grows fervent and solemn suddenly with a vision of the +undying beauty of the gods that died; or the scene in Chartres Cathedral, +sombre silence brooding on vault and arch, silent people kneeling on the +dust of the desolate pavement as the young priest lifts Lord Christ's +body in a crystal star, and then the sudden beams of scarlet light that +break through the blazoned window and smite on the carven screen, and +sudden organ peals of mighty music rolling and echoing from choir to +canopy, and from spire to shaft, and over all the clear glad voice of a +singing boy, affecting one as a thing over-sweet, and striking just the +right artistic keynote for one's emotions; or At Lanuvium, through the +music of whose lines one seems to hear again the murmur of the Mantuan +bees straying down from their own green valleys and inland streams to +find what honeyed amber the sea-flowers might be hiding; or the poem +written In the Coliseum, which gives one the same artistic joy that one +gets watching a handicraftsman at his work, a goldsmith hammering out his +gold into those thin plates as delicate as the petals of a yellow rose, +or drawing it out into the long wires like tangled sunbeams, so perfect +and precious is the mere handling of it; or the little lyric interludes +that break in here and there like the singing of a thrush, and are as +swift and as sure as the beating of a bird's wing, as light and bright as +the apple-blossoms that flutter fitfully down to the orchard grass after +a spring shower, and look the lovelier for the rain's tears lying on +their dainty veinings of pink and pearl; or the sonnets--for Mr. Rodd is +one of those qui sonnent le sonnet, as the Ronsardists used to say--that +one called On the Border Hills, with its fiery wonder of imagination and +the strange beauty of its eighth line; or the one which tells of the +sorrow of the great king for the little dead child--well, all these poems +aim, as I said, at producing a purely artistic effect, and have the rare +and exquisite quality that belongs to work of that kind; and I feel that +the entire subordination in our aesthetic movement of all merely +emotional and intellectual motives to the vital informing poetic +principle is the surest sign of our strength. + +But it is not enough that a work of art should conform to the aesthetic +demands of the age: there should be also about it, if it is to give us +any permanent delight, the impress of a distinct individuality. Whatever +work we have in the nineteenth century must rest on the two poles of +personality and perfection. And so in this little volume, by separating +the earlier and more simple work from the work that is later and stronger +and possesses increased technical power and more artistic vision, one +might weave these disconnected poems, these stray and scattered threads, +into one fiery-coloured strand of life, noting first a boy's mere +gladness of being young, with all its simple joy in field and flower, in +sunlight and in song, and then the bitterness of sudden sorrow at the +ending by Death of one of the brief and beautiful friendships of one's +youth, with all those unanswered longings and questionings unsatisfied by +which we vex, so uselessly, the marble face of death; the artistic +contrast between the discontented incompleteness of the spirit and the +complete perfection of the style that expresses it forming the chief +element of the aesthetic charm of these particular poems;--and then the +birth of Love, and all the wonder and the fear and the perilous delight +of one on whose boyish brows the little wings of love have beaten for the +first time; and the love-songs, so dainty and delicate, little swallow- +flights of music, and full of such fragrance and freedom that they might +all be sung in the open air and across moving water; and then autumn, +coming with its choirless woods and odorous decay and ruined loveliness, +Love lying dead; and the sense of the mere pity of it. + +One might stop there, for from a young poet one should ask for no deeper +chords of life than those that love and friendship make eternal for us; +and the best poems in the volume belong clearly to a later time, a time +when these real experiences become absorbed and gathered up into a form +which seems from such real experiences to be the most alien and the most +remote; when the simple expression of joy or sorrow suffices no longer, +and lives rather in the stateliness of the cadenced metre, in the music +and colour of the linked words, than in any direct utterance; lives, one +might say, in the perfection of the form more than in the pathos of the +feeling. And yet, after the broken music of love and the burial of love +in the autumn woods, we can trace that wandering among strange people, +and in lands unknown to us, by which we try so pathetically to heal the +hurts of the life we know, and that pure and passionate devotion to Art +which one gets when the harsh reality of life has too suddenly wounded +one, and is with discontent or sorrow marring one's youth, just as often, +I think, as one gets it from any natural joy of living; and that curious +intensity of vision by which, in moments of overmastering sadness and +despair ungovernable, artistic things will live in one's memory with a +vivid realism caught from the life which they help one to forget--an old +grey tomb in Flanders with a strange legend on it, making one think how, +perhaps, passion does live on after death; a necklace of blue and amber +beads and a broken mirror found in a girl's grave at Rome, a marble image +of a boy habited like Eros, and with the pathetic tradition of a great +king's sorrow lingering about it like a purple shadow,--over all these +the tired spirit broods with that calm and certain joy that one gets when +one has found something that the ages never dull and the world cannot +harm; and with it comes that desire of Greek things which is often an +artistic method of expressing one's desire for perfection; and that +longing for the old dead days which is so modern, so incomplete, so +touching, being, in a way, the inverted torch of Hope, which burns the +hand it should guide; and for many things a little sadness, and for all +things a great love; and lastly, in the pinewood by the sea, once more +the quick and vital pulse of joyous youth leaping and laughing in every +line, the frank and fearless freedom of wave and wind waking into fire +life's burnt-out ashes and into song the silent lips of pain,--how +clearly one seems to see it all, the long colonnade of pines with sea and +sky peeping in here and there like a flitting of silver; the open place +in the green, deep heart of the wood with the little moss-grown altar to +the old Italian god in it; and the flowers all about, cyclamen in the +shadowy places, and the stars of the white narcissus lying like +snow-flakes over the grass, where the quick, bright-eyed lizard starts by +the stone, and the snake lies coiled lazily in the sun on the hot sand, +and overhead the gossamer floats from the branches like thin, tremulous +threads of gold,--the scene is so perfect for its motive, for surely +here, if anywhere, the real gladness of life might be revealed to one's +youth--the gladness that comes, not from the rejection, but from the +absorption, of all passion, and is like that serene calm that dwells in +the faces of the Greek statues, and which despair and sorrow cannot +touch, but intensify only. + +In some such way as this we could gather up these strewn and scattered +petals of song into one perfect rose of life, and yet, perhaps, in so +doing, we might be missing the true quality of the poems; one's real life +is so often the life that one does not lead; and beautiful poems, like +threads of beautiful silks, may be woven into many patterns and to suit +many designs, all wonderful and all different: and romantic poetry, too, +is essentially the poetry of impressions, being like that latest school +of painting, the school of Whistler and Albert Moore, in its choice of +situation as opposed to subject; in its dealing with the exceptions +rather than with the types of life; in its brief intensity; in what one +might call its fiery-coloured momentariness, it being indeed the +momentary situations of life, the momentary aspects of nature, which +poetry and painting now seek to render for us. Sincerity and constancy +will the artist, indeed, have always; but sincerity in art is merely that +plastic perfection of execution without which a poem or a painting, +however noble its sentiment or human its origin, is but wasted and unreal +work, and the constancy of the artist cannot be to any definite rule or +system of living, but to that principle of beauty only through which the +inconstant shadows of his life are in their most fleeting moment arrested +and made permanent. He will not, for instance, in intellectual matters +acquiesce in that facile orthodoxy of our day which is so reasonable and +so artistically uninteresting, nor yet will he desire that fiery faith of +the antique time which, while it intensified, yet limited the vision; +still less will he allow the calm of his culture to be marred by the +discordant despair of doubt or the sadness of a sterile scepticism; for +the Valley Perilous, where ignorant armies clash by night, is no resting- +place meet for her to whom the gods have assigned the clear upland, the +serene height, and the sunlit air,--rather will he be always curiously +testing new forms of belief, tinging his nature with the sentiment that +still lingers about some beautiful creeds, and searching for experience +itself, and not for the fruits of experience; when he has got its secret, +he will leave without regret much that was once very precious to him. 'I +am always insincere,' says Emerson somewhere, 'as knowing that there are +other moods': 'Les emotions,' wrote Theophile Gautier once in a review of +Arsene Houssaye, 'Les emotions ne se ressemblent pas, mais etre emu--voila +l'important.' + +Now, this is the secret of the art of the modern romantic school, and +gives one the right keynote for its apprehension; but the real quality of +all work which, like Mr. Rodd's, aims, as I said, at a purely artistic +effect, cannot be described in terms of intellectual criticism; it is too +intangible for that. One can perhaps convey it best in terms of the +other arts, and by reference to them; and, indeed, some of these poems +are as iridescent and as exquisite as a lovely fragment of Venetian +glass; others as delicate in perfect workmanship and as single in natural +motive as an etching by Whistler is, or one of those beautiful little +Greek figures which in the olive woods round Tanagra men can still find, +with the faint gilding and the fading crimson not yet fled from hair and +lips and raiment; and many of them seem like one of Corot's twilights +just passing into music; for not merely in visible colour, but in +sentiment also--which is the colour of poetry--may there be a kind of +tone. + +But I think that the best likeness to the quality of this young poet's +work I ever saw was in the landscape by the Loire. We were staying once, +he and I, at Amboise, that little village with its grey slate roofs and +steep streets and gaunt, grim gateway, where the quiet cottages nestle +like white pigeons into the sombre clefts of the great bastioned rock, +and the stately Renaissance houses stand silent and apart--very desolate +now, but with some memory of the old days still lingering about the +delicately-twisted pillars, and the carved doorways, with their grotesque +animals, and laughing masks, and quaint heraldic devices, all reminding +one of a people who could not think life real till they had made it +fantastic. And above the village, and beyond the bend of the river, we +used to go in the afternoon, and sketch from one of the big barges that +bring the wine in autumn and the wood in winter down to the sea, or lie +in the long grass and make plans pour la gloire, et pour ennuyer les +philistins, or wander along the low, sedgy banks, 'matching our reeds in +sportive rivalry,' as comrades used in the old Sicilian days; and the +land was an ordinary land enough, and bare, too, when one thought of +Italy, and how the oleanders were robing the hillsides by Genoa in +scarlet, and the cyclamen filling with its purple every valley from +Florence to Rome; for there was not much real beauty, perhaps, in it, +only long, white dusty roads and straight rows of formal poplars; but, +now and then, some little breaking gleam of broken light would lend to +the grey field and the silent barn a secret and a mystery that were +hardly their own, would transfigure for one exquisite moment the peasants +passing down through the vineyard, or the shepherd watching on the hill, +would tip the willows with silver and touch the river into gold; and the +wonder of the effect, with the strange simplicity of the material, always +seemed to me to be a little like the quality of these the verses of my +friend. + + + + +MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER GRAZEBROOK + + +(New York World, November 7, 1882.) + +It is only in the best Greek gems, on the silver coins of Syracuse, or +among the marble figures of the Parthenon frieze, that one can find the +ideal representation of the marvellous beauty of that face which laughed +through the leaves last night as Hester Grazebrook. + +Pure Greek it is, with the grave low forehead, the exquisitely arched +brow; the noble chiselling of the mouth, shaped as if it were the +mouthpiece of an instrument of music; the supreme and splendid curve of +the cheek; the augustly pillared throat which bears it all: it is Greek, +because the lines which compose it are so definite and so strong, and yet +so exquisitely harmonised that the effect is one of simple loveliness +purely: Greek, because its essence and its quality, as is the quality of +music and of architecture, is that of beauty based on absolutely +mathematical laws. + +But while art remains dumb and immobile in its passionless serenity, with +the beauty of this face it is different: the grey eyes lighten into blue +or deepen into violet as fancy succeeds fancy; the lips become flower- +like in laughter or, tremulous as a bird's wing, mould themselves at last +into the strong and bitter moulds of pain or scorn. And then motion +comes, and the statue wakes into life. But the life is not the ordinary +life of common days; it is life with a new value given to it, the value +of art: and the charm to me of Hester Grazebrook's acting in the first +scene of the play {43} last night was that mingling of classic grace with +absolute reality which is the secret of all beautiful art, of the plastic +work of the Greeks and of the pictures of Jean Francois Millet equally. + +I do not think that the sovereignty and empire of women's beauty has at +all passed away, though we may no longer go to war for them as the Greeks +did for the daughter of Leda. The greatest empire still remains for +them--the empire of art. And, indeed, this wonderful face, seen last +night for the first time in America, has filled and permeated with the +pervading image of its type the whole of our modern art in England. Last +century it was the romantic type which dominated in art, the type loved +by Reynolds and Gainsborough, of wonderful contrasts of colour, of +exquisite and varying charm of expression, but without that definite +plastic feeling which divides classic from romantic work. This type +degenerated into mere facile prettiness in the hands of lesser masters, +and, in protest against it, was created by the hands of the +Pre-Raphaelites a new type, with its rare combination of Greek form with +Florentine mysticism. But this mysticism becomes over-strained and a +burden, rather than an aid to expression, and a desire for the pure +Hellenic joy and serenity came in its place; and in all our modern work, +in the paintings of such men as Albert Moore and Leighton and Whistler, +we can trace the influence of this single face giving fresh life and +inspiration in the form of a new artistic ideal. + +As regards Hester Grazebrook's dresses, the first was a dress whose grace +depended entirely on the grace of the person who wore it. It was merely +the simple dress of a village girl in England. The second was a lovely +combination of blue and creamy lace. But the masterpiece was undoubtedly +the last, a symphony in silver-grey and pink, a pure melody of colour +which I feel sure Whistler would call a Scherzo, and take as its visible +motive the moonlight wandering in silver mist through a rose-garden; +unless indeed he saw this dress, in which case he would paint it and +nothing else, for it is a dress such as Velasquez only could paint, and +Whistler very wisely always paints those things which are within reach of +Velasquez only. + +The scenery was, of course, prepared in a hurry. Still, much of it was +very good indeed: the first scene especially, with its graceful trees and +open forge and cottage porch, though the roses were dreadfully out of +tone and, besides their crudity of colour, were curiously badly grouped. +The last scene was exceedingly clever and true to nature as well, being +that combination of lovely scenery and execrable architecture which is so +specially characteristic of a German spa. As for the drawing-room scene, +I cannot regard it as in any way a success. The heavy ebony doors are +entirely out of keeping with the satin panels; the silk hangings and +festoons of black and yellow are quite meaningless in their position and +consequently quite ugly; the carpet is out of all colour relation with +the rest of the room, and the table-cover is mauve. Still, to have +decorated ever so bad a room in six days must, I suppose, be a subject of +respectful wonder, though I should have fancied that Mr. Wallack had many +very much better sets in his own stock. + +But I am beginning to quarrel generally with most modern scene-painting. +A scene is primarily a decorative background for the actors, and should +always be kept subordinate, first to the players, their dress, gesture, +and action; and secondly, to the fundamental principle of decorative art, +which is not to imitate but to suggest nature. If the landscape is given +its full realistic value, the value of the figures to which it serves as +a background is impaired and often lost, and so the painted hangings of +the Elizabethan age were a far more artistic, and so a far more rational +form of scenery than most modern scene-painting is. From the same master- +hand which designed the curtain of Madison Square Theatre I should like +very much to see a good decorative landscape in scene-painting; for I +have seen no open-air scene in any theatre which did not really mar the +value of the actors. One must either, like Titian, make the landscape +subordinate to the figures, or, like Claude, the figures subordinate to +the landscape; for if we desire realistic acting we cannot have realistic +scene-painting. + +I need not describe, however, how the beauty of Hester Grazebrook +survived the crude roses and the mauve tablecloth triumphantly. That it +is a beauty that will be appreciated to the full in America I do not +doubt for a moment, for it is only countries which possess great beauty +that can appreciate beauty at all. It may also influence the art of +America as it has influenced the art of England, for of the rare Greek +type it is the most absolutely perfect example. + +The Philistine may, of course, object that to be absolutely perfect is +impossible. Well, that is so: but then it is only the impossible things +that are worth doing nowadays! + + + + +WOMAN'S DRESS + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, October 14, 1884.) + +Mr. Oscar Wilde, who asks us to permit him 'that most charming of all +pleasures, the pleasure of answering one's critics,' sends us the +following remarks:-- + +The 'Girl Graduate' must of course have precedence, not merely for her +sex but for her sanity: her letter is extremely sensible. She makes two +points: that high heels are a necessity for any lady who wishes to keep +her dress clean from the Stygian mud of our streets, and that without a +tight corset 'the ordinary number of petticoats and etceteras' cannot be +properly or conveniently held up. Now, it is quite true that as long as +the lower garments are suspended from the hips a corset is an absolute +necessity; the mistake lies in not suspending all apparel from the +shoulders. In the latter case a corset becomes useless, the body is left +free and unconfined for respiration and motion, there is more health, and +consequently more beauty. Indeed all the most ungainly and uncomfortable +articles of dress that fashion has ever in her folly prescribed, not the +tight corset merely, but the farthingale, the vertugadin, the hoop, the +crinoline, and that modern monstrosity the so-called 'dress improver' +also, all of them have owed their origin to the same error, the error of +not seeing that it is from the shoulders, and from the shoulders only, +that all garments should be hung. + +And as regards high heels, I quite admit that some additional height to +the shoe or boot is necessary if long gowns are to be worn in the street; +but what I object to is that the height should be given to the heel only, +and not to the sole of the foot also. The modern high-heeled boot is, in +fact, merely the clog of the time of Henry VI., with the front prop left +out, and its inevitable effect is to throw the body forward, to shorten +the steps, and consequently to produce that want of grace which always +follows want of freedom. + +Why should clogs be despised? Much art has been expended on clogs. They +have been made of lovely woods, and delicately inlaid with ivory, and +with mother-of-pearl. A clog might be a dream of beauty, and, if not too +high or too heavy, most comfortable also. But if there be any who do not +like clogs, let them try some adaptation of the trouser of the Turkish +lady, which is loose round the limb and tight at the ankle. + +The 'Girl Graduate,' with a pathos to which I am not insensible, entreats +me not to apotheosise 'that awful, befringed, beflounced, and bekilted +divided skirt.' Well, I will acknowledge that the fringes, the flounces, +and the kilting do certainly defeat the whole object of the dress, which +is that of ease and liberty; but I regard these things as mere wicked +superfluities, tragic proofs that the divided skirt is ashamed of its own +division. The principle of the dress is good, and, though it is not by +any means perfection, it is a step towards it. + +Here I leave the 'Girl Graduate,' with much regret, for Mr. Wentworth +Huyshe. Mr. Huyshe makes the old criticism that Greek dress is unsuited +to our climate, and, to me the somewhat new assertion, that the men's +dress of a hundred years ago was preferable to that of the second part of +the seventeenth century, which I consider to have been the exquisite +period of English costume. + +Now, as regards the first of these two statements, I will say, to begin +with, that the warmth of apparel does not depend really on the number of +garments worn, but on the material of which they are made. One of the +chief faults of modern dress is that it is composed of far too many +articles of clothing, most of which are of the wrong substance; but over +a substratum of pure wool, such as is supplied by Dr. Jaeger under the +modern German system, some modification of Greek costume is perfectly +applicable to our climate, our country and our century. This important +fact has already been pointed out by Mr. E. W. Godwin in his excellent, +though too brief, handbook on Dress, contributed to the Health +Exhibition. I call it an important fact because it makes almost any form +of lovely costume perfectly practicable in our cold climate. Mr. Godwin, +it is true, points out that the English ladies of the thirteenth century +abandoned after some time the flowing garments of the early Renaissance +in favour of a tighter mode, such as Northern Europe seems to demand. +This I quite admit, and its significance; but what I contend, and what I +am sure Mr. Godwin would agree with me in, is that the principles, the +laws of Greek dress may be perfectly realised, even in a moderately tight +gown with sleeves: I mean the principle of suspending all apparel from +the shoulders, and of relying for beauty of effect not on the stiff ready- +made ornaments of the modern milliner--the bows where there should be no +bows, and the flounces where there should be no flounces--but on the +exquisite play of light and line that one gets from rich and rippling +folds. I am not proposing any antiquarian revival of an ancient costume, +but trying merely to point out the right laws of dress, laws which are +dictated by art and not by archaeology, by science and not by fashion; +and just as the best work of art in our days is that which combines +classic grace with absolute reality, so from a continuation of the Greek +principles of beauty with the German principles of health will come, I +feel certain, the costume of the future. + +And now to the question of men's dress, or rather to Mr. Huyshe's claim +of the superiority, in point of costume, of the last quarter of the +eighteenth century over the second quarter of the seventeenth. The broad- +brimmed hat of 1640 kept the rain of winter and the glare of summer from +the face; the same cannot be said of the hat of one hundred years ago, +which, with its comparatively narrow brim and high crown, was the +precursor of the modern 'chimney-pot': a wide turned-down collar is a +healthier thing than a strangling stock, and a short cloak much more +comfortable than a sleeved overcoat, even though the latter may have had +'three capes'; a cloak is easier to put on and off, lies lightly on the +shoulder in summer, and wrapped round one in winter keeps one perfectly +warm. A doublet, again, is simpler than a coat and waistcoat; instead of +two garments one has one; by not being open also it protects the chest +better. + +Short loose trousers are in every way to be preferred to the tight knee- +breeches which often impede the proper circulation of the blood; and +finally, the soft leather boots which could be worn above or below the +knee, are more supple, and give consequently more freedom, than the stiff +Hessian which Mr. Huyshe so praises. I say nothing about the question of +grace and picturesqueness, for I suppose that no one, not even Mr. +Huyshe, would prefer a maccaroni to a cavalier, a Lawrence to a Vandyke, +or the third George to the first Charles; but for ease, warmth and +comfort this seventeenth-century dress is infinitely superior to anything +that came after it, and I do not think it is excelled by any preceding +form of costume. I sincerely trust that we may soon see in England some +national revival of it. + + + + +MORE RADICAL IDEAS UPON DRESS REFORM + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 11, 1884.) + +I have been much interested at reading the large amount of correspondence +that has been called forth by my recent lecture on Dress. It shows me +that the subject of dress reform is one that is occupying many wise and +charming people, who have at heart the principles of health, freedom, and +beauty in costume, and I hope that 'H. B. T.' and 'Materfamilias' will +have all the real influence which their letters--excellent letters both +of them--certainly deserve. + +I turn first to Mr. Huyshe's second letter, and the drawing that +accompanies it; but before entering into any examination of the theory +contained in each, I think I should state at once that I have absolutely +no idea whether this gentleman wears his hair longer short, or his cuffs +back or forward, or indeed what he is like at all. I hope he consults +his own comfort and wishes in everything which has to do with his dress, +and is allowed to enjoy that individualism in apparel which he so +eloquently claims for himself, and so foolishly tries to deny to others; +but I really could not take Mr. Wentworth Huyshe's personal appearance as +any intellectual basis for an investigation of the principles which +should guide the costume of a nation. I am not denying the force, or +even the popularity, of the ''Eave arf a brick' school of criticism, but +I acknowledge it does not interest me. The gamin in the gutter may be a +necessity, but the gamin in discussion is a nuisance. So I will proceed +at once to the real point at issue, the value of the late +eighteenth-century costume over that worn in the second quarter of the +seventeenth: the relative merits, that is, of the principles contained in +each. Now, as regards the eighteenth-century costume, Mr. Wentworth +Huyshe acknowledges that he has had no practical experience of it at all; +in fact, he makes a pathetic appeal to his friends to corroborate him in +his assertion, which I do not question for a moment, that he has never +been 'guilty of the eccentricity' of wearing himself the dress which he +proposes for general adoption by others. There is something so naive and +so amusing about this last passage in Mr. Huyshe's letter that I am +really in doubt whether I am not doing him a wrong in regarding him as +having any serious, or sincere, views on the question of a possible +reform in dress; still, as irrespective of any attitude of Mr. Huyshe's +in the matter, the subject is in itself an interesting one, I think it is +worth continuing, particularly as I have myself worn this late eighteenth- +century dress many times, both in public and in private, and so may claim +to have a very positive right to speak on its comfort and suitability. +The particular form of the dress I wore was very similar to that given in +Mr. Godwin's handbook, from a print of Northcote's, and had a certain +elegance and grace about it which was very charming; still, I gave it up +for these reasons:--After a further consideration of the laws of dress I +saw that a doublet is a far simpler and easier garment than a coat and +waistcoat, and, if buttoned from the shoulder, far warmer also, and that +tails have no place in costume, except on some Darwinian theory of +heredity; from absolute experience in the matter I found that the +excessive tightness of knee-breeches is not really comfortable if one +wears them constantly; and, in fact, I satisfied myself that the dress is +not one founded on any real principles. The broad-brimmed hat and loose +cloak, which, as my object was not, of course, historical accuracy but +modern ease, I had always worn with the costume in question, I have still +retained, and find them most comfortable. + +Well, although Mr. Huyshe has no real experience of the dress he +proposes, he gives us a drawing of it, which he labels, somewhat +prematurely, 'An ideal dress.' An ideal dress of course it is not; +'passably picturesque,' he says I may possibly think it; well, passably +picturesque it may be, but not beautiful, certainly, simply because it is +not founded on right principles, or, indeed, on any principles at all. +Picturesqueness one may get in a variety of ways; ugly things that are +strange, or unfamiliar to us, for instance, may be picturesque, such as a +late sixteenth-century costume, or a Georgian house. Ruins, again, may +be picturesque, but beautiful they never can be, because their lines are +meaningless. Beauty, in fact, is to be got only from the perfection of +principles; and in 'the ideal dress' of Mr. Huyshe there are no ideas or +principles at all, much less the perfection of either. Let us examine +it, and see its faults; they are obvious to any one who desires more than +a 'Fancy-dress ball' basis for costume. To begin with, the hat and boots +are all wrong. Whatever one wears on the extremities, such as the feet +and head, should, for the sake of comfort, be made of a soft material, +and for the sake of freedom should take its shape from the way one +chooses to wear it, and not from any stiff, stereotyped design of hat or +boot maker. In a hat made on right principles one should be able to turn +the brim up or down according as the day is dark or fair, dry or wet; but +the hat brim of Mr. Huyshe's drawing is perfectly stiff, and does not +give much protection to the face, or the possibility of any at all to the +back of the head or the ears, in case of a cold east wind; whereas the +bycocket, a hat made in accordance with the right laws, can be turned +down behind and at the sides, and so give the same warmth as a hood. The +crown, again, of Mr. Huyshe's hat is far too high; a high crown +diminishes the stature of a small person, and in the case of any one who +is tall is a great inconvenience when one is getting in and out of +hansoms and railway carriages, or passing under a street awning: in no +case is it of any value whatsoever, and being useless it is of course +against the principles of dress. + +As regards the boots, they are not quite so ugly or so uncomfortable as +the hat; still they are evidently made of stiff leather, as otherwise +they would fall down to the ankle, whereas the boot should be made of +soft leather always, and if worn high at all must be either laced up the +front or carried well over the knee: in the latter case one combines +perfect freedom for walking together with perfect protection against +rain, neither of which advantages a short stiff boot will ever give one, +and when one is resting in the house the long soft boot can be turned +down as the boot of 1640 was. Then there is the overcoat: now, what are +the right principles of an overcoat? To begin with, it should be capable +of being easily put on or off, and worn over any kind of dress; +consequently it should never have narrow sleeves, such as are shown in +Mr. Huyshe's drawing. If an opening or slit for the arm is required it +should be made quite wide, and may be protected by a flap, as in that +excellent overall the modern Inverness cape; secondly, it should not be +too tight, as otherwise all freedom of walking is impeded. If the young +gentleman in the drawing buttons his overcoat he may succeed in being +statuesque, though that I doubt very strongly, but he will never succeed +in being swift; his super-totus is made for him on no principle +whatsoever; a super-totus, or overall, should be capable of being worn +long or short, quite loose or moderately tight, just as the wearer +wishes; he should be able to have one arm free and one arm covered, or +both arms free or both arms covered, just as he chooses for his +convenience in riding, walking, or driving; an overall again should never +be heavy, and should always be warm: lastly, it should be capable of +being easily carried if one wants to take it off; in fact, its principles +are those of freedom and comfort, and a cloak realises them all, just as +much as an overcoat of the pattern suggested by Mr. Huyshe violates them. + +The knee-breeches are of course far too tight; any one who has worn them +for any length of time--any one, in fact, whose views on the subject are +not purely theoretical--will agree with me there; like everything else in +the dress, they are a great mistake. The substitution of the jacket for +the coat and waistcoat of the period is a step in the right direction, +which I am glad to see; it is, however, far too tight over the hips for +any possible comfort. Whenever a jacket or doublet comes below the waist +it should be slit at each side. In the seventeenth century the skirt of +the jacket was sometimes laced on by points and tags, so that it could be +removed at will, sometimes it was merely left open at the sides: in each +case it exemplified what are always the true principles of dress, I mean +freedom and adaptability to circumstances. + +Finally, as regards drawings of this kind, I would point out that there +is absolutely no limit at all to the amount of 'passably picturesque' +costumes which can be either revived or invented for us; but that unless +a costume is founded on principles and exemplified laws, it never can be +of any real value to us in the reform of dress. This particular drawing +of Mr. Huyshe's, for instance, proves absolutely nothing, except that our +grandfathers did not understand the proper laws of dress. There is not a +single rule of right costume which is not violated in it, for it gives us +stiffness, tightness and discomfort instead of comfort, freedom and ease. + +Now here, on the other hand, is a dress which, being founded on +principles, can serve us as an excellent guide and model; it has been +drawn for me, most kindly, by Mr. Godwin from the Duke of Newcastle's +delightful book on horsemanship, a book which is one of our best +authorities on our best era of costume. I do not of course propose it +necessarily for absolute imitation; that is not the way in which one +should regard it; it is not, I mean, a revival of a dead costume, but a +realisation of living laws. I give it as an example of a particular +application of principles which are universally right. This rationally +dressed young man can turn his hat brim down if it rains, and his loose +trousers and boots down if he is tired--that is, he can adapt his costume +to circumstances; then he enjoys perfect freedom, the arms and legs are +not made awkward or uncomfortable by the excessive tightness of narrow +sleeves and knee-breeches, and the hips are left quite untrammelled, +always an important point; and as regards comfort, his jacket is not too +loose for warmth, nor too close for respiration; his neck is well +protected without being strangled, and even his ostrich feathers, if any +Philistine should object to them, are not merely dandyism, but fan him +very pleasantly, I am sure, in summer, and when the weather is bad they +are no doubt left at home, and his cloak taken out. _The value of the +dress is simply that every separate article of it expresses a law_. My +young man is consequently apparelled with ideas, while Mr. Huyshe's young +man is stiffened with facts; the latter teaches one nothing; from the +former one learns everything. I need hardly say that this dress is good, +not because it is seventeenth century, but because it is constructed on +the true principles of costume, just as a square lintel or a pointed arch +is good, not because one may be Greek and the other Gothic, but because +each of them is the best method of spanning a certain-sized opening, or +resisting a certain weight. The fact, however, that this dress was +generally worn in England two centuries and a half ago shows at least +this, that the right laws of dress have been understood and realised in +our country, and so in our country may be realised and understood again. +As regards the absolute beauty of this dress and its meaning, I should +like to say a few words more. Mr. Wentworth Huyshe solemnly announces +that 'he and those who think with him' cannot permit this question of +beauty to be imported into the question of dress; that he and those who +think with him take 'practical views on the subject,' and so on. Well, I +will not enter here into a discussion as to how far any one who does not +take beauty and the value of beauty into account can claim to be +practical at all. The word practical is nearly always the last refuge of +the uncivilised. Of all misused words it is the most evilly treated. But +what I want to point out is that beauty is essentially organic; that is, +it comes, not from without, but from within, not from any added +prettiness, but from the perfection of its own being; and that +consequently, as the body is beautiful, so all apparel that rightly +clothes it must be beautiful also in its construction and in its lines. + +I have no more desire to define ugliness than I have daring to define +beauty; but still I would like to remind those who mock at beauty as +being an unpractical thing of this fact, that an ugly thing is merely a +thing that is badly made, or a thing that does not serve its purpose; +that ugliness is want of fitness; that ugliness is failure; that ugliness +is uselessness, such as ornament in the wrong place, while beauty, as +some one finely said, is the purgation of all superfluities. There is a +divine economy about beauty; it gives us just what is needful and no +more, whereas ugliness is always extravagant; ugliness is a spendthrift +and wastes its material; in fine, ugliness--and I would commend this +remark to Mr. Wentworth Huyshe--ugliness, as much in costume as in +anything else, is always the sign that somebody has been unpractical. So +the costume of the future in England, if it is founded on the true laws +of freedom, comfort, and adaptability to circumstances, cannot fail to be +most beautiful also, because beauty is the sign always of the rightness +of principles, the mystical seal that is set upon what is perfect, and +upon what is perfect only. + +As for your other correspondent, the first principle of dress that all +garments should be hung from the shoulders and not from the waist seems +to me to be generally approved of, although an 'Old Sailor' declares that +no sailors or athletes ever suspend their clothes from the shoulders, but +always from the hips. My own recollection of the river and running +ground at Oxford--those two homes of Hellenism in our little Gothic +town--is that the best runners and rowers (and my own college turned out +many) wore always a tight jersey, with short drawers attached to it, the +whole costume being woven in one piece. As for sailors it is true, I +admit, and the bad custom seems to involve that constant 'hitching up' of +the lower garments which, however popular in transpontine dramas, cannot, +I think, but be considered an extremely awkward habit; and as all +awkwardness comes from discomfort of some kind, I trust that this point +in our sailor's dress will be looked to in the coming reform of our navy, +for, in spite of all protests, I hope we are about to reform everything, +from torpedoes to top-hats, and from crinolettes to cruises. + +Then as regards clogs, my suggestion of them seems to have aroused a +great deal of terror. Fashion in her high-heeled boots has screamed, and +the dreadful word 'anachronism' has been used. Now, whatever is useful +cannot be an anachronism. Such a word is applicable only to the revival +of some folly; and, besides, in the England of our own day clogs are +still worn in many of our manufacturing towns, such as Oldham. I fear +that in Oldham they may not be dreams of beauty; in Oldham the art of +inlaying them with ivory and with pearl may possibly be unknown; yet in +Oldham they serve their purpose. Nor is it so long since they were worn +by the upper classes of this country generally. Only a few days ago I +had the pleasure of talking to a lady who remembered with affectionate +regret the clogs of her girlhood; they were, according to her, not too +high nor too heavy, and were provided, besides, with some kind of spring +in the sole so as to make them the more supple for the foot in walking. +Personally, I object to all additional height being given to a boot or +shoe; it is really against the proper principles of dress, although, if +any such height is to be given it should be by means of two props, not +one; but what I should prefer to see is some adaptation of the divided +skirt or long and moderately loose knickerbockers. If, however, the +divided skirt is to be of any positive value, it must give up all idea of +'being identical in appearance with an ordinary skirt'; it must diminish +the moderate width of each of its divisions, and sacrifice its foolish +frills and flounces; the moment it imitates a dress it is lost; but let +it visibly announce itself as what it actually is, and it will go far +towards solving a real difficulty. I feel sure that there will be found +many graceful and charming girls ready to adopt a costume founded on +these principles, in spite of Mr. Wentworth Huyshe's terrible threat that +he will not propose to them as long as they wear it, for all charges of a +want of womanly character in these forms of dress are really meaningless; +every right article of apparel belongs equally to both sexes, and there +is absolutely no such thing as a definitely feminine garment. One word +of warning I should like to be allowed to give: The over-tunic should be +made full and moderately loose; it may, if desired, be shaped more or +less to the figure, but in no case should it be confined at the waist by +any straight band or belt; on the contrary, it should fall from the +shoulder to the knee, or below it, in fine curves and vertical lines, +giving more freedom and consequently more grace. Few garments are so +absolutely unbecoming as a belted tunic that reaches to the knees, a fact +which I wish some of our Rosalinds would consider when they don doublet +and hose; indeed, to the disregard of this artistic principle is due the +ugliness, the want of proportion, in the Bloomer costume, a costume which +in other respects is sensible. + + + + +MR. WHISTLER'S TEN O'CLOCK + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, February 21, 1885.) + +Last night, at Prince's Hall, Mr. Whistler made his first public +appearance as a lecturer on art, and spoke for more than an hour with +really marvellous eloquence on the absolute uselessness of all lectures +of the kind. Mr. Whistler began his lecture with a very pretty aria on +prehistoric history, describing how in earlier times hunter and warrior +would go forth to chase and foray, while the artist sat at home making +cup and bowl for their service. Rude imitations of nature they were +first, like the gourd bottle, till the sense of beauty and form developed +and, in all its exquisite proportions, the first vase was fashioned. Then +came a higher civilisation of architecture and armchairs, and with +exquisite design, and dainty diaper, the useful things of life were made +lovely; and the hunter and the warrior lay on the couch when they were +tired, and, when they were thirsty, drank from the bowl, and never cared +to lose the exquisite proportion of the one, or the delightful ornament +of the other; and this attitude of the primitive anthropophagous +Philistine formed the text of the lecture and was the attitude which Mr. +Whistler entreated his audience to adopt towards art. Remembering, no +doubt, many charming invitations to wonderful private views, this +fashionable assemblage seemed somewhat aghast, and not a little amused, +at being told that the slightest appearance among a civilised people of +any joy in beautiful things is a grave impertinence to all painters; but +Mr. Whistler was relentless, and, with charming ease and much grace of +manner, explained to the public that the only thing they should cultivate +was ugliness, and that on their permanent stupidity rested all the hopes +of art in the future. + +The scene was in every way delightful; he stood there, a miniature +Mephistopheles, mocking the majority! He was like a brilliant surgeon +lecturing to a class composed of subjects destined ultimately for +dissection, and solemnly assuring them how valuable to science their +maladies were, and how absolutely uninteresting the slightest symptoms of +health on their part would be. In fairness to the audience, however, I +must say that they seemed extremely gratified at being rid of the +dreadful responsibility of admiring anything, and nothing could have +exceeded their enthusiasm when they were told by Mr. Whistler that no +matter how vulgar their dresses were, or how hideous their surroundings +at home, still it was possible that a great painter, if there was such a +thing, could, by contemplating them in the twilight and half closing his +eyes, see them under really picturesque conditions, and produce a picture +which they were not to attempt to understand, much less dare to enjoy. +Then there were some arrows, barbed and brilliant, shot off, with all the +speed and splendour of fireworks, and the archaeologists, who spend their +lives in verifying the birthplaces of nobodies, and estimate the value of +a work of art by its date or its decay; at the art critics who always +treat a picture as if it were a novel, and try and find out the plot; at +dilettanti in general and amateurs in particular; and (O mea culpa!) at +dress reformers most of all. 'Did not Velasquez paint crinolines? What +more do you want?' + +Having thus made a holocaust of humanity, Mr. Whistler turned to nature, +and in a few moments convicted her of the Crystal Palace, Bank holidays, +and a general overcrowding of detail, both in omnibuses and in +landscapes, and then, in a passage of singular beauty, not unlike one +that occurs in Corot's letters, spoke of the artistic value of dim dawns +and dusks, when the mean facts of life are lost in exquisite and +evanescent effects, when common things are touched with mystery and +transfigured with beauty, when the warehouses become as palaces and the +tall chimneys of the factory seem like campaniles in the silver air. + +Finally, after making a strong protest against anybody but a painter +judging of painting, and a pathetic appeal to the audience not to be +lured by the aesthetic movement into having beautiful things about them, +Mr. Whistler concluded his lecture with a pretty passage about Fusiyama +on a fan, and made his bow to an audience which he had succeeded in +completely fascinating by his wit, his brilliant paradoxes, and, at +times, his real eloquence. Of course, with regard to the value of +beautiful surroundings I differ entirely from Mr. Whistler. An artist is +not an isolated fact; he is the resultant of a certain milieu and a +certain entourage, and can no more be born of a nation that is devoid of +any sense of beauty than a fig can grow from a thorn or a rose blossom +from a thistle. That an artist will find beauty in ugliness, le beau +dans l'horrible, is now a commonplace of the schools, the argot of the +atelier, but I strongly deny that charming people should be condemned to +live with magenta ottomans and Albert-blue curtains in their rooms in +order that some painter may observe the side-lights on the one and the +values of the other. Nor do I accept the dictum that only a painter is a +judge of painting. I say that only an artist is a judge of art; there is +a wide difference. As long as a painter is a painter merely, he should +not be allowed to talk of anything but mediums and megilp, and on those +subjects should be compelled to hold his tongue; it is only when he +becomes an artist that the secret laws of artistic creation are revealed +to him. For there are not many arts, but one art merely--poem, picture +and Parthenon, sonnet and statue--all are in their essence the same, and +he who knows one knows all. But the poet is the supreme artist, for he +is the master of colour and of form, and the real musician besides, and +is lord over all life and all arts; and so to the poet beyond all others +are these mysteries known; to Edgar Allan Poe and to Baudelaire, not to +Benjamin West and Paul Delaroche. However, I should not enjoy anybody +else's lectures unless in a few points I disagreed with them, and Mr. +Whistler's lecture last night was, like everything that he does, a +masterpiece. Not merely for its clever satire and amusing jests will it +be remembered, but for the pure and perfect beauty of many of its +passages--passages delivered with an earnestness which seemed to amaze +those who had looked on Mr. Whistler as a master of persiflage merely, +and had not known him as we do, as a master of painting also. For that +he is indeed one of the very greatest masters of painting is my opinion. +And I may add that in this opinion Mr. Whistler himself entirely concurs. + + + + +THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART: A NOTE IN BLACK AND WHITE ON MR. WHISTLER'S +LECTURE + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, February 28, 1885.) + +'How can you possibly paint these ugly three-cornered hats?' asked a +reckless art critic once of Sir Joshua Reynolds. 'I see light and shade +in them,' answered the artist. 'Les grands coloristes,' says Baudelaire, +in a charming article on the artistic value of frock coats, 'les grands +coloristes savent faire de la couleur avec un habit noir, une cravate +blanche, et un fond gris.' + +'Art seeks and finds the beautiful in all times, as did her high priest +Rembrandt, when he saw the picturesque grandeur of the Jews' quarter of +Amsterdam, and lamented not that its inhabitants were not Greeks,' were +the fine and simple words used by Mr. Whistler in one of the most +valuable passages of his lecture. The most valuable, that is, to the +painter: for there is nothing of which the ordinary English painter needs +more to be reminded than that the true artist does not wait for life to +be made picturesque for him, but sees life under picturesque conditions +always--under conditions, that is to say, which are at once new and +delightful. But between the attitude of the painter towards the public +and the attitude of a people towards art, there is a wide difference. +That, under certain conditions of light and shade, what is ugly in fact +may in its effect become beautiful, is true; and this, indeed, is the +real modernite of art: but these conditions are exactly what we cannot be +always sure of, as we stroll down Piccadilly in the glaring vulgarity of +the noonday, or lounge in the park with a foolish sunset as a background. +Were we able to carry our chiaroscuro about with us, as we do our +umbrellas, all would be well; but this being impossible, I hardly think +that pretty and delightful people will continue to wear a style of dress +as ugly as it is useless and as meaningless as it is monstrous, even on +the chance of such a master as Mr. Whistler spiritualising them into a +symphony or refining them into a mist. For the arts are made for life, +and not life for the arts. + +Nor do I feel quite sure that Mr. Whistler has been himself always true +to the dogma he seems to lay down, that a painter should paint only the +dress of his age and of his actual surroundings: far be it from me to +burden a butterfly with the heavy responsibility of its past: I have +always been of opinion that consistency is the last refuge of the +unimaginative: but have we not all seen, and most of us admired, a +picture from his hand of exquisite English girls strolling by an opal sea +in the fantastic dresses of Japan? Has not Tite Street been thrilled +with the tidings that the models of Chelsea were posing to the master, in +peplums, for pastels? + +Whatever comes from Mr Whistler's brush is far too perfect in its +loveliness to stand or fall by any intellectual dogmas on art, even by +his own: for Beauty is justified of all her children, and cares nothing +for explanations: but it is impossible to look through any collection of +modern pictures in London, from Burlington House to the Grosvenor +Gallery, without feeling that the professional model is ruining painting +and reducing it to a condition of mere pose and pastiche. + +Are we not all weary of him, that venerable impostor fresh from the steps +of the Piazza di Spagna, who, in the leisure moments that he can spare +from his customary organ, makes the round of the studios and is waited +for in Holland Park? Do we not all recognise him, when, with the gay +insouciance of his nation, he reappears on the walls of our summer +exhibitions as everything that he is not, and as nothing that he is, +glaring at us here as a patriarch of Canaan, here beaming as a brigand +from the Abruzzi? Popular is he, this poor peripatetic professor of +posing, with those whose joy it is to paint the posthumous portrait of +the last philanthropist who in his lifetime had neglected to be +photographed,--yet he is the sign of the decadence, the symbol of decay. + +For all costumes are caricatures. The basis of Art is not the Fancy +Ball. Where there is loveliness of dress, there is no dressing up. And +so, were our national attire delightful in colour, and in construction +simple and sincere; were dress the expression of the loveliness that it +shields and of the swiftness and motion that it does not impede; did its +lines break from the shoulder instead of bulging from the waist; did the +inverted wineglass cease to be the ideal of form; were these things +brought about, as brought about they will be, then would painting be no +longer an artificial reaction against the ugliness of life, but become, +as it should be, the natural expression of life's beauty. Nor would +painting merely, but all the other arts also, be the gainers by a change +such as that which I propose; the gainers, I mean, through the increased +atmosphere of Beauty by which the artists would be surrounded and in +which they would grow up. For Art is not to be taught in Academies. It +is what one looks at, not what one listens to, that makes the artist. The +real schools should be the streets. There is not, for instance, a single +delicate line, or delightful proportion, in the dress of the Greeks, +which is not echoed exquisitely in their architecture. A nation arrayed +in stove-pipe hats and dress-improvers might have built the Pantechnichon +possibly, but the Parthenon never. And finally, there is this to be +said: Art, it is true, can never have any other claim but her own +perfection, and it may be that the artist, desiring merely to contemplate +and to create, is wise in not busying himself about change in others: yet +wisdom is not always the best; there are times when she sinks to the +level of common-sense; and from the passionate folly of those--and there +are many--who desire that Beauty shall be confined no longer to the bric- +a-brac of the collector and the dust of the museum, but shall be, as it +should be, the natural and national inheritance of all,--from this noble +unwisdom, I say, who knows what new loveliness shall be given to life, +and, under these more exquisite conditions, what perfect artist born? Le +milieu se renouvelant, l'art se renouvelle. + +Speaking, however, from his own passionless pedestal, Mr. Whistler, in +pointing out that the power of the painter is to be found in his power of +vision, not in his cleverness of hand, has expressed a truth which needed +expression, and which, coming from the lord of form and colour, cannot +fail to have its influence. His lecture, the Apocrypha though it be for +the people, yet remains from this time as the Bible for the painter, the +masterpiece of masterpieces, the song of songs. It is true he has +pronounced the panegyric of the Philistine, but I fancy Ariel praising +Caliban for a jest: and, in that he has read the Commination Service over +the critics, let all men thank him, the critics themselves, indeed, most +of all, for he has now relieved them from the necessity of a tedious +existence. Considered, again, merely as an orator, Mr. Whistler seems to +me to stand almost alone. Indeed, among all our public speakers I know +but few who can combine so felicitously as he does the mirth and malice +of Puck with the style of the minor prophets. + + + + +KEATS'S SONNET ON BLUE + + +(Century Guild Hobby Horse, July 1886.) + +During my tour in America I happened one evening to find myself in +Louisville, Kentucky. The subject I had selected to speak on was the +Mission of Art in the Nineteenth Century, and in the course of my lecture +I had occasion to quote Keats's Sonnet on Blue as an example of the +poet's delicate sense of colour-harmonies. When my lecture was concluded +there came round to see me a lady of middle age, with a sweet gentle +manner and a most musical voice. She introduced herself to me as Mrs. +Speed, the daughter of George Keats, and invited me to come and examine +the Keats manuscripts in her possession. I spent most of the next day +with her, reading the letters of Keats to her father, some of which were +at that time unpublished, poring over torn yellow leaves and faded scraps +of paper, and wondering at the little Dante in which Keats had written +those marvellous notes on Milton. Some months afterwards, when I was in +California, I received a letter from Mrs. Speed asking my acceptance of +the original manuscript of the sonnet which I had quoted in my lecture. +This manuscript I have had reproduced here, as it seems to me to possess +much psychological interest. It shows us the conditions that preceded +the perfected form, the gradual growth, not of the conception but of the +expression, and the workings of that spirit of selection which is the +secret of style. In the case of poetry, as in the case of the other +arts, what may appear to be simply technicalities of method are in their +essence spiritual, not mechanical, and although, in all lovely work, what +concerns us is the ultimate form, not the conditions that necessitate +that form, yet the preference that precedes perfection, the evolution of +the beauty, and the mere making of the music, have, if not their artistic +value, at least their value to the artist. + +It will be remembered that this sonnet was first published in 1848 by +Lord Houghton in his Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of John Keats. +Lord Houghton does not definitely state where he found it, but it was +probably among the Keats manuscripts belonging to Mr. Charles Brown. It +is evidently taken from a version later than that in my possession, as it +accepts all the corrections, and makes three variations. As in my +manuscript the first line is torn away, I give the sonnet here as it +appears in Lord Houghton's edition. + + ANSWER TO A SONNET ENDING THUS: + + Dark eyes are dearer far + Than those that make the hyacinthine bell. {74} + + By J. H. REYNOLDS. + + Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,--the domain + Of Cynthia,--the wide palace of the sun,-- + The tent of Hesperus and all his train,-- + The bosomer of clouds, gold, grey and dun. + Blue! 'Tis the life of waters--ocean + And all its vassal streams: pools numberless + May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can + Subside if not to dark-blue nativeness. + Blue! gentle cousin of the forest green, + Married to green in all the sweetest flowers, + Forget-me-not,--the blue-bell,--and, that queen + Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers + Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, + When in an Eye thou art alive with fate! + + Feb. 1818. + +In the Athenaeum of the 3rd of June 1876, appeared a letter from Mr. A. +J. Horwood, stating that he had in his possession a copy of The Garden of +Florence in which this sonnet was transcribed. Mr. Horwood, who was +unaware that the sonnet had been already published by Lord Houghton, +gives the transcript at length. His version reads hue for life in the +first line, and bright for wide in the second, and gives the sixth line +thus: + + With all his tributary streams, pools numberless, + +a foot too long: it also reads to for of in the ninth line. Mr. Buxton +Forman is of opinion that these variations are decidedly genuine, but +indicative of an earlier state of the poem than that adopted in Lord +Houghton's edition. However, now that we have before us Keats's first +draft of his sonnet, it is difficult to believe that the sixth line in +Mr. Horwood's version is really a genuine variation. Keats may have +written, + + Ocean + His tributary streams, pools numberless, + +and the transcript may have been carelessly made, but having got his line +right in his first draft, Keats probably did not spoil it in his second. +The Athenaeum version inserts a comma after art in the last line, which +seems to me a decided improvement, and eminently characteristic of +Keats's method. I am glad to see that Mr. Buxton Forman has adopted it. + +As for the corrections that Lord Houghton's version shows Keats to have +made in the eighth and ninth lines of this sonnet, it is evident that +they sprang from Keats's reluctance to repeat the same word in +consecutive lines, except in cases where a word's music or meaning was to +be emphasised. The substitution of 'its' for 'his' in the sixth line is +more difficult of explanation. It was due probably to a desire on +Keats's part not to mar by any echo the fine personification of Hesperus. + +It may be noticed that Keats's own eyes were brown, and not blue, as +stated by Mrs. Proctor to Lord Houghton. Mrs. Speed showed me a note to +that effect written by Mrs. George Keats on the margin of the page in +Lord Houghton's Life (p. 100, vol. i.), where Mrs. Proctor's description +is given. Cowden Clarke made a similar correction in his Recollections, +and in some of the later editions of Lord Houghton's book the word 'blue' +is struck out. In Severn's portraits of Keats also the eyes are given as +brown. + +The exquisite sense of colour expressed in the ninth and tenth lines may +be paralleled by + + The Ocean with its vastness, its blue green, + +of the sonnet to George Keats. + + + + +THE AMERICAN INVASION + + +(Court and Society Review, March 23, 1887.) + +A terrible danger is hanging over the Americans in London. Their future +and their reputation this season depend entirely on the success of +Buffalo Bill and Mrs. Brown-Potter. The former is certain to draw; for +English people are far more interested in American barbarism than they +are in American civilisation. When they sight Sandy Hook they look to +their rifles and ammunition; and, after dining once at Delmonico's, start +off for Colorado or California, for Montana or the Yellow Stone Park. +Rocky Mountains charm them more than riotous millionaires; they have been +known to prefer buffaloes to Boston. Why should they not? The cities of +America are inexpressibly tedious. The Bostonians take their learning +too sadly; culture with them is an accomplishment rather than an +atmosphere; their 'Hub,' as they call it, is the paradise of prigs. +Chicago is a sort of monster-shop, full of bustle and bores. Political +life at Washington is like political life in a suburban vestry. Baltimore +is amusing for a week, but Philadelphia is dreadfully provincial; and +though one can dine in New York one could not dwell there. Better the +Far West with its grizzly bears and its untamed cow-boys, its free open- +air life and its free open-air manners, its boundless prairie and its +boundless mendacity! This is what Buffalo Bill is going to bring to +London; and we have no doubt that London will fully appreciate his show. + +With regard to Mrs. Brown-Potter, as acting is no longer considered +absolutely essential for success on the English stage, there is really no +reason why the pretty bright-eyed lady who charmed us all last June by +her merry laugh and her nonchalant ways, should not--to borrow an +expression from her native language--make a big boom and paint the town +red. We sincerely hope she will; for, on the whole, the American +invasion has done English society a great deal of good. American women +are bright, clever, and wonderfully cosmopolitan. Their patriotic +feelings are limited to an admiration for Niagara and a regret for the +Elevated Railway; and, unlike the men, they never bore us with Bunkers +Hill. They take their dresses from Paris and their manners from +Piccadilly, and wear both charmingly. They have a quaint pertness, a +delightful conceit, a native self-assertion. They insist on being paid +compliments and have almost succeeded in making Englishmen eloquent. For +our aristocracy they have an ardent admiration; they adore titles and are +a permanent blow to Republican principles. In the art of amusing men +they are adepts, both by nature and education, and can actually tell a +story without forgetting the point--an accomplishment that is extremely +rare among the women of other countries. It is true that they lack +repose and that their voices are somewhat harsh and strident when they +land first at Liverpool; but after a time one gets to love these pretty +whirlwinds in petticoats that sweep so recklessly through society and are +so agitating to all duchesses who have daughters. There is something +fascinating in their funny, exaggerated gestures and their petulant way +of tossing the head. Their eyes have no magic nor mystery in them, but +they challenge us for combat; and when we engage we are always worsted. +Their lips seem made for laughter and yet they never grimace. As for +their voices, they soon get them into tune. Some of them have been known +to acquire a fashionable drawl in two seasons; and after they have been +presented to Royalty they all roll their R's as vigorously as a young +equerry or an old lady-in-waiting. Still, they never really lose their +accent; it keeps peeping out here and there, and when they chatter +together they are like a bevy of peacocks. Nothing is more amusing than +to watch two American girls greeting each other in a drawing-room or in +the Row. They are like children with their shrill staccato cries of +wonder, their odd little exclamations. Their conversation sounds like a +series of exploding crackers; they are exquisitely incoherent and use a +sort of primitive, emotional language. After five minutes they are left +beautifully breathless and look at each other half in amusement and half +in affection. If a stolid young Englishman is fortunate enough to be +introduced to them he is amazed at their extraordinary vivacity, their +electric quickness of repartee, their inexhaustible store of curious +catchwords. He never really understands them, for their thoughts flutter +about with the sweet irresponsibility of butterflies; but he is pleased +and amused and feels as if he were in an aviary. On the whole, American +girls have a wonderful charm and, perhaps, the chief secret of their +charm is that they never talk seriously except about amusements. They +have, however, one grave fault--their mothers. Dreary as were those old +Pilgrim Fathers who left our shores more than two centuries ago to found +a New England beyond seas, the Pilgrim Mothers who have returned to us in +the nineteenth century are drearier still. + +Here and there, of course, there are exceptions, but as a class they are +either dull, dowdy or dyspeptic. It is only fair to the rising +generation of America to state that they are not to blame for this. +Indeed, they spare no pains at all to bring up their parents properly and +to give them a suitable, if somewhat late, education. From its earliest +years every American child spends most of its time in correcting the +faults of its father and mother; and no one who has had the opportunity +of watching an American family on the deck of an Atlantic steamer, or in +the refined seclusion of a New York boarding-house, can fail to have been +struck by this characteristic of their civilisation. In America the +young are always ready to give to those who are older than themselves the +full benefits of their inexperience. A boy of only eleven or twelve +years of age will firmly but kindly point out to his father his defects +of manner or temper; will never weary of warning him against +extravagance, idleness, late hours, unpunctuality, and the other +temptations to which the aged are so particularly exposed; and sometimes, +should he fancy that he is monopolising too much of the conversation at +dinner, will remind him, across the table, of the new child's adage, +'Parents should be seen, not heard.' Nor does any mistaken idea of +kindness prevent the little American girl from censuring her mother +whenever it is necessary. Often, indeed, feeling that a rebuke conveyed +in the presence of others is more truly efficacious than one merely +whispered in the quiet of the nursery, she will call the attention of +perfect strangers to her mother's general untidiness, her want of +intellectual Boston conversation, immoderate love of iced water and green +corn, stinginess in the matter of candy, ignorance of the usages of the +best Baltimore society, bodily ailments and the like. In fact, it may be +truly said that no American child is ever blind to the deficiencies of +its parents, no matter how much it may love them. + +Yet, somehow, this educational system has not been so successful as it +deserved. In many cases, no doubt, the material with which the children +had to deal was crude and incapable of real development; but the fact +remains that the American mother is a tedious person. The American +father is better, for he is never seen in London. He passes his life +entirely in Wall Street and communicates with his family once a month by +means of a telegram in cipher. The mother, however, is always with us, +and, lacking the quick imitative faculty of the younger generation, +remains uninteresting and provincial to the last. In spite of her, +however, the American girl is always welcome. She brightens our dull +dinner parties for us and makes life go pleasantly by for a season. In +the race for coronets she often carries off the prize; but, once she has +gained the victory, she is generous and forgives her English rivals +everything, even their beauty. + +Warned by the example of her mother that American women do not grow old +gracefully, she tries not to grow old at all and often succeeds. She has +exquisite feet and hands, is always bien chaussee et bien gantee and can +talk brilliantly upon any subject, provided that she knows nothing about +it. + +Her sense of humour keeps her from the tragedy of a grande passion, and, +as there is neither romance nor humility in her love, she makes an +excellent wife. What her ultimate influence on English life will be it +is difficult to estimate at present; but there can be no doubt that, of +all the factors that have contributed to the social revolution of London, +there are few more important, and none more delightful, than the American +Invasion. + + + + +SERMONS IN STONES AT BLOOMSBURY: THE NEW SCULPTURE ROOM AT THE BRITISH +MUSEUM + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, October 15, 1887.) + +Through the exertions of Sir Charles Newton, to whom every student of +classic art should be grateful, some of the wonderful treasures so long +immured in the grimy vaults of the British Museum have at last been +brought to light, and the new Sculpture Room now opened to the public +will amply repay the trouble of a visit, even from those to whom art is a +stumbling-block and a rock of offence. For setting aside the mere beauty +of form, outline and mass, the grace and loveliness of design and the +delicacy of technical treatment, here we have shown to us what the Greeks +and Romans thought about death; and the philosopher, the preacher, the +practical man of the world, and even the Philistine himself, cannot fail +to be touched by these 'sermons in stones,' with their deep significance, +their fertile suggestion, their plain humanity. Common tombstones they +are, most of them, the work not of famous artists but of simple +handicraftsmen, only they were wrought in days when every handicraft was +an art. The finest specimens, from the purely artistic point of view, +are undoubtedly the two stelai found at Athens. They are both the +tombstones of young Greek athletes. In one the athlete is represented +handing his strigil to his slave, in the other the athlete stands alone, +strigil in hand. They do not belong to the greatest period of Greek art, +they have not the grand style of the Phidian age, but they are beautiful +for all that, and it is impossible not to be fascinated by their +exquisite grace and by the treatment which is so simple in its means, so +subtle in its effect. All the tombstones, however, are full of interest. +Here is one of two ladies of Smyrna who were so remarkable in their day +that the city voted them honorary crowns; here is a Greek doctor +examining a little boy who is suffering from indigestion; here is the +memorial of Xanthippus who, probably, was a martyr to gout, as he is +holding in his hand the model of a foot, intended, no doubt, as a votive +offering to some god. A lovely stele from Rhodes gives us a family +group. The husband is on horseback and is bidding farewell to his wife, +who seems as if she would follow him but is being held back by a little +child. The pathos of parting from those we love is the central motive of +Greek funeral art. It is repeated in every possible form, and each mute +marble stone seems to murmur [Greek]. Roman art is different. It +introduces vigorous and realistic portraiture and deals with pure family +life far more frequently than Greek art does. They are very ugly, those +stern-looking Roman men and women whose portraits are exhibited on their +tombs, but they seem to have been loved and respected by their children +and their servants. Here is the monument of Aphrodisius and Atilia, a +Roman gentleman and his wife, who died in Britain many centuries ago, and +whose tombstone was found in the Thames; and close by it stands a stele +from Rome with the busts of an old married couple who are certainly +marvellously ill-favoured. The contrast between the abstract Greek +treatment of the idea of death and the Roman concrete realisation of the +individuals who have died is extremely curious. + +Besides the tombstones, the new Sculpture Room contains some most +fascinating examples of Roman decorative art under the Emperors. The +most wonderful of all, and this alone is worth a trip to Bloomsbury, is a +bas-relief representing a marriage scene. Juno Pronuba is joining the +hands of a handsome young noble and a very stately lady. There is all +the grace of Perugino in this marble, all the grace of Raphael even. The +date of it is uncertain, but the particular cut of the bridegroom's beard +seems to point to the time of the Emperor Hadrian. It is clearly the +work of Greek artists and is one of the most beautiful bas-reliefs in the +whole Museum. There is something in it which reminds one of the music +and the sweetness of Propertian verse. Then we have delightful friezes +of children. One representing children playing on musical instruments +might have suggested much of the plastic art of Florence. Indeed, as we +view these marbles it is not difficult to see whence the Renaissance +sprang and to what we owe the various forms of Renaissance art. The +frieze of the Muses, each of whom wears in her hair a feather plucked +from the wings of the vanquished sirens, is extremely fine; there is a +lovely little bas-relief of two cupids racing in chariots; and the frieze +of recumbent Amazons has some splendid qualities of design. A frieze of +children playing with the armour of the god Mars should also be +mentioned. It is full of fancy and delicate humour. + +On the whole, Sir Charles Newton and Mr. Murray are warmly to be +congratulated on the success of the new room. We hope, however, that +some more of the hidden treasures will shortly be catalogued and shown. +In the vaults at present there is a very remarkable bas-relief of the +marriage of Cupid and Psyche, and another representing the professional +mourners weeping over the body of the dead. The fine cast of the Lion of +Chaeronea should also be brought up, and so should the stele with the +marvellous portrait of the Roman slave. Economy is an excellent public +virtue, but the parsimony that allows valuable works of art to remain in +the grime and gloom of a damp cellar is little short of a detestable +public vice. + + + + +THE UNITY OF THE ARTS: A LECTURE AND A FIVE O'CLOCK + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, December 12, 1887.) + +Last Saturday afternoon, at Willis's Rooms, Mr. Selwyn Image delivered +the first of a series of four lectures on Modern Art before a select and +distinguished audience. The chief point on which he dwelt was the +absolute unity of all the arts and, in order to convey this idea, he +framed a definition wide enough to include Shakespeare's King Lear and +Michael Angelo's Creation, Paul Veronese's picture of Alexander and +Darius, and Gibbon's description of the entry of Heliogabalus into Rome. +All these he regarded as so many expressions of man's thoughts and +emotions on fine things, conveyed through visible or audible modes; and +starting from this point he approached the question of the true relation +of literature to painting, always keeping in view the central motive of +his creed, Credo in unam artem multipartitam, indivisibilem, and dwelling +on resemblances rather than differences. The result at which he +ultimately arrived was this: the Impressionists, with their frank +artistic acceptance of form and colour as things absolutely satisfying in +themselves, have produced very beautiful work, but painting has something +more to give us than the mere visible aspect of things. The lofty +spiritual visions of William Blake, and the marvellous romance of Dante +Gabriel Rossetti, can find their perfect expression in painting; every +mood has its colour and every dream has its form. The chief quality of +Mr. Image's lecture was its absolute fairness, but this was, to a certain +portion of the audience, its chief defect. 'Sweet reasonableness,' said +one, 'is always admirable in a spectator, but from a leader we want +something more.' 'It is only an auctioneer who should admire all schools +of art,' said another; while a third sighed over what he called 'the +fatal sterility of the judicial mind,' and expressed a perfectly +groundless fear that the Century Guild was becoming rational. For, with +a courtesy and a generosity that we strongly recommend to other +lecturers, Mr. Image provided refreshments for his audience after his +address was over, and it was extremely interesting to listen to the +various opinions expressed by the great Five-o'clock-tea School of +Criticism which was largely represented. For our own part, we found Mr. +Image's lecture extremely suggestive. It was sometimes difficult to +understand in what exact sense he was using the word 'literary,' and we +do not think that a course of drawing from the plaster cast of the Dying +Gaul would in the slightest degree improve the ordinary art critic. The +true unity of the arts is to be found, not in any resemblance of one art +to another, but in the fact that to the really artistic nature all the +arts have the same message and speak the same language though with +different tongues. No amount of daubing on a cellar wall will make a man +understand the mystery of Michael Angelo's Sybils, nor is it necessary to +write a blank verse drama before one can appreciate the beauty of Hamlet. +It is essential that an art critic should have a nature receptive of +beautiful impressions, and sufficient intuition to recognise style when +he meets with it, and truth when it is shown to him; but, if he does not +possess these qualities, a reckless career of water-colour painting will +not give them to him, for, if from the incompetent critic all things be +hidden, to the bad painter nothing shall be revealed. + + + + +ART AT WILLIS'S ROOMS + + +(Sunday Times, December 25, 1887.) + +Accepting a suggestion made by a friendly critic last week, Mr. Selwyn +Image began his second lecture by explaining more fully what he meant by +literary art, and pointed out the difference between an ordinary +illustration to a book and such creative and original works as Michael +Angelo's fresco of The Expulsion from Eden and Rossetti's Beata Beatrix. +In the latter case the artist treats literature as if it were life +itself, and gives a new and delightful form to what seer or singer has +shown us; in the former we have merely a translation which misses the +music and adds no marvel. As for subject, Mr. Image protested against +the studio-slang that no subject is necessary, defining subject as the +thought, emotion or impression which a man desires to embody in form and +colour, and admitting Mr. Whistler's fireworks as readily as Giotto's +angels, and Van Huysum's roses no less than Mantegna's gods. Here, we +think that Mr. Image might have pointed out more clearly the contrast +between the purely pictorial subject and the subject that includes among +its elements such things as historical associations or poetic memories; +the contrast, in fact, between impressive art and the art that is +expressive also. However, the topics he had to deal with were so varied +that it was, no doubt, difficult for him to do more than suggest. From +subject he passed to style, which he described as 'that masterful but +restrained individuality of manner by which one artist is differentiated +from another.' The true qualities of style he found in restraint which +is submission to law; simplicity which is unity of vision; and severity, +for le beau est toujours severe. + +The realist he defined as one who aims at reproducing the external +phenomena of nature, while the idealist is the man who 'imagines things +of fine interest.' Yet, while he defined them he would not separate +them. The true artist is a realist, for he recognises an external world +of truth; an idealist, for he has selection, abstraction and the power of +individualisation. To stand apart from the world of nature is fatal, but +it is no less fatal merely to reproduce facts. + +Art, in a word, must not content itself simply with holding the mirror up +to nature, for it is a re-creation more than a reflection, and not a +repetition but rather a new song. As for finish, it must not be confused +with elaboration. A picture, said Mr. Image, is finished when the means +of form and colour employed by the artist are adequate to convey the +artist's intention; and, with this definition and a peroration suitable +to the season, he concluded his interesting and intellectual lecture. + +Light refreshments were then served to the audience, and the five-o'clock- +tea school of criticism came very much to the front. Mr. Image's entire +freedom from dogmatism and self-assertion was in some quarters rather +severely commented on, and one young gentleman declared that such +virtuous modesty as the lecturer's might easily become a most vicious +mannerism. Everybody, however, was extremely pleased to learn that it is +no longer the duty of art to hold the mirror up to nature, and the few +Philistines who dissented from this view received that most terrible of +all punishments--the contempt of the highly cultured. + +Mr. Image's third lecture will be delivered on January 21 and will, no +doubt, be largely attended, as the subjects advertised are full of +interest, and though 'sweet reasonableness' may not convert, it always +charms. + + + + +MR. MORRIS ON TAPESTRY + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 2, 1888.) + +Yesterday evening Mr. William Morris delivered a most interesting and +fascinating lecture on Carpet and Tapestry Weaving at the Arts and Crafts +Exhibition now held at the New Gallery. Mr. Morris had small practical +models of the two looms used, the carpet loom where the weaver sits in +front of his work; the more elaborate tapestry loom where the weaver sits +behind, at the back of the stuff, has his design outlined on the upright +threads and sees in a mirror the shadow of the pattern and picture as it +grows gradually to perfection. He spoke at much length on the question +of dyes--praising madder and kermes for reds, precipitate of iron or +ochre for yellows, and for blue either indigo or woad. At the back of +the platform hung a lovely Flemish tapestry of the fourteenth century, +and a superb Persian carpet about two hundred and fifty years old. Mr. +Morris pointed out the loveliness of the carpet--its delicate suggestion +of hawthorn blossom, iris and rose, its rejection of imitation and +shading; and showed how it combined the great quality of decorative +design--being at once clear and well defined in form: each outline +exquisitely traced, each line deliberate in its intention and its beauty, +and the whole effect being one of unity, of harmony, almost of mystery, +the colours being so perfectly harmonised together and the little bright +notes of colour being so cunningly placed either for tone or brilliancy. + +Tapestries, he said, were to the North of Europe what fresco was to the +South--our climate, amongst other reasons, guiding us in our choice of +material for wall-covering. England, France, and Flanders were the three +great tapestry countries--Flanders with its great wool trade being the +first in splendid colours and superb Gothic design. The keynote of +tapestry, the secret of its loveliness, was, he told the audience, the +complete filling up of every corner and square inch of surface with +lovely and fanciful and suggestive design. Hence the wonder of those +great Gothic tapestries where the forest trees rise in different places, +one over the other, each leaf perfect in its shape and colour and +decorative value, while in simple raiment of beautiful design knights and +ladies wandered in rich flower gardens, and rode with hawk on wrist +through long green arcades, and sat listening to lute and viol in blossom- +starred bowers or by cool gracious water springs. Upon the other hand, +when the Gothic feeling died away, and Boucher and others began to +design, they gave us wide expanses of waste sky, elaborate perspective, +posing nymphs and shallow artificial treatment. Indeed, Boucher met with +scant mercy at Mr. Morris's vigorous hands and was roundly abused, and +modern Gobelins, with M. Bougereau's cartoons, fared no better. + +Mr. Morris told some delightful stories about old tapestry work from the +days when in the Egyptian tombs the dead were laid wrapped in picture +cloths, some of which are now in the South Kensington Museum, to the time +of the great Turk Bajazet who, having captured some Christian knights, +would accept nothing for their ransom but the 'storied tapestries of +France' and gerfalcons. As regards the use of tapestry in modern days, +he pointed out that we were richer than the middle ages, and so should be +better able to afford this form of lovely wall-covering, which for +artistic tone is absolutely without rival. He said that the very +limitation of material and form forced the imaginative designer into +giving us something really beautiful and decorative. 'What is the use of +setting an artist in a twelve-acre field and telling him to design a +house? Give him a limited space and he is forced by its limitation to +concentrate, and to fill with pure loveliness the narrow surface at his +disposal.' The worker also gives to the original design a very perfect +richness of detail, and the threads with their varying colours and +delicate reflections convey into the work a new source of delight. Here, +he said, we found perfect unity between the imaginative artist and the +handicraftsman. The one was not too free, the other was not a slave. The +eye of the artist saw, his brain conceived, his imagination created, but +the hand of the weaver had also its opportunity for wonderful work, and +did not copy what was already made, but re-created and put into a new and +delightful form a design that for its perfection needed the loom to aid, +and had to pass into a fresh and marvellous material before its beauty +came to its real flower and blossom of absolutely right expression and +artistic effect. But, said Mr. Morris in conclusion, to have great work +we must be worthy of it. Commercialism, with its vile god cheapness, its +callous indifference to the worker, its innate vulgarity of temper, is +our enemy. To gain anything good we must sacrifice something of our +luxury--must think more of others, more of the State, the commonweal: 'We +cannot have riches and wealth both,' he said; we must choose between +them. + +The lecture was listened to with great attention by a very large and +distinguished audience, and Mr. Morris was loudly applauded. + +The next lecture will be on Sculpture by Mr. George Simonds, and if it is +half so good as Mr. Morris it will well repay a visit to the +lecture-room. Mr. Crane deserves great credit for his exertions in +making this exhibition what it should be, and there is no doubt but that +it will exercise an important and a good influence on all the handicrafts +of our country. + + + + +SCULPTURE AT THE ARTS AND CRAFTS + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 9, 1888.) + +The most satisfactory thing in Mr. Simonds' lecture last night was the +peroration, in which he told the audience that 'an artist cannot be +made.' But for this well-timed warning some deluded people might have +gone away under the impression that sculpture was a sort of mechanical +process within the reach of the meanest capabilities. For it must be +confessed that Mr. Simonds' lecture was at once too elementary and too +elaborately technical. The ordinary art student, even the ordinary +studio-loafer, could not have learned anything from it, while the +'cultured person,' of whom there were many specimens present, could not +but have felt a little bored at the careful and painfully clear +descriptions given by the lecturer of very well-known and uninteresting +methods of work. However, Mr. Simonds did his best. He described +modelling in clay and wax; casting in plaster and in metal; how to +enlarge and how to diminish to scale; bas-reliefs and working in the +round; the various kinds of marble, their qualities and characteristics; +how to reproduce in marble the plaster or clay bust; how to use the +point, the drill, the wire and the chisel; and the various difficulties +attending each process. He exhibited a clay bust of Mr. Walter Crane on +which he did some elementary work; a bust of Mr. Parsons; a small +statuette; several moulds, and an interesting diagram of the furnace used +by Balthasar Keller for casting a great equestrian statue of Louis XIV. +in 1697-8. + +What his lecture lacked were ideas. Of the artistic value of each +material; of the correspondence between material or method and the +imaginative faculty seeking to find expression; of the capacities for +realism and idealism that reside in each material; of the historical and +human side of the art--he said nothing. He showed the various +instruments and how they are used, but he treated them entirely as +instruments for the hand. He never once brought his subject into any +relation either with art or with life. He explained forms of labour and +forms of saving labour. He showed the various methods as they might be +used by an artisan. Mr. Morris, last week, while explaining the +technical processes of weaving, never forgot that he was lecturing on an +art. He not merely taught his audience, but he charmed them. However, +the audience gathered together last night at the Arts and Crafts +Exhibition seemed very much interested; at least, they were very +attentive; and Mr. Walter Crane made a short speech at the conclusion, in +which he expressed his satisfaction that in spite of modern machinery +sculpture had hardly altered one of its tools. For our own part we +cannot help regretting the extremely commonplace character of the +lecture. If a man lectures on poets he should not confine his remarks +purely to grammar. + +Next week Mr. Emery Walker lectures on Printing. We hope--indeed we are +sure, that he will not forget that it is an art, or rather it was an art +once, and can be made so again. + + + + +PRINTING AND PRINTERS + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 16, 1888.) + +Nothing could have been better than Mr. Emery Walker's lecture on +Letterpress Printing and Illustration, delivered last night at the Arts +and Crafts. A series of most interesting specimens of old printed books +and manuscripts was displayed on the screen by means of the +magic-lantern, and Mr. Walker's explanations were as clear and simple as +his suggestions were admirable. He began by explaining the different +kinds of type and how they are made, and showed specimens of the old +block-printing which preceded the movable type and is still used in +China. He pointed out the intimate connection between printing and +handwriting--as long as the latter was good the printers had a living +model to go by, but when it decayed printing decayed also. He showed on +the screen a page from Gutenberg's Bible (the first printed book, date +about 1450-5) and a manuscript of Columella; a printed Livy of 1469, with +the abbreviations of handwriting, and a manuscript of the History of +Pompeius by Justin of 1451. The latter he regarded as an example of the +beginning of the Roman type. The resemblance between the manuscripts and +the printed books was most curious and suggestive. He then showed a page +out of John of Spier's edition of Cicero's Letters, the first book +printed at Venice, an edition of the same book by Nicholas Jansen in +1470, and a wonderful manuscript Petrarch of the sixteenth century. He +told the audience about Aldus, who was the first publisher to start cheap +books, who dropped abbreviations and had his type cut by Francia pictor +et aurifex, who was said to have taken it from Petrarch's handwriting. He +exhibited a page of the copy-book of Vicentino, the great Venetian +writing-master, which was greeted with a spontaneous round of applause, +and made some excellent suggestions about improving modern copy-books and +avoiding slanting writing. + +A superb Plautus printed at Florence in 1514 for Lorenzo di Medici, +Polydore Virgil's History with the fine Holbein designs, printed at Basle +in 1556, and other interesting books, were also exhibited on the screen, +the size, of course, being very much enlarged. He spoke of Elzevir in +the seventeenth century when handwriting began to fall off, and of the +English printer Caslon, and of Baskerville whose type was possibly +designed by Hogarth, but is not very good. Latin, he remarked, was a +better language to print than English, as the tails of the letters did +not so often fall below the line. The wide spacing between lines, +occasioned by the use of a lead, he pointed out, left the page in stripes +and made the blanks as important as the lines. Margins should, of +course, be wide except the inner margins, and the headlines often robbed +the page of its beauty of design. The type used by the Pall Mall was, we +are glad to say, rightly approved of. + +With regard to illustration, the essential thing, Mr. Walker said, is to +have harmony between the type and the decoration. He pleaded for true +book ornament as opposed to the silly habit of putting pictures where +they are not wanted, and pointed out that mechanical harmony and artistic +harmony went hand in hand. No ornament or illustration should be used in +a book which cannot be printed in the same way as the type. For his +warnings he produced Rogers's Italy with a steel-plate engraving, and a +page from an American magazine which being florid, pictorial and bad, was +greeted with some laughter. For examples we had a lovely Boccaccio +printed at Ulm, and a page out of La Mer des Histoires printed in 1488. +Blake and Bewick were also shown, and a page of music designed by Mr. +Horne. + +The lecture was listened to with great attention by a large audience, and +was certainly most attractive. Mr. Walker has the keen artistic instinct +that comes out of actually working in the art of which he spoke. His +remarks about the pictorial character of modern illustration were well +timed, and we hope that some of the publishers in the audience will take +them to heart. + +Next Thursday Mr. Cobden-Sanderson lectures on Bookbinding, a subject on +which few men in England have higher qualifications for speaking. We are +glad to see these lectures are so well attended. + + + + +THE BEAUTIES OF BOOKBINDING + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 23, 1888.) + +'The beginning of art,' said Mr. Cobden-Sanderson last night in his +charming lecture on Bookbinding, 'is man thinking about the universe.' He +desires to give expression to the joy and wonder that he feels at the +marvels that surround him, and invents a form of beauty through which he +utters the thought or feeling that is in him. And bookbinding ranks +amongst the arts: 'through it a man expresses himself.' + +This elegant and pleasantly exaggerated exordium preceded some very +practical demonstrations. 'The apron is the banner of the future!' +exclaimed the lecturer, and he took his coat off and put his apron on. He +spoke a little about old bindings for the papyrus roll, about the ivory +or cedar cylinders round which old manuscripts were wound, about the +stained covers and the elaborate strings, till binding in the modern +sense began with literature in a folded form, with literature in pages. A +binding, he pointed out, consists of two boards, originally of wood, now +of mill-board, covered with leather, silk or velvet. The use of these +boards is to protect the 'world's written wealth.' The best material is +leather, decorated with gold. The old binders used to be given forests +that they might always have a supply of the skins of wild animals; the +modern binder has to content himself with importing morocco, which is far +the best leather there is, and is very much to be preferred to calf. + +Mr. Sanderson mentioned by name a few of the great binders such as Le +Gascon, and some of the patrons of bookbinding like the Medicis, Grolier, +and the wonderful women who so loved books that they lent them some of +the perfume and grace of their own strange lives. However, the +historical part of the lecture was very inadequate, possibly necessarily +so through the limitations of time. The really elaborate part of the +lecture was the practical exposition. Mr. Sanderson described and +illustrated the various processes of smoothing, pressing, cutting, +paring, and the like. He divided bindings into two classes, the useful +and the beautiful. Among the former he reckoned paper covers such as the +French use, paper boards and cloth boards, and half leather or calf +bindings. Cloth he disliked as a poor material, the gold on which soon +fades away. As for beautiful bindings, in them 'decoration rises into +enthusiasm.' A beautiful binding is 'a homage to genius.' It has its +ethical value, its spiritual effect. 'By doing good work we raise life +to a higher plane,' said the lecturer, and he dwelt with loving sympathy +on the fact that a book is 'sensitive by nature,' that it is made by a +human being for a human being, that the design must 'come from the man +himself, and express the moods of his imagination, the joy of his soul.' +There must, consequently, be no division of labour. 'I make my own paste +and enjoy doing it,' said Mr. Sanderson as he spoke of the necessity for +the artist doing the whole work with his own hands. But before we have +really good bookbinding we must have a social revolution. As things are +now, the worker diminished to a machine is the slave of the employer, and +the employer bloated into a millionaire is the slave of the public, and +the public is the slave of its pet god, cheapness. The bookbinder of the +future is to be an educated man who appreciates literature and has +freedom for his fancy and leisure for his thought. + +All this is very good and sound. But in treating bookbinding as an +imaginative, expressive human art we must confess that we think that Mr. +Sanderson made something of an error. Bookbinding is essentially +decorative, and good decoration is far more often suggested by material +and mode of work than by any desire on the part of the designer to tell +us of his joy in the world. Hence it comes that good decoration is +always traditional. Where it is the expression of the individual it is +usually either false or capricious. These handicrafts are not primarily +expressive arts; they are impressive arts. If a man has any message for +the world he will not deliver it in a material that always suggests and +always conditions its own decoration. The beauty of bookbinding is +abstract decorative beauty. It is not, in the first instance, a mode of +expression for a man's soul. Indeed, the danger of all these lofty +claims for handicraft is simply that they show a desire to give crafts +the province and motive of arts such as poetry, painting and sculpture. +Such province and such motive they have not got. Their aim is different. +Between the arts that aim at annihilating their material and the arts +that aim at glorifying it there is a wide gulf. + +However, it was quite right of Mr. Cobden-Sanderson to extol his own art, +and though he seemed often to confuse expressive and impressive modes of +beauty, he always spoke with great sincerity. + +Next week Mr. Crane delivers the final lecture of this admirable 'Arts +and Crafts' series and, no doubt, he will have much to say on a subject +to which he has devoted the whole of his fine artistic life. For +ourselves, we cannot help feeling that in bookbinding art expresses +primarily not the feeling of the worker but simply itself, its own +beauty, its own wonder. + + + + +THE CLOSE OF THE ARTS AND CRAFTS + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, November 30, 1888.) + +Mr. Walter Crane, the President of the Society of Arts and Crafts, was +greeted last night by such an enormous audience that at one time the +honorary secretary became alarmed for the safety of the cartoons, and +many people were unable to gain admission at all. However, order was +soon established, and Mr. Cobden-Sanderson stepped up on to the platform +and in a few pleasantly sententious phrases introduced Mr. Crane as one +who had always been 'the advocate of great and unpopular causes,' and the +aim of whose art was 'joy in widest commonalty spread.' Mr. Crane began +his lecture by pointing out that Art had two fields, aspect and +adaptation, and that it was primarily with the latter that the designer +was concerned, his object being not literal fact but ideal beauty. With +the unstudied and accidental effects of Nature the designer had nothing +to do. He sought for principles and proceeded by geometric plan and +abstract line and colour. Pictorial art is isolated and unrelated, and +the frame is the last relic of the old connection between painting and +architecture. But the designer does not desire primarily to produce a +picture. He aims at making a pattern and proceeds by selection; he +rejects the 'hole in the wall' idea, and will have nothing to do with the +'false windows of a picture.' + +Three things differentiate designs. First, the spirit of the artist, +that mode and manner by which Durer is separated from Flaxman, by which +we recognise the soul of a man expressing itself in the form proper to +it. Next comes the constructive idea, the filling of spaces with lovely +work. Last is the material which, be it leather or clay, ivory or wood, +often suggests and always controls the pattern. As for naturalism, we +must remember that we see not with our eyes alone but with our whole +faculties. Feeling and thought are part of sight. Mr. Crane then drew +on a blackboard the naturalistic oak-tree of the landscape painter and +the decorative oak-tree of the designer. He showed that each artist is +looking for different things, and that the designer always makes +appearance subordinate to decorative motive. He showed also the field +daisy as it is in Nature and the same flower treated for panel +decoration. The designer systematises and emphasises, chooses and +rejects, and decorative work bears the same relation to naturalistic +presentation that the imaginative language of the poetic drama bears to +the language of real life. The decorative capabilities of the square and +the circle were then shown on the board, and much was said about +symmetry, alternation and radiation, which last principle Mr. Crane +described as 'the Home Rule of design, the perfection of local +self-government,' and which, he pointed out, was essentially organic, +manifesting itself in the bird's wing as well as in the Tudor vaulting of +Gothic architecture. Mr. Crane then passed to the human figure, 'that +expressive unit of design,' which contains all the principles of +decoration, and exhibited a design of a nude figure with an axe couched +in an architectural spandrel, a figure which he was careful to explain +was, in spite of the axe, not that of Mr. Gladstone. The designer then +leaving chiaroscuro, shading and other 'superficial facts of life' to +take care of themselves, and keeping the idea of space limitation always +before him, then proceeds to emphasise the beauty of his material, be it +metal with its 'agreeable bossiness,' as Ruskin calls it, or leaded glass +with its fine dark lines, or mosaic with its jewelled tesserae, or the +loom with its crossed threads, or wood with its pleasant crispness. Much +bad art comes from one art trying to borrow from another. We have +sculptors who try to be pictorial, painters who aim at stage effects, +weavers who seek for pictorial motives, carvers who make Life and not Art +their aim, cotton printers 'who tie up bunches of artificial flowers with +streamers of artificial ribbons' and fling them on the unfortunate +textile. + +Then came the little bit of Socialism, very sensible and very quietly +put. 'How can we have fine art when the worker is condemned to +monotonous and mechanical labour in the midst of dull or hideous +surroundings, when cities and nature are sacrificed to commercial greed, +when cheapness is the god of Life?' In old days the craftsman was a +designer; he had his 'prentice days of quiet study; and even the painter +began by grinding colours. Some little old ornament still lingers, here +and there, on the brass rosettes of cart-horses, in the common milk-cans +of Antwerp, in the water-vessels of Italy. But even this is +disappearing. 'The tourist passes by' and creates a demand that commerce +satisfies in an unsatisfactory manner. We have not yet arrived at a +healthy state of things. There is still the Tottenham Court Road and a +threatened revival of Louis Seize furniture, and the 'popular pictorial +print struggles through the meshes of the antimacassar.' Art depends on +Life. We cannot get it from machines. And yet machines are bad only +when they are our masters. The printing press is a machine that Art +values because it obeys her. True art must have the vital energy of life +itself, must take its colours from life's good or evil, must follow +angels of light or angels of darkness. The art of the past is not to be +copied in a servile spirit. For a new age we require a new form. + +Mr. Crane's lecture was most interesting and instructive. On one point +only we would differ from him. Like Mr. Morris he quite underrates the +art of Japan, and looks on the Japanese as naturalists and not as +decorative artists. It is true that they are often pictorial, but by the +exquisite finesse of their touch, the brilliancy and beauty of their +colour, their perfect knowledge of how to make a space decorative without +decorating it (a point on which Mr. Crane said nothing, though it is one +of the most important things in decoration), and by their keen instinct +of where to place a thing, the Japanese are decorative artists of a high +order. Next year somebody must lecture the Arts and Crafts on Japanese +art. In the meantime, we congratulate Mr. Crane and Mr. Cobden-Sanderson +on the admirable series of lectures that has been delivered at this +exhibition. Their influence for good can hardly be over-estimated. The +exhibition, we are glad to hear, has been a financial success. It closes +tomorrow, but is to be only the first of many to come. + + + + +ENGLISH POETESSES + + +(Queen, December 8, 1888.) + +England has given to the world one great poetess, Elizabeth Barrett +Browning. By her side Mr. Swinburne would place Miss Christina Rossetti, +whose New Year hymn he describes as so much the noblest of sacred poems +in our language, that there is none which comes near it enough to stand +second. 'It is a hymn,' he tells us, 'touched as with the fire, and +bathed as in the light of sunbeams, tuned as to chords and cadences of +refluent sea-music beyond reach of harp and organ, large echoes of the +serene and sonorous tides of heaven.' Much as I admire Miss Rossetti's +work, her subtle choice of words, her rich imagery, her artistic naivete, +wherein curious notes of strangeness and simplicity are fantastically +blended together, I cannot but think that Mr. Swinburne has, with noble +and natural loyalty, placed her on too lofty a pedestal. To me, she is +simply a very delightful artist in poetry. This is indeed something so +rare that when we meet it we cannot fail to love it, but it is not +everything. Beyond it and above it are higher and more sunlit heights of +song, a larger vision, and an ampler air, a music at once more passionate +and more profound, a creative energy that is born of the spirit, a winged +rapture that is born of the soul, a force and fervour of mere utterance +that has all the wonder of the prophet, and not a little of the +consecration of the priest. + +Mrs. Browning is unapproachable by any woman who has ever touched lyre or +blown through reed since the days of the great AEolian poetess. But +Sappho, who, to the antique world was a pillar of flame, is to us but a +pillar of shadow. Of her poems, burnt with other most precious work by +Byzantine Emperor and by Roman Pope, only a few fragments remain. +Possibly they lie mouldering in the scented darkness of an Egyptian tomb, +clasped in the withered hands of some long-dead lover. Some Greek monk +at Athos may even now be poring over an ancient manuscript, whose crabbed +characters conceal lyric or ode by her whom the Greeks spoke of as 'the +Poetess' just as they termed Homer 'the Poet,' who was to them the tenth +Muse, the flower of the Graces, the child of Eros, and the pride of +Hellas--Sappho, with the sweet voice, the bright, beautiful eyes, the +dark hyacinth-coloured hair. But, practically, the work of the +marvellous singer of Lesbos is entirely lost to us. + +We have a few rose-leaves out of her garden, that is all. Literature +nowadays survives marble and bronze, but in old days, in spite of the +Roman poet's noble boast, it was not so. The fragile clay vases of the +Greeks still keep for us pictures of Sappho, delicately painted in black +and red and white; but of her song we have only the echo of an echo. + +Of all the women of history, Mrs. Browning is the only one that we could +name in any possible or remote conjunction with Sappho. + +Sappho was undoubtedly a far more flawless and perfect artist. She +stirred the whole antique world more than Mrs. Browning ever stirred our +modern age. Never had Love such a singer. Even in the few lines that +remain to us the passion seems to scorch and burn. But, as unjust Time, +who has crowned her with the barren laurels of fame, has twined with them +the dull poppies of oblivion, let us turn from the mere memory of a +poetess to one whose song still remains to us as an imperishable glory to +our literature; to her who heard the cry of the children from dark mine +and crowded factory, and made England weep over its little ones; who, in +the feigned sonnets from the Portuguese, sang of the spiritual mystery of +Love, and of the intellectual gifts that Love brings to the soul; who had +faith in all that is worthy, and enthusiasm for all that is great, and +pity for all that suffers; who wrote the Vision of Poets and Casa Guidi +Windows and Aurora Leigh. + +As one, to whom I owe my love of poetry no less than my love of country, +has said of her: + + Still on our ears + The clear 'Excelsior' from a woman's lip + Rings out across the Apennines, although + The woman's brow lies pale and cold in death + With all the mighty marble dead in Florence. + For while great songs can stir the hearts of men, + Spreading their full vibrations through the world + In ever-widening circles till they reach + The Throne of God, and song becomes a prayer, + And prayer brings down the liberating strength + That kindles nations to heroic deeds, + She lives--the great-souled poetess who saw + From Casa Guidi windows Freedom dawn + On Italy, and gave the glory back + In sunrise hymns to all Humanity! + +She lives indeed, and not alone in the heart of Shakespeare's England, +but in the heart of Dante's Italy also. To Greek literature she owed her +scholarly culture, but modern Italy created her human passion for +Liberty. When she crossed the Alps she became filled with a new ardour, +and from that fine, eloquent mouth, that we can still see in her +portraits, broke forth such a noble and majestic outburst of lyrical song +as had not been heard from woman's lips for more than two thousand years. +It is pleasant to think that an English poetess was to a certain extent a +real factor in bringing about that unity of Italy that was Dante's dream, +and if Florence drove her great singer into exile, she at least welcomed +within her walls the later singer that England had sent to her. + +If one were asked the chief qualities of Mrs. Browning's work, one would +say, as Mr. Swinburne said of Byron's, its sincerity and its strength. +Faults it, of course, possesses. 'She would rhyme moon to table,' used +to be said of her in jest; and certainly no more monstrous rhymes are to +be found in all literature than some of those we come across in Mrs. +Browning's poems. But her ruggedness was never the result of +carelessness. It was deliberate, as her letters to Mr. Horne show very +clearly. She refused to sandpaper her muse. She disliked facile +smoothness and artificial polish. In her very rejection of art she was +an artist. She intended to produce a certain effect by certain means, +and she succeeded; and her indifference to complete assonance in rhyme +often gives a splendid richness to her verse, and brings into it a +pleasurable element of surprise. + +In philosophy she was a Platonist, in politics an Opportunist. She +attached herself to no particular party. She loved the people when they +were king-like, and kings when they showed themselves to be men. Of the +real value and motive of poetry she had a most exalted idea. 'Poetry,' +she says, in the preface of one of her volumes, 'has been as serious a +thing to me as life itself; and life has been a very serious thing. There +has been no playing at skittles for me in either. I never mistook +pleasure for the final cause of poetry, nor leisure for the hour of the +poet. I have done my work so far, not as mere hand and head work apart +from the personal being, but as the completest expression of that being +to which I could attain.' + +It certainly is her completest expression, and through it she realises +her fullest perfection. 'The poet,' she says elsewhere, 'is at once +richer and poorer than he used to be; he wears better broadcloth, but +speaks no more oracles.' These words give us the keynote to her view of +the poet's mission. He was to utter Divine oracles, to be at once +inspired prophet and holy priest; and as such we may, I think, without +exaggeration, conceive her. She was a Sibyl delivering a message to the +world, sometimes through stammering lips, and once at least with blinded +eyes, yet always with the true fire and fervour of lofty and unshaken +faith, always with the great raptures of a spiritual nature, the high +ardours of an impassioned soul. As we read her best poems we feel that, +though Apollo's shrine be empty and the bronze tripod overthrown, and the +vale of Delphi desolate, still the Pythia is not dead. In our own age +she has sung for us, and this land gave her new birth. Indeed, Mrs. +Browning is the wisest of the Sibyls, wiser even than that mighty figure +whom Michael Angelo has painted on the roof of the Sistine Chapel at +Rome, poring over the scroll of mystery, and trying to decipher the +secrets of Fate; for she realised that, while knowledge is power, +suffering is part of knowledge. + +To her influence, almost as much as to the higher education of women, I +would be inclined to attribute the really remarkable awakening of woman's +song that characterises the latter half of our century in England. No +country has ever had so many poetesses at once. Indeed, when one +remembers that the Greeks had only nine muses, one is sometimes apt to +fancy that we have too many. And yet the work done by women in the +sphere of poetry is really of a very high standard of excellence. In +England we have always been prone to underrate the value of tradition in +literature. In our eagerness to find a new voice and a fresh mode of +music, we have forgotten how beautiful Echo may be. We look first for +individuality and personality, and these are, indeed, the chief +characteristics of the masterpieces of our literature, either in prose or +verse; but deliberate culture and a study of the best models, if united +to an artistic temperament and a nature susceptible of exquisite +impressions, may produce much that is admirable, much that is worthy of +praise. It would be quite impossible to give a complete catalogue of all +the women who since Mrs. Browning's day have tried lute and lyre. Mrs. +Pfeiffer, Mrs. Hamilton King, Mrs. Augusta Webster, Graham Tomson, Miss +Mary Robinson, Jean Ingelow, Miss May Kendall, Miss Nesbit, Miss May +Probyn, Mrs. Craik, Mrs. Meynell, Miss Chapman, and many others have done +really good work in poetry, either in the grave Dorian mode of thoughtful +and intellectual verse, or in the light and graceful forms of old French +song, or in the romantic manner of antique ballad, or in that 'moment's +monument,' as Rossetti called it, the intense and concentrated sonnet. +Occasionally one is tempted to wish that the quick, artistic faculty that +women undoubtedly possess developed itself somewhat more in prose and +somewhat less in verse. Poetry is for our highest moods, when we wish to +be with the gods, and in our poetry nothing but the very best should +satisfy us; but prose is for our daily bread, and the lack of good prose +is one of the chief blots on our culture. French prose, even in the +hands of the most ordinary writers, is always readable, but English prose +is detestable. We have a few, a very few, masters, such as they are. We +have Carlyle, who should not be imitated; and Mr. Pater, who, through the +subtle perfection of his form, is inimitable absolutely; and Mr. Froude, +who is useful; and Matthew Arnold, who is a model; and Mr. George +Meredith, who is a warning; and Mr. Lang, who is the divine amateur; and +Mr. Stevenson, who is the humane artist; and Mr. Ruskin, whose rhythm and +colour and fine rhetoric and marvellous music of words are entirely +unattainable. But the general prose that one reads in magazines and in +newspapers is terribly dull and cumbrous, heavy in movement and uncouth +or exaggerated in expression. Possibly some day our women of letters +will apply themselves more definitely to prose. + +Their light touch, and exquisite ear, and delicate sense of balance and +proportion would be of no small service to us. I can fancy women +bringing a new manner into our literature. + +However, we have to deal here with women as poetesses, and it is +interesting to note that, though Mrs. Browning's influence undoubtedly +contributed very largely to the development of this new song-movement, if +I may so term it, still there seems to have been never a time during the +last three hundred years when the women of this kingdom did not +cultivate, if not the art, at least the habit, of writing poetry. + +Who the first English poetess was I cannot say. I believe it was the +Abbess Juliana Berners, who lived in the fifteenth century; but I have no +doubt that Mr. Freeman would be able at a moment's notice to produce some +wonderful Saxon or Norman poetess, whose works cannot be read without a +glossary, and even with its aid are completely unintelligible. For my +own part, I am content with the Abbess Juliana, who wrote +enthusiastically about hawking; and after her I would mention Anne Askew, +who in prison and on the eve of her fiery martyrdom wrote a ballad that +has, at any rate, a pathetic and historical interest. Queen Elizabeth's +'most sweet and sententious ditty' on Mary Stuart is highly praised by +Puttenham, a contemporary critic, as an example of 'Exargasia, or the +Gorgeous in Literature,' which somehow seems a very suitable epithet for +such a great Queen's poems. The term she applies to the unfortunate +Queen of Scots, 'the daughter of debate,' has, of course, long since +passed into literature. The Countess of Pembroke, Sir Philip Sidney's +sister, was much admired as a poetess in her day. + +In 1613 the 'learned, virtuous, and truly noble ladie,' Elizabeth Carew, +published a Tragedie of Marian, the Faire Queene of Jewry, and a few +years later the 'noble ladie Diana Primrose' wrote A Chain of Pearl, +which is a panegyric on the 'peerless graces' of Gloriana. Mary Morpeth, +the friend and admirer of Drummond of Hawthornden; Lady Mary Wroth, to +whom Ben Jonson dedicated The Alchemist; and the Princess Elizabeth, the +sister of Charles I., should also be mentioned. + +After the Restoration women applied themselves with still greater ardour +to the study of literature and the practice of poetry. Margaret, Duchess +of Newcastle, was a true woman of letters, and some of her verses are +extremely pretty and graceful. Mrs. Aphra Behn was the first +Englishwoman who adopted literature as a regular profession. Mrs. +Katharine Philips, according to Mr. Gosse, invented sentimentality. As +she was praised by Dryden, and mourned by Cowley, let us hope she may be +forgiven. Keats came across her poems at Oxford when he was writing +Endymion, and found in one of them 'a most delicate fancy of the Fletcher +kind'; but I fear nobody reads the Matchless Orinda now. Of Lady +Winchelsea's Nocturnal Reverie Wordsworth said that, with the exception +of Pope's Windsor Forest, it was the only poem of the period intervening +between Paradise Lost and Thomson's Seasons that contained a single new +image of external nature. Lady Rachel Russell, who may be said to have +inaugurated the letter-writing literature of England; Eliza Haywood, who +is immortalised by the badness of her work, and has a niche in The +Dunciad; and the Marchioness of Wharton, whose poems Waller said he +admired, are very remarkable types, the finest of them being, of course, +the first named, who was a woman of heroic mould and of a most noble +dignity of nature. + +Indeed, though the English poetesses up to the time of Mrs. Browning +cannot be said to have produced any work of absolute genius, they are +certainly interesting figures, fascinating subjects for study. Amongst +them we find Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who had all the caprice of +Cleopatra, and whose letters are delightful reading; Mrs. Centlivre, who +wrote one brilliant comedy; Lady Anne Barnard, whose Auld Robin Gray was +described by Sir Walter Scott as 'worth all the dialogues Corydon and +Phillis have together spoken from the days of Theocritus downwards,' and +is certainly a very beautiful and touching poem; Esther Vanhomrigh and +Hester Johnson, the Vanessa and the Stella of Dean Swift's life; Mrs. +Thrale, the friend of the great lexicographer; the worthy Mrs. Barbauld; +the excellent Mrs. Hannah More; the industrious Joanna Baillie; the +admirable Mrs. Chapone, whose Ode to Solitude always fills me with the +wildest passion for society, and who will at least be remembered as the +patroness of the establishment at which Becky Sharp was educated; Miss +Anna Seward, who was called 'The Swan of Lichfield'; poor L. E. L., whom +Disraeli described in one of his clever letters to his sister as 'the +personification of Brompton--pink satin dress, white satin shoes, red +cheeks, snub nose, and her hair a la Sappho'; Mrs. Ratcliffe, who +introduced the romantic novel, and has consequently much to answer for; +the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, of whom Gibbon said that she was +'made for something better than a Duchess'; the two wonderful sisters, +Lady Dufferin and Mrs. Norton; Mrs. Tighe, whose Psyche Keats read with +pleasure; Constantia Grierson, a marvellous blue-stocking in her time; +Mrs. Hemans; pretty, charming 'Perdita,' who flirted alternately with +poetry and the Prince Regent, played divinely in the Winter's Tale, was +brutally attacked by Gifford, and has left us a pathetic little poem on +the Snowdrop; and Emily Bronte, whose poems are instinct with tragic +power, and seem often on the verge of being great. + +Old fashions in literature are not so pleasant as old fashions in dress. +I like the costume of the age of powder better than the poetry of the age +of Pope. But if one adopts the historical standpoint--and this is, +indeed, the only standpoint from which we can ever form a fair estimate +of work that is not absolutely of the highest order--we cannot fail to +see that many of the English poetesses who preceded Mrs. Browning were +women of no ordinary talent, and that if the majority of them looked upon +poetry simply as a department of belles lettres, so in most cases did +their contemporaries. Since Mrs. Browning's day our woods have become +full of singing birds, and if I venture to ask them to apply themselves +more to prose and less to song, it is not that I like poetical prose, but +that I love the prose of poets. + + + + +LONDON MODELS + + +(English Illustrated Magazine, January 1889.) + +Professional models are a purely modern invention. To the Greeks, for +instance, they were quite unknown. Mr. Mahaffy, it is true, tells us +that Pericles used to present peacocks to the great ladies of Athenian +society in order to induce them to sit to his friend Phidias, and we know +that Polygnotus introduced into his picture of the Trojan women the face +of Elpinice, the celebrated sister of the great Conservative leader of +the day, but these grandes dames clearly do not come under our category. +As for the old masters, they undoubtedly made constant studies from their +pupils and apprentices, and even their religious pictures are full of the +portraits of their friends and relations, but they do not seem to have +had the inestimable advantage of the existence of a class of people whose +sole profession is to pose. In fact the model, in our sense of the word, +is the direct creation of Academic Schools. + +Every country now has its own models, except America. In New York, and +even in Boston, a good model is so great a rarity that most of the +artists are reduced to painting Niagara and millionaires. In Europe, +however, it is different. Here we have plenty of models, and of every +nationality. The Italian models are the best. The natural grace of +their attitudes, as well as the wonderful picturesqueness of their +colouring, makes them facile--often too facile--subjects for the +painter's brush. The French models, though not so beautiful as the +Italian, possess a quickness of intellectual sympathy, a capacity, in +fact, of understanding the artist, which is quite remarkable. They have +also a great command over the varieties of facial expression, are +peculiarly dramatic, and can chatter the argot of the atelier as cleverly +as the critic of the Gil Bias. The English models form a class entirely +by themselves. They are not so picturesque as the Italian, nor so clever +as the French, and they have absolutely no tradition, so to speak, of +their order. Now and then some old veteran knocks at a studio door, and +proposes to sit as Ajax defying the lightning, or as King Lear upon the +blasted heath. One of them some time ago called on a popular painter +who, happening at the moment to require his services, engaged him, and +told him to begin by kneeling down in the attitude of prayer. 'Shall I +be Biblical or Shakespearean, sir?' asked the veteran. +'Well--Shakespearean,' answered the artist, wondering by what subtle +nuance of expression the model would convey the difference. 'All right, +sir,' said the professor of posing, and he solemnly knelt down and began +to wink with his left eye! This class, however, is dying out. As a rule +the model, nowadays, is a pretty girl, from about twelve to twenty-five +years of age, who knows nothing about art, cares less, and is merely +anxious to earn seven or eight shillings a day without much trouble. +English models rarely look at a picture, and never venture on any +aesthetic theories. In fact, they realise very completely Mr. Whistler's +idea of the function of an art critic, for they pass no criticisms at +all. They accept all schools of art with the grand catholicity of the +auctioneer, and sit to a fantastic young impressionist as readily as to a +learned and laborious academician. They are neither for the Whistlerites +nor against them; the quarrel between the school of facts and the school +of effects touches them not; idealistic and naturalistic are words that +convey no meaning to their ears; they merely desire that the studio shall +be warm, and the lunch hot, for all charming artists give their models +lunch. + +As to what they are asked to do they are equally indifferent. On Monday +they will don the rags of a beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, whose pathetic +pictures of modern life draw such tears from the public, and on Tuesday +they will pose in a peplum for Mr. Phoebus, who thinks that all really +artistic subjects are necessarily B.C. They career gaily through all +centuries and through all costumes, and, like actors, are interesting +only when they are not themselves. They are extremely good-natured, and +very accommodating. 'What do you sit for?' said a young artist to a +model who had sent him in her card (all models, by the way, have cards +and a small black bag). 'Oh, for anything you like, sir,' said the girl, +'landscape if necessary!' + +Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are Philistines, but +physically they are perfect--at least some are. Though none of them can +talk Greek, many can look Greek, which to a nineteenth-century painter is +naturally of great importance. If they are allowed, they chatter a great +deal, but they never say anything. Their observations are the only +banalites heard in Bohemia. However, though they cannot appreciate the +artist as artist, they are quite ready to appreciate the artist as a man. +They are very sensitive to kindness, respect and generosity. A beautiful +model who had sat for two years to one of our most distinguished English +painters, got engaged to a street vendor of penny ices. On her marriage +the painter sent her a pretty wedding present, and received in return a +nice letter of thanks with the following remarkable postscript: 'Never +eat the green ices!' + +When they are tired a wise artist gives them a rest. Then they sit in a +chair and read penny dreadfuls, till they are roused from the tragedy of +literature to take their place again in the tragedy of art. A few of +them smoke cigarettes. This, however, is regarded by the other models as +showing a want of seriousness, and is not generally approved of. They +are engaged by the day and by the half-day. The tariff is a shilling an +hour, to which great artists usually add an omnibus fare. The two best +things about them are their extraordinary prettiness, and their extreme +respectability. As a class they are very well behaved, particularly +those who sit for the figure, a fact which is curious or natural +according to the view one takes of human nature. They usually marry +well, and sometimes they marry the artist. For an artist to marry his +model is as fatal as for a gourmet to marry his cook: the one gets no +sittings, and the other gets no dinners. + +On the whole the English female models are very naive, very natural, and +very good-humoured. The virtues which the artist values most in them are +prettiness and punctuality. Every sensible model consequently keeps a +diary of her engagements, and dresses neatly. The bad season is, of +course, the summer, when the artists are out of town. However, of late +years some artists have engaged their models to follow them, and the wife +of one of our most charming painters has often had three or four models +under her charge in the country, so that the work of her husband and his +friends should not be interrupted. In France the models migrate en masse +to the little seaport villages or forest hamlets where the painters +congregate. The English models, however, wait patiently in London, as a +rule, till the artists come back. Nearly all of them live with their +parents, and help to support the house. They have every qualification +for being immortalised in art except that of beautiful hands. The hands +of the English model are nearly always coarse and red. + +As for the male models, there is the veteran whom we have mentioned +above. He has all the traditions of the grand style, and is rapidly +disappearing with the school he represents. An old man who talks about +Fuseli is, of course, unendurable, and, besides, patriarchs have ceased +to be fashionable subjects. Then there is the true Academy model. He is +usually a man of thirty, rarely good-looking, but a perfect miracle of +muscles. In fact he is the apotheosis of anatomy, and is so conscious of +his own splendour that he tells you of his tibia and his thorax, as if no +one else had anything of the kind. Then come the Oriental models. The +supply of these is limited, but there are always about a dozen in London. +They are very much sought after as they can remain immobile for hours, +and generally possess lovely costumes. However, they have a very poor +opinion of English art, which they regard as something between a vulgar +personality and a commonplace photograph. Next we have the Italian youth +who has come over specially to be a model, or takes to it when his organ +is out of repair. He is often quite charming with his large melancholy +eyes, his crisp hair, and his slim brown figure. It is true he eats +garlic, but then he can stand like a faun and couch like a leopard, so he +is forgiven. He is always full of pretty compliments, and has been known +to have kind words of encouragement for even our greatest artists. As +for the English lad of the same age, he never sits at all. Apparently he +does not regard the career of a model as a serious profession. In any +case he is rarely, if ever, to be got hold of. English boys, too, are +difficult to find. Sometimes an ex-model who has a son will curl his +hair, and wash his face, and bring him the round of the studios, all soap +and shininess. The young school don't like him, but the older school do, +and when he appears on the walls of the Royal Academy he is called The +Infant Samuel. Occasionally also an artist catches a couple of gamins in +the gutter and asks them to come to his studio. The first time they +always appear, but after that they don't keep their appointments. They +dislike sitting still, and have a strong and perhaps natural objection to +looking pathetic. Besides, they are always under the impression that the +artist is laughing at them. It is a sad fact, but there is no doubt that +the poor are completely unconscious of their own picturesqueness. Those +of them who can be induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is +merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen an eccentric method of +distributing alms to the undeserving. Perhaps the School Board will +teach the London gamin his own artistic value, and then they will be +better models than they are now. One remarkable privilege belongs to the +Academy model, that of extorting a sovereign from any newly elected +Associate or R.A. They wait at Burlington House till the announcement is +made, and then race to the hapless artist's house. The one who arrives +first receives the money. They have of late been much troubled at the +long distances they have had to run, and they look with disfavour on the +election of artists who live at Hampstead or at Bedford Park, for it is +considered a point of honour not to employ the underground railway, +omnibuses, or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is to the +swift. + +Besides the professional posers of the studio there are posers of the +Row, the posers at afternoon teas, the posers in politics and the circus +posers. All four classes are delightful, but only the last class is ever +really decorative. Acrobats and gymnasts can give the young painter +infinite suggestions, for they bring into their art an element of +swiftness of motion and of constant change that the studio model +necessary lacks. What is interesting in these 'slaves of the ring' is +that with them Beauty is an unconscious result not a conscious aim, the +result in fact of the mathematical calculation of curves and distances, +of absolute precision of eye, of the scientific knowledge of the +equilibrium of forces, and of perfect physical training. A good acrobat +is always graceful, though grace is never his object; he is graceful +because he does what he has to do in the best way in which it can be +done--graceful because he is natural. If an ancient Greek were to come +to life now, which considering the probable severity of his criticisms +would be rather trying to our conceit, he would be found far oftener at +the circus than at the theatre. A good circus is an oasis of Hellenism +in a world that reads too much to be wise, and thinks too much to be +beautiful. If it were not for the running-ground at Eton, the towing- +path at Oxford, the Thames swimming-baths, and the yearly circuses, +humanity would forget the plastic perfection of its own form, and +degenerate into a race of short-sighted professors and spectacled +precieuses. Not that the circus proprietors are, as a rule, conscious of +their high mission. Do they not bore us with the haute ecole, and weary +us with Shakespearean clowns?--Still, at least, they give us acrobats, +and the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that he never speaks to the +audience shows how well he appreciates the great truth that the aim of +art is not to reveal personality but to please. The clown may be +blatant, but the acrobat is always beautiful. He is an interesting +combination of the spirit of Greek sculpture with the spangles of the +modern costumier. He has even had his niche in the novels of our age, +and if Manette Salomon be the unmasking of the model, Les Freres Zemganno +is the apotheosis of the acrobat. + +As regards the influence of the ordinary model on our English school of +painting, it cannot be said that it is altogether good. It is, of +course, an advantage for the young artist sitting in his studio to be +able to isolate 'a little corner of life,' as the French say, from +disturbing surroundings, and to study it under certain effects of light +and shade. But this very isolation leads often to mere mannerism in the +painter, and robs him of that broad acceptance of the general facts of +life which is the very essence of art. Model-painting, in a word, while +it may be the condition of art, is not by any means its aim. It is +simply practice, not perfection. Its use trains the eye and the hand of +the painter, its abuse produces in his work an effect of mere posing and +prettiness. It is the secret of much of the artificiality of modern art, +this constant posing of pretty people, and when art becomes artificial it +becomes monotonous. Outside the little world of the studio, with its +draperies and its bric-a-brac, lies the world of life with its infinite, +its Shakespearean variety. We must, however, distinguish between the two +kinds of models, those who sit for the figure and those who sit for the +costume. The study of the first is always excellent, but the costume- +model is becoming rather wearisome in modern pictures. It is really of +very little use to dress up a London girl in Greek draperies and to paint +her as a goddess. The robe may be the robe of Athens, but the face is +usually the face of Brompton. Now and then, it is true, one comes across +a model whose face is an exquisite anachronism, and who looks lovely and +natural in the dress of any century but her own. This, however, is +rather rare. As a rule models are absolutely de notre siecle, and should +be painted as such. Unfortunately they are not, and, as a consequence, +we are shown every year a series of scenes from fancy dress balls which +are called historical pictures, but are little more than mediocre +representations of modern people masquerading. In France they are wiser. +The French painter uses the model simply for study; for the finished +picture he goes direct to life. + +However, we must not blame the sitters for the shortcomings of the +artists. The English models are a well-behaved and hard-working class, +and if they are more interested in artists than in art, a large section +of the public is in the same condition, and most of our modern +exhibitions seem to justify its choice. + + + + +LETTER TO JOAQUIN MILLER + + +Written to Mr. Joaquin Miller in reply to a letter, dated February 9, +1882, in reference to the behaviour of a section of the audience at +Wilde's lecture on the English Renaissance at the Grand Opera House, +Rochester, New York State, on February 7. It was first published in a +volume called Decorative Art in America, containing unauthorised reprints +of certain reviews and letters contributed by Wilde to English +newspapers. (New York: Brentano's, 1906.) + +St. Louis, February 28, 1882. + +MY DEAR JOAQUIN MILLER,--I thank you for your chivalrous and courteous +letter. Believe me, I would as lief judge of the strength and splendour +of sun and sea by the dust that dances in the beam and the bubble that +breaks on the wave, as take the petty and profitless vulgarity of one or +two insignificant towns as any test or standard of the real spirit of a +sane, strong and simple people, or allow it to affect my respect for the +many noble men or women whom it has been my privilege in this great +country to know. + +For myself and the cause which I represent I have no fears as regards the +future. Slander and folly have their way for a season, but for a season +only; while, as touching the few provincial newspapers which have so +vainly assailed me, or that ignorant and itinerant libeller of New +England who goes lecturing from village to village in such open and +ostentatious isolation, be sure I have no time to waste on them. Youth +being so glorious, art so godlike, and the very world about us so full of +beautiful things, and things worthy of reverence, and things honourable, +how should one stop to listen to the lucubrations of a literary gamin, to +the brawling and mouthing of a man whose praise would be as insolent as +his slander is impotent, or to the irresponsible and irrepressible +chatter of the professionally unproductive? + +It is a great advantage, I admit, to have done nothing, but one must not +abuse even that advantage. + +Who, after all, that I should write of him, is this scribbling +anonymuncule in grand old Massachusetts who scrawls and screams so glibly +about what he cannot understand? This apostle of inhospitality, who +delights to defile, to desecrate, and to defame the gracious courtesies +he is unworthy to enjoy? Who are these scribes who, passing with +purposeless alacrity from the Police News to the Parthenon, and from +crime to criticism, sway with such serene incapacity the office which +they so lately swept? 'Narcissuses of imbecility,' what should they see +in the clear waters of Beauty and in the well undefiled of Truth but the +shifting and shadowy image of their own substantial stupidity? Secure of +that oblivion for which they toil so laboriously and, I must acknowledge, +with such success, let them peer at us through their telescopes and +report what they like of us. But, my dear Joaquin, should we put them +under the microscope there would be really nothing to be seen. + +I look forward to passing another delightful evening with you on my +return to New York, and I need not tell you that whenever you visit +England you will be received with that courtesy with which it is our +pleasure to welcome all Americans, and that honour with which it is our +privilege to greet all poets.--Most sincerely and affectionately yours, + +OSCAR WILDE. + + + + +NOTES ON WHISTLER + + +I. +(World, November 14, 1883.) + + +From Oscar Wilde, Exeter, to J. M'Neill Whistler, Tite Street.--Punch too +ridiculous--when you and I are together we never talk about anything +except ourselves. + + + +II. +(World, February 25, 1885.) + + +DEAR BUTTERFLY,--By the aid of a biographical dictionary I made the +discovery that there were once two painters, called Benjamin West and +Paul Delaroche, who rashly lectured upon Art. As of their works nothing +at all remains, I conclude that they explained themselves away. + +Be warned in time, James; and remain, as I do, incomprehensible. To be +great is to be misunderstood.--Tout a vous, OSCAR WILDE. + + + +III. +(World, November 24,1886.) + + +ATLAS,--This is very sad! With our James vulgarity begins at home, and +should be allowed to stay there.--A vous, OSCAR WILDE. + + + + +REPLY TO WHISTLER + + +(Truth, January 9, 1890.) + +To the Editor of Truth. + +SIR,--I can hardly imagine that the public is in the very smallest degree +interested in the shrill shrieks of 'Plagiarism' that proceed from time +to time out of the lips of silly vanity or incompetent mediocrity. + +However, as Mr. James Whistler has had the impertinence to attack me with +both venom and vulgarity in your columns, I hope you will allow me to +state that the assertions contained in his letter are as deliberately +untrue as they are deliberately offensive. + +The definition of a disciple as one who has the courage of the opinions +of his master is really too old even for Mr. Whistler to be allowed to +claim it, and as for borrowing Mr. Whistler's ideas about art, the only +thoroughly original ideas I have ever heard him express have had +reference to his own superiority as a painter over painters greater than +himself. + +It is a trouble for any gentleman to have to notice the lucubrations of +so ill-bred and ignorant a person as Mr. Whistler, but your publication +of his insolent letter left me no option in the matter.--I remain, sir, +faithfully yours, OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, S. W. + + + + +LETTERS ON DORIAN GRAY + + +I. MR. WILDE'S BAD CASE + + +(St. James's Gazette, June 26, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette. + +SIR,--I have read your criticism of my story, The Picture of Dorian Gray; +and I need hardly say that I do not propose to discuss its merits or +demerits, its personalities or its lack of personality. England is a +free country, and ordinary English criticism is perfectly free and easy. +Besides, I must admit that, either from temperament or taste, or from +both, I am quite incapable of understanding how any work of art can be +criticised from a moral standpoint. The sphere of art and the sphere of +ethics are absolutely distinct and separate; and it is to the confusion +between the two that we owe the appearance of Mrs. Grundy, that amusing +old lady who represents the only original form of humour that the middle +classes of this country have been able to produce. + +What I do object to most strongly is that you should have placarded the +town with posters on which was printed in large letters:-- + + MR. OSCAR WILDE'S + LATEST ADVERTISEMENT: + A BAD CASE. + +Whether the expression 'A Bad Case' refers to my book or to the present +position of the Government, I cannot tell. What was silly and +unnecessary was the use of the term 'advertisement.' + +I think I may say without vanity--though I do not wish to appear to run +vanity down--that of all men in England I am the one who requires least +advertisement. I am tired to death of being advertised--I feel no thrill +when I see my name in a paper. The chronicle does not interest me any +more. I wrote this book entirely for my own pleasure, and it gave me +very great pleasure to write it. Whether it becomes popular or not is a +matter of absolute indifference to me. I am afraid, Sir, that the real +advertisement is your cleverly written article. The English public, as a +mass, takes no interest in a work of art until it is told that the work +in question is immoral, and your reclame will, I have no doubt, largely +increase the sale of the magazine; in which sale I may mention with some +regret, I have no pecuniary interest.--I remain, Sir, your obedient +servant, OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, June 25. + + + +II. MR. OSCAR WILDE AGAIN + + +(St. James's Gazette, June 27, 1890.) + +SIR,--In your issue of today you state that my brief letter published in +your columns is the 'best reply' I can make to your article upon Dorian +Gray. This is not so. I do not propose to discuss fully the matter +here, but I feel bound to say that your article contains the most +unjustifiable attack that has been made upon any man of letters for many +years. + +The writer of it, who is quite incapable of concealing his personal +malice, and so in some measure destroys the effect he wishes to produce, +seems not to have the slightest idea of the temper in which a work of art +should be approached. To say that such a book as mine should be 'chucked +into the fire' is silly. That is what one does with newspapers. + +Of the value of pseudo-ethical criticism in dealing with artistic work I +have spoken already. But as your writer has ventured into the perilous +grounds of literary criticism I ask you to allow me, in fairness not +merely to myself but to all men to whom literature is a fine art, to say +a few words about his critical method. + +He begins by assailing me with much ridiculous virulence because the +chief personages in my story are puppies. They _are_ puppies. Does he +think that literature went to the dogs when Thackeray wrote about +puppydom? I think that puppies are extremely interesting from an +artistic as well as from a psychological point of view. + +They seem to me to be certainly far more interesting than prigs; and I am +of opinion that Lord Henry Wotton is an excellent corrective of the +tedious ideal shadowed forth in the semi-theological novels of our age. + +He then makes vague and fearful insinuations about my grammar and my +erudition. Now, as regards grammar, I hold that, in prose at any rate, +correctness should always be subordinate to artistic effect and musical +cadence; and any peculiarities of syntax that may occur in Dorian Gray +are deliberately intended, and are introduced to show the value of the +artistic theory in question. Your writer gives no instance of any such +peculiarity. This I regret, because I do not think that any such +instances occur. + +As regards erudition, it is always difficult, even for the most modest of +us, to remember that other people do not know quite as much as one does +one's self. I myself frankly admit I cannot imagine how a casual +reference to Suetonius and Petronius Arbiter can be construed into +evidence of a desire to impress an unoffending and ill-educated public by +an assumption of superior knowledge. I should fancy that the most +ordinary of scholars is perfectly well acquainted with the Lives of the +Caesars and with the Satyricon. + +The Lives of the Caesars, at any rate, forms part of the curriculum at +Oxford for those who take the Honour School of Literae Humaniores; and as +for the Satyricon it is popular even among pass-men, though I suppose +they are obliged to read it in translations. + +The writer of the article then suggests that I, in common with that great +and noble artist Count Tolstoi, take pleasure in a subject because it is +dangerous. About such a suggestion there is this to be said. Romantic +art deals with the exception and with the individual. Good people, +belonging as they do to the normal, and so, commonplace, type, are +artistically uninteresting. + +Bad people are, from the point of view of art, fascinating studies. They +represent colour, variety and strangeness. Good people exasperate one's +reason; bad people stir one's imagination. Your critic, if I must give +him so honourable a title, states that the people in my story have no +counterpart in life; that they are, to use his vigorous if somewhat +vulgar phrase, 'mere catchpenny revelations of the non-existent.' Quite +so. + +If they existed they would not be worth writing about. The function of +the artist is to invent, not to chronicle. There are no such people. If +there were I would not write about them. Life by its realism is always +spoiling the subject-matter of art. + +The superior pleasure in literature is to realise the non-existent. + +And finally, let me say this. You have reproduced, in a journalistic +form, the comedy of Much Ado about Nothing and have, of course, spoilt it +in your reproduction. + +The poor public, hearing, from an authority so high as your own, that +this is a wicked book that should be coerced and suppressed by a Tory +Government, will, no doubt, rush to it and read it. But, alas! they will +find that it is a story with a moral. And the moral is this: All excess, +as well as all renunciation, brings its own punishment. + +The painter, Basil Hallward, worshipping physical beauty far too much, as +most painters do, dies by the hand of one in whose soul he has created a +monstrous and absurd vanity. Dorian Gray, having led a life of mere +sensation and pleasure, tries to kill conscience, and at that moment +kills himself. Lord Henry Wotton seeks to be merely the spectator of +life. He finds that those who reject the battle are more deeply wounded +than those who take part in it. + +Yes, there is a terrible moral in Dorian Gray--a moral which the prurient +will not be able to find in it, but it will be revealed to all whose +minds are healthy. Is this an artistic error? I fear it is. It is the +only error in the book.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, OSCAR +WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, June 26. + + + +III. MR. OSCAR WILDE'S DEFENCE + + +(St. James's Gazette, June 28, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette. + +SIR,--As you still keep up, though in a somewhat milder form than before, +your attacks on me and my book, you not only confer on me the right, but +you impose upon me the duty of reply. + +You state, in your issue of today, that I misrepresented you when I said +that you suggested that a book so wicked as mine should be 'suppressed +and coerced by a Tory Government.' Now, you did not propose this, but +you did suggest it. When you declare that you do not know whether or not +the Government will take action about my book, and remark that the +authors of books much less wicked have been proceeded against in law, the +suggestion is quite obvious. + +In your complaint of misrepresentation you seem to me, Sir, to have been +not quite candid. + +However, as far as I am concerned, this suggestion is of no importance. +What is of importance is that the editor of a paper like yours should +appear to countenance the monstrous theory that the Government of a +country should exercise a censorship over imaginative literature. This +is a theory against which I, and all men of letters of my acquaintance, +protest most strongly; and any critic who admits the reasonableness of +such a theory shows at once that he is quite incapable of understanding +what literature is, and what are the rights that literature possesses. A +Government might just as well try to teach painters how to paint, or +sculptors how to model, as attempt to interfere with the style, treatment +and subject-matter of the literary artist, and no writer, however eminent +or obscure, should ever give his sanction to a theory that would degrade +literature far more than any didactic or so-called immoral book could +possibly do. + +You then express your surprise that 'so experienced a literary gentleman' +as myself should imagine that your critic was animated by any feeling of +personal malice towards him. The phrase 'literary gentleman' is a vile +phrase, but let that pass. + +I accept quite readily your assurance that your critic was simply +criticising a work of art in the best way that he could, but I feel that +I was fully justified in forming the opinion of him that I did. He +opened his article by a gross personal attack on myself. This, I need +hardly say, was an absolutely unpardonable error of critical taste. + +There is no excuse for it except personal malice; and you, Sir, should +not have sanctioned it. A critic should be taught to criticise a work of +art without making any reference to the personality of the author. This, +in fact, is the beginning of criticism. However, it was not merely his +personal attack on me that made me imagine that he was actuated by +malice. What really confirmed me in my first impression was his +reiterated assertion that my book was tedious and dull. + +Now, if I were criticising my book, which I have some thoughts of doing, +I think I would consider it my duty to point out that it is far too +crowded with sensational incident, and far too paradoxical in style, as +far, at any rate, as the dialogue goes. I feel that from a standpoint of +art these are true defects in the book. But tedious and dull the book is +not. + +Your critic has cleared himself of the charge of personal malice, his +denial and yours being quite sufficient in the matter; but he has done so +only by a tacit admission that he has really no critical instinct about +literature and literary work, which, in one who writes about literature, +is, I need hardly say, a much graver fault than malice of any kind. + +Finally, Sir, allow me to say this. Such an article as you have +published really makes me despair of the possibility of any general +culture in England. Were I a French author, and my book brought out in +Paris, there is not a single literary critic in France on any paper of +high standing who would think for a moment of criticising it from an +ethical standpoint. If he did so he would stultify himself, not merely +in the eyes of all men of letters, but in the eyes of the majority of the +public. + +You have yourself often spoken against Puritanism. Believe me, Sir, +Puritanism is never so offensive and destructive as when it deals with +art matters. It is there that it is radically wrong. It is this +Puritanism, to which your critic has given expression, that is always +marring the artistic instinct of the English. So far from encouraging +it, you should set yourself against it, and should try to teach your +critics to recognise the essential difference between art and life. + +The gentleman who criticised my book is in a perfectly hopeless confusion +about it, and your attempt to help him out by proposing that the subject- +matter of art should be limited does not mend matters. It is proper that +limitation should be placed on action. It is not proper that limitation +should be placed on art. To art belong all things that are and all +things that are not, and even the editor of a London paper has no right +to restrain the freedom of art in the selection of subject-matter. I now +trust, Sir, that these attacks on me and on my book will cease. There +are forms of advertisement that are unwarranted and unwarrantable.--I am, +Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, S. W., June 27. + + + +IV. (St. James's Gazette, June 30, 1890.) + + +To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette. + +SIR,--In your issue of this evening you publish a letter from 'A London +Editor' which clearly insinuates in the last paragraph that I have in +some way sanctioned the circulation of an expression of opinion, on the +part of the proprietors of Lippincott's Magazine, of the literary and +artistic value of my story of The Picture of Dorian Gray. + +Allow me, Sir, to state that there are no grounds for this insinuation. I +was not aware that any such document was being circulated; and I have +written to the agents, Messrs. Ward and Lock--who cannot, I feel sure, be +primarily responsible for its appearance--to ask them to withdraw it at +once. No publisher should ever express an opinion of the value of what +he publishes. That is a matter entirely for the literary critic to +decide. + +I must admit, as one to whom contemporary literature is constantly +submitted for criticism, that the only thing that ever prejudices me +against a book is the lack of literary style; but I can quite understand +how any ordinary critic would be strongly prejudiced against a work that +was accompanied by a premature and unnecessary panegyric from the +publisher. A publisher is simply a useful middleman. It is not for him +to anticipate the verdict of criticism. + +I may, however, while expressing my thanks to the 'London Editor' for +drawing my attention to this, I trust, purely American method of +procedure, venture to differ from him in one of his criticisms. He +states that he regards the expression 'complete' as applied to a story, +as a specimen of the 'adjectival exuberance of the puffer.' Here, it +seems to me, he sadly exaggerates. What my story is is an interesting +problem. What my story is not is a 'novelette'--a term which you have +more than once applied to it. There is no such word in the English +language as novelette. It should not be used. It is merely part of the +slang of Fleet Street. + +In another part of your paper, Sir, you state that I received your +assurance of the lack of malice in your critic 'somewhat grudgingly.' +This is not so. I frankly said that I accepted that assurance 'quite +readily,' and that your own denial and that of your own critic were +'sufficient.' + +Nothing more generous could have been said. What I did feel was that you +saved your critic from the charge of malice by convicting him of the +unpardonable crime of lack of literary instinct. I still feel that. To +call my book an ineffective attempt at allegory, that in the hands of Mr. +Anstey might have been made striking, is absurd. + +Mr. Anstey's sphere in literature and my sphere are different. + +You then gravely ask me what rights I imagine literature possesses. That +is really an extraordinary question for the editor of a newspaper such as +yours to ask. The rights of literature, Sir, are the rights of +intellect. + +I remember once hearing M. Renan say that he would sooner live under a +military despotism than under the despotism of the Church, because the +former merely limited the freedom of action, while the latter limited the +freedom of mind. + +You say that a work of art is a form of action. It is not. It is the +highest mode of thought. + +In conclusion, Sir, let me ask you not to force on me this continued +correspondence by daily attacks. It is a trouble and a nuisance. + +As you assailed me first, I have a right to the last word. Let that last +word be the present letter, and leave my book, I beg you, to the +immortality that it deserves.--I am, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, S.W., June 28. + + + +V. 'DORIAN GRAY' + + +(Daily Chronicle, July 2, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the Daily Chronicle. + +SIR,--Will you allow me to correct some errors into which your critic has +fallen in his review of my story, The Picture of Dorian Gray, published +in today's issue of your paper? + +Your critic states, to begin with, that I make desperate attempts to +'vamp up' a moral in my story. Now, I must candidly confess that I do +not know what 'vamping' is. I see, from time to time, mysterious +advertisements in the newspapers about 'How to Vamp,' but what vamping +really means remains a mystery to me--a mystery that, like all other +mysteries, I hope some day to explore. + +However, I do not propose to discuss the absurd terms used by modern +journalism. What I want to say is that, so far from wishing to emphasise +any moral in my story, the real trouble I experienced in writing the +story was that of keeping the extremely obvious moral subordinate to the +artistic and dramatic effect. + +When I first conceived the idea of a young man selling his soul in +exchange for eternal youth--an idea that is old in the history of +literature, but to which I have given new form--I felt that, from an +aesthetic point of view, it would be difficult to keep the moral in its +proper secondary place; and even now I do not feel quite sure that I have +been able to do so. I think the moral too apparent. When the book is +published in a volume I hope to correct this defect. + +As for what the moral is, your critic states that it is this--that when a +man feels himself becoming 'too angelic' he should rush out and make a +'beast of himself.' I cannot say that I consider this a moral. The real +moral of the story is that all excess, as well as all renunciation, +brings its punishment, and this moral is so far artistically and +deliberately suppressed that it does not enunciate its law as a general +principle, but realises itself purely in the lives of individuals, and so +becomes simply a dramatic element in a work of art, and not the object of +the work of art itself. + +Your critic also falls into error when he says that Dorian Gray, having a +'cool, calculating, conscienceless character,' was inconsistent when he +destroyed the picture of his own soul, on the ground that the picture did +not become less hideous after he had done what, in his vanity, he had +considered his first good action. Dorian Gray has not got a cool, +calculating, conscienceless character at all. On the contrary, he is +extremely impulsive, absurdly romantic, and is haunted all through his +life by an exaggerated sense of conscience which mars his pleasures for +him and warns him that youth and enjoyment are not everything in the +world. It is finally to get rid of the conscience that had dogged his +steps from year to year that he destroys the picture; and thus in his +attempt to kill conscience Dorian Gray kills himself. + +Your critic then talks about 'obtrusively cheap scholarship.' Now, +whatever a scholar writes is sure to display scholarship in the +distinction of style and the fine use of language; but my story contains +no learned or pseudo-learned discussions, and the only literary books +that it alludes to are books that any fairly educated reader may be +supposed to be acquainted with, such as the Satyricon of Petronius +Arbiter, or Gautier's Emaux et Camees. Such books as Le Conso's +Clericalis Disciplina belong not to culture, but to curiosity. Anybody +may be excused for not knowing them. + +Finally, let me say this--the aesthetic movement produced certain curious +colours, subtle in their loveliness and fascinating in their almost +mystical tone. They were, and are, our reaction against the crude +primaries of a doubtless more respectable but certainly less cultivated +age. My story is an essay on decorative art. It reacts against the +crude brutality of plain realism. It is poisonous if you like, but you +cannot deny that it is also perfect, and perfection is what we artists +aim at.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, June 30. + + + +VI. MR. WILDE'S REJOINDER + + +(Scots Observer, July 12, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the Scots Observer. + +SIR,--You have published a review of my story, The Picture of Dorian +Gray. As this review is grossly unjust to me as an artist, I ask you to +allow me to exercise in your columns my right of reply. + +Your reviewer, Sir, while admitting that the story in question is +'plainly the work of a man of letters,' the work of one who has 'brains, +and art, and style,' yet suggests, and apparently in all seriousness, +that I have written it in order that it should be read by the most +depraved members of the criminal and illiterate classes. Now, Sir, I do +not suppose that the criminal and illiterate classes ever read anything +except newspapers. They are certainly not likely to be able to +understand anything of mine. So let them pass, and on the broad question +of why a man of letters writes at all let me say this. + +The pleasure that one has in creating a work of art is a purely personal +pleasure, and it is for the sake of this pleasure that one creates. The +artist works with his eye on the object. Nothing else interests him. +What people are likely to say does not even occur to him. + +He is fascinated by what he has in hand. He is indifferent to others. I +write because it gives me the greatest possible artistic pleasure to +write. If my work pleases the few I am gratified. If it does not, it +causes me no pain. As for the mob, I have no desire to be a popular +novelist. It is far too easy. + +Your critic then, Sir, commits the absolutely unpardonable crime of +trying to confuse the artist with his subject-matter. For this, Sir, +there is no excuse at all. + +Of one who is the greatest figure in the world's literature since Greek +days, Keats remarked that he had as much pleasure in conceiving the evil +as he had in conceiving the good. Let your reviewer, Sir, consider the +bearings of Keats's fine criticism, for it is under these conditions that +every artist works. One stands remote from one's subject-matter. One +creates it and one contemplates it. The further away the subject-matter +is, the more freely can the artist work. + +Your reviewer suggests that I do not make it sufficiently clear whether I +prefer virtue to wickedness or wickedness to virtue. An artist, Sir, has +no ethical sympathies at all. Virtue and wickedness are to him simply +what the colours on his palette are to the painter. They are no more and +they are no less. He sees that by their means a certain artistic effect +can be produced and he produces it. Iago may be morally horrible and +Imogen stainlessly pure. Shakespeare, as Keats said, had as much delight +in creating the one as he had in creating the other. + +It was necessary, Sir, for the dramatic development of this story to +surround Dorian Gray with an atmosphere of moral corruption. Otherwise +the story would have had no meaning and the plot no issue. To keep this +atmosphere vague and indeterminate and wonderful was the aim of the +artist who wrote the story. I claim, Sir, that he has succeeded. Each +man sees his own sin in Dorian Gray. What Dorian Gray's sins are no one +knows. He who finds them has brought them. + +In conclusion, Sir, let me say how really deeply I regret that you should +have permitted such a notice as the one I feel constrained to write on to +have appeared in your paper. That the editor of the St. James's Gazette +should have employed Caliban as his art-critic was possibly natural. The +editor of the Scots Observer should not have allowed Thersites to make +mows in his review. It is unworthy of so distinguished a man of +letters.--I am, etc., + +OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, July 9. + + + +VII. ART AND MORALITY + + +(Scots Observer, August 2, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the Scots Observer. + +SIR,--In a letter dealing with the relations of art to morals recently +published in your columns--a letter which I may say seems to me in many +respects admirable, especially in its insistence on the right of the +artist to select his own subject-matter--Mr. Charles Whibley suggests +that it must be peculiarly painful for me to find that the ethical import +of Dorian Gray has been so strongly recognised by the foremost Christian +papers of England and America that I have been greeted by more than one +of them as a moral reformer. + +Allow me, Sir, to reassure, on this point, not merely Mr. Charles Whibley +himself but also your, no doubt, anxious readers. I have no hesitation +in saying that I regard such criticisms as a very gratifying tribute to +my story. For if a work of art is rich, and vital and complete, those +who have artistic instincts will see its beauty, and those to whom ethics +appeal more strongly than aesthetics will see its moral lesson. It will +fill the cowardly with terror, and the unclean will see in it their own +shame. It will be to each man what he is himself. It is the spectator, +and not life, that art really mirrors. + +And so in the case of Dorian Gray the purely literary critic, as in the +Speaker and elsewhere, regards it as a 'serious' and 'fascinating' work +of art: the critic who deals with art in its relation to conduct, as the +Christian Leader and the Christian World, regards it as an ethical +parable: Light, which I am told is the organ of the English mystics, +regards it as a work of high spiritual import; the St. James's Gazette, +which is seeking apparently to be the organ of the prurient, sees or +pretends to see in it all kinds of dreadful things, and hints at Treasury +prosecutions; and your Mr. Charles Whibley genially says that he +discovers in it 'lots of morality.' + +It is quite true that he goes on to say that he detects no art in it. But +I do not think that it is fair to expect a critic to be able to see a +work of art from every point of view. Even Gautier had his limitations +just as much as Diderot had, and in modern England Goethes are rare. I +can only assure Mr. Charles Whibley that no moral apotheosis to which he +has added the most modest contribution could possibly be a source of +unhappiness to an artist.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, July 1890. + + + +VIII. + + +(Scots Observer, August 16, 1890.) + +To the Editor of the Scots Observer. + +SIR,--I am afraid I cannot enter into any newspaper discussion on the +subject of art with Mr. Whibley, partly because the writing of letters is +always a trouble to me, and partly because I regret to say that I do not +know what qualifications Mr. Whibley possesses for the discussion of so +important a topic. I merely noticed his letter because, I am sure +without in any way intending it, he made a suggestion about myself +personally that was quite inaccurate. His suggestion was that it must +have been painful to me to find that a certain section of the public, as +represented by himself and the critics of some religious publications, +had insisted on finding what he calls 'lots of morality' in my story of +The Picture of Dorian Gray. + +Being naturally desirous of setting your readers right on a question of +such vital interest to the historian, I took the opportunity of pointing +out in your columns that I regarded all such criticisms as a very +gratifying tribute to the ethical beauty of the story, and I added that I +was quite ready to recognise that it was not really fair to ask of any +ordinary critic that he should be able to appreciate a work of art from +every point of view. + +I still hold this opinion. If a man sees the artistic beauty of a thing, +he will probably care very little for its ethical import. If his +temperament is more susceptible to ethical than to aesthetic influences, +he will be blind to questions of style, treatment and the like. It takes +a Goethe to see a work of art fully, completely and perfectly, and I +thoroughly agree with Mr. Whibley when he says that it is a pity that +Goethe never had an opportunity of reading Dorian Gray. I feel quite +certain that he would have been delighted by it, and I only hope that +some ghostly publisher is even now distributing shadowy copies in the +Elysian fields, and that the cover of Gautier's copy is powdered with +gilt asphodels. + +You may ask me, Sir, why I should care to have the ethical beauty of my +story recognised. I answer, Simply because it exists, because the thing +is there. + +The chief merit of Madame Bovary is not the moral lesson that can be +found in it, any more than the chief merit of Salammbo is its archaeology; +but Flaubert was perfectly right in exposing the ignorance of those who +called the one immoral and the other inaccurate; and not merely was he +right in the ordinary sense of the word, but he was artistically right, +which is everything. The critic has to educate the public; the artist +has to educate the critic. + +Allow me to make one more correction, Sir, and I will have done with Mr. +Whibley. He ends his letter with the statement that I have been +indefatigable in my public appreciation of my own work. I have no doubt +that in saying this he means to pay me a compliment, but he really +overrates my capacity, as well as my inclination for work. I must +frankly confess that, by nature and by choice, I am extremely indolent. + +Cultivated idleness seems to me to be the proper occupation for man. I +dislike newspaper controversies of any kind, and of the two hundred and +sixteen criticisms of Dorian Gray that have passed from my library table +into the wastepaper basket I have taken public notice of only three. One +was that which appeared in the Scots Observer. I noticed it because it +made a suggestion, about the intention of the author in writing the book, +which needed correction. The second was an article in the St. James's +Gazette. It was offensively and vulgarly written, and seemed to me to +require immediate and caustic censure. The tone of the article was an +impertinence to any man of letters. + +The third was a meek attack in a paper called the Daily Chronicle. I +think my writing to the Daily Chronicle was an act of pure wilfulness. In +fact, I feel sure it was. I quite forget what they said. I believe they +said that Dorian Gray was poisonous, and I thought that, on alliterative +grounds, it would be kind to remind them that, however that may be, it is +at any rate perfect. That was all. Of the other two hundred and +thirteen criticisms I have taken no notice. Indeed, I have not read more +than half of them. It is a sad thing, but one wearies even of praise. + +As regards Mr. Brown's letter, it is interesting only in so far as it +exemplifies the truth of what I have said above on the question of the +two obvious schools of critics. Mr. Brown says frankly that he considers +morality to be the 'strong point' of my story. Mr. Brown means well, and +has got hold of a half truth, but when he proceeds to deal with the book +from the artistic standpoint he, of course, goes sadly astray. To class +Dorian Gray with M. Zola's La Terre is as silly as if one were to class +Musset's Fortunio with one of the Adelphi melodramas. Mr. Brown should +be content with ethical appreciation. There he is impregnable. + +Mr. Cobban opens badly by describing my letter, setting Mr. Whibley right +on a matter of fact, as an 'impudent paradox.' The term 'impudent' is +meaningless, and the word 'paradox' is misplaced. I am afraid that +writing to newspapers has a deteriorating influence on style. People get +violent and abusive and lose all sense of proportion, when they enter +that curious journalistic arena in which the race is always to the +noisiest. 'Impudent paradox' is neither violent nor abusive, but it is +not an expression that should have been used about my letter. However, +Mr. Cobban makes full atonement afterwards for what was, no doubt, a mere +error of manner, by adopting the impudent paradox in question as his own, +and pointing out that, as I had previously said, the artist will always +look at the work of art from the standpoint of beauty of style and beauty +of treatment, and that those who have not got the sense of beauty, or +whose sense of beauty is dominated by ethical considerations, will always +turn their attention to the subject-matter and make its moral import the +test and touchstone of the poem or novel or picture that is presented to +them, while the newspaper critic will sometimes take one side and +sometimes the other, according as he is cultured or uncultured. In fact, +Mr. Cobban converts the impudent paradox into a tedious truism, and, I +dare say, in doing so does good service. + +The English public likes tediousness, and likes things to be explained to +it in a tedious way. + +Mr. Cobban has, I have no doubt, already repented of the unfortunate +expression with which he has made his debut, so I will say no more about +it. As far as I am concerned he is quite forgiven. + +And finally, Sir, in taking leave of the Scots Observer I feel bound to +make a candid confession to you. + +It has been suggested to me by a great friend of mine, who is a charming +and distinguished man of letters, and not unknown to you personally, that +there have been really only two people engaged in this terrible +controversy, and that those two people are the editor of the Scots +Observer and the author of Dorian Gray. At dinner this evening, over +some excellent Chianti, my friend insisted that under assumed and +mysterious names you had simply given dramatic expression to the views of +some of the semi-educated classes of our community, and that the letters +signed 'H.' were your own skilful, if somewhat bitter, caricature of the +Philistine as drawn by himself. I admit that something of the kind had +occurred to me when I read 'H.'s' first letter--the one in which he +proposes that the test of art should be the political opinions of the +artist, and that if one differed from the artist on the question of the +best way of misgoverning Ireland, one should always abuse his work. +Still, there are such infinite varieties of Philistines, and North +Britain is so renowned for seriousness, that I dismissed the idea as one +unworthy of the editor of a Scotch paper. I now fear that I was wrong, +and that you have been amusing yourself all the time by inventing little +puppets and teaching them how to use big words. Well, Sir, if it be +so--and my friend is strong upon the point--allow me to congratulate you +most sincerely on the cleverness with which you have reproduced that lack +of literary style which is, I am told, essential for any dramatic and +lifelike characterisation. I confess that I was completely taken in; but +I bear no malice; and as you have, no doubt, been laughing at me up your +sleeve, let me now join openly in the laugh, though it be a little +against myself. A comedy ends when the secret is out. Drop your curtain +and put your dolls to bed. I love Don Quixote, but I do not wish to +fight any longer with marionettes, however cunning may be the master-hand +that works their wires. Let them go, Sir, on the shelf. The shelf is +the proper place for them. On some future occasion you can re-label them +and bring them out for our amusement. They are an excellent company, and +go well through their tricks, and if they are a little unreal, I am not +the one to object to unreality in art. The jest was really a good one. +The only thing that I cannot understand is why you gave your marionettes +such extraordinary and improbable names.--I remain, Sir, your obedient +servant, OSCAR WILDE. + +16 TITE STREET, CHELSEA, August 13. + + + + +AN ANGLO-INDIAN'S COMPLAINT + + +(Times, September 26, 1891.) + +To the Editor of the Times. + +SIR,--The writer of a letter signed 'An Indian Civilian' that appears in +your issue of today makes a statement about me which I beg you to allow +me to correct at once. + +He says I have described the Anglo-Indians as being vulgar. This is not +the case. Indeed, I have never met a vulgar Anglo-Indian. There may be +many, but those whom I have had the pleasure of meeting here have been +chiefly scholars, men interested in art and thought, men of cultivation; +nearly all of them have been exceedingly brilliant talkers; some of them +have been exceedingly brilliant writers. + +What I did say--I believe in the pages of the Nineteenth Century +{158}--was that vulgarity is the distinguishing note of those +Anglo-Indians whom Mr. Rudyard Kipling loves to write about, and writes +about so cleverly. This is quite true, and there is no reason why Mr. +Rudyard Kipling should not select vulgarity as his subject-matter, or as +part of it. For a realistic artist, certainly, vulgarity is a most +admirable subject. How far Mr. Kipling's stories really mirror Anglo- +Indian society I have no idea at all, nor, indeed, am I ever much +interested in any correspondence between art and nature. It seems to me +a matter of entirely secondary importance. I do not wish, however, that +it should be supposed that I was passing a harsh and saugrenu judgment on +an important and in many ways distinguished class, when I was merely +pointing out the characteristic qualities of some puppets in a +prose-play.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. +September 25. + + + + +A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES + + +I. + + +(Speaker, December 5, 1891.) + +SIR.--I have just purchased, at a price that for any other English +sixpenny paper I would have considered exorbitant, a copy of the Speaker +at one of the charming kiosks that decorate Paris; institutions, by the +way, that I think we should at once introduce into London. The kiosk is +a delightful object, and, when illuminated at night from within, as +lovely as a fantastic Chinese lantern, especially when the transparent +advertisements are from the clever pencil of M. Cheret. In London we +have merely the ill-clad newsvendor, whose voice, in spite of the +admirable efforts of the Royal College of Music to make England a really +musical nation, is always out of tune, and whose rags, badly designed and +badly worn, merely emphasise a painful note of uncomely misery, without +conveying that impression of picturesqueness which is the only thing that +makes the poverty of others at all bearable. + +It is not, however, about the establishment of kiosks in London that I +wish to write to you, though I am of opinion that it is a thing that the +County Council should at once take in hand. The object of my letter is +to correct a statement made in a paragraph of your interesting paper. + +The writer of the paragraph in question states that the decorative +designs that make lovely my book, A House of Pomegranates, are by the +hand of Mr. Shannon, while the delicate dreams that separate and herald +each story are by Mr. Ricketts. The contrary is the case. Mr. Shannon +is the drawer of the dreams, and Mr. Ricketts is the subtle and fantastic +decorator. Indeed, it is to Mr. Ricketts that the entire decorative +design of the book is due, from the selection of the type and the placing +of the ornamentation, to the completely beautiful cover that encloses the +whole. The writer of the paragraph goes on to state that he does not +'like the cover.' This is, no doubt, to be regretted, though it is not a +matter of much importance, as there are only two people in the world whom +it is absolutely necessary that the cover should please. One is Mr. +Ricketts, who designed it, the other is myself, whose book it binds. We +both admire it immensely! The reason, however, that your critic gives +for his failure to gain from the cover any impression of beauty seems to +me to show a lack of artistic instinct on his part, which I beg you will +allow me to try to correct. + +He complains that a portion of the design on the left-hand side of the +cover reminds him of an Indian club with a house-painter's brush on top +of it, while a portion of the design on the right-hand side suggests to +him the idea of 'a chimney-pot hat with a sponge in it.' Now, I do not +for a moment dispute that these are the real impressions your critic +received. It is the spectator, and the mind of the spectator, as I +pointed out in the preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray, that art really +mirrors. What I want to indicate is this: the artistic beauty of the +cover of my book resides in the delicate tracing, arabesques, and massing +of many coral-red lines on a ground of white ivory, the colour effect +culminating in certain high gilt notes, and being made still more +pleasurable by the overlapping band of moss-green cloth that holds the +book together. + +What the gilt notes suggest, what imitative parallel may be found to them +in that chaos that is termed Nature, is a matter of no importance. They +may suggest, as they do sometimes to me, peacocks and pomegranates and +splashing fountains of gold water, or, as they do to your critic, sponges +and Indian clubs and chimney-pot hats. Such suggestions and evocations +have nothing whatsoever to do with the aesthetic quality and value of the +design. A thing in Nature becomes much lovelier if it reminds us of a +thing in Art, but a thing in Art gains no real beauty through reminding +us of a thing in Nature. The primary aesthetic impression of a work of +art borrows nothing from recognition or resemblance. These belong to a +later and less perfect stage of apprehension. + +Properly speaking, they are no part of a real aesthetic impression at +all, and the constant preoccupation with subject-matter that +characterises nearly all our English art-criticism, is what makes our art- +criticisms, especially as regards literature, so sterile, so profitless, +so much beside the mark, and of such curiously little account.--I remain, +Sir, your obedient servant, OSCAR WILDE. + +BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS. + + + +II. + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, December 11, 1891.) + +To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. + +SIR,--I have just had sent to me from London a copy of the Pall Mall +Gazette, containing a review of my book A House of Pomegranates. {163} +The writer of this review makes a certain suggestion which I beg you will +allow me to correct at once. + +He starts by asking an extremely silly question, and that is, whether or +not I have written this book for the purpose of giving pleasure to the +British child. Having expressed grave doubts on this subject, a subject +on which I cannot conceive any fairly educated person having any doubts +at all, he proceeds, apparently quite seriously, to make the extremely +limited vocabulary at the disposal of the British child the standard by +which the prose of an artist is to be judged! Now, in building this +House of Pomegranates, I had about as much intention of pleasing the +British child as I had of pleasing the British public. Mamilius is as +entirely delightful as Caliban is entirely detestable, but neither the +standard of Mamilius nor the standard of Caliban is my standard. No +artist recognises any standard of beauty but that which is suggested by +his own temperament. The artist seeks to realise, in a certain material, +his immaterial idea of beauty, and thus to transform an idea into an +ideal. That is the way an artist makes things. That is why an artist +makes things. The artist has no other object in making things. Does +your reviewer imagine that Mr. Shannon, for instance, whose delicate and +lovely illustrations he confesses himself quite unable to see, draws for +the purpose of giving information to the blind?--I remain, Sir, your +obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. +BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS. + + + + +PUPPETS AND ACTORS + + +(Daily Telegraph, February 20, 1892.) + +To the Editor of the Daily Telegraph. + +SIR,--I have just been sent an article that seems to have appeared in +your paper some days ago, {164} in which it is stated that, in the course +of some remarks addressed to the Playgoers' Club on the occasion of my +taking the chair at their last meeting, I laid it down as an axiom that +the stage is only 'a frame furnished with a set of puppets.' + +Now, it is quite true that I hold that the stage is to a play no more +than a picture-frame is to a painting, and that the actable value of a +play has nothing whatsoever to do with its value as a work of art. In +this century, in England, to take an obvious example, we have had only +two great plays--one is Shelley's Cenci, the other Mr. Swinburne's +Atalanta in Calydon, and neither of them is in any sense of the word an +actable play. Indeed, the mere suggestion that stage representation is +any test of a work of art is quite ridiculous. In the production of +Browning's plays, for instance, in London and at Oxford, what was being +tested was obviously the capacity of the modern stage to represent, in +any adequate measure or degree, works of introspective method and strange +or sterile psychology. But the artistic value of Strqfford or In a +Balcony was settled when Robert Browning wrote their last lines. It is +not, Sir, by the mimes that the muses are to be judged. + +So far, the writer of the article in question is right. Where he goes +wrong is in saying that I describe this frame--the stage--as being +furnished with a set of puppets. He admits that he speaks only by +report, but he should have remembered, Sir, that report is not merely a +lying jade, which, personally, I would willingly forgive her, but a jade +who lies without lovely invention is a thing that I, at any rate, can +forgive her, never. + +What I really said was that the frame we call the stage was 'peopled with +either living actors or moving puppets,' and I pointed out briefly, of +necessity, that the personality of the actor is often a source of danger +in the perfect presentation of a work of art. It may distort. It may +lead astray. It may be a discord in the tone or symphony. For anybody +can act. Most people in England do nothing else. To be conventional is +to be a comedian. To act a particular part, however, is a very different +thing, and a very difficult thing as well. The actor's aim is, or should +be, to convert his own accidental personality into the real and essential +personality of the character he is called upon to personate, whatever +that character may be; or perhaps I should say that there are two schools +of action--the school of those who attain their effect by exaggeration of +personality, and the school of those who attain it by suppression. It +would be too long to discuss these schools, or to decide which of them +the dramatist loves best. Let me note the danger of personality, and +pass to my puppets. + +There are many advantages in puppets. They never argue. They have no +crude views about art. They have no private lives. We are never +bothered by accounts of their virtues, or bored by recitals of their +vices; and when they are out of an engagement they never do good in +public or save people from drowning, nor do they speak more than is set +down for them. They recognise the presiding intellect of the dramatist, +and have never been known to ask for their parts to be written up. They +are admirably docile, and have no personalities at all. I saw lately, in +Paris, a performance by certain puppets of Shakespeare's Tempest, in M. +Maurice Boucher's translation. Miranda was the mirage of Miranda, +because an artist has so fashioned her; and Ariel was true Ariel, because +so had she been made. Their gestures were quite sufficient, and the +words that seemed to come from their little lips were spoken by poets who +had beautiful voices. It was a delightful performance, and I remember it +still with delight, though Miranda took no notice of the flowers I sent +her after the curtain fell. For modern plays, however, perhaps we had +better have living players, for in modern plays actuality is everything. +The charm--the ineffable charm--of the unreal is here denied us, and +rightly. + +Suffer me one more correction. Your writer describes the author of the +brilliant fantastic lecture on 'The Modern Actor' as a protege of mine. +Allow me to state that my acquaintance with Mr. John Gray is, I regret to +say, extremely recent, and that I sought it because he had already a +perfected mode of expression both in prose and verse. All artists in +this vulgar age need protection certainly. Perhaps they have always +needed it. But the nineteenth-century artist finds it not in Prince, or +Pope, or Patron, but in high indifference of temper, in the pleasure of +the creation of beautiful things, and the long contemplation of them, in +disdain of what in life is common and ignoble and in such felicitous +sense of humour as enables one to see how vain and foolish is all popular +opinion, and popular judgment, upon the wonderful things of art. These +qualities Mr. John Gray possesses in a marked degree. He needs no other +protection, nor, indeed, would he accept it.--I remain, Sir, your +obedient servant, OSCAR WILDE. + + + + +LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN: AN EXPLANATION + + +(St. James's Gazette, February 27, 1892.) + +To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette. + +SIR,--Allow me to correct a statement put forward in your issue of this +evening to the effect that I have made a certain alteration in my play in +consequence of the criticism of some journalists who write very +recklessly and very foolishly in the papers about dramatic art. This +statement is entirely untrue and grossly ridiculous. + +The facts are as follows. On last Saturday night, after the play was +over, and the author, cigarette in hand, had delivered a delightful and +immortal speech, I had the pleasure of entertaining at supper a small +number of personal friends; and as none of them was older than myself I, +naturally, listened to their artistic views with attention and pleasure. +The opinions of the old on matters of Art are, of course, of no value +whatsoever. The artistic instincts of the young are invariably +fascinating; and I am bound to state that all my friends, without +exception, were of opinion that the psychological interest of the second +act would be greatly increased by the disclosure of the actual +relationship existing between Lady Windermere and Mrs. Erlynne--an +opinion, I may add, that had previously been strongly held and urged by +Mr. Alexander. + +As to those of us who do not look on a play as a mere question of +pantomime and clowning psychological interest is everything, I +determined, consequently, to make a change in the precise moment of +revelation. This determination, however, was entered into long before I +had the opportunity of studying the culture, courtesy, and critical +faculty displayed in such papers as the Referee, Reynolds', and the +Sunday Sun. + +When criticism becomes in England a real art, as it should be, and when +none but those of artistic instinct and artistic cultivation is allowed +to write about works of art, artists will, no doubt, read criticisms with +a certain amount of intellectual interest. As things are at present, the +criticisms of ordinary newspapers are of no interest whatsoever, except +in so far as they display, in its crudest form, the Boeotianism of a +country that has produced some Athenians, and in which some Athenians +have come to dwell.--I am, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. +February 26. + + + + +SALOME + + +(Times, March 2, 1893.) + +To the Editor of the Times. + +SIR,--My attention has been drawn to a review of Salome which was +published in your columns last week. {170} The opinions of English +critics on a French work of mine have, of course, little, if any, +interest for me. I write simply to ask you to allow me to correct a +misstatement that appears in the review in question. + +The fact that the greatest tragic actress of any stage now living saw in +my play such beauty that she was anxious to produce it, to take herself +the part of the heroine, to lend to the entire poem the glamour of her +personality, and to my prose the music of her flute-like voice--this was +naturally, and always will be, a source of pride and pleasure to me, and +I look forward with delight to seeing Mme. Bernhardt present my play in +Paris, that vivid centre of art, where religious dramas are often +performed. But my play was in no sense of the words written for this +great actress. I have never written a play for any actor or actress, nor +shall I ever do so. Such work is for the artisan in literature--not for +the artist.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. + + + + +THE THIRTEEN CLUB + + +(Times, January 16, 1894.) + +At a dinner of the Thirteen Club held at the Holborn Restaurant on +January 13, 1894, the Chairman (Mr. Harry Furniss) announced that from +Mr. Oscar Wilde the following letter had been received:-- + +I have to thank the members of your Club for their kind invitation, for +which convey to them, I beg you, my sincere thanks. But I love +superstitions. They are the colour element of thought and imagination. +They are the opponents of common sense. Common sense is the enemy of +romance. The aim of your Society seems to be dreadful. Leave us some +unreality. Do not make us too offensively sane. I love dining out, but +with a Society with so wicked an object as yours I cannot dine. I regret +it. I am sure you will all be charming, but I could not come, though 13 +is a lucky number. + + + + +THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM + + +I. + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, September 20, 1894.) + +To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. + +SIR,--Will you allow me to draw your attention to a very interesting +example of the ethics of modern journalism, a quality of which we have +all heard so much and seen so little? + +About a month ago Mr. T. P. O'Connor published in the Sunday Sun some +doggerel verses entitled 'The Shamrock,' and had the amusing impertinence +to append my name to them as their author. As for some years past all +kinds of scurrilous personal attacks had been made on me in Mr. +O'Connor's newspapers, I determined to take no notice at all of the +incident. + +Enraged, however, by my courteous silence, Mr. O'Connor returns to the +charge this week. He now solemnly accuses me of plagiarising the poem he +had the vulgarity to attribute to me. {172} + +This seems to me to pass beyond even those bounds of coarse humour and +coarser malice that are, by the contempt of all, conceded to the ordinary +journalist, and it is really very distressing to find so low a standard +of ethics in a Sunday newspaper.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. +September 18. + + + +II. + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, September 25, 1894.) + +To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. + +SIR,--The assistant editor of the Sunday Sun, on whom seems to devolve +the arduous duty of writing Mr. T. P. O'Connor's apologies for him, does +not, I observe with regret, place that gentleman's conduct in any more +attractive or more honourable light by the attempted explanation that +appears in the letter published in your issue of today. For the future +it would be much better if Mr. O'Connor would always write his own +apologies. That he can do so exceedingly well no one is more ready to +admit than myself. I happen to possess one from him. + +The assistant editor's explanation, stripped of its unnecessary verbiage, +amounts to this: It is now stated that some months ago, somebody, whose +name, observe, is not given, forwarded to the office of the Sunday Sun a +manuscript in his own handwriting, containing some fifth-rate verses with +my name appended to them as their author. The assistant editor frankly +admits that they had grave doubts about my being capable of such an +astounding production. To me, I must candidly say, it seems more +probable that they never for a single moment believed that the verses +were really from my pen. Literary instinct is, of course, a very rare +thing, and it would be too much to expect any true literary instinct to +be found among the members of the staff of an ordinary newspaper; but had +Mr. O'Connor really thought that the production, such as it is, was mine, +he would naturally have asked my permission before publishing it. Great +licence of comment and attack of every kind is allowed nowadays to +newspapers, but no respectable editor would dream of printing and +publishing a man's work without first obtaining his consent. + +Mr. O'Connor's subsequent conduct in accusing me of plagiarism, when it +was proved to him on unimpeachable authority that the verses he had +vulgarly attributed to me were not by me at all, I have already commented +on. It is perhaps best left to the laughter of the gods and the sorrow +of men. I would like, however, to point out that when Mr. O'Connor, with +the kind help of his assistant editor, states, as a possible excuse for +his original sin, that he and the members of his staff 'took refuge' in +the belief that the verses in question might conceivably be some very +early and useful work of mine, he and the members of his staff showed a +lamentable ignorance of the nature of the artistic temperament. Only +mediocrities progress. An artist revolves in a cycle of masterpieces, +the first of which is no less perfect than the last. + +In conclusion, allow me to thank you for your courtesy in opening to me +the columns of your valuable paper, and also to express the hope that the +painful expose of Mr. O'Connor's conduct that I have been forced to make +will have the good result of improving the standard of journalistic +ethics in England.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, + +OSCAR WILDE. +WORTHING, September 22. + + + + +THE GREEN CARNATION + + +(Pall Mall Gazette, October 2, 1894.) + +To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. + +SIR,--Kindly allow me to contradict, in the most emphatic manner, the +suggestion, made in your issue of Thursday last, and since then copied +into many other newspapers, that I am the author of The Green Carnation. + +I invented that magnificent flower. But with the middle-class and +mediocre book that usurps its strangely beautiful name I have, I need +hardly say, nothing whatsoever to do. The flower is a work of art. The +book is not.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, OSCAR WILDE. + +WORTHING, October 1. + + + + +PHRASES AND PHILOSOPHIES FOR THE USE OF THE YOUNG + + +(Chameleon, December 1894 ) + +The first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible. What the +second duty is no one has as yet discovered. + +Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious +attractiveness of others. + +If the poor only had profiles there would be no difficulty in solving the +problem of poverty. + +Those who see any difference between soul and body have neither. + +A really well-made buttonhole is the only link between Art and Nature. + +Religions die when they are proved to be true. Science is the record of +dead religions. + +The well-bred contradict other people. The wise contradict themselves. + +Nothing that actually occurs is of the smallest importance. + +Dulness is the coming of age of seriousness. + +In all unimportant matters, style, not sincerity, is the essential. In +all important matters, style, not sincerity, is the essential. + +If one tells the truth one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out. + +Pleasure is the only thing one should live for. Nothing ages like +happiness. + +It is only by not paying one's bills that one can hope to live in the +memory of the commercial classes. + +No crime is vulgar, but all vulgarity is crime. Vulgarity is the conduct +of others. + +Only the shallow know themselves. + +Time is waste of money. + +One should always be a little improbable. + +There is a fatality about all good resolutions. They are invariably made +too soon. + +The only way to atone for being occasionally a little overdressed is by +being always absolutely over-educated. + +To be premature is to be perfect. + +Any preoccupation with ideas of what is right or wrong in conduct shows +an arrested intellectual development. + +Ambition is the last refuge of the failure. + +A truth ceases to be true when more than one person believes in it. + +In examinations the foolish ask questions that the wise cannot answer. + +Greek dress was in its essence inartistic. Nothing should reveal the +body but the body. + +One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art. + +It is only the superficial qualities that last. Man's deeper nature is +soon found out. + +Industry is the root of all ugliness. + +The ages live in history through their anachronisms. + +It is only the gods who taste of death. Apollo has passed away, but +Hyacinth, whom men say he slew, lives on. Nero and Narcissus are always +with us. + +The old believe everything: the middle-aged suspect everything: the young +know everything. + +The condition of perfection is idleness: the aim of perfection is youth. + +Only the great masters of style ever succeed in being obscure. + +There is something tragic about the enormous number of young men there +are in England at the present moment who start life with perfect +profiles, and end by adopting some useful profession. + +To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance. + + + + +THE RISE OF HISTORICAL CRITICISM + + +The first portion of this essay is given at the end of the volume +containing Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and Other Prose Pieces. Recently +the remainder of the original manuscript has been discovered, and is here +published for the first time. It was written for the Chancellor's +English Essay Prize at Oxford in 1879, the subject being 'Historical +Criticism among the Ancients.' The prize was not awarded. To Professor +J. W. Mackail thanks are due for revising the proofs. + + + +IV. + + +It is evident that here Thucydides is ready to admit the variety of +manifestations which external causes bring about in their workings on the +uniform character of the nature of man. Yet, after all is said, these +are perhaps but very general statements: the ordinary effects of peace +and war are dwelt on, but there is no real analysis of the immediate +causes and general laws of the phenomena of life, nor does Thucydides +seem to recognise the truth that if humanity proceeds in circles, the +circles are always widening. + +Perhaps we may say that with him the philosophy of history is partly in +the metaphysical stage, and see, in the progress of this idea from +Herodotus to Polybius, the exemplification of the Comtian law of the +three stages of thought, the theological, the metaphysical, and the +scientific: for truly out of the vagueness of theological mysticism this +conception which we call the Philosophy of History was raised to a +scientific principle, according to which the past was explained and the +future predicted by reference to general laws. + +Now, just as the earliest account of the nature of the progress of +humanity is to be found in Plato, so in him we find the first explicit +attempt to found a universal philosophy of history upon wide rational +grounds. Having created an ideally perfect state, the philosopher +proceeds to give an elaborate theory of the complex causes which produce +revolutions of the moral effects of various forms of government and +education, of the rise of the criminal classes and their connection with +pauperism, and, in a word, to create history by the deductive method and +to proceed from a priori psychological principles to discover the +governing laws of the apparent chaos of political life. + +There have been many attempts since Plato to deduce from a single +philosophical principle all the phenomena which experience subsequently +verifies for us. Fichte thought he could predict the world-plan from the +idea of universal time. Hegel dreamed he had found the key to the +mysteries of life in the development of freedom, and Krause in the +categories of being. But the one scientific basis on which the true +philosophy of history must rest is the complete knowledge of the laws of +human nature in all its wants, its aspirations, its powers and its +tendencies: and this great truth, which Thucydides may be said in some +measure to have apprehended, was given to us first by Plato. + +Now, it cannot be accurately said of this philosopher that either his +philosophy or his history is entirely and simply a priori. On est de son +siecle meme quand on y proteste, and so we find in him continual +references to the Spartan mode of life, the Pythagorean system, the +general characteristics of Greek tyrannies and Greek democracies. For +while, in his account of the method of forming an ideal state, he says +that the political artist is indeed to fix his gaze on the sun of +abstract truth in the heavens of the pure reason, but is sometimes to +turn to the realisation of the ideals on earth: yet, after all, the +general character of the Platonic method, which is what we are specially +concerned with, is essentially deductive and a priori. And he himself, +in the building up of his Nephelococcygia, certainly starts with a +[Greek], making a clean sweep of all history and all experience; and it +was essentially as an a priori theorist that he is criticised by +Aristotle, as we shall see later. + +To proceed to closer details regarding the actual scheme of the laws of +political revolutions as drawn out by Plato, we must first note that the +primary cause of the decay of the ideal state is the general principle, +common to the vegetable and animal worlds as well as to the world of +history, that all created things are fated to decay--a principle which, +though expressed in the terms of a mere metaphysical abstraction, is yet +perhaps in its essence scientific. For we too must hold that a +continuous redistribution of matter and motion is the inevitable result +of the normal persistence of Force, and that perfect equilibrium is as +impossible in politics as it certainly is in physics. + +The secondary causes which mar the perfection of the Platonic 'city of +the sun' are to be found in the intellectual decay of the race consequent +on injudicious marriages and in the Philistine elevation of physical +achievements over mental culture; while the hierarchical succession of +Timocracy and Oligarchy, Democracy and Tyranny, is dwelt on at great +length and its causes analysed in a very dramatic and psychological +manner, if not in that sanctioned by the actual order of history. + +And indeed it is apparent at first sight that the Platonic succession of +states represents rather the succession of ideas in the philosophic mind +than any historical succession of time. + +Aristotle meets the whole simply by an appeal to facts. If the theory of +the periodic decay of all created things, he urges, be scientific, it +must be universal, and so true of all the other states as well as of the +ideal. Besides, a state usually changes into its contrary and not to the +form next to it; so the ideal state would not change into Timocracy; +while Oligarchy, more often than Tyranny, succeeds Democracy. Plato, +besides, says nothing of what a Tyranny would change to. According to +the cycle theory it ought to pass into the ideal state again, but as a +fact one Tyranny is changed into another as at Sicyon, or into a +Democracy as at Syracuse, or into an Aristocracy as at Carthage. The +example of Sicily, too, shows that an Oligarchy is often followed by a +Tyranny, as at Leontini and Gela. Besides, it is absurd to represent +greed as the chief motive of decay, or to talk of avarice as the root of +Oligarchy, when in nearly all true oligarchies money-making is forbidden +by law. And finally the Platonic theory neglects the different kinds of +democracies and of tyrannies. + +Now nothing can be more important than this passage in Aristotle's +Politics (v. 12.), which may be said to mark an era in the evolution of +historical criticism. For there is nothing on which Aristotle insists so +strongly as that the generalisations from facts ought to be added to the +data of the a priori method--a principle which we know to be true not +merely of deductive speculative politics but of physics also: for are not +the residual phenomena of chemists a valuable source of improvement in +theory? + +His own method is essentially historical though by no means empirical. On +the contrary, this far-seeing thinker, rightly styled il maestro di color +che sanno, may be said to have apprehended clearly that the true method +is neither exclusively empirical nor exclusively speculative, but rather +a union of both in the process called Analysis or the Interpretation of +Facts, which has been defined as the application to facts of such general +conceptions as may fix the important characteristics of the phenomena, +and present them permanently in their true relations. He too was the +first to point out, what even in our own day is incompletely appreciated, +that nature, including the development of man, is not full of incoherent +episodes like a bad tragedy, that inconsistency and anomaly are as +impossible in the moral as they are in the physical world, and that where +the superficial observer thinks he sees a revolution the philosophical +critic discerns merely the gradual and rational evolution of the +inevitable results of certain antecedents. + +And while admitting the necessity of a psychological basis for the +philosophy of history, he added to it the important truth that man, to be +apprehended in his proper position in the universe as well as in his +natural powers, must be studied from below in the hierarchical +progression of higher function from the lower forms of life. The +important maxim, that to obtain a clear conception of anything we must +'study it in its growth from the very beginning' is formally set down in +the opening of the Politics, where, indeed, we shall find the other +characteristic features of the modern Evolutionary theory, such as the +'Differentiation of Function' and the 'Survival of the Fittest' +explicitly set forth. + +What a valuable step this was in the improvement of the method of +historical criticism it is needless to point out. By it, one may say, +the true thread was given to guide one's steps through the bewildering +labyrinth of facts. For history (to use terms with which Aristotle has +made us familiar) may be looked at from two essentially different +standpoints; either as a work of art whose [Greek] or final cause is +external to it and imposed on it from without; or as an organism +containing the law of its own development in itself, and working out its +perfection merely by the fact of being what it is. Now, if we adopt the +former, which we may style the theological view, we shall be in continual +danger of tripping into the pitfall of some a priori conclusion--that +bourne from which, it has been truly said, no traveller ever returns. + +The latter is the only scientific theory and was apprehended in its +fulness by Aristotle, whose application of the inductive method to +history, and whose employment of the evolutionary theory of humanity, +show that he was conscious that the philosophy of history is nothing +separate from the facts of history but is contained in them, and that the +rational law of the complex phenomena of life, like the ideal in the +world of thought, is to be reached through the facts, not superimposed on +them-- [Greek] not [Greek]. + +And finally, in estimating the enormous debt which the science of +historical criticism owes to Aristotle, we must not pass over his +attitude towards those two great difficulties in the formation of a +philosophy of history on which I have touched above. I mean the +assertion of extra-natural interference with the normal development of +the world and of the incalculable influence exercised by the power of +free will. + +Now, as regards the former, he may be said to have neglected it entirely. +The special acts of providence proceeding from God's immediate government +of the world, which Herodotus saw as mighty landmarks in history, would +have been to him essentially disturbing elements in that universal reign +of law, the extent of whose limitless empire he of all the great thinkers +of antiquity was the first explicitly to recognise. + +Standing aloof from the popular religion as well as from the deeper +conceptions of Herodotus and the Tragic School, he no longer thought of +God as of one with fair limbs and treacherous face haunting wood and +glade, nor would he see in him a jealous judge continually interfering in +the world's history to bring the wicked to punishment and the proud to a +fall. God to him was the incarnation of the pure Intellect, a being +whose activity was the contemplation of his own perfection, one whom +Philosophy might imitate but whom prayers could never move, to the +sublime indifference of whose passionless wisdom what were the sons of +men, their desires or their sins? While, as regards the other difficulty +and the formation of a philosophy of history, the conflict of free will +with general laws appears first in Greek thought in the usual theological +form in which all great ideas seem to be cradled at their birth. + +It was such legends as those of OEdipus and Adrastus, exemplifying the +struggles of individual humanity against the overpowering force of +circumstances and necessity, which gave to the early Greeks those same +lessons which we of modern days draw, in somewhat less artistic fashion, +from the study of statistics and the laws of physiology. + +In Aristotle, of course, there is no trace of supernatural influence. The +Furies, which drive their victim into sin first and then punishment, are +no longer 'viper-tressed goddesses with eyes and mouth aflame,' but those +evil thoughts which harbour within the impure soul. In this, as in all +other points, to arrive at Aristotle is to reach the pure atmosphere of +scientific and modern thought. + +But while he rejected pure necessitarianism in its crude form as +essentially a reductio ad absurdum of life, he was fully conscious of the +fact that the will is not a mysterious and ultimate unit of force beyond +which we cannot go and whose special characteristic is inconsistency, but +a certain creative attitude of the mind which is, from the first, +continually influenced by habits, education and circumstance; so +absolutely modifiable, in a word, that the good and the bad man alike +seem to lose the power of free will; for the one is morally unable to +sin, the other physically incapacitated for reformation. + +And of the influence of climate and temperature in forming the nature of +man (a conception perhaps pressed too far in modern days when the 'race +theory' is supposed to be a sufficient explanation of the Hindoo, and the +latitude and longitude of a country the best guide to its morals {188}) +Aristotle is completely unaware. I do not allude to such smaller points +as the oligarchical tendencies of a horse-breeding country and the +democratic influence of the proximity of the sea (important though they +are for the consideration of Greek history), but rather to those wider +views in the seventh book of his Politics, where he attributes the happy +union in the Greek character of intellectual attainments with the spirit +of progress to the temperate climate they enjoyed, and points out how the +extreme cold of the north dulls the mental faculties of its inhabitants +and renders them incapable of social organisation or extended empire; +while to the enervating heat of eastern countries was due that want of +spirit and bravery which then, as now, was the characteristic of the +population in that quarter of the globe. + +Thucydides has shown the causal connection between political revolutions +and the fertility of the soil, but goes a step farther and points out the +psychological influences on a people's character exercised by the various +extremes of climate--in both cases the first appearance of a most +valuable form of historical criticism. + +To the development of Dialectic, as to God, intervals of time are of no +account. From Plato and Aristotle we pass direct to Polybius. + +The progress of thought from the philosopher of the Academe to the +Arcadian historian may be best illustrated by a comparison of the method +by which each of the three writers, whom I have selected as the highest +expressions of the rationalism of his respective age, attained to his +ideal state: for the latter conception may be in a measure regarded as +representing the most spiritual principle which they could discern in +history. + +Now, Plato created his on a priori principles: Aristotle formed his by an +analysis of existing constitutions; Polybius found his realised for him +in the actual world of fact. Aristotle criticised the deductive +speculations of Plato by means of inductive negative instances, but +Polybius will not take the 'Cloud City' of the Republic into account at +all. He compares it to an athlete who has never run on 'Constitution +Hill,' to a statue so beautiful that it is entirely removed from the +ordinary conditions of humanity, and consequently from the canons of +criticism. + +The Roman state had attained in his eyes, by means of the mutual +counteraction of three opposing forces, {190} that stable equilibrium in +politics which was the ideal of all the theoretical writers of antiquity. +And in connection with this point it will be convenient to notice here +how much truth there is contained in the accusation so often brought +against the ancients that they knew nothing of the idea of Progress, for +the meaning of many of their speculations will be hidden from us if we do +not try and comprehend first what their aim was, and secondly why it was +so. + +Now, like all wide generalities, this statement is at least inaccurate. +The prayer of Plato's ideal city--[Greek], might be written as a text +over the door of the last Temple to Humanity raised by the disciples of +Fourier and Saint Simon, but it is certainly true that their ideal +principle was order and permanence, not indefinite progress. For, +setting aside the artistic prejudices which would have led the Greeks to +reject this idea of unlimited improvement, we may note that the modern +conception of progress rests partly on the new enthusiasm and worship of +humanity, partly on the splendid hopes of material improvements in +civilisation which applied science has held out to us, two influences +from which ancient Greek thought seems to have been strangely free. For +the Greeks marred the perfect humanism of the great men whom they +worshipped, by imputing to them divinity and its supernatural powers; +while their science was eminently speculative and often almost mystic in +its character, aiming at culture and not utility, at higher spirituality +and more intense reverence for law, rather than at the increased +facilities of locomotion and the cheap production of common things about +which our modern scientific school ceases not to boast. And lastly, and +perhaps chiefly, we must remember that the 'plague spot of all Greek +states,' as one of their own writers has called it, was the terrible +insecurity to life and property which resulted from the factions and +revolutions which ceased not to trouble Greece at all times, raising a +spirit of fanaticism such as religion raised in the middle ages of +Europe. + +These considerations, then, will enable us to understand first how it was +that, radical and unscrupulous reformers as the Greek political theorists +were, yet, their end once attained, no modern conservatives raised such +outcry against the slightest innovation. Even acknowledged improvements +in such things as the games of children or the modes of music were +regarded by them with feelings of extreme apprehension as the herald of +the drapeau rouge of reform. And secondly, it will show us how it was +that Polybius found his ideal in the commonwealth of Rome, and Aristotle, +like Mr. Bright, in the middle classes. Polybius, however, is not +content merely with pointing out his ideal state, but enters at +considerable length into the question of those general laws whose +consideration forms the chief essential of the philosophy of history. + +He starts by accepting the general principle that all things are fated to +decay (which I noticed in the case of Plato), and that 'as iron produces +rust and as wood breeds the animals that destroy it, so every state has +in it the seeds of its own corruption.' He is not, however, content to +rest there, but proceeds to deal with the more immediate causes of +revolutions, which he says are twofold in nature, either external or +internal. Now, the former, depending as they do on the synchronous +conjunction of other events outside the sphere of scientific estimation, +are from their very character incalculable; but the latter, though +assuming many forms, always result from the over-great preponderance of +any single element to the detriment of the others, the rational law lying +at the base of all varieties of political changes being that stability +can result only from the statical equilibrium produced by the +counteraction of opposing parts, since the more simple a constitution is +the more it is insecure. Plato had pointed out before how the extreme +liberty of a democracy always resulted in despotism, but Polybius +analyses the law and shows the scientific principles on which it rests. + +The doctrine of the instability of pure constitutions forms an important +era in the philosophy of history. Its special applicability to the +politics of our own day has been illustrated in the rise of the great +Napoleon, when the French state had lost those divisions of caste and +prejudice, of landed aristocracy and moneyed interest, institutions in +which the vulgar see only barriers to Liberty but which are indeed the +only possible defences against the coming of that periodic Sirius of +politics, the [Greek] + +There is a principle which Tocqueville never wearies of explaining, and +which has been subsumed by Mr. Herbert Spencer under that general law +common to all organic bodies which we call the Instability of the +Homogeneous. The various manifestations of this law, as shown in the +normal, regular revolutions and evolutions of the different forms of +government, {193a} are expounded with great clearness by Polybius, who +claimed for his theory in the Thucydidean spirit, that it is a [Greek], +not a mere [Greek], and that a knowledge of it will enable the impartial +observer {193b} to discover at any time what period of its constitutional +evolution any particular state has already reached and into what form it +will be next differentiated, though possibly the exact time of the +changes may be more or less uncertain. {193c} + +Now in this necessarily incomplete account of the laws of political +revolutions as expounded by Polybius enough perhaps has been said to show +what is his true position in the rational development of the 'Idea' which +I have called the Philosophy of History, because it is the unifying of +history. Seen darkly as it is through the glass of religion in the pages +of Herodotus, more metaphysical than scientific with Thucydides, Plato +strove to seize it by the eagle-flight of speculation, to reach it with +the eager grasp of a soul impatient of those slower and surer inductive +methods which Aristotle, in his trenchant criticism of his great master, +showed were more brilliant than any vague theory, if the test of +brilliancy is truth. + +What then is the position of Polybius? Does any new method remain for +him? Polybius was one of those many men who are born too late to be +original. To Thucydides belongs the honour of being the first in the +history of Greek thought to discern the supreme calm of law and order +underlying the fitful storms of life, and Plato and Aristotle each +represents a great new principle. To Polybius belongs the office--how +noble an office he made it his writings show--of making more explicit the +ideas which were implicit in his predecessors, of showing that they were +of wider applicability and perhaps of deeper meaning than they had seemed +before, of examining with more minuteness the laws which they had +discovered, and finally of pointing out more clearly than any one had +done the range of science and the means it offered for analysing the +present and predicting what was to come. His office thus was to gather +up what they had left, to give their principles new life by a wider +application. + +Polybius ends this great diapason of Greek thought. When the Philosophy +of history appears next, as in Plutarch's tract on 'Why God's anger is +delayed,' the pendulum of thought had swung back to where it began. His +theory was introduced to the Romans under the cultured style of Cicero, +and was welcomed by them as the philosophical panegyric of their state. +The last notice of it in Latin literature is in the pages of Tacitus, who +alludes to the stable polity formed out of these elements as a +constitution easier to commend than to produce and in no case lasting. +Yet Polybius had seen the future with no uncertain eye, and had +prophesied the rise of the Empire from the unbalanced power of the +ochlocracy fifty years and more before there was joy in the Julian +household over the birth of that boy who, borne to power as the champion +of the people, died wearing the purple of a king. + +No attitude of historical criticism is more important than the means by +which the ancients attained to the philosophy of history. The principle +of heredity can be exemplified in literature as well as in organic life: +Aristotle, Plato and Polybius are the lineal ancestors of Fichte and +Hegel, of Vico and Cousin, of Montesquieu and Tocqueville. + +As my aim is not to give an account of historians but to point out those +great thinkers whose methods have furthered the advance of this spirit of +historical criticism, I shall pass over those annalists and chroniclers +who intervened between Thucydides and Polybius. Yet perhaps it may serve +to throw new light on the real nature of this spirit and its intimate +connection with all other forms of advanced thought if I give some +estimate of the character and rise of those many influences prejudicial +to the scientific study of history which cause such a wide gap between +these two historians. + +Foremost among these is the growing influence of rhetoric and the +Isocratean school, which seems to have regarded history as an arena for +the display of either pathos or paradoxes, not a scientific investigation +into laws. + +The new age is the age of style. The same spirit of exclusive attention +to form which made Euripides often, like Swinburne, prefer music to +meaning and melody to morality, which gave to the later Greek statues +that refined effeminacy, that overstrained gracefulness of attitude, was +felt in the sphere of history. The rules laid down for historical +composition are those relating to the aesthetic value of digressions, the +legality of employing more than one metaphor in the same sentence, and +the like; and historians are ranked not by their power of estimating +evidence but by the goodness of the Greek they write. + +I must note also the important influence on literature exercised by +Alexander the Great; for while his travels encouraged the more accurate +research of geography, the very splendour of his achievements seems to +have brought history again into the sphere of romance. The appearance of +all great men in the world is followed invariably by the rise of that +mythopoeic spirit and that tendency to look for the marvellous, which is +so fatal to true historical criticism. An Alexander, a Napoleon, a +Francis of Assisi and a Mahomet are thought to be outside the limiting +conditions of rational law, just as comets were supposed to be not very +long ago. While the founding of that city of Alexandria, in which +Western and Eastern thought met with such strange result to both, +diverted the critical tendencies of the Greek spirit into questions of +grammar, philology and the like, the narrow, artificial atmosphere of +that University town (as we may call it) was fatal to the development of +that independent and speculative spirit of research which strikes out new +methods of inquiry, of which historical criticism is one. + +The Alexandrines combined a great love of learning with an ignorance of +the true principles of research, an enthusiastic spirit for accumulating +materials with a wonderful incapacity to use them. Not among the hot +sands of Egypt, or the Sophists of Athens, but from the very heart of +Greece rises the man of genius on whose influence in the evolution of the +philosophy of history I have a short time ago dwelt. Born in the serene +and pure air of the clear uplands of Arcadia, Polybius may be said to +reproduce in his work the character of the place which gave him birth. +For, of all the historians--I do not say of antiquity but of all +time--none is more rationalistic than he, none more free from any belief +in the 'visions and omens, the monstrous legends, the grovelling +superstitions and unmanly craving for the supernatural' ([Greek] {197a}) +which he is compelled to notice himself as the characteristics of some of +the historians who preceded him. Fortunate in the land which bore him, +he was no less blessed in the wondrous time of his birth. For, +representing in himself the spiritual supremacy of the Greek intellect +and allied in bonds of chivalrous friendship to the world-conqueror of +his day, he seems led as it were by the hand of Fate 'to comprehend,' as +has been said, 'more clearly than the Romans themselves the historical +position of Rome,' and to discern with greater insight than all other men +could those two great resultants of ancient civilisation, the material +empire of the city of the seven hills, and the intellectual sovereignty +of Hellas. + +Before his own day, he says, {197b} the events of the world were +unconnected and separate and the histories confined to particular +countries. Now, for the first time the universal empire of the Romans +rendered a universal history possible. {198a} This, then, is the august +motive of his work: to trace the gradual rise of this Italian city from +the day when the first legion crossed the narrow strait of Messina and +landed on the fertile fields of Sicily to the time when Corinth in the +East and Carthage in the West fell before the resistless wave of empire +and the eagles of Rome passed on the wings of universal victory from +Calpe and the Pillars of Hercules to Syria and the Nile. At the same +time he recognised that the scheme of Rome's empire was worked out under +the aegis of God's will. {198b} For, as one of the Middle Age scribes +most truly says, the [Greek] of Polybius is that power which we +Christians call God; the second aim, as one may call it, of his history +is to point out the rational and human and natural causes which brought +this result, distinguishing, as we should say, between God's mediate and +immediate government of the world. + +With any direct intervention of God in the normal development of Man, he +will have nothing to do: still less with any idea of chance as a factor +in the phenomena of life. Chance and miracles, he says, are mere +expressions for our ignorance of rational causes. The spirit of +rationalism which we recognised in Herodotus as a vague uncertain +attitude and which appears in Thucydides as a consistent attitude of mind +never argued about or even explained, is by Polybius analysed and +formulated as the great instrument of historical research. + +Herodotus, while believing on principle in the supernatural, yet was +sceptical at times. Thucydides simply ignored the supernatural. He did +not discuss it, but he annihilated it by explaining history without it. +Polybius enters at length into the whole question and explains its origin +and the method of treating it. Herodotus would have believed in Scipio's +dream. Thucydides would have ignored it entirely. Polybius explains it. +He is the culmination of the rational progression of Dialectic. +'Nothing,' he says, 'shows a foolish mind more than the attempt to +account for any phenomena on the principle of chance or supernatural +intervention. History is a search for rational causes, and there is +nothing in the world--even those phenomena which seem to us the most +remote from law and improbable--which is not the logical and inevitable +result of certain rational antecedents.' + +Some things, of course, are to be rejected a priori without entering into +the subject: 'As regards such miracles,' he says, {199} 'as that on a +certain statue of Artemis rain or snow never falls though the statue +stands in the open air, or that those who enter God's shrine in Arcadia +lose their natural shadows, I cannot really be expected to argue upon the +subject. For these things are not only utterly improbable but absolutely +impossible.' + +'For us to argue reasonably on an acknowledged absurdity is as vain a +task as trying to catch water in a sieve; it is really to admit the +possibility of the supernatural, which is the very point at issue.' + +What Polybius felt was that to admit the possibility of a miracle is to +annihilate the possibility of history: for just as scientific and +chemical experiments would be either impossible or useless if exposed to +the chance of continued interference on the part of some foreign body, so +the laws and principles which govern history, the causes of phenomena, +the evolution of progress, the whole science, in a word, of man's +dealings with his own race and with nature, will remain a sealed book to +him who admits the possibility of extra-natural interference. + +The stories of miracles, then, are to be rejected on a priori rational +grounds, but in the case of events which we know to have happened the +scientific historian will not rest till he has discovered their natural +causes which, for instance, in the case of the wonderful rise of the +Roman Empire--the most marvellous thing, Polybius says, which God ever +brought about {200a}--are to be found in the excellence of their +constitution ([Greek]), the wisdom of their advisers, their splendid +military arrangements, and their superstition ([Greek]). For while +Polybius regarded the revealed religion as, of course, objective reality +of truth, {200b} he laid great stress on its moral subjective influence, +going, in one passage on the subject, even so far as almost to excuse the +introduction of the supernatural in very small quantities into history on +account of the extremely good effect it would have on pious people. + +But perhaps there is no passage in the whole of ancient and modern +history which breathes such a manly and splendid spirit of rationalism as +one preserved to us in the Vatican--strange resting-place for it!--in +which he treats of the terrible decay of population which had fallen on +his native land in his own day, and which by the general orthodox public +was regarded as a special judgment of God, sending childlessness on women +as a punishment for the sins of the people. For it was a disaster quite +without parallel in the history of the land, and entirely unforeseen by +any of its political-economy writers who, on the contrary, were always +anticipating that danger would arise from an excess of population +overrunning its means of subsistence, and becoming unmanageable through +its size. Polybius, however, will have nothing to do with either priest +or worker of miracles in this matter. He will not even seek that 'sacred +Heart of Greece,' Delphi, Apollo's shrine, whose inspiration even +Thucydides admitted and before whose wisdom Socrates bowed. How foolish, +he says, were the man who on this matter would pray to God. We must +search for the rational causes, and the causes are seen to be clear, and +the method of prevention also. He then proceeds to notice how all this +arose from the general reluctance to marriage and to bearing the expense +of educating a large family which resulted from the carelessness and +avarice of the men of his day, and he explains on entirely rational +principles the whole of this apparently supernatural judgment. + +Now, it is to be borne in mind that while his rejection of miracles as +violation of inviolable laws is entirely a priori--for, discussion of +such a matter is, of course, impossible for a rational thinker--yet his +rejection of supernatural intervention rests entirely on the scientific +grounds of the necessity of looking for natural causes. And he is quite +logical in maintaining his position on these principles. For, where it +is either difficult or impossible to assign any rational cause for +phenomena, or to discover their laws, he acquiesces reluctantly in the +alternative of admitting some extra-natural interference which his +essentially scientific method of treating the matter has logically forced +on him, approving, for instance, of prayers for rain, on the express +ground that the laws of meteorology had not yet been ascertained. He +would, of course, have been the first to welcome our modern discoveries +in the matter. The passage in question is in every way one of the most +interesting in his whole work, not, of course, as signifying any +inclination on his part to acquiesce in the supernatural, but because it +shows how essentially logical and rational his method of argument was, +and how candid and fair his mind. + +Having now examined Polybius's attitude towards the supernatural and the +general ideas which guided his research, I will proceed to examine the +method he pursued in his scientific investigation of the complex +phenomena of life. For, as I have said before in the course of this +essay, what is important in all great writers is not so much the results +they arrive at as the methods they pursue. The increased knowledge of +facts may alter any conclusion in history as in physical science, and the +canons of speculative historical credibility must be acknowledged to +appeal rather to that subjective attitude of mind which we call the +historic sense than to any formulated objective rules. But a scientific +method is a gain for all time, and the true if not the only progress of +historical criticism consists in the improvement of the instruments of +research. + +Now first, as regards his conception of history, I have already pointed +out that it was to him essentially a search for causes, a problem to be +solved, not a picture to be painted, a scientific investigation into laws +and tendencies, not a mere romantic account of startling incident and +wondrous adventure. Thucydides, in the opening of his great work, had +sounded the first note of the scientific conception of history. 'The +absence of romance in my pages,' he says, 'will, I fear, detract somewhat +from its value, but I have written my work not to be the exploit of a +passing hour but as the possession of all time.' {203} Polybius follows +with words almost entirely similar. If, he says, we banish from history +the consideration of causes, methods and motives ([Greek]), and refuse to +consider how far the result of anything is its rational consequent, what +is left is a mere [Greek], not a [Greek], an oratorical essay which may +give pleasure for the moment, but which is entirely without any +scientific value for the explanation of the future. Elsewhere he says +that 'history robbed of the exposition of its causes and laws is a +profitless thing, though it may allure a fool.' And all through his +history the same point is put forward and exemplified in every fashion. + +So far for the conception of history. Now for the groundwork. As +regards the character of the phenomena to be selected by the scientific +investigator, Aristotle had laid down the general formula that nature +should be studied in her normal manifestations. Polybius, true to his +character of applying explicitly the principles implicit in the work of +others, follows out the doctrine of Aristotle, and lays particular stress +on the rational and undisturbed character of the development of the Roman +constitution as affording special facilities for the discovery of the +laws of its progress. Political revolutions result from causes either +external or internal. The former are mere disturbing forces which lie +outside the sphere of scientific calculation. It is the latter which are +important for the establishing of principles and the elucidation of the +sequences of rational evolution. + +He thus may be said to have anticipated one of the most important truths +of the modern methods of investigation: I mean that principle which lays +down that just as the study of physiology should precede the study of +pathology, just as the laws of disease are best discovered by the +phenomena presented in health, so the method of arriving at all great +social and political truths is by the investigation of those cases where +development has been normal, rational and undisturbed. + +The critical canon that the more a people has been interfered with, the +more difficult it becomes to generalise the laws of its progress and to +analyse the separate forces of its civilisation, is one the validity of +which is now generally recognised by those who pretend to a scientific +treatment of all history: and while we have seen that Aristotle +anticipated it in a general formula, to Polybius belongs the honour of +being the first to apply it explicitly in the sphere of history. + +I have shown how to this great scientific historian the motive of his +work was essentially the search for causes; and true to his analytical +spirit he is careful to examine what a cause really is and in what part +of the antecedents of any consequent it is to be looked for. To give an +illustration: As regards the origin of the war with Perseus, some +assigned as causes the expulsion of Abrupolis by Perseus, the expedition +of the latter to Delphi, the plot against Eumenes and the seizure of the +ambassadors in Boeotia; of these incidents the two former, Polybius +points out, were merely the pretexts, the two latter merely the occasions +of the war. The war was really a legacy left to Perseus by his father, +who was determined to fight it out with Rome. {205} + +Here as elsewhere he is not originating any new idea. Thucydides had +pointed out the difference between the real and the alleged cause, and +the Aristotelian dictum about revolutions, [Greek], draws the distinction +between cause and occasion with the brilliancy of an epigram. But the +explicit and rational investigation of the difference between [Greek] and +[Greek] was reserved for Polybius. No canon of historical criticism can +be said to be of more real value than that involved in this distinction, +and the overlooking of it has filled our histories with the contemptible +accounts of the intrigues of courtiers and of kings and the petty +plottings of backstairs influence--particulars interesting, no doubt, to +those who would ascribe the Reformation to Anne Boleyn's pretty face, the +Persian war to the influence of a doctor or a curtain-lecture from +Atossa, or the French Revolution to Madame de Maintenon, but without any +value for those who aim at any scientific treatment of history. + +But the question of method, to which I am compelled always to return, is +not yet exhausted. There is another aspect in which it may be regarded, +and I shall now proceed to treat of it. + +One of the greatest difficulties with which the modern historian has to +contend is the enormous complexity of the facts which come under his +notice: D'Alembert's suggestion that at the end of every century a +selection of facts should be made and the rest burned (if it was really +intended seriously) could not, of course, be entertained for a moment. A +problem loses all its value when it becomes simplified, and the world +would be all the poorer if the Sybil of History burned her volumes. +Besides, as Gibbon pointed out, 'a Montesquieu will detect in the most +insignificant fact relations which the vulgar overlook.' + +Nor can the scientific investigator of history isolate the particular +elements, which he desires to examine, from disturbing and extraneous +causes, as the experimental chemist can do (though sometimes, as in the +case of lunatic asylums and prisons, he is enabled to observe phenomena +in a certain degree of isolation). So he is compelled either to use the +deductive mode of arguing from general laws or to employ the method of +abstraction which gives a fictitious isolation to phenomena never so +isolated in actual existence. And this is exactly what Polybius has done +as well as Thucydides. For, as has been well remarked, there is in the +works of these two writers a certain plastic unity of type and motive; +whatever they write is penetrated through and through with a specific +quality, a singleness and concentration of purpose, which we may contrast +with the more comprehensive width as manifested not merely in the modern +mind, but also in Herodotus. Thucydides, regarding society as influenced +entirely by political motives, took no account of forces of a different +nature, and consequently his results, like those of most modern political +economists, have to be modified largely {207} before they come to +correspond with what we know was the actual state of fact. Similarly, +Polybius will deal only with those forces which tended to bring the +civilised world under the dominion of Rome (ix. 1), and in the +Thucydidean spirit points out the want of picturesqueness and romance in +his pages which is the result of the abstract method ([Greek]), being +careful also to tell us that his rejection of all other forces is +essentially deliberate and the result of a preconceived theory and by no +means due to carelessness of any kind. + +Now, of the general value of the abstract method and the legality of its +employment in the sphere of history, this is perhaps not the suitable +occasion for any discussion. It is, however, in all ways worthy of note +that Polybius is not merely conscious of, but dwells with particular +weight on, the fact which is usually urged as the strongest objection to +the employment of the abstract method--I mean the conception of a society +as a sort of human organism whose parts are indissolubly connected with +one another and all affected when one member is in any way agitated. This +conception of the organic nature of society appears first in Plato and +Aristotle, who apply it to cities. Polybius, as his wont is, expands it +to be a general characteristic of all history. It is an idea of the very +highest importance, especially to a man like Polybius whose thoughts are +continually turned towards the essential unity of history and the +impossibility of isolation. + +Farther, as regards the particular method of investigating that group of +phenomena obtained for him by the abstract method, he will adopt, he +tells us, neither the purely deductive nor the purely inductive mode but +the union of both. In other words, he formally adopts that method of +analysis upon the importance of which I have dwelt before. + +And lastly, while, without doubt, enormous simplicity in the elements +under consideration is the result of the employment of the abstract +method, even within the limit thus obtained a certain selection must be +made, and a selection involves a theory. For the facts of life cannot be +tabulated with as great an ease as the colours of birds and insects can +be tabulated. Now, Polybius points out that those phenomena particularly +are to be dwelt on which may serve as a [Greek] or sample, and show the +character of the tendencies of the age as clearly as 'a single drop from +a full cask will be enough to disclose the nature of the whole contents.' +This recognition of the importance of single facts, not in themselves but +because of the spirit they represent, is extremely scientific; for we +know that from the single bone, or tooth even, the anatomist can recreate +entirely the skeleton of the primeval horse, and the botanist tell the +character of the flora and fauna of a district from a single specimen. + +Regarding truth as 'the most divine thing in Nature,' the very 'eye and +light of history without which it moves a blind thing,' Polybius spared +no pains in the acquisition of historical materials or in the study of +the sciences of politics and war, which he considered were so essential +to the training of the scientific historian, and the labour he took is +mirrored in the many ways in which he criticises other authorities. + +There is something, as a rule, slightly contemptible about ancient +criticism. The modern idea of the critic as the interpreter, the +expounder of the beauty and excellence of the work he selects, seems +quite unknown. Nothing can be more captious or unfair, for instance, +than the method by which Aristotle criticised the ideal state of Plato in +his ethical works, and the passages quoted by Polybius from Timaeus show +that the latter historian fully deserved the punning name given to him. +But in Polybius there is, I think, little of that bitterness and +pettiness of spirit which characterises most other writers, and an +incidental story he tells of his relations with one of the historians +whom he criticised shows that he was a man of great courtesy and +refinement of taste--as, indeed, befitted one who had lived always in the +society of those who were of great and noble birth. + +Now, as regards the character of the canons by which he criticises the +works of other authors, in the majority of cases he employs simply his +own geographical and military knowledge, showing, for instance, the +impossibility in the accounts given of Nabis's march from Sparta simply +by his acquaintance with the spots in question; or the inconsistency of +those of the battle of Issus; or of the accounts given by Ephorus of the +battles of Leuctra and Mantinea. In the latter case he says, if any one +will take the trouble to measure out the ground of the site of the battle +and then test the manoeuvres given, he will find how inaccurate the +accounts are. + +In other cases he appeals to public documents, the importance of which he +was always foremost in recognising; showing, for instance, by a document +in the public archives of Rhodes how inaccurate were the accounts given +of the battle of Lade by Zeno and Antisthenes. Or he appeals to +psychological probability, rejecting, for instance, the scandalous +stories told of Philip of Macedon, simply from the king's general +greatness of character, and arguing that a boy so well educated and so +respectably connected as Demochares (xii. 14) could never have been +guilty of that of which evil rumour accused him. + +But the chief object of his literary censure is Timaeus, who had been so +unsparing of his strictures on others. The general point which he makes +against him, impugning his accuracy as a historian, is that he derived +his knowledge of history not from the dangerous perils of a life of +action but in the secure indolence of a narrow scholastic life. There +is, indeed, no point on which he is so vehement as this. 'A history,' he +says, 'written in a library gives as lifeless and as inaccurate a picture +of history as a painting which is copied not from a living animal but +from a stuffed one.' + +There is more difference, he says in another place, between the history +of an eye-witness and that of one whose knowledge comes from books, than +there is between the scenes of real life and the fictitious landscapes of +theatrical scenery. Besides this, he enters into somewhat elaborate +detailed criticism of passages where he thought Timaeus was following a +wrong method and perverting truth, passages which it will be worth while +to examine in detail. + +Timaeus, from the fact of there being a Roman custom to shoot a war-horse +on a stated day, argued back to the Trojan origin of that people. +Polybius, on the other hand, points out that the inference is quite +unwarrantable, because horse-sacrifices are ordinary institutions common +to all barbarous tribes. Timaeus here, as was so common with Greek +writers, is arguing back from some custom of the present to an historical +event in the past. Polybius really is employing the comparative method, +showing how the custom was an ordinary step in the civilisation of every +early people. + +In another place, {211} he shows how illogical is the scepticism of +Timaeus as regards the existence of the Bull of Phalaris simply by +appealing to the statue of the Bull, which was still to be seen in +Carthage; pointing out how impossible it was, on any other theory except +that it belonged to Phalaris, to account for the presence in Carthage of +a bull of this peculiar character with a door between his shoulders. But +one of the great points which he uses against this Sicilian historian is +in reference to the question of the origin of the Locrian colony. In +accordance with the received tradition on the subject, Aristotle had +represented the Locrian colony as founded by some Parthenidae or slaves' +children, as they were called, a statement which seems to have roused the +indignation of Timaeus, who went to a good deal of trouble to confute +this theory. He does so on the following grounds:-- + +First of all, he points out that in the ancient days the Greeks had no +slaves at all, so the mention of them in the matter is an anachronism; +and next he declares that he was shown in the Greek city of Locris +certain ancient inscriptions in which their relation to the Italian city +was expressed in terms of the position between parent and child, which +showed also that mutual rights of citizenship were accorded to each city. +Besides this, he appeals to various questions of improbability as regards +their international relationship, on which Polybius takes diametrically +opposite grounds which hardly call for discussion. And in favour of his +own view he urges two points more: first, that the Lacedaemonians being +allowed furlough for the purpose of seeing their wives at home, it was +unlikely that the Locrians should not have had the same privilege; and +next, that the Italian Locrians knew nothing of the Aristotelian version +and had, on the contrary, very severe laws against adulterers, runaway +slaves and the like. Now, most of these questions rest on mere +probability, which is always such a subjective canon that an appeal to it +is rarely conclusive. I would note, however, as regards the inscriptions +which, if genuine, would of course have settled the matter, that Polybius +looks on them as a mere invention on the part of Timaeus, who, he +remarks, gives no details about them, though, as a rule, he is so over- +anxious to give chapter and verse for everything. A somewhat more +interesting point is that where he attacks Timaeus for the introduction +of fictitious speeches into his narrative; for on this point Polybius +seems to be far in advance of the opinions held by literary men on the +subject not merely in his own day, but for centuries after. Herodotus +had introduced speeches avowedly dramatic and fictitious. Thucydides +states clearly that, where he was unable to find out what people really +said, he put down what they ought to have said. Sallust alludes, it is +true, to the fact of the speech he puts into the mouth of the tribune +Memmius being essentially genuine, but the speeches given in the senate +on the occasion of the Catilinarian conspiracy are very different from +the same orations as they appear in Cicero. Livy makes his ancient +Romans wrangle and chop logic with all the subtlety of a Hortensius or a +Scaevola. And even in later days, when shorthand reporters attended the +debates of the senate and a Daily News was published in Rome, we find +that one of the most celebrated speeches in Tacitus (that in which the +Emperor Claudius gives the Gauls their freedom) is shown, by an +inscription discovered recently at Lugdunum, to be entirely fabulous. + +Upon the other hand, it must be borne in mind that these speeches were +not intended to deceive; they were regarded merely as a certain dramatic +element which it was allowable to introduce into history for the purpose +of giving more life and reality to the narration, and were to be +criticised, not as we should, by arguing how in an age before shorthand +was known such a report was possible or how, in the failure of written +documents, tradition could bring down such an accurate verbal account, +but by the higher test of their psychological probability as regards the +persons in whose mouths they are placed. An ancient historian in answer +to modern criticism would say, probably, that these fictitious speeches +were in reality more truthful than the actual ones, just as Aristotle +claimed for poetry a higher degree of truth in comparison to history. The +whole point is interesting as showing how far in advance of his age +Polybius may be said to have been. + +The last scientific historian, it is possible to gather from his writings +what he considered were the characteristics of the ideal writer of +history; and no small light will be thrown on the progress of historical +criticism if we strive to collect and analyse what in Polybius are more +or less scattered expressions. The ideal historian must be contemporary +with the events he describes, or removed from them by one generation +only. Where it is possible, he is to be an eye-witness of what he writes +of; where that is out of his power he is to test all traditions and +stories carefully and not to be ready to accept what is plausible in +place of what is true. He is to be no bookworm living aloof from the +experiences of the world in the artificial isolation of a university +town, but a politician, a soldier, and a traveller, a man not merely of +thought but of action, one who can do great things as well as write of +them, who in the sphere of history could be what Byron and AEschylus were +in the sphere of poetry, at once le chantre et le heros. + +He is to keep before his eyes the fact that chance is merely a synonym +for our ignorance; that the reign of law pervades the domain of history +as much as it does that of political science. He is to accustom himself +to look on all occasions for rational and natural causes. And while he +is to recognise the practical utility of the supernatural, in an +educational point of view, he is not himself to indulge in such +intellectual beating of the air as to admit the possibility of the +violation of inviolable laws, or to argue in a sphere wherein argument is +a priori annihilated. He is to be free from all bias towards friend and +country; he is to be courteous and gentle in criticism; he is not to +regard history as a mere opportunity for splendid and tragic writing; nor +is he to falsify truth for the sake of a paradox or an epigram. + +While acknowledging the importance of particular facts as samples of +higher truths, he is to take a broad and general view of humanity. He is +to deal with the whole race and with the world, not with particular +tribes or separate countries. He is to bear in mind that the world is +really an organism wherein no one part can be moved without the others +being affected also. He is to distinguish between cause and occasion, +between the influence of general laws and particular fancies, and he is +to remember that the greatest lessons of the world are contained in +history and that it is the historian's duty to manifest them so as to +save nations from following those unwise policies which always lead to +dishonour and ruin, and to teach individuals to apprehend by the +intellectual culture of history those truths which else they would have +to learn in the bitter school of experience. + +Now, as regards his theory of the necessity of the historian's being +contemporary with the events he describes, so far as the historian is a +mere narrator the remark is undoubtedly true. But to appreciate the +harmony and rational position of the facts of a great epoch, to discover +its laws, the causes which produced it and the effects which it +generates, the scene must be viewed from a certain height and distance to +be completely apprehended. A thoroughly contemporary historian such as +Lord Clarendon or Thucydides is in reality part of the history he +criticises; and, in the case of such contemporary historians as Fabius +and Philistus, Polybius is compelled to acknowledge that they are misled +by patriotic and other considerations. Against Polybius himself no such +accusation can be made. He indeed of all men is able, as from some lofty +tower, to discern the whole tendency of the ancient world, the triumph of +Roman institutions and of Greek thought which is the last message of the +old world and, in a more spiritual sense, has become the Gospel of the +new. + +One thing indeed he did not see, or if he saw it, he thought but little +of it--how from the East there was spreading over the world, as a wave +spreads, a spiritual inroad of new religions from the time when the +Pessinuntine mother of the gods, a shapeless mass of stone, was brought +to the eternal city by her holiest citizen, to the day when the ship +Castor and Pollux stood in at Puteoli, and St. Paul turned his face +towards martyrdom and victory at Rome. Polybius was able to predict, +from his knowledge of the causes of revolutions and the tendencies of the +various forms of governments, the uprising of that democratic tone of +thought which, as soon as a seed is sown in the murder of the Gracchi and +the exile of Marius, culminated as all democratic movements do culminate, +in the supreme authority of one man, the lordship of the world under the +world's rightful lord, Caius Julius Caesar. This, indeed, he saw in no +uncertain way. But the turning of all men's hearts to the East, the +first glimmering of that splendid dawn which broke over the hills of +Galilee and flooded the earth like wine, was hidden from his eyes. + +There are many points in the description of the ideal historian which one +may compare to the picture which Plato has given us of the ideal +philosopher. They are both 'spectators of all time and all existence.' +Nothing is contemptible in their eyes, for all things have a meaning, and +they both walk in august reasonableness before all men, conscious of the +workings of God yet free from all terror of mendicant priest or vagrant +miracle-worker. But the parallel ends here. For the one stands aloof +from the world-storm of sleet and hail, his eyes fixed on distant and +sunlit heights, loving knowledge for the sake of knowledge and wisdom for +the joy of wisdom, while the other is an eager actor in the world ever +seeking to apply his knowledge to useful things. Both equally desire +truth, but the one because of its utility, the other for its beauty. The +historian regards it as the rational principle of all true history, and +no more. To the other it comes as an all-pervading and mystic +enthusiasm, 'like the desire of strong wine, the craving of ambition, the +passionate love of what is beautiful.' + +Still, though we miss in the historian those higher and more spiritual +qualities which the philosopher of the Academe alone of all men +possessed, we must not blind ourselves to the merits of that great +rationalist who seems to have anticipated the very latest words of modern +science. Nor yet is he to be regarded merely in the narrow light in +which he is estimated by most modern critics, as the explicit champion of +rationalism and nothing more. For he is connected with another idea, the +course of which is as the course of that great river of his native +Arcadia which, springing from some arid and sun-bleached rock, gathers +strength and beauty as it flows till it reaches the asphodel meadows of +Olympia and the light and laughter of Ionian waters. + +For in him we can discern the first notes of that great cult of the seven- +hilled city which made Virgil write his epic and Livy his history, which +found in Dante its highest exponent, which dreamed of an Empire where the +Emperor would care for the bodies and the Pope for the souls of men, and +so has passed into the conception of God's spiritual empire and the +universal brotherhood of man and widened into the huge ocean of universal +thought as the Peneus loses itself in the sea. + +Polybius is the last scientific historian of Greece. The writer who +seems fittingly to complete the progress of thought is a writer of +biographies only. I will not here touch on Plutarch's employment of the +inductive method as shown in his constant use of inscription and statue, +of public document and building and the like, because they involve no new +method. It is his attitude towards miracles of which I desire to treat. + +Plutarch is philosophic enough to see that in the sense of a violation of +the laws of nature a miracle is impossible. It is absurd, he says, to +imagine that the statue of a saint can speak, and that an inanimate +object not possessing the vocal organs should be able to utter an +articulate sound. Upon the other hand, he protests against science +imagining that, by explaining the natural causes of things, it has +explained away their transcendental meaning. 'When the tears on the +cheek of some holy statue have been analysed into the moisture which +certain temperatures produce on wood and marble, it yet by no means +follows that they were not a sign of grief and mourning set there by God +Himself.' When Lampon saw in the prodigy of the one-horned ram the omen +of the supreme rule of Pericles, and when Anaxagoras showed that the +abnormal development was the rational resultant of the peculiar formation +of the skull, the dreamer and the man of science were both right; it was +the business of the latter to consider how the prodigy came about, of the +former to show why it was so formed and what it so portended. The +progression of thought is exemplified in all particulars. Herodotus had +a glimmering sense of the impossibility of a violation of nature. +Thucydides ignored the supernatural. Polybius rationalised it. Plutarch +raises it to its mystical heights again, though he bases it on law. In a +word, Plutarch felt that while science brings the supernatural down to +the natural, yet ultimately all that is natural is really supernatural. +To him, as to many of our own day, religion was that transcendental +attitude of the mind which, contemplating a world resting on inviolable +law, is yet comforted and seeks to worship God not in the violation but +in the fulfilment of nature. + +It may seem paradoxical to quote in connection with the priest of +Chaeronea such a pure rationalist as Mr. Herbert Spencer; yet when we +read as the last message of modern science that 'when the equation of +life has been reduced to its lowest terms the symbols are symbols still,' +mere signs, that is, of that unknown reality which underlies all matter +and all spirit, we may feel how over the wide strait of centuries thought +calls to thought and how Plutarch has a higher position than is usually +claimed for him in the progress of the Greek intellect. + +And, indeed, it seems that not merely the importance of Plutarch himself +but also that of the land of his birth in the evolution of Greek +civilisation has been passed over by modern critics. To us, indeed, the +bare rock to which the Parthenon serves as a crown, and which lies +between Colonus and Attica's violet hills, will always be the holiest +spot in the land of Greece: and Delphi will come next, and then the +meadows of Eurotas where that noble people lived who represented in +Hellenic thought the reaction of the law of duty against the law of +beauty, the opposition of conduct to culture. Yet, as one stands on the +[Greek] of Cithaeron and looks out on the great double plain of Boeotia, +the enormous importance of the division of Hellas comes to one's mind +with great force. To the north is Orchomenus and the Minyan treasure +house, seat of those merchant princes of Phoenicia who brought to Greece +the knowledge of letters and the art of working in gold. Thebes is at +our feet with the gloom of the terrible legends of Greek tragedy still +lingering about it, the birthplace of Pindar, the nurse of Epaminondas +and the Sacred Band. + +And from out of the plain where 'Mars loved to dance,' rises the Muses' +haunt, Helicon, by whose silver streams Corinna and Hesiod sang. While +far away under the white aegis of those snow-capped mountains lies +Chaeronea and the Lion plain where with vain chivalry the Greeks strove +to check Macedon first and afterwards Rome; Chaeronea, where in the +Martinmas summer of Greek civilisation Plutarch rose from the drear waste +of a dying religion as the aftermath rises when the mowers think they +have left the field bare. + +Greek philosophy began and ended in scepticism: the first and the last +word of Greek history was Faith. + +Splendid thus in its death, like winter sunsets, the Greek religion +passed away into the horror of night. For the Cimmerian darkness was at +hand, and when the schools of Athens were closed and the statue of Athena +broken, the Greek spirit passed from the gods and the history of its own +land to the subtleties of defining the doctrine of the Trinity and the +mystical attempts to bring Plato into harmony with Christ and to +reconcile Gethsemane and the Sermon on the Mount with the Athenian prison +and the discussion in the woods of Colonus. The Greek spirit slept for +wellnigh a thousand years. When it woke again, like Antaeus it had +gathered strength from the earth where it lay, like Apollo it had lost +none of its divinity through its long servitude. + +In the history of Roman thought we nowhere find any of those +characteristics of the Greek Illumination which I have pointed out are +the necessary concomitants of the rise of historical criticism. The +conservative respect for tradition which made the Roman people delight in +the ritual and formulas of law, and is as apparent in their politics as +in their religion, was fatal to any rise of that spirit of revolt against +authority the importance of which, as a factor in intellectual progress, +we have already seen. + +The whitened tables of the Pontifices preserved carefully the records of +the eclipses and other atmospherical phenomena, and what we call the art +of verifying dates was known to them at an early time; but there was no +spontaneous rise of physical science to suggest by its analogies of law +and order a new method of research, nor any natural springing up of the +questioning spirit of philosophy with its unification of all phenomena +and all knowledge. At the very time when the whole tide of Eastern +superstition was sweeping into the heart of the Capitol the Senate +banished the Greek philosophers from Rome. And of the three systems +which did at length take some root in the city those of Zeno and Epicurus +were merely used as the rule for the ordering of life, while the dogmatic +scepticism of Carneades, by its very principles, annihilated the +possibility of argument and encouraged a perfect indifference to +research. + +Nor were the Romans ever fortunate enough like the Greeks to have to face +the incubus of any dogmatic system of legends and myths, the immoralities +and absurdities of which might excite a revolutionary outbreak of +sceptical criticism. For the Roman religion became as it were +crystallised and isolated from progress at an early period of its +evolution. Their gods remained mere abstractions of commonplace virtues +or uninteresting personifications of the useful things of life. The old +primitive creed was indeed always upheld as a state institution on +account of the enormous facilities it offered for cheating in politics, +but as a spiritual system of belief it was unanimously rejected at a very +early period both by the common people and the educated classes, for the +sensible reason that it was so extremely dull. The former took refuge in +the mystic sensualities of the worship of Isis, the latter in the Stoical +rules of life. The Romans classified their gods carefully in their order +of precedence, analysed their genealogies in the laborious spirit of +modern heraldry, fenced them round with a ritual as intricate as their +law, but never quite cared enough about them to believe in them. So it +was of no account with them when the philosophers announced that Minerva +was merely memory. She had never been much else. Nor did they protest +when Lucretius dared to say of Ceres and of Liber that they were only the +corn of the field and the fruit of the vine. For they had never mourned +for the daughter of Demeter in the asphodel meadows of Sicily, nor +traversed the glades of Cithaeron with fawn-skin and with spear. + +This brief sketch of the condition of Roman thought will serve to prepare +us for the almost total want of scientific historical criticism which we +shall discern in their literature, and has, besides, afforded fresh +corroborations of the conditions essential to the rise of this spirit, +and of the modes of thought which it reflects and in which it is always +to be found. Roman historical composition had its origin in the +pontifical college of ecclesiastical lawyers, and preserved to its close +the uncritical spirit which characterised its fountain-head. It +possessed from the outset a most voluminous collection of the materials +of history, which, however, produced merely antiquarians, not historians. +It is so hard to use facts, so easy to accumulate them. + +Wearied of the dull monotony of the pontifical annals, which dwelt on +little else but the rise and fall in provisions and the eclipses of the +sun, Cato wrote out a history with his own hand for the instruction of +his child, to which he gave the name of Origines, and before his time +some aristocratic families had written histories in Greek much in the +same spirit in which the Germans of the eighteenth century used French as +the literary language. But the first regular Roman historian is Sallust. +Between the extravagant eulogies passed on this author by the French +(such as De Closset), and Dr. Mommsen's view of him as merely a political +pamphleteer, it is perhaps difficult to reach the via media of unbiassed +appreciation. He has, at any rate, the credit of being a purely +rationalistic historian, perhaps the only one in Roman literature. Cicero +had a good many qualifications for a scientific historian, and (as he +usually did) thought very highly of his own powers. On passages of +ancient legend, however, he is rather unsatisfactory, for while he is too +sensible to believe them he is too patriotic to reject them. And this is +really the attitude of Livy, who claims for early Roman legend a certain +uncritical homage from the rest of the subject world. His view in his +history is that it is not worth while to examine the truth of these +stories. + +In his hands the history of Rome unrolls before our eyes like some +gorgeous tapestry, where victory succeeds victory, where triumph treads +on the heels of triumph, and the line of heroes seems never to end. It +is not till we pass behind the canvas and see the slight means by which +the effect is produced that we apprehend the fact that like most +picturesque writers Livy is an indifferent critic. As regards his +attitude towards the credibility of early Roman history he is quite as +conscious as we are of its mythical and unsound nature. He will not, for +instance, decide whether the Horatii were Albans or Romans; who was the +first dictator; how many tribunes there were, and the like. His method, +as a rule, is merely to mention all the accounts and sometimes to decide +in favour of the most probable, but usually not to decide at all. No +canons of historical criticism will ever discover whether the Roman women +interviewed the mother of Coriolanus of their own accord or at the +suggestion of the senate; whether Remus was killed for jumping over his +brother's wall or because they quarrelled about birds; whether the +ambassadors found Cincinnatus ploughing or only mending a hedge. Livy +suspends his judgment over these important facts and history when +questioned on their truth is dumb. If he does select between two +historians he chooses the one who is nearer to the facts he describes. +But he is no critic, only a conscientious writer. It is mere vain waste +to dwell on his critical powers, for they do not exist. + +* * * * * + +In the case of Tacitus imagination has taken the place of history. The +past lives again in his pages, but through no laborious criticism; rather +through a dramatic and psychological faculty which he specially +possessed. + +In the philosophy of history he has no belief. He can never make up his +mind what to believe as regards God's government of the world. There is +no method in him and none elsewhere in Roman literature. + +Nations may not have missions but they certainly have functions. And the +function of ancient Italy was not merely to give us what is statical in +our institutions and rational in our law, but to blend into one elemental +creed the spiritual aspirations of Aryan and of Semite. Italy was not a +pioneer in intellectual progress, nor a motive power in the evolution of +thought. The owl of the goddess of Wisdom traversed over the whole land +and found nowhere a resting-place. The dove, which is the bird of +Christ, flew straight to the city of Rome and the new reign began. It +was the fashion of early Italian painters to represent in mediaeval +costume the soldiers who watched over the tomb of Christ, and this, which +was the result of the frank anachronism of all true art, may serve to us +as an allegory. For it was in vain that the middle ages strove to guard +the buried spirit of progress. When the dawn of the Greek spirit arose, +the sepulchre was empty, the grave-clothes laid aside. Humanity had +risen from the dead. + +The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies the birth of +criticism, comparison and research. At the opening of that education of +modern by ancient thought which we call the Renaissance, it was the words +of Aristotle which sent Columbus sailing to the New World, while a +fragment of Pythagorean astronomy set Copernicus thinking on that train +of reasoning which has revolutionised the whole position of our planet in +the universe. Then it was seen that the only meaning of progress is a +return to Greek modes of thought. The monkish hymns which obscured the +pages of Greek manuscripts were blotted out, the splendours of a new +method were unfolded to the world, and out of the melancholy sea of +mediaevalism rose the free spirit of man in all that splendour of glad +adolescence, when the bodily powers seem quickened by a new vitality, +when the eye sees more clearly than its wont and the mind apprehends what +was beforetime hidden from it. To herald the opening of the sixteenth +century, from the little Venetian printing press came forth all the great +authors of antiquity, each bearing on the title-page the words [Greek] +words which may serve to remind us with what wondrous prescience Polybius +saw the world's fate when he foretold the material sovereignty of Roman +institutions and exemplified in himself the intellectual empire of +Greece. + +The course of the study of the spirit of historical criticism has not +been a profitless investigation into modes and forms of thought now +antiquated and of no account. The only spirit which is entirely removed +from us is the mediaeval; the Greek spirit is essentially modern. The +introduction of the comparative method of research which has forced +history to disclose its secrets belongs in a measure to us. Ours, too, +is a more scientific knowledge of philology and the method of survival. +Nor did the ancients know anything of the doctrine of averages or of +crucial instances, both of which methods have proved of such importance +in modern criticism, the one adding a most important proof of the +statical elements of history, and exemplifying the influences of all +physical surroundings on the life of man; the other, as in the single +instance of the Moulin Quignon skull, serving to create a whole new +science of prehistoric archaeology and to bring us back to a time when +man was coeval with the stone age, the mammoth and the woolly rhinoceros. +But, except these, we have added no new canon or method to the science of +historical criticism. Across the drear waste of a thousand years the +Greek and the modern spirit join hands. + +In the torch race which the Greek boys ran from the Cerameician field of +death to the home of the goddess of Wisdom, not merely he who first +reached the goal but he also who first started with the torch aflame +received a prize. In the Lampadephoria of civilisation and free thought +let us not forget to render due meed of honour to those who first lit +that sacred flame, the increasing splendour of which lights our footsteps +to the far-off divine event of the attainment of perfect truth. + + + + +LA SAINTE COURTISANE; OR, THE WOMAN COVERED WITH JEWELS + + +The scene represents a corner of a valley in the Thebaid. On the right +hand of the stage is a cavern. In front of the cavern stands a great +crucifix. + +On the left [sand dunes]. + +The sky is blue like the inside of a cup of lapis lazuli. The hills are +of red sand. Here and there on the hills there are clumps of thorns. + +FIRST MAN. Who is she? She makes me afraid. She has a purple cloak and +her hair is like threads of gold. I think she must be the daughter of +the Emperor. I have heard the boatmen say that the Emperor has a +daughter who wears a cloak of purple. + +SECOND MAN. She has birds' wings upon her sandals, and her tunic is of +the colour of green corn. It is like corn in spring when she stands +still. It is like young corn troubled by the shadows of hawks when she +moves. The pearls on her tunic are like many moons. + +FIRST MAN. They are like the moons one sees in the water when the wind +blows from the hills. + +SECOND MAN. I think she is one of the gods. I think she comes from +Nubia. + +FIRST MAN. I am sure she is the daughter of the Emperor. Her nails are +stained with henna. They are like the petals of a rose. She has come +here to weep for Adonis. + +SECOND MAN. She is one of the gods. I do not know why she has left her +temple. The gods should not leave their temples. If she speaks to us +let us not answer and she will pass by. + +FIRST MAN. She will not speak to us. She is the daughter of the +Emperor. + +MYRRHINA. Dwells he not here, the beautiful young hermit, he who will +not look on the face of woman? + +FIRST MAN. Of a truth it is here the hermit dwells. + +MYRRHINA. Why will he not look on the face of woman? + +SECOND MAN. We do not know. + +MYRRHINA. Why do ye yourselves not look at me? + +FIRST MAN. You are covered with bright stones, and you dazzle our eyes. + +SECOND MAN. He who looks at the sun becomes blind. You are too bright +to look at. It is not wise to look at things that are very bright. Many +of the priests in the temples are blind, and have slaves to lead them. + +MYRRHINA. Where does he dwell, the beautiful young hermit who will not +look on the face of woman? Has he a house of reeds or a house of burnt +clay or does he lie on the hillside? Or does he make his bed in the +rushes? + +FIRST MAN. He dwells in that cavern yonder. + +MYRRHINA. What a curious place to dwell in. + +FIRST MAN. Of old a centaur lived there. When the hermit came the +centaur gave a shrill cry, wept and lamented, and galloped away. + +SECOND MAN. No. It was a white unicorn who lived in the cave. When it +saw the hermit coming the unicorn knelt down and worshipped him. Many +people saw it worshipping him. + +FIRST MAN. I have talked with people who saw it. + +. . . . . + +SECOND MAN. Some say he was a hewer of wood and worked for hire. But +that may not be true. + +. . . . . + +MYRRHINA. What gods then do ye worship? Or do ye worship any gods? +There are those who have no gods to worship. The philosophers who wear +long beards and brown cloaks have no gods to worship. They wrangle with +each other in the porticoes. The [ ] laugh at them. + +FIRST MAN. We worship seven gods. We may not tell their names. It is a +very dangerous thing to tell the names of the gods. No one should ever +tell the name of his god. Even the priests who praise the gods all day +long, and eat of their food with them, do not call them by their right +names. + +MYRRHINA. Where are these gods ye worship? + +FIRST MAN. We hide them in the folds of our tunics. We do not show them +to any one. If we showed them to any one they might leave us. + +MYRRHINA. Where did ye meet with them? + +FIRST MAN. They were given to us by an embalmer of the dead who had +found them in a tomb. We served him for seven years. + +MYRRHINA. The dead are terrible. I am afraid of Death. + +FIRST MAN. Death is not a god. He is only the servant of the gods. + +MYRRHINA. He is the only god I am afraid of. Ye have seen many of the +gods? + +FIRST MAN. We have seen many of them. One sees them chiefly at night +time. They pass one by very swiftly. Once we saw some of the gods at +daybreak. They were walking across a plain. + +MYRRHINA. Once as I was passing through the market place I heard a +sophist from Cilicia say that there is only one God. He said it before +many people. + +FIRST MAN. That cannot be true. We have ourselves seen many, though we +are but common men and of no account. When I saw them I hid myself in a +bush. They did me no harm. + +MYRRHINA. Tell me more about the beautiful young hermit. Talk to me +about the beautiful young hermit who will not look on the face of woman. +What is the story of his days? What mode of life has he? + +FIRST MAN. We do not understand you. + +MYRRHINA. What does he do, the beautiful young hermit? Does he sow or +reap? Does he plant a garden or catch fish in a net? Does he weave +linen on a loom? Does he set his hand to the wooden plough and walk +behind the oxen? + +SECOND MAN. He being a very holy man does nothing. We are common men +and of no account. We toil all day long in the sun. Sometimes the +ground is very hard. + +MYRRHINA. Do the birds of the air feed him? Do the jackals share their +booty with him? + +FIRST MAN. Every evening we bring him food. We do not think that the +birds of the air feed him. + +MYRRHINA. Why do ye feed him? What profit have ye in so doing? + +SECOND MAN. He is a very holy man. One of the gods whom he has offended +has made him mad. We think he has offended the moon. + +MYRRHINA. Go and tell him that one who has come from Alexandria desires +to speak with him. + +FIRST MAN. We dare not tell him. This hour he is praying to his God. We +pray thee to pardon us for not doing thy bidding. + +MYRRHINA. Are ye afraid of him? + +FIRST MAN. We are afraid of him. + +MYRRHINA. Why are ye afraid of him? + +FIRST MAN. We do not know. + +MYRRHINA. What is his name? + +FIRST MAN. The voice that speaks to him at night time in the cavern +calls to him by the name of Honorius. It was also by the name of +Honorius that the three lepers who passed by once called to him. We +think that his name is Honorius. + +MYRRHINA. Why did the three lepers call to him? + +FIRST MAN. That he might heal them. + +MYRRHINA. Did he heal them? + +SECOND MAN. No. They had committed some sin: it was for that reason +they were lepers. Their hands and faces were like salt. One of them +wore a mask of linen. He was a king's son. + +MYRRHINA. What is the voice that speaks to him at night time in his +cave? + +FIRST MAN. We do not know whose voice it is. We think it is the voice +of his God. For we have seen no man enter his cavern nor any come forth +from it. + +MYRRHINA. Honorius. + +HONORIUS (from within). Who calls Honorius? + +. . . . . + +MYRRHINA. Come forth, Honorius. + +. . . . . + +My chamber is ceiled with cedar and odorous with myrrh. The pillars of +my bed are of cedar and the hangings are of purple. My bed is strewn +with purple and the steps are of silver. The hangings are sewn with +silver pomegranates and the steps that are of silver are strewn with +saffron and with myrrh. My lovers hang garlands round the pillars of my +house. At night time they come with the flute players and the players of +the harp. They woo me with apples and on the pavement of my courtyard +they write my name in wine. + +From the uttermost parts of the world my lovers come to me. The kings of +the earth come to me and bring me presents. + +When the Emperor of Byzantium heard of me he left his porphyry chamber +and set sail in his galleys. His slaves bare no torches that none might +know of his coming. When the King of Cyprus heard of me he sent me +ambassadors. The two Kings of Libya who are brothers brought me gifts of +amber. + +I took the minion of Caesar from Caesar and made him my playfellow. He +came to me at night in a litter. He was pale as a narcissus, and his +body was like honey. + +The son of the Praefect slew himself in my honour, and the Tetrarch of +Cilicia scourged himself for my pleasure before my slaves. + +The King of Hierapolis who is a priest and a robber set carpets for me to +walk on. + +Sometimes I sit in the circus and the gladiators fight beneath me. Once +a Thracian who was my lover was caught in the net. I gave the signal for +him to die and the whole theatre applauded. Sometimes I pass through the +gymnasium and watch the young men wrestling or in the race. Their bodies +are bright with oil and their brows are wreathed with willow sprays and +with myrtle. They stamp their feet on the sand when they wrestle and +when they run the sand follows them like a little cloud. He at whom I +smile leaves his companions and follows me to my home. At other times I +go down to the harbour and watch the merchants unloading their vessels. +Those that come from Tyre have cloaks of silk and earrings of emerald. +Those that come from Massilia have cloaks of fine wool and earrings of +brass. When they see me coming they stand on the prows of their ships +and call to me, but I do not answer them. I go to the little taverns +where the sailors lie all day long drinking black wine and playing with +dice and I sit down with them. + +I made the Prince my slave, and his slave who was a Tyrian I made my Lord +for the space of a moon. + +I put a figured ring on his finger and brought him to my house. I have +wonderful things in my house. + +The dust of the desert lies on your hair and your feet are scratched with +thorns and your body is scorched by the sun. Come with me, Honorius, and +I will clothe you in a tunic of silk. I will smear your body with myrrh +and pour spikenard on your hair. I will clothe you in hyacinth and put +honey in your mouth. Love-- + +HONORIUS. There is no love but the love of God. + +MYRRHINA. Who is He whose love is greater than that of mortal men? + +HONORIUS. It is He whom thou seest on the cross, Myrrhina. He is the +Son of God and was born of a virgin. Three wise men who were kings +brought Him offerings, and the shepherds who were lying on the hills were +wakened by a great light. + +The Sibyls knew of His coming. The groves and the oracles spake of Him. +David and the prophets announced Him. There is no love like the love of +God nor any love that can be compared to it. + +The body is vile, Myrrhina. God will raise thee up with a new body which +will not know corruption, and thou wilt dwell in the Courts of the Lord +and see Him whose hair is like fine wool and whose feet are of brass. + +MYRRHINA. The beauty . . . + +HONORIUS. The beauty of the soul increases till it can see God. +Therefore, Myrrhina, repent of thy sins. The robber who was crucified +beside Him He brought into Paradise. [Exit. + +MYRRHINA. How strangely he spake to me. And with what scorn did he +regard me. I wonder why he spake to me so strangely. + +. . . . . + +HONORIUS. Myrrhina, the scales have fallen from my eyes and I see now +clearly what I did not see before. Take me to Alexandria and let me +taste of the seven sins. + +MYRRHINA. Do not mock me, Honorius, nor speak to me with such bitter +words. For I have repented of my sins and I am seeking a cavern in this +desert where I too may dwell so that my soul may become worthy to see +God. + +HONORIUS. The sun is setting, Myrrhina. Come with me to Alexandria. + +MYRRHINA. I will not go to Alexandria. + +HONORIUS. Farewell, Myrrhina. + +MYRRHINA. Honorius, farewell. No, no, do not go. + +. . . . . + +I have cursed my beauty for what it has done, and cursed the wonder of my +body for the evil that it has brought upon you. + +Lord, this man brought me to Thy feet. He told me of Thy coming upon +earth, and of the wonder of Thy birth, and the great wonder of Thy death +also. By him, O Lord, Thou wast revealed to me. + +HONORIUS. You talk as a child, Myrrhina, and without knowledge. Loosen +your hands. Why didst thou come to this valley in thy beauty? + +MYRRHINA. The God whom thou worshippest led me here that I might repent +of my iniquities and know Him as the Lord. + +HONORIUS. Why didst thou tempt me with words? + +MYRRHINA. That thou shouldst see Sin in its painted mask and look on +Death in its robe of Shame. + + + + +THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE OF ART + + +'The English Renaissance of Art' was delivered as a lecture for the first +time in the Chickering Hall, New York, on January 9, 1882. A portion of +it was reported in the New York Tribune on the following day and in other +American papers subsequently. Since then this portion has been +reprinted, more or less accurately, from time to time, in unauthorised +editions, but not more than one quarter of the lecture has ever been +published. + +There are in existence no less than four copies of the lecture, the +earliest of which is entirely in the author's handwriting. The others +are type-written and contain many corrections and additions made by the +author in manuscript. These have all been collated and the text here +given contains, as nearly as possible, the lecture in its original form +as delivered by the author during his tour in the United States. + +Among the many debts which we owe to the supreme aesthetic faculty of +Goethe is that he was the first to teach us to define beauty in terms the +most concrete possible, to realise it, I mean, always in its special +manifestations. So, in the lecture which I have the honour to deliver +before you, I will not try to give you any abstract definition of +beauty--any such universal formula for it as was sought for by the +philosophy of the eighteenth century--still less to communicate to you +that which in its essence is incommunicable, the virtue by which a +particular picture or poem affects us with a unique and special joy; but +rather to point out to you the general ideas which characterise the great +English Renaissance of Art in this century, to discover their source, as +far as that is possible, and to estimate their future as far as that is +possible. + +I call it our English Renaissance because it is indeed a sort of new +birth of the spirit of man, like the great Italian Renaissance of the +fifteenth century, in its desire for a more gracious and comely way of +life, its passion for physical beauty, its exclusive attention to form, +its seeking for new subjects for poetry, new forms of art, new +intellectual and imaginative enjoyments: and I call it our romantic +movement because it is our most recent expression of beauty. + +It has been described as a mere revival of Greek modes of thought, and +again as a mere revival of mediaeval feeling. Rather I would say that to +these forms of the human spirit it has added whatever of artistic value +the intricacy and complexity and experience of modern life can give: +taking from the one its clearness of vision and its sustained calm, from +the other its variety of expression and the mystery of its vision. For +what, as Goethe said, is the study of the ancients but a return to the +real world (for that is what they did); and what, said Mazzini, is +mediaevalism but individuality? + +It is really from the union of Hellenism, in its breadth, its sanity of +purpose, its calm possession of beauty, with the adventive, the +intensified individualism, the passionate colour of the romantic spirit, +that springs the art of the nineteenth century in England, as from the +marriage of Faust and Helen of Troy sprang the beautiful boy Euphorion. + +Such expressions as 'classical' and 'romantic' are, it is true, often apt +to become the mere catchwords of schools. We must always remember that +art has only one sentence to utter: there is for her only one high law, +the law of form or harmony--yet between the classical and romantic spirit +we may say that there lies this difference at least, that the one deals +with the type and the other with the exception. In the work produced +under the modern romantic spirit it is no longer the permanent, the +essential truths of life that are treated of; it is the momentary +situation of the one, the momentary aspect of the other that art seeks to +render. In sculpture, which is the type of one spirit, the subject +predominates over the situation; in painting, which is the type of the +other, the situation predominates over the subject. + +There are two spirits, then: the Hellenic spirit and the spirit of +romance may be taken as forming the essential elements of our conscious +intellectual tradition, of our permanent standard of taste. As regards +their origin, in art as in politics there is but one origin for all +revolutions, a desire on the part of man for a nobler form of life, for a +freer method and opportunity of expression. Yet, I think that in +estimating the sensuous and intellectual spirit which presides over our +English Renaissance, any attempt to isolate it in any way from the +progress and movement and social life of the age that has produced it +would be to rob it of its true vitality, possibly to mistake its true +meaning. And in disengaging from the pursuits and passions of this +crowded modern world those passions and pursuits which have to do with +art and the love of art, we must take into account many great events of +history which seem to be the most opposed to any such artistic feeling. + +Alien then from any wild, political passion, or from the harsh voice of a +rude people in revolt, as our English Renaissance must seem, in its +passionate cult of pure beauty, its flawless devotion to form, its +exclusive and sensitive nature, it is to the French Revolution that we +must look for the most primary factor of its production, the first +condition of its birth: that great Revolution of which we are all the +children, though the voices of some of us be often loud against it; that +Revolution to which at a time when even such spirits as Coleridge and +Wordsworth lost heart in England, noble messages of love blown across +seas came from your young Republic. + +It is true that our modern sense of the continuity of history has shown +us that neither in politics nor in nature are there revolutions ever but +evolutions only, and that the prelude to that wild storm which swept over +France in '89 and made every king in Europe tremble for his throne, was +first sounded in literature years before the Bastille fell and the Palace +was taken. The way for those red scenes by Seine and Loire was paved by +that critical spirit of Germany and England which accustomed men to bring +all things to the test of reason or utility or both, while the discontent +of the people in the streets of Paris was the echo that followed the life +of Emile and of Werther. For Rousseau, by silent lake and mountain, had +called humanity back to the golden age that still lies before us and +preached a return to nature, in passionate eloquence whose music still +lingers about our keen northern air. And Goethe and Scott had brought +romance back again from the prison she had lain in for so many +centuries--and what is romance but humanity? + +Yet in the womb of the Revolution itself, and in the storm and terror of +that wild time, tendencies were hidden away that the artistic Renaissance +bent to her own service when the time came--a scientific tendency first, +which has borne in our own day a brood of somewhat noisy Titans, yet in +the sphere of poetry has not been unproductive of good. I do not mean +merely in its adding to enthusiasm that intellectual basis which is its +strength, or that more obvious influence about which Wordsworth was +thinking when he said very nobly that poetry was merely the impassioned +expression in the face of science, and that when science would put on a +form of flesh and blood the poet would lend his divine spirit to aid the +transfiguration. Nor do I dwell much on the great cosmical emotion and +deep pantheism of science to which Shelley has given its first and +Swinburne its latest glory of song, but rather on its influence on the +artistic spirit in preserving that close observation and the sense of +limitation as well as of clearness of vision which are the +characteristics of the real artist. + +The great and golden rule of art as well as of life, wrote William Blake, +is that the more distinct, sharp and defined the boundary line, the more +perfect is the work of art; and the less keen and sharp the greater is +the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism and bungling. 'Great +inventors in all ages knew this--Michael Angelo and Albert Durer are +known by this and by this alone'; and another time he wrote, with all the +simple directness of nineteenth-century prose, 'to generalise is to be an +idiot.' + +And this love of definite conception, this clearness of vision, this +artistic sense of limit, is the characteristic of all great work and +poetry; of the vision of Homer as of the vision of Dante, of Keats and +William Morris as of Chaucer and Theocritus. It lies at the base of all +noble, realistic and romantic work as opposed to colourless and empty +abstractions of our own eighteenth-century poets and of the classical +dramatists of France, or of the vague spiritualities of the German +sentimental school: opposed, too, to that spirit of transcendentalism +which also was root and flower itself of the great Revolution, underlying +the impassioned contemplation of Wordsworth and giving wings and fire to +the eagle-like flight of Shelley, and which in the sphere of philosophy, +though displaced by the materialism and positiveness of our day, +bequeathed two great schools of thought, the school of Newman to Oxford, +the school of Emerson to America. Yet is this spirit of +transcendentalism alien to the spirit of art. For the artist can accept +no sphere of life in exchange for life itself. For him there is no +escape from the bondage of the earth: there is not even the desire of +escape. + +He is indeed the only true realist: symbolism, which is the essence of +the transcendental spirit, is alien to him. The metaphysical mind of +Asia will create for itself the monstrous, many-breasted idol of Ephesus, +but to the Greek, pure artist, that work is most instinct with spiritual +life which conforms most clearly to the perfect facts of physical life. + +'The storm of revolution,' as Andre Chenier said, 'blows out the torch of +poetry.' It is not for some little time that the real influence of such +a wild cataclysm of things is felt: at first the desire for equality +seems to have produced personalities of more giant and Titan stature than +the world had ever known before. Men heard the lyre of Byron and the +legions of Napoleon; it was a period of measureless passions and of +measureless despair; ambition, discontent, were the chords of life and +art; the age was an age of revolt: a phase through which the human spirit +must pass but one in which it cannot rest. For the aim of culture is not +rebellion but peace, the valley perilous where ignorant armies clash by +night being no dwelling-place meet for her to whom the gods have assigned +the fresh uplands and sunny heights and clear, untroubled air. + +And soon that desire for perfection, which lay at the base of the +Revolution, found in a young English poet its most complete and flawless +realisation. + +Phidias and the achievements of Greek art are foreshadowed in Homer: +Dante prefigures for us the passion and colour and intensity of Italian +painting: the modern love of landscape dates from Rousseau, and it is in +Keats that one discerns the beginning of the artistic renaissance of +England. + +Byron was a rebel and Shelley a dreamer; but in the calmness and +clearness of his vision, his perfect self-control, his unerring sense of +beauty and his recognition of a separate realm for the imagination, Keats +was the pure and serene artist, the forerunner of the pre-Raphaelite +school, and so of the great romantic movement of which I am to speak. + +Blake had indeed, before him, claimed for art a lofty, spiritual mission, +and had striven to raise design to the ideal level of poetry and music, +but the remoteness of his vision both in painting and poetry and the +incompleteness of his technical powers had been adverse to any real +influence. It is in Keats that the artistic spirit of this century first +found its absolute incarnation. + +And these pre-Raphaelites, what were they? If you ask nine-tenths of the +British public what is the meaning of the word aesthetics, they will tell +you it is the French for affectation or the German for a dado; and if you +inquire about the pre-Raphaelites you will hear something about an +eccentric lot of young men to whom a sort of divine crookedness and holy +awkwardness in drawing were the chief objects of art. To know nothing +about their great men is one of the necessary elements of English +education. + +As regards the pre-Raphaelites the story is simple enough. In the year +1847 a number of young men in London, poets and painters, passionate +admirers of Keats all of them, formed the habit of meeting together for +discussions on art, the result of such discussions being that the English +Philistine public was roused suddenly from its ordinary apathy by hearing +that there was in its midst a body of young men who had determined to +revolutionise English painting and poetry. They called themselves the +pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. + +In England, then as now, it was enough for a man to try and produce any +serious beautiful work to lose all his rights as a citizen; and besides +this, the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood--among whom the names of Dante +Rossetti, Holman Hunt and Millais will be familiar to you--had on their +side three things that the English public never forgives: youth, power +and enthusiasm. + +Satire, always as sterile as it is shameful and as impotent as it is +insolent, paid them that usual homage which mediocrity pays to +genius--doing, here as always, infinite harm to the public, blinding them +to what is beautiful, teaching them that irreverence which is the source +of all vileness and narrowness of life, but harming the artist not at +all, rather confirming him in the perfect rightness of his work and +ambition. For to disagree with three-fourths of the British public on +all points is one of the first elements of sanity, one of the deepest +consolations in all moments of spiritual doubt. + +As regards the ideas these young men brought to the regeneration of +English art, we may see at the base of their artistic creations a desire +for a deeper spiritual value to be given to art as well as a more +decorative value. + +Pre-Raphaelites they called themselves; not that they imitated the early +Italian masters at all, but that in their work, as opposed to the facile +abstractions of Raphael, they found a stronger realism of imagination, a +more careful realism of technique, a vision at once more fervent and more +vivid, an individuality more intimate and more intense. + +For it is not enough that a work of art should conform to the aesthetic +demands of its age: there must be also about it, if it is to affect us +with any permanent delight, the impress of a distinct individuality, an +individuality remote from that of ordinary men, and coming near to us +only by virtue of a certain newness and wonder in the work, and through +channels whose very strangeness makes us more ready to give them welcome. + +La personalite, said one of the greatest of modern French critics, voila +ce qui nous sauvera. + +But above all things was it a return to Nature--that formula which seems +to suit so many and such diverse movements: they would draw and paint +nothing but what they saw, they would try and imagine things as they +really happened. Later there came to the old house by Blackfriars +Bridge, where this young brotherhood used to meet and work, two young men +from Oxford, Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris--the latter +substituting for the simpler realism of the early days a more exquisite +spirit of choice, a more faultless devotion to beauty, a more intense +seeking for perfection: a master of all exquisite design and of all +spiritual vision. It is of the school of Florence rather than of that of +Venice that he is kinsman, feeling that the close imitation of Nature is +a disturbing element in imaginative art. The visible aspect of modern +life disturbs him not; rather is it for him to render eternal all that is +beautiful in Greek, Italian, and Celtic legend. To Morris we owe poetry +whose perfect precision and clearness of word and vision has not been +excelled in the literature of our country, and by the revival of the +decorative arts he has given to our individualised romantic movement the +social idea and the social factor also. + +But the revolution accomplished by this clique of young men, with +Ruskin's faultless and fervent eloquence to help them, was not one of +ideas merely but of execution, not one of conceptions but of creations. + +For the great eras in the history of the development of all the arts have +been eras not of increased feeling or enthusiasm in feeling for art, but +of new technical improvements primarily and specially. The discovery of +marble quarries in the purple ravines of Pentelicus and on the little low- +lying hills of the island of Paros gave to the Greeks the opportunity for +that intensified vitality of action, that more sensuous and simple +humanism, to which the Egyptian sculptor working laboriously in the hard +porphyry and rose-coloured granite of the desert could not attain. The +splendour of the Venetian school began with the introduction of the new +oil medium for painting. The progress in modern music has been due to +the invention of new instruments entirely, and in no way to an increased +consciousness on the part of the musician of any wider social aim. The +critic may try and trace the deferred resolutions of Beethoven {253} to +some sense of the incompleteness of the modern intellectual spirit, but +the artist would have answered, as one of them did afterwards, 'Let them +pick out the fifths and leave us at peace.' + +And so it is in poetry also: all this love of curious French metres like +the Ballade, the Villanelle, the Rondel; all this increased value laid on +elaborate alliterations, and on curious words and refrains, such as you +will find in Dante Rossetti and Swinburne, is merely the attempt to +perfect flute and viol and trumpet through which the spirit of the age +and the lips of the poet may blow the music of their many messages. + +And so it has been with this romantic movement of ours: it is a reaction +against the empty conventional workmanship, the lax execution of previous +poetry and painting, showing itself in the work of such men as Rossetti +and Burne-Jones by a far greater splendour of colour, a far more +intricate wonder of design than English imaginative art has shown before. +In Rossetti's poetry and the poetry of Morris, Swinburne and Tennyson a +perfect precision and choice of language, a style flawless and fearless, +a seeking for all sweet and precious melodies and a sustaining +consciousness of the musical value of each word are opposed to that value +which is merely intellectual. In this respect they are one with the +romantic movement of France of which not the least characteristic note +was struck by Theophile Gautier's advice to the young poet to read his +dictionary every day, as being the only book worth a poet's reading. + +While, then, the material of workmanship is being thus elaborated and +discovered to have in itself incommunicable and eternal qualities of its +own, qualities entirely satisfying to the poetic sense and not needing +for their aesthetic effect any lofty intellectual vision, any deep +criticism of life or even any passionate human emotion at all, the spirit +and the method of the poet's working--what people call his +inspiration--have not escaped the controlling influence of the artistic +spirit. Not that the imagination has lost its wings, but we have +accustomed ourselves to count their innumerable pulsations, to estimate +their limitless strength, to govern their ungovernable freedom. + +To the Greeks this problem of the conditions of poetic production, and +the places occupied by either spontaneity or self-consciousness in any +artistic work, had a peculiar fascination. We find it in the mysticism +of Plato and in the rationalism of Aristotle. We find it later in the +Italian Renaissance agitating the minds of such men as Leonardo da Vinci. +Schiller tried to adjust the balance between form and feeling, and Goethe +to estimate the position of self-consciousness in art. Wordsworth's +definition of poetry as 'emotion remembered in tranquillity' may be taken +as an analysis of one of the stages through which all imaginative work +has to pass; and in Keats's longing to be 'able to compose without this +fever' (I quote from one of his letters), his desire to substitute for +poetic ardour 'a more thoughtful and quiet power,' we may discern the +most important moment in the evolution of that artistic life. The +question made an early and strange appearance in your literature too; and +I need not remind you how deeply the young poets of the French romantic +movement were excited and stirred by Edgar Allan Poe's analysis of the +workings of his own imagination in the creating of that supreme +imaginative work which we know by the name of The Raven. + +In the last century, when the intellectual and didactic element had +intruded to such an extent into the kingdom which belongs to poetry, it +was against the claims of the understanding that an artist like Goethe +had to protest. 'The more incomprehensible to the understanding a poem +is the better for it,' he said once, asserting the complete supremacy of +the imagination in poetry as of reason in prose. But in this century it +is rather against the claims of the emotional faculties, the claims of +mere sentiment and feeling, that the artist must react. The simple +utterance of joy is not poetry any more than a mere personal cry of pain, +and the real experiences of the artist are always those which do not find +their direct expression but are gathered up and absorbed into some +artistic form which seems, from such real experiences, to be the farthest +removed and the most alien. + +'The heart contains passion but the imagination alone contains poetry,' +says Charles Baudelaire. This too was the lesson that Theophile Gautier, +most subtle of all modern critics, most fascinating of all modern poets, +was never tired of teaching--'Everybody is affected by a sunrise or a +sunset.' The absolute distinction of the artist is not his capacity to +feel nature so much as his power of rendering it. The entire +subordination of all intellectual and emotional faculties to the vital +and informing poetic principle is the surest sign of the strength of our +Renaissance. + +We have seen the artistic spirit working, first in the delightful and +technical sphere of language, the sphere of expression as opposed to +subject, then controlling the imagination of the poet in dealing with his +subject. And now I would point out to you its operation in the choice of +subject. The recognition of a separate realm for the artist, a +consciousness of the absolute difference between the world of art and the +world of real fact, between classic grace and absolute reality, forms not +merely the essential element of any aesthetic charm but is the +characteristic of all great imaginative work and of all great eras of +artistic creation--of the age of Phidias as of the age of Michael Angelo, +of the age of Sophocles as of the age of Goethe. + +Art never harms itself by keeping aloof from the social problems of the +day: rather, by so doing, it more completely realises for us that which +we desire. For to most of us the real life is the life we do not lead, +and thus, remaining more true to the essence of its own perfection, more +jealous of its own unattainable beauty, is less likely to forget form in +feeling or to accept the passion of creation as any substitute for the +beauty of the created thing. + +The artist is indeed the child of his own age, but the present will not +be to him a whit more real than the past; for, like the philosopher of +the Platonic vision, the poet is the spectator of all time and of all +existence. For him no form is obsolete, no subject out of date; rather, +whatever of life and passion the world has known, in desert of Judaea or +in Arcadian valley, by the rivers of Troy or the rivers of Damascus, in +the crowded and hideous streets of a modern city or by the pleasant ways +of Camelot--all lies before him like an open scroll, all is still +instinct with beautiful life. He will take of it what is salutary for +his own spirit, no more; choosing some facts and rejecting others with +the calm artistic control of one who is in possession of the secret of +beauty. + +There is indeed a poetical attitude to be adopted towards all things, but +all things are not fit subjects for poetry. Into the secure and sacred +house of Beauty the true artist will admit nothing that is harsh or +disturbing, nothing that gives pain, nothing that is debatable, nothing +about which men argue. He can steep himself, if he wishes, in the +discussion of all the social problems of his day, poor-laws and local +taxation, free trade and bimetallic currency, and the like; but when he +writes on these subjects it will be, as Milton nobly expressed it, with +his left hand, in prose and not in verse, in a pamphlet and not in a +lyric. This exquisite spirit of artistic choice was not in Byron: +Wordsworth had it not. In the work of both these men there is much that +we have to reject, much that does not give us that sense of calm and +perfect repose which should be the effect of all fine, imaginative work. +But in Keats it seemed to have been incarnate, and in his lovely Ode on a +Grecian Urn it found its most secure and faultless expression; in the +pageant of The Earthly Paradise and the knights and ladies of Burne-Jones +it is the one dominant note. + +It is to no avail that the Muse of Poetry be called, even by such a +clarion note as Whitman's, to migrate from Greece and Ionia and to +placard REMOVED and TO LET on the rocks of the snowy Parnassus. +Calliope's call is not yet closed, nor are the epics of Asia ended; the +Sphinx is not yet silent, nor the fountain of Castaly dry. For art is +very life itself and knows nothing of death; she is absolute truth and +takes no care of fact; she sees (as I remember Mr. Swinburne insisting on +at dinner) that Achilles is even now more actual and real than +Wellington, not merely more noble and interesting as a type and figure +but more positive and real. + +Literature must rest always on a principle, and temporal considerations +are no principle at all. For to the poet all times and places are one; +the stuff he deals with is eternal and eternally the same: no theme is +inept, no past or present preferable. The steam whistle will not +affright him nor the flutes of Arcadia weary him: for him there is but +one time, the artistic moment; but one law, the law of form; but one +land, the land of Beauty--a land removed indeed from the real world and +yet more sensuous because more enduring; calm, yet with that calm which +dwells in the faces of the Greek statues, the calm which comes not from +the rejection but from the absorption of passion, the calm which despair +and sorrow cannot disturb but intensify only. And so it comes that he +who seems to stand most remote from his age is he who mirrors it best, +because he has stripped life of what is accidental and transitory, +stripped it of that 'mist of familiarity which makes life obscure to us.' + +Those strange, wild-eyed sibyls fixed eternally in the whirlwind of +ecstasy, those mighty-limbed and Titan prophets, labouring with the +secret of the earth and the burden of mystery, that guard and glorify the +chapel of Pope Sixtus at Rome--do they not tell us more of the real +spirit of the Italian Renaissance, of the dream of Savonarola and of the +sin of Borgia, than all the brawling boors and cooking women of Dutch art +can teach us of the real spirit of the history of Holland? + +And so in our own day, also, the two most vital tendencies of the +nineteenth century--the democratic and pantheistic tendency and the +tendency to value life for the sake of art--found their most complete and +perfect utterance in the poetry of Shelley and Keats who, to the blind +eyes of their own time, seemed to be as wanderers in the wilderness, +preachers of vague or unreal things. And I remember once, in talking to +Mr. Burne-Jones about modern science, his saying to me, 'the more +materialistic science becomes, the more angels shall I paint: their wings +are my protest in favour of the immortality of the soul.' + +But these are the intellectual speculations that underlie art. Where in +the arts themselves are we to find that breadth of human sympathy which +is the condition of all noble work; where in the arts are we to look for +what Mazzini would call the social ideas as opposed to the merely +personal ideas? By virtue of what claim do I demand for the artist the +love and loyalty of the men and women of the world? I think I can answer +that. + +Whatever spiritual message an artist brings to his aid is a matter for +his own soul. He may bring judgment like Michael Angelo or peace like +Angelico; he may come with mourning like the great Athenian or with mirth +like the singer of Sicily; nor is it for us to do aught but accept his +teaching, knowing that we cannot smite the bitter lips of Leopardi into +laughter or burden with our discontent Goethe's serene calm. But for +warrant of its truth such message must have the flame of eloquence in the +lips that speak it, splendour and glory in the vision that is its +witness, being justified by one thing only--the flawless beauty and +perfect form of its expression: this indeed being the social idea, being +the meaning of joy in art. + +Not laughter where none should laugh, nor the calling of peace where +there is no peace; not in painting the subject ever, but the pictorial +charm only, the wonder of its colour, the satisfying beauty of its +design. + +You have most of you seen, probably, that great masterpiece of Rubens +which hangs in the gallery of Brussels, that swift and wonderful pageant +of horse and rider arrested in its most exquisite and fiery moment when +the winds are caught in crimson banner and the air lit by the gleam of +armour and the flash of plume. Well, that is joy in art, though that +golden hillside be trodden by the wounded feet of Christ and it is for +the death of the Son of Man that that gorgeous cavalcade is passing. + +But this restless modern intellectual spirit of ours is not receptive +enough of the sensuous element of art; and so the real influence of the +arts is hidden from many of us: only a few, escaping from the tyranny of +the soul, have learned the secret of those high hours when thought is +not. + +And this indeed is the reason of the influence which Eastern art is +having on us in Europe, and of the fascination of all Japanese work. +While the Western world has been laying on art the intolerable burden of +its own intellectual doubts and the spiritual tragedy of its own sorrows, +the East has always kept true to art's primary and pictorial conditions. + +In judging of a beautiful statue the aesthetic faculty is absolutely and +completely gratified by the splendid curves of those marble lips that are +dumb to our complaint, the noble modelling of those limbs that are +powerless to help us. In its primary aspect a painting has no more +spiritual message or meaning than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass +or a blue tile from the wall of Damascus: it is a beautifully coloured +surface, nothing more. The channels by which all noble imaginative work +in painting should touch, and do touch the soul, are not those of the +truths of life, nor metaphysical truths. But that pictorial charm which +does not depend on any literary reminiscence for its effect on the one +hand, nor is yet a mere result of communicable technical skill on the +other, comes of a certain inventive and creative handling of colour. +Nearly always in Dutch painting and often in the works of Giorgione or +Titian, it is entirely independent of anything definitely poetical in the +subject, a kind of form and choice in workmanship which is itself +entirely satisfying, and is (as the Greeks would say) an end in itself. + +And so in poetry too, the real poetical quality, the joy of poetry, comes +never from the subject but from an inventive handling of rhythmical +language, from what Keats called the 'sensuous life of verse.' The +element of song in the singing accompanied by the profound joy of motion, +is so sweet that, while the incomplete lives of ordinary men bring no +healing power with them, the thorn-crown of the poet will blossom into +roses for our pleasure; for our delight his despair will gild its own +thorns, and his pain, like Adonis, be beautiful in its agony; and when +the poet's heart breaks it will break in music. + +And health in art--what is that? It has nothing to do with a sane +criticism of life. There is more health in Baudelaire than there is in +[Kingsley]. Health is the artist's recognition of the limitations of the +form in which he works. It is the honour and the homage which he gives +to the material he uses--whether it be language with its glories, or +marble or pigment with their glories--knowing that the true brotherhood +of the arts consists not in their borrowing one another's method, but in +their producing, each of them by its own individual means, each of them +by keeping its objective limits, the same unique artistic delight. The +delight is like that given to us by music--for music is the art in which +form and matter are always one, the art whose subject cannot be separated +from the method of its expression, the art which most completely realises +the artistic ideal, and is the condition to which all the other arts are +constantly aspiring. + +And criticism--what place is that to have in our culture? Well, I think +that the first duty of an art critic is to hold his tongue at all times, +and upon all subjects: C'est une grande avantage de n'avoir rien fait, +mais il ne faut pas en abuser. + +It is only through the mystery of creation that one can gain any +knowledge of the quality of created things. You have listened to +Patience for a hundred nights and you have heard me only for one. It +will make, no doubt, that satire more piquant by knowing something about +the subject of it, but you must not judge of aestheticism by the satire +of Mr. Gilbert. As little should you judge of the strength and splendour +of sun or sea by the dust that dances in the beam, or the bubble that +breaks on the wave, as take your critic for any sane test of art. For +the artists, like the Greek gods, are revealed only to one another, as +Emerson says somewhere; their real value and place time only can show. In +this respect also omnipotence is with the ages. The true critic +addresses not the artist ever but the public only. His work lies with +them. Art can never have any other claim but her own perfection: it is +for the critic to create for art the social aim, too, by teaching the +people the spirit in which they are to approach all artistic work, the +love they are to give it, the lesson they are to draw from it. + +All these appeals to art to set herself more in harmony with modern +progress and civilisation, and to make herself the mouthpiece for the +voice of humanity, these appeals to art 'to have a mission,' are appeals +which should be made to the public. The art which has fulfilled the +conditions of beauty has fulfilled all conditions: it is for the critic +to teach the people how to find in the calm of such art the highest +expression of their own most stormy passions. 'I have no reverence,' +said Keats, 'for the public, nor for anything in existence but the +Eternal Being, the memory of great men and the principle of Beauty.' + +Such then is the principle which I believe to be guiding and underlying +our English Renaissance, a Renaissance many-sided and wonderful, +productive of strong ambitions and lofty personalities, yet for all its +splendid achievements in poetry and in the decorative arts and in +painting, for all the increased comeliness and grace of dress, and the +furniture of houses and the like, not complete. For there can be no +great sculpture without a beautiful national life, and the commercial +spirit of England has killed that; no great drama without a noble +national life, and the commercial spirit of England has killed that too. + +It is not that the flawless serenity of marble cannot bear the burden of +the modern intellectual spirit, or become instinct with the fire of +romantic passion--the tomb of Duke Lorenzo and the chapel of the Medici +show us that--but it is that, as Theophile Gautier used to say, the +visible world is dead, le monde visible a disparu. + +Nor is it again that the novel has killed the play, as some critics would +persuade us--the romantic movement of France shows us that. The work of +Balzac and of Hugo grew up side by side together; nay, more, were +complementary to each other, though neither of them saw it. While all +other forms of poetry may flourish in an ignoble age, the splendid +individualism of the lyrist, fed by its own passion, and lit by its own +power, may pass as a pillar of fire as well across the desert as across +places that are pleasant. It is none the less glorious though no man +follow it--nay, by the greater sublimity of its loneliness it may be +quickened into loftier utterance and intensified into clearer song. From +the mean squalor of the sordid life that limits him, the dreamer or the +idyllist may soar on poesy's viewless wings, may traverse with fawn-skin +and spear the moonlit heights of Cithaeron though Faun and Bassarid dance +there no more. Like Keats he may wander through the old-world forests of +Latmos, or stand like Morris on the galley's deck with the Viking when +king and galley have long since passed away. But the drama is the +meeting-place of art and life; it deals, as Mazzini said, not merely with +man, but with social man, with man in his relation to God and to +Humanity. It is the product of a period of great national united energy; +it is impossible without a noble public, and belongs to such ages as the +age of Elizabeth in London and of Pericles at Athens; it is part of such +lofty moral and spiritual ardour as came to Greek after the defeat of the +Persian fleet, and to Englishman after the wreck of the Armada of Spain. + +Shelley felt how incomplete our movement was in this respect, and has +shown in one great tragedy by what terror and pity he would have purified +our age; but in spite of The Cenci the drama is one of the artistic forms +through which the genius of the England of this century seeks in vain to +find outlet and expression. He has had no worthy imitators. + +It is rather, perhaps, to you that we should turn to complete and perfect +this great movement of ours, for there is something Hellenic in your air +and world, something that has a quicker breath of the joy and power of +Elizabeth's England about it than our ancient civilisation can give us. +For you, at least, are young; 'no hungry generations tread you down,' and +the past does not weary you with the intolerable burden of its memories +nor mock you with the ruins of a beauty, the secret of whose creation you +have lost. That very absence of tradition, which Mr. Ruskin thought +would rob your rivers of their laughter and your flowers of their light, +may be rather the source of your freedom and your strength. + +To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the +movements of animals, and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment of trees +in the woods and grass by the roadside, has been defined by one of your +poets as a flawless triumph of art. It is a triumph which you above all +nations may be destined to achieve. For the voices that have their +dwelling in sea and mountain are not the chosen music of Liberty only; +other messages are there in the wonder of wind-swept height and the +majesty of silent deep--messages that, if you will but listen to them, +may yield you the splendour of some new imagination, the marvel of some +new beauty. + +'I foresee,' said Goethe, 'the dawn of a new literature which all people +may claim as their own, for all have contributed to its foundation.' If, +then, this is so, and if the materials for a civilisation as great as +that of Europe lie all around you, what profit, you will ask me, will all +this study of our poets and painters be to you? I might answer that the +intellect can be engaged without direct didactic object on an artistic +and historical problem; that the demand of the intellect is merely to +feel itself alive; that nothing which has ever interested men or women +can cease to be a fit subject for culture. + +I might remind you of what all Europe owes to the sorrow of a single +Florentine in exile at Verona, or to the love of Petrarch by that little +well in Southern France; nay, more, how even in this dull, materialistic +age the simple expression of an old man's simple life, passed away from +the clamour of great cities amid the lakes and misty hills of Cumberland, +has opened out for England treasures of new joy compared with which the +treasures of her luxury are as barren as the sea which she has made her +highway, and as bitter as the fire which she would make her slave. + +But I think it will bring you something besides this, something that is +the knowledge of real strength in art: not that you should imitate the +works of these men; but their artistic spirit, their artistic attitude, I +think you should absorb that. + +For in nations, as in individuals, if the passion for creation be not +accompanied by the critical, the aesthetic faculty also, it will be sure +to waste its strength aimlessly, failing perhaps in the artistic spirit +of choice, or in the mistaking of feeling for form, or in the following +of false ideals. + +For the various spiritual forms of the imagination have a natural +affinity with certain sensuous forms of art--and to discern the qualities +of each art, to intensify as well its limitations as its powers of +expression, is one of the aims that culture sets before us. It is not an +increased moral sense, an increased moral supervision that your +literature needs. Indeed, one should never talk of a moral or an immoral +poem--poems are either well written or badly written, that is all. And, +indeed, any element of morals or implied reference to a standard of good +or evil in art is often a sign of a certain incompleteness of vision, +often a note of discord in the harmony of an imaginative creation; for +all good work aims at a purely artistic effect. 'We must be careful,' +said Goethe, 'not to be always looking for culture merely in what is +obviously moral. Everything that is great promotes civilisation as soon +as we are aware of it.' + +But, as in your cities so in your literature, it is a permanent canon and +standard of taste, an increased sensibility to beauty (if I may say so) +that is lacking. All noble work is not national merely, but universal. +The political independence of a nation must not be confused with any +intellectual isolation. The spiritual freedom, indeed, your own generous +lives and liberal air will give you. From us you will learn the +classical restraint of form. + +For all great art is delicate art, roughness having very little to do +with strength, and harshness very little to do with power. 'The artist,' +as Mr. Swinburne says, 'must be perfectly articulate.' + +This limitation is for the artist perfect freedom: it is at once the +origin and the sign of his strength. So that all the supreme masters of +style--Dante, Sophocles, Shakespeare--are the supreme masters of +spiritual and intellectual vision also. + +Love art for its own sake, and then all things that you need will be +added to you. + +This devotion to beauty and to the creation of beautiful things is the +test of all great civilised nations. Philosophy may teach us to bear +with equanimity the misfortunes of our neighbours, and science resolve +the moral sense into a secretion of sugar, but art is what makes the life +of each citizen a sacrament and not a speculation, art is what makes the +life of the whole race immortal. + +For beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall +away like sand, and creeds follow one another like the withered leaves of +autumn; but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons and a possession +for all eternity. + +Wars and the clash of armies and the meeting of men in battle by trampled +field or leagured city, and the rising of nations there must always be. +But I think that art, by creating a common intellectual atmosphere +between all countries, might--if it could not overshadow the world with +the silver wings of peace--at least make men such brothers that they +would not go out to slay one another for the whim or folly of some king +or minister, as they do in Europe. Fraternity would come no more with +the hands of Cain, nor Liberty betray freedom with the kiss of Anarchy; +for national hatreds are always strongest where culture is lowest. + +'How could I?' said Goethe, when reproached for not writing like Korner +against the French. 'How could I, to whom barbarism and culture alone +are of importance, hate a nation which is among the most cultivated of +the earth, a nation to which I owe a great part of my own cultivation?' + +Mighty empires, too, there must always be as long as personal ambition +and the spirit of the age are one, but art at least is the only empire +which a nation's enemies cannot take from her by conquest, but which is +taken by submission only. The sovereignty of Greece and Rome is not yet +passed away, though the gods of the one be dead and the eagles of the +other tired. + +And we in our Renaissance are seeking to create a sovereignty that will +still be England's when her yellow leopards have grown weary of wars and +the rose of her shield is crimsoned no more with the blood of battle; and +you, too, absorbing into the generous heart of a great people this +pervading artistic spirit, will create for yourselves such riches as you +have never yet created, though your land be a network of railways and +your cities the harbours for the galleys of the world. + +I know, indeed, that the divine natural prescience of beauty which is the +inalienable inheritance of Greek and Italian is not our inheritance. For +such an informing and presiding spirit of art to shield us from all harsh +and alien influences, we of the Northern races must turn rather to that +strained self-consciousness of our age which, as it is the key-note of +all our romantic art, must be the source of all or nearly all our +culture. I mean that intellectual curiosity of the nineteenth century +which is always looking for the secret of the life that still lingers +round old and bygone forms of culture. It takes from each what is +serviceable for the modern spirit--from Athens its wonder without its +worship, from Venice its splendour without its sin. The same spirit is +always analysing its own strength and its own weakness, counting what it +owes to East and to West, to the olive-trees of Colonus and to the palm- +trees of Lebanon, to Gethsemane and to the garden of Proserpine. + +And yet the truths of art cannot be taught: they are revealed only, +revealed to natures which have made themselves receptive of all beautiful +impressions by the study and worship of all beautiful things. And hence +the enormous importance given to the decorative arts in our English +Renaissance; hence all that marvel of design that comes from the hand of +Edward Burne-Jones, all that weaving of tapestry and staining of glass, +that beautiful working in clay and metal and wood which we owe to William +Morris, the greatest handicraftsman we have had in England since the +fourteenth century. + +So, in years to come there will be nothing in any man's house which has +not given delight to its maker and does not give delight to its user. The +children, like the children of Plato's perfect city, will grow up 'in a +simple atmosphere of all fair things'--I quote from the passage in the +Republic--'a simple atmosphere of all fair things, where beauty, which is +the spirit of art, will come on eye and ear like a fresh breath of wind +that brings health from a clear upland, and insensibly and gradually draw +the child's soul into harmony with all knowledge and all wisdom, so that +he will love what is beautiful and good, and hate what is evil and ugly +(for they always go together) long before he knows the reason why; and +then when reason comes will kiss her on the cheek as a friend.' + +That is what Plato thought decorative art could do for a nation, feeling +that the secret not of philosophy merely but of all gracious existence +might be externally hidden from any one whose youth had been passed in +uncomely and vulgar surroundings, and that the beauty of form and colour +even, as he says, in the meanest vessels of the house, will find its way +into the inmost places of the soul and lead the boy naturally to look for +that divine harmony of spiritual life of which art was to him the +material symbol and warrant. + +Prelude indeed to all knowledge and all wisdom will this love of +beautiful things be for us; yet there are times when wisdom becomes a +burden and knowledge is one with sorrow: for as every body has its shadow +so every soul has its scepticism. In such dread moments of discord and +despair where should we, of this torn and troubled age, turn our steps if +not to that secure house of beauty where there is always a little +forgetfulness, always a great joy; to that citta divina, as the old +Italian heresy called it, the divine city where one can stand, though +only for a brief moment, apart from the division and terror of the world +and the choice of the world too? + +This is that consolation des arts which is the keynote of Gautier's +poetry, the secret of modern life foreshadowed--as indeed what in our +century is not?--by Goethe. You remember what he said to the German +people: 'Only have the courage,' he said, 'to give yourselves up to your +impressions, allow yourselves to be delighted, moved, elevated, nay +instructed, inspired for something great.' The courage to give +yourselves up to your impressions: yes, that is the secret of the +artistic life--for while art has been defined as an escape from the +tyranny of the senses, it is an escape rather from the tyranny of the +soul. But only to those who worship her above all things does she ever +reveal her true treasure: else will she be as powerless to aid you as the +mutilated Venus of the Louvre was before the romantic but sceptical +nature of Heine. + +And indeed I think it would be impossible to overrate the gain that might +follow if we had about us only what gave pleasure to the maker of it and +gives pleasure to its user, that being the simplest of all rules about +decoration. One thing, at least, I think it would do for us: there is no +surer test of a great country than how near it stands to its own poets; +but between the singers of our day and the workers to whom they would +sing there seems to be an ever-widening and dividing chasm, a chasm which +slander and mockery cannot traverse, but which is spanned by the luminous +wings of love. + +And of such love I think that the abiding presence in our houses of noble +imaginative work would be the surest seed and preparation. I do not mean +merely as regards that direct literary expression of art by which, from +the little red-and-black cruse of oil or wine, a Greek boy could learn of +the lionlike splendour of Achilles, of the strength of Hector and the +beauty of Paris and the wonder of Helen, long before he stood and +listened in crowded market-place or in theatre of marble; or by which an +Italian child of the fifteenth century could know of the chastity of +Lucrece and the death of Camilla from carven doorway and from painted +chest. For the good we get from art is not what we learn from it; it is +what we become through it. Its real influence will be in giving the mind +that enthusiasm which is the secret of Hellenism, accustoming it to +demand from art all that art can do in rearranging the facts of common +life for us--whether it be by giving the most spiritual interpretation of +one's own moments of highest passion or the most sensuous expression of +those thoughts that are the farthest removed from sense; in accustoming +it to love the things of the imagination for their own sake, and to +desire beauty and grace in all things. For he who does not love art in +all things does not love it at all, and he who does not need art in all +things does not need it at all. + +I will not dwell here on what I am sure has delighted you all in our +great Gothic cathedrals. I mean how the artist of that time, +handicraftsman himself in stone or glass, found the best motives for his +art, always ready for his hand and always beautiful, in the daily work of +the artificers he saw around him--as in those lovely windows of +Chartres--where the dyer dips in the vat and the potter sits at the +wheel, and the weaver stands at the loom: real manufacturers these, +workers with the hand, and entirely delightful to look at, not like the +smug and vapid shopman of our time, who knows nothing of the web or vase +he sells, except that he is charging you double its value and thinking +you a fool for buying it. Nor can I but just note, in passing, the +immense influence the decorative work of Greece and Italy had on its +artists, the one teaching the sculptor that restraining influence of +design which is the glory of the Parthenon, the other keeping painting +always true to its primary, pictorial condition of noble colour which is +the secret of the school of Venice; for I wish rather, in this lecture at +least, to dwell on the effect that decorative art has on human life--on +its social not its purely artistic effect. + +There are two kinds of men in the world, two great creeds, two different +forms of natures: men to whom the end of life is action, and men to whom +the end of life is thought. As regards the latter, who seek for +experience itself and not for the fruits of experience, who must burn +always with one of the passions of this fiery-coloured world, who find +life interesting not for its secret but for its situations, for its +pulsations and not for its purpose; the passion for beauty engendered by +the decorative arts will be to them more satisfying than any political or +religious enthusiasm, any enthusiasm for humanity, any ecstasy or sorrow +for love. For art comes to one professing primarily to give nothing but +the highest quality to one's moments, and for those moments' sake. So +far for those to whom the end of life is thought. As regards the others, +who hold that life is inseparable from labour, to them should this +movement be specially dear: for, if our days are barren without industry, +industry without art is barbarism. + +Hewers of wood and drawers of water there must be always indeed among us. +Our modern machinery has not much lightened the labour of man after all: +but at least let the pitcher that stands by the well be beautiful and +surely the labour of the day will be lightened: let the wood be made +receptive of some lovely form, some gracious design, and there will come +no longer discontent but joy to the toiler. For what is decoration but +the worker's expression of joy in his work? And not joy merely--that is +a great thing yet not enough--but that opportunity of expressing his own +individuality which, as it is the essence of all life, is the source of +all art. 'I have tried,' I remember William Morris saying to me once, 'I +have tried to make each of my workers an artist, and when I say an artist +I mean a man.' For the worker then, handicraftsman of whatever kind he +is, art is no longer to be a purple robe woven by a slave and thrown over +the whitened body of a leprous king to hide and to adorn the sin of his +luxury, but rather the beautiful and noble expression of a life that has +in it something beautiful and noble. + +And so you must seek out your workman and give him, as far as possible, +the right surroundings, for remember that the real test and virtue of a +workman is not his earnestness nor his industry even, but his power of +design merely; and that 'design is not the offspring of idle fancy: it is +the studied result of accumulative observation and delightful habit.' All +the teaching in the world is of no avail if you do not surround your +workman with happy influences and with beautiful things. It is +impossible for him to have right ideas about colour unless he sees the +lovely colours of Nature unspoiled; impossible for him to supply +beautiful incident and action unless he sees beautiful incident and +action in the world about him. + +For to cultivate sympathy you must be among living things and thinking +about them, and to cultivate admiration you must be among beautiful +things and looking at them. 'The steel of Toledo and the silk of Genoa +did but give strength to oppression and lustre to pride,' as Mr. Ruskin +says; let it be for you to create an art that is made by the hands of the +people for the joy of the people, to please the hearts of the people, +too; an art that will be your expression of your delight in life. There +is nothing 'in common life too mean, in common things too trivial to be +ennobled by your touch'; nothing in life that art cannot sanctify. + +You have heard, I think, a few of you, of two flowers connected with the +aesthetic movement in England, and said (I assure you, erroneously) to be +the food of some aesthetic young men. Well, let me tell you that the +reason we love the lily and the sunflower, in spite of what Mr. Gilbert +may tell you, is not for any vegetable fashion at all. It is because +these two lovely flowers are in England the two most perfect models of +design, the most naturally adapted for decorative art--the gaudy leonine +beauty of the one and the precious loveliness of the other giving to the +artist the most entire and perfect joy. And so with you: let there be no +flower in your meadows that does not wreathe its tendrils around your +pillows, no little leaf in your Titan forests that does not lend its form +to design, no curving spray of wild rose or brier that does not live for +ever in carven arch or window or marble, no bird in your air that is not +giving the iridescent wonder of its colour, the exquisite curves of its +wings in flight, to make more precious the preciousness of simple +adornment. For the voices that have their dwelling in sea and mountain +are not the chosen music of liberty only. Other messages are there in +the wonder of wind-swept heights and the majesty of silent deep--messages +that, if you will listen to them, will give you the wonder of all new +imagination, the treasure of all new beauty. + +We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret of life. +Well, the secret of life is in art. + + + + +HOUSE DECORATION + + +A lecture delivered in America during Wilde's tour in 1882. It was +announced as a lecture on 'The Practical Application of the Principles of +the AEsthetic Theory to Exterior and Interior House Decoration, With +Observations upon Dress and Personal Ornaments.' The earliest date on +which it is known to have been given is May 11, 1882. + +In my last lecture I gave you something of the history of Art in England. +I sought to trace the influence of the French Revolution upon its +development. I said something of the song of Keats and the school of the +pre-Raphaelites. But I do not want to shelter the movement, which I have +called the English Renaissance, under any palladium however noble, or any +name however revered. The roots of it have, indeed, to be sought for in +things that have long passed away, and not, as some suppose, in the fancy +of a few young men--although I am not altogether sure that there is +anything much better than the fancy of a few young men. + +When I appeared before you on a previous occasion, I had seen nothing of +American art save the Doric columns and Corinthian chimney-pots visible +on your Broadway and Fifth Avenue. Since then, I have been through your +country to some fifty or sixty different cities, I think. I find that +what your people need is not so much high imaginative art but that which +hallows the vessels of everyday use. I suppose that the poet will sing +and the artist will paint regardless whether the world praises or blames. +He has his own world and is independent of his fellow-men. But the +handicraftsman is dependent on your pleasure and opinion. He needs your +encouragement and he must have beautiful surroundings. Your people love +art but do not sufficiently honour the handicraftsman. Of course, those +millionaires who can pillage Europe for their pleasure need have no care +to encourage such; but I speak for those whose desire for beautiful +things is larger than their means. I find that one great trouble all +over is that your workmen are not given to noble designs. You cannot be +indifferent to this, because Art is not something which you can take or +leave. It is a necessity of human life. + +And what is the meaning of this beautiful decoration which we call art? +In the first place, it means value to the workman and it means the +pleasure which he must necessarily take in making a beautiful thing. The +mark of all good art is not that the thing done is done exactly or +finely, for machinery may do as much, but that it is worked out with the +head and the workman's heart. I cannot impress the point too frequently +that beautiful and rational designs are necessary in all work. I did not +imagine, until I went into some of your simpler cities, that there was so +much bad work done. I found, where I went, bad wall-papers horribly +designed, and coloured carpets, and that old offender the horse-hair +sofa, whose stolid look of indifference is always so depressing. I found +meaningless chandeliers and machine-made furniture, generally of +rosewood, which creaked dismally under the weight of the ubiquitous +interviewer. I came across the small iron stove which they always +persist in decorating with machine-made ornaments, and which is as great +a bore as a wet day or any other particularly dreadful institution. When +unusual extravagance was indulged in, it was garnished with two funeral +urns. + +It must always be remembered that what is well and carefully made by an +honest workman, after a rational design, increases in beauty and value as +the years go on. The old furniture brought over by the Pilgrims, two +hundred years ago, which I saw in New England, is just as good and as +beautiful today as it was when it first came here. Now, what you must do +is to bring artists and handicraftsmen together. Handicraftsmen cannot +live, certainly cannot thrive, without such companionship. Separate +these two and you rob art of all spiritual motive. + +Having done this, you must place your workman in the midst of beautiful +surroundings. The artist is not dependent on the visible and the +tangible. He has his visions and his dreams to feed on. But the workman +must see lovely forms as he goes to his work in the morning and returns +at eventide. And, in connection with this, I want to assure you that +noble and beautiful designs are never the result of idle fancy or +purposeless day-dreaming. They come only as the accumulation of habits +of long and delightful observation. And yet such things may not be +taught. Right ideas concerning them can certainly be obtained only by +those who have been accustomed to rooms that are beautiful and colours +that are satisfying. + +Perhaps one of the most difficult things for us to do is to choose a +notable and joyous dress for men. There would be more joy in life if we +were to accustom ourselves to use all the beautiful colours we can in +fashioning our own clothes. The dress of the future, I think, will use +drapery to a great extent and will abound with joyous colour. At present +we have lost all nobility of dress and, in doing so, have almost +annihilated the modern sculptor. And, in looking around at the figures +which adorn our parks, one could almost wish that we had completely +killed the noble art. To see the frockcoat of the drawing-room done in +bronze, or the double waistcoat perpetuated in marble, adds a new horror +to death. But indeed, in looking through the history of costume, seeking +an answer to the questions we have propounded, there is little that is +either beautiful or appropriate. One of the earliest forms is the Greek +drapery which is so exquisite for young girls. And then, I think we may +be pardoned a little enthusiasm over the dress of the time of Charles I., +so beautiful indeed, that in spite of its invention being with the +Cavaliers it was copied by the Puritans. And the dress for the children +of that time must not be passed over. It was a very golden age of the +little ones. I do not think that they have ever looked so lovely as they +do in the pictures of that time. The dress of the last century in +England is also peculiarly gracious and graceful. There is nothing +bizarre or strange about it, but it is full of harmony and beauty. In +these days, when we have suffered so dreadfully from the incursions of +the modern milliner, we hear ladies boast that they do not wear a dress +more than once. In the old days, when the dresses were decorated with +beautiful designs and worked with exquisite embroidery, ladies rather +took a pride in bringing out the garment and wearing it many times and +handing it down to their daughters--a process that would, I think, be +quite appreciated by a modern husband when called upon to settle his +wife's bills. + +And how shall men dress? Men say that they do not particularly care how +they dress, and that it is little matter. I am bound to reply that I do +not think that you do. In all my journeys through the country, the only +well-dressed men that I saw--and in saying this I earnestly deprecate the +polished indignation of your Fifth Avenue dandies--were the Western +miners. Their wide-brimmed hats, which shaded their faces from the sun +and protected them from the rain, and the cloak, which is by far the most +beautiful piece of drapery ever invented, may well be dwelt on with +admiration. Their high boots, too, were sensible and practical. They +wore only what was comfortable, and therefore beautiful. As I looked at +them I could not help thinking with regret of the time when these +picturesque miners would have made their fortunes and would go East to +assume again all the abominations of modern fashionable attire. Indeed, +so concerned was I that I made some of them promise that when they again +appeared in the more crowded scenes of Eastern civilisation they would +still continue to wear their lovely costume. But I do not believe they +will. + +Now, what America wants today is a school of rational art. Bad art is a +great deal worse than no art at all. You must show your workmen +specimens of good work so that they come to know what is simple and true +and beautiful. To that end I would have you have a museum attached to +these schools--not one of those dreadful modern institutions where there +is a stuffed and very dusty giraffe, and a case or two of fossils, but a +place where there are gathered examples of art decoration from various +periods and countries. Such a place is the South Kensington Museum in +London whereon we build greater hopes for the future than on any other +one thing. There I go every Saturday night, when the museum is open +later than usual, to see the handicraftsman, the wood-worker, the glass- +blower and the worker in metals. And it is here that the man of +refinement and culture comes face to face with the workman who ministers +to his joy. He comes to know more of the nobility of the workman, and +the workman, feeling the appreciation, comes to know more of the nobility +of his work. + +You have too many white walls. More colour is wanted. You should have +such men as Whistler among you to teach you the beauty and joy of colour. +Take Mr. Whistler's 'Symphony in White,' which you no doubt have imagined +to be something quite bizarre. It is nothing of the sort. Think of a +cool grey sky flecked here and there with white clouds, a grey ocean and +three wonderfully beautiful figures robed in white, leaning over the +water and dropping white flowers from their fingers. Here is no +extensive intellectual scheme to trouble you, and no metaphysics of which +we have had quite enough in art. But if the simple and unaided colour +strike the right keynote, the whole conception is made clear. I regard +Mr. Whistler's famous Peacock Room as the finest thing in colour and art +decoration which the world has known since Correggio painted that +wonderful room in Italy where the little children are dancing on the +walls. Mr. Whistler finished another room just before I came away--a +breakfast room in blue and yellow. The ceiling was a light blue, the +cabinet-work and the furniture were of a yellow wood, the curtains at the +windows were white and worked in yellow, and when the table was set for +breakfast with dainty blue china nothing can be conceived at once so +simple and so joyous. + +The fault which I have observed in most of your rooms is that there is +apparent no definite scheme of colour. Everything is not attuned to a +key-note as it should be. The apartments are crowded with pretty things +which have no relation to one another. Again, your artists must decorate +what is more simply useful. In your art schools I found no attempt to +decorate such things as the vessels for water. I know of nothing uglier +than the ordinary jug or pitcher. A museum could be filled with the +different kinds of water vessels which are used in hot countries. Yet we +continue to submit to the depressing jug with the handle all on one side. +I do not see the wisdom of decorating dinner-plates with sunsets and soup- +plates with moonlight scenes. I do not think it adds anything to the +pleasure of the canvas-back duck to take it out of such glories. Besides, +we do not want a soup-plate whose bottom seems to vanish in the distance. +One feels neither safe nor comfortable under such conditions. In fact, I +did not find in the art schools of the country that the difference was +explained between decorative and imaginative art. + +The conditions of art should be simple. A great deal more depends upon +the heart than upon the head. Appreciation of art is not secured by any +elaborate scheme of learning. Art requires a good healthy atmosphere. +The motives for art are still around about us as they were round about +the ancients. And the subjects are also easily found by the earnest +sculptor and the painter. Nothing is more picturesque and graceful than +a man at work. The artist who goes to the children's playground, watches +them at their sport and sees the boy stop to tie his shoe, will find the +same themes that engaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and such +observation and the illustrations which follow will do much to correct +that foolish impression that mental and physical beauty are always +divorced. + +To you, more than perhaps to any other country, has Nature been generous +in furnishing material for art workers to work in. You have marble +quarries where the stone is more beautiful in colour than any the Greeks +ever had for their beautiful work, and yet day after day I am confronted +with the great building of some stupid man who has used the beautiful +material as if it were not precious almost beyond speech. Marble should +not be used save by noble workmen. There is nothing which gave me a +greater sense of barrenness in travelling through the country than the +entire absence of wood carving on your houses. Wood carving is the +simplest of the decorative arts. In Switzerland the little barefooted +boy beautifies the porch of his father's house with examples of skill in +this direction. Why should not American boys do a great deal more and +better than Swiss boys? + +There is nothing to my mind more coarse in conception and more vulgar in +execution than modern jewellery. This is something that can easily be +corrected. Something better should be made out of the beautiful gold +which is stored up in your mountain hollows and strewn along your river +beds. When I was at Leadville and reflected that all the shining silver +that I saw coming from the mines would be made into ugly dollars, it made +me sad. It should be made into something more permanent. The golden +gates at Florence are as beautiful today as when Michael Angelo saw them. + +We should see more of the workman than we do. We should not be content +to have the salesman stand between us--the salesman who knows nothing of +what he is selling save that he is charging a great deal too much for it. +And watching the workman will teach that most important lesson--the +nobility of all rational workmanship. + +I said in my last lecture that art would create a new brotherhood among +men by furnishing a universal language. I said that under its beneficent +influences war might pass away. Thinking this, what place can I ascribe +to art in our education? If children grow up among all fair and lovely +things, they will grow to love beauty and detest ugliness before they +know the reason why. If you go into a house where everything is coarse, +you find things chipped and broken and unsightly. Nobody exercises any +care. If everything is dainty and delicate, gentleness and refinement of +manner are unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Francisco I used to +visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. There I used to watch a great +hulking Chinese workman at his task of digging, and used to see him every +day drink his tea from a little cup as delicate in texture as the petal +of a flower, whereas in all the grand hotels of the land, where thousands +of dollars have been lavished on great gilt mirrors and gaudy columns, I +have been given my coffee or my chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter +thick. I think I have deserved something nicer. + +The art systems of the past have been devised by philosophers who looked +upon human beings as obstructions. They have tried to educate boys' +minds before they had any. How much better it would be in these early +years to teach children to use their hands in the rational service of +mankind. I would have a workshop attached to every school, and one hour +a day given up to the teaching of simple decorative arts. It would be a +golden hour to the children. And you would soon raise up a race of +handicraftsmen who would transform the face of your country. I have seen +only one such school in the United States, and this was in Philadelphia +and was founded by my friend Mr. Leyland. I stopped there yesterday and +have brought some of the work here this afternoon to show you. Here are +two discs of beaten brass: the designs on them are beautiful, the +workmanship is simple, and the entire result is satisfactory. The work +was done by a little boy twelve years old. This is a wooden bowl +decorated by a little girl of thirteen. The design is lovely and the +colouring delicate and pretty. Here you see a piece of beautiful wood +carving accomplished by a little boy of nine. In such work as this, +children learn sincerity in art. They learn to abhor the liar in art--the +man who paints wood to look like iron, or iron to look like stone. It is +a practical school of morals. No better way is there to learn to love +Nature than to understand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field. +And, the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a bird on the wing +becomes when transferred to wood or canvas will probably not throw the +customary stone. What we want is something spiritual added to life. +Nothing is so ignoble that Art cannot sanctify it. + + + + +ART AND THE HANDICRAFTSMAN + + +The fragments of which this lecture is composed are taken entirely from +the original manuscripts which have but recently been discovered. It is +not certain that they all belong to the same lecture, nor that all were +written at the same period. Some portions were written in Philadelphia +in 1882. + +People often talk as if there was an opposition between what is beautiful +and what is useful. There is no opposition to beauty except ugliness: +all things are either beautiful or ugly, and utility will be always on +the side of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is always +on the side of the beautiful thing, because beautiful decoration is +always an expression of the use you put a thing to and the value placed +on it. No workman will beautifully decorate bad work, nor can you +possibly get good handicraftsmen or workmen without having beautiful +designs. You should be quite sure of that. If you have poor and +worthless designs in any craft or trade you will get poor and worthless +workmen only, but the minute you have noble and beautiful designs, then +you get men of power and intellect and feeling to work for you. By +having good designs you have workmen who work not merely with their hands +but with their hearts and heads too; otherwise you will get merely the +fool or the loafer to work for you. + +That the beauty of life is a thing of no moment, I suppose few people +would venture to assert. And yet most civilised people act as if it were +of none, and in so doing are wronging both themselves and those that are +to come after them. For that beauty which is meant by art is no mere +accident of human life which people can take or leave, but a positive +necessity of life if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is to say +unless we are content to be less than men. + +Do not think that the commercial spirit which is the basis of your life +and cities here is opposed to art. Who built the beautiful cities of the +world but commercial men and commercial men only? Genoa built by its +traders, Florence by its bankers, and Venice, most lovely of all, by its +noble and honest merchants. + +I do not wish you, remember, 'to build a new Pisa,' nor to bring 'the +life or the decorations of the thirteenth century back again.' 'The +circumstances with which you must surround your workmen are those' of +modern American life, 'because the designs you have now to ask for from +your workmen are such as will make modern' American 'life beautiful.' The +art we want is the art based on all the inventions of modern +civilisation, and to suit all the needs of nineteenth century life. + +Do you think, for instance, that we object to machinery? I tell you we +reverence it; we reverence it when it does its proper work, when it +relieves man from ignoble and soulless labour, not when it seeks to do +that which is valuable only when wrought by the hands and hearts of men. +Let us have no machine-made ornament at all; it is all bad and worthless +and ugly. And let us not mistake the means of civilisation for the end +of civilisation; steam-engine, telephone and the like, are all wonderful, +but remember that their value depends entirely on the noble uses we make +of them, on the noble spirit in which we employ them, not on the things +themselves. + +It is, no doubt, a great advantage to talk to a man at the Antipodes +through a telephone; its advantage depends entirely on the value of what +the two men have to say to one another. If one merely shrieks slander +through a tube and the other whispers folly into a wire, do not think +that anybody is very much benefited by the invention. + +The train that whirls an ordinary Englishman through Italy at the rate of +forty miles an hour and finally sends him home without any memory of that +lovely country but that he was cheated by a courier at Rome, or that he +got a bad dinner at Verona, does not do him or civilisation much good. +But that swift legion of fiery-footed engines that bore to the burning +ruins of Chicago the loving help and generous treasure of the world was +as noble and as beautiful as any golden troop of angels that ever fed the +hungry and clothed the naked in the antique times. As beautiful, yes; +all machinery may be beautiful when it is undecorated even. Do not seek +to decorate it. We cannot but think all good machinery is graceful, +also, the line of strength and the line of beauty being one. + +Give then, as I said, to your workmen of today the bright and noble +surroundings that you can yourself create. Stately and simple +architecture for your cities, bright and simple dress for your men and +women; those are the conditions of a real artistic movement. For the +artist is not concerned primarily with any theory of life but with life +itself, with the joy and loveliness that should come daily on eye and ear +for a beautiful external world. + +But the simplicity must not be barrenness nor the bright colour gaudy. +For all beautiful colours are graduated colours, the colours that seem +about to pass into one another's realm--colour without tone being like +music without harmony, mere discord. Barren architecture, the vulgar and +glaring advertisements that desecrate not merely your cities but every +rock and river that I have seen yet in America--all this is not enough. A +school of design we must have too in each city. It should be a stately +and noble building, full of the best examples of the best art of the +world. Furthermore, do not put your designers in a barren whitewashed +room and bid them work in that depressing and colourless atmosphere as I +have seen many of the American schools of design, but give them beautiful +surroundings. Because you want to produce a permanent canon and standard +of taste in your workman, he must have always by him and before him +specimens of the best decorative art of the world, so that you can say to +him: 'This is good work. Greek or Italian or Japanese wrought it so many +years ago, but it is eternally young because eternally beautiful.' Work +in this spirit and you will be sure to be right. Do not copy it, but +work with the same love, the same reverence, the same freedom of +imagination. You must teach him colour and design, how all beautiful +colours are graduated colours and glaring colours the essence of +vulgarity. Show him the quality of any beautiful work of nature like the +rose, or any beautiful work of art like an Eastern carpet--being merely +the exquisite graduation of colour, one tone answering another like the +answering chords of a symphony. Teach him how the true designer is not +he who makes the design and then colours it, but he who designs in +colour, creates in colour, thinks in colour too. Show him how the most +gorgeous stained glass windows of Europe are filled with white glass, and +the most gorgeous Eastern tapestry with toned colours--the primary +colours in both places being set in the white glass, and the tone colours +like brilliant jewels set in dusky gold. And then as regards design, +show him how the real designer will take first any given limited space, +little disk of silver, it may be, like a Greek coin, or wide expanse of +fretted ceiling or lordly wall as Tintoret chose at Venice (it does not +matter which), and to this limited space--the first condition of +decoration being the limitation of the size of the material used--he will +give the effect of its being filled with beautiful decoration, filled +with it as a golden cup will be filled with wine, so complete that you +should not be able to take away anything from it or add anything to it. +For from a good piece of design you can take away nothing, nor can you +add anything to it, each little bit of design being as absolutely +necessary and as vitally important to the whole effect as a note or chord +of music is for a sonata of Beethoven. + +But I said the effect of its being so filled, because this, again, is of +the essence of good design. With a simple spray of leaves and a bird in +flight a Japanese artist will give you the impression that he has +completely covered with lovely design the reed fan or lacquer cabinet at +which he is working, merely because he knows the exact spot in which to +place them. All good design depends on the texture of the utensil used +and the use you wish to put it to. One of the first things I saw in an +American school of design was a young lady painting a romantic moonlight +landscape on a large round dish, and another young lady covering a set of +dinner plates with a series of sunsets of the most remarkable colours. +Let your ladies paint moonlight landscapes and sunsets, but do not let +them paint them on dinner plates or dishes. Let them take canvas or +paper for such work, but not clay or china. They are merely painting the +wrong subjects on the wrong material, that is all. They have not been +taught that every material and texture has certain qualities of its own. +The design suitable for one is quite wrong for the other, just as the +design which you should work on a flat table-cover ought to be quite +different from the design you would work on a curtain, for the one will +always be straight, the other broken into folds; and the use too one puts +the object to should guide one in the choice of design. One does not +want to eat one's terrapins off a romantic moonlight nor one's clams off +a harrowing sunset. Glory of sun and moon, let them be wrought for us by +our landscape artist and be on the walls of the rooms we sit in to remind +us of the undying beauty of the sunsets that fade and die, but do not let +us eat our soup off them and send them down to the kitchen twice a day to +be washed and scrubbed by the handmaid. + +All these things are simple enough, yet nearly always forgotten. Your +school of design here will teach your girls and your boys, your +handicraftsmen of the future (for all your schools of art should be local +schools, the schools of particular cities). We talk of the Italian +school of painting, but there is no Italian school; there were the +schools of each city. Every town in Italy, from Venice itself, queen of +the sea, to the little hill fortress of Perugia, each had its own school +of art, each different and all beautiful. + +So do not mind what art Philadelphia or New York is having, but make by +the hands of your own citizens beautiful art for the joy of your own +citizens, for you have here the primary elements of a great artistic +movement. + +For, believe me, the conditions of art are much simpler than people +imagine. For the noblest art one requires a clear healthy atmosphere, +not polluted as the air of our English cities is by the smoke and grime +and horridness which comes from open furnace and from factory chimney. +You must have strong, sane, healthy physique among your men and women. +Sickly or idle or melancholy people do not do much in art. And lastly, +you require a sense of individualism about each man and woman, for this +is the essence of art--a desire on the part of man to express himself in +the noblest way possible. And this is the reason that the grandest art +of the world always came from a republic, Athens, Venice, and +Florence--there were no kings there and so their art was as noble and +simple as sincere. But if you want to know what kind of art the folly of +kings will impose on a country look at the decorative art of France under +the grand monarch, under Louis the Fourteenth; the gaudy gilt furniture +writhing under a sense of its own horror and ugliness, with a nymph +smirking at every angle and a dragon mouthing on every claw. Unreal and +monstrous art this, and fit only for such periwigged pomposities as the +nobility of France at that time, but not at all fit for you or me. We do +not want the rich to possess more beautiful things but the poor to create +more beautiful things; for every man is poor who cannot create. Nor +shall the art which you and I need be merely a purple robe woven by a +slave and thrown over the whitened body of some leprous king to adorn or +to conceal the sin of his luxury, but rather shall it be the noble and +beautiful expression of a people's noble and beautiful life. Art shall +be again the most glorious of all the chords through which the spirit of +a great nation finds its noblest utterance. + +All around you, I said, lie the conditions for a great artistic movement +for every great art. Let us think of one of them; a sculptor, for +instance. + +If a modern sculptor were to come and say, 'Very well, but where can one +find subjects for sculpture out of men who wear frock-coats and chimney- +pot hats?' I would tell him to go to the docks of a great city and watch +the men loading or unloading the stately ships, working at wheel or +windlass, hauling at rope or gangway. I have never watched a man do +anything useful who has not been graceful at some moment of his labour; +it is only the loafer and the idle saunterer who is as useless and +uninteresting to the artist as he is to himself. I would ask the +sculptor to go with me to any of your schools or universities, to the +running ground and gymnasium, to watch the young men start for a race, +hurling quoit or club, kneeling to tie their shoes before leaping, +stepping from the boat or bending to the oar, and to carve them; and when +he was weary of cities I would ask him to come to your fields and meadows +to watch the reaper with his sickle and the cattle driver with lifted +lasso. For if a man cannot find the noblest motives for his art in such +simple daily things as a woman drawing water from the well or a man +leaning with his scythe, he will not find them anywhere at all. Gods and +goddesses the Greek carved because he loved them; saint and king the Goth +because he believed in them. But you, you do not care much for Greek +gods and goddesses, and you are perfectly and entirely right; and you do +not think much of kings either, and you are quite right. But what you do +love are your own men and women, your own flowers and fields, your own +hills and mountains, and these are what your art should represent to you. + +Ours has been the first movement which has brought the handicraftsman and +the artist together, for remember that by separating the one from the +other you do ruin to both; you rob the one of all spiritual motive and +all imaginative joy, you isolate the other from all real technical +perfection. The two greatest schools of art in the world, the sculptor +at Athens and the school of painting at Venice, had their origin entirely +in a long succession of simple and earnest handicraftsmen. It was the +Greek potter who taught the sculptor that restraining influence of design +which was the glory of the Parthenon; it was the Italian decorator of +chests and household goods who kept Venetian painting always true to its +primary pictorial condition of noble colour. For we should remember that +all the arts are fine arts and all the arts decorative arts. The +greatest triumph of Italian painting was the decoration of a pope's +chapel in Rome and the wall of a room in Venice. Michael Angelo wrought +the one, and Tintoret, the dyer's son, the other. And the little 'Dutch +landscape, which you put over your sideboard today, and between the +windows tomorrow, is' no less a glorious 'piece of work than the extents +of field and forest with which Benozzo has made green and beautiful the +once melancholy arcade of the Campo Santo at Pisa,' as Ruskin says. + +Do not imitate the works of a nation, Greek or Japanese, Italian or +English; but their artistic spirit of design and their artistic attitude +today, their own world, you should absorb but imitate never, copy never. +Unless you can make as beautiful a design in painted china or embroidered +screen or beaten brass out of your American turkey as the Japanese does +out of his grey silver-winged stork, you will never do anything. Let the +Greek carve his lions and the Goth his dragons: buffalo and wild deer are +the animals for you. + +Golden rod and aster and rose and all the flowers that cover your valleys +in the spring and your hills in the autumn: let them be the flowers for +your art. Not merely has Nature given you the noblest motives for a new +school of decoration, but to you above all other countries has she given +the utensils to work in. + +You have quarries of marble richer than Pantelicus, more varied than +Paros, but do not build a great white square house of marble and think +that it is beautiful, or that you are using marble nobly. If you build +in marble you must either carve it into joyous decoration, like the lives +of dancing children that adorn the marble castles of the Loire, or fill +it with beautiful sculpture, frieze and pediment, as the Greeks did, or +inlay it with other coloured marbles as they did in Venice. Otherwise +you had better build in simple red brick as your Puritan fathers, with no +pretence and with some beauty. Do not treat your marble as if it was +ordinary stone and build a house of mere blocks of it. For it is indeed +a precious stone, this marble of yours, and only workmen of nobility of +invention and delicacy of hand should be allowed to touch it at all, +carving it into noble statues or into beautiful decoration, or inlaying +it with other coloured marbles: for the true colours of architecture are +those of natural stone, and I would fain see them taken advantage of to +the full. Every variety is here, from pale yellow to purple passing +through orange, red and brown, entirely at your command; nearly every +kind of green and grey also is attainable, and with these and with pure +white what harmony might you not achieve. Of stained and variegated +stone the quantity is unlimited, the kinds innumerable. Were brighter +colours required, let glass, and gold protected by glass, be used in +mosaic, a kind of work as durable as the solid stone and incapable of +losing its lustre by time. And let the painter's work be reserved for +the shadowed loggia and inner chamber. + +This is the true and faithful way of building. Where this cannot be, the +device of external colouring may indeed be employed without dishonour--but +it must be with the warning reflection that a time will come when such +aids will pass away and when the building will be judged in its +lifelessness, dying the death of the dolphin. Better the less bright, +more enduring fabric. The transparent alabasters of San Miniato and the +mosaics of Saint Mark's are more warmly filled and more brightly touched +by every return of morning and evening rays, while the hues of the Gothic +cathedrals have died like the iris out of the cloud, and the temples, +whose azure and purple once flamed above the Grecian promontory, stand in +their faded whiteness like snows which the sunset has left cold. + +* * * * * + +I do not know anything so perfectly commonplace in design as most modern +jewellery. How easy for you to change that and to produce goldsmiths' +work that would be a joy to all of us. The gold is ready for you in +unexhausted treasure, stored up in the mountain hollow or strewn on the +river sand, and was not given to you merely for barren speculation. There +should be some better record of it left in your history than the +merchant's panic and the ruined home. We do not remember often enough +how constantly the history of a great nation will live in and by its art. +Only a few thin wreaths of beaten gold remain to tell us of the stately +empire of Etruria; and, while from the streets of Florence the noble +knight and haughty duke have long since passed away, the gates which the +simple goldsmith Gheberti made for their pleasure still guard their +lovely house of baptism, worthy still of the praise of Michael Angelo who +called them worthy to be the Gates of Paradise. + +Have then your school of design, search out your workmen and, when you +find one who has delicacy of hand and that wonder of invention necessary +for goldsmiths' work, do not leave him to toil in obscurity and dishonour +and have a great glaring shop and two great glaring shop-boys in it (not +to take your orders: they never do that; but to force you to buy +something you do not want at all). When you want a thing wrought in +gold, goblet or shield for the feast, necklace or wreath for the women, +tell him what you like most in decoration, flower or wreath, bird in +flight or hound in the chase, image of the woman you love or the friend +you honour. Watch him as he beats out the gold into those thin plates +delicate as the petals of a yellow rose, or draws it into the long wires +like tangled sunbeams at dawn. Whoever that workman be help him, cherish +him, and you will have such lovely work from his hand as will be a joy to +you for all time. + +This is the spirit of our movement in England, and this is the spirit in +which we would wish you to work, making eternal by your art all that is +noble in your men and women, stately in your lakes and mountains, +beautiful in your own flowers and natural life. We want to see that you +have nothing in your houses that has not been a joy to the man who made +it, and is not a joy to those that use it. We want to see you create an +art made by the hands of the people to please the hearts of the people +too. Do you like this spirit or not? Do you think it simple and strong, +noble in its aim, and beautiful in its result? I know you do. + +Folly and slander have their own way for a little time, but for a little +time only. You now know what we mean: you will be able to estimate what +is said of us--its value and its motive. + +There should be a law that no ordinary newspaper should be allowed to +write about art. The harm they do by their foolish and random writing it +would be impossible to overestimate--not to the artist but to the public, +blinding them to all, but harming the artist not at all. Without them we +would judge a man simply by his work; but at present the newspapers are +trying hard to induce the public to judge a sculptor, for instance, never +by his statues but by the way he treats his wife; a painter by the amount +of his income and a poet by the colour of his necktie. I said there +should be a law, but there is really no necessity for a new law: nothing +could be easier than to bring the ordinary critic under the head of the +criminal classes. But let us leave such an inartistic subject and return +to beautiful and comely things, remembering that the art which would +represent the spirit of modern newspapers would be exactly the art which +you and I want to avoid--grotesque art, malice mocking you from every +gateway, slander sneering at you from every corner. + +Perhaps you may be surprised at my talking of labour and the workman. You +have heard of me, I fear, through the medium of your somewhat imaginative +newspapers as, if not a 'Japanese young man,' at least a young man to +whom the rush and clamour and reality of the modern world were +distasteful, and whose greatest difficulty in life was the difficulty of +living up to the level of his blue china--a paradox from which England +has not yet recovered. + +Well, let me tell you how it first came to me at all to create an +artistic movement in England, a movement to show the rich what beautiful +things they might enjoy and the poor what beautiful things they might +create. + +One summer afternoon in Oxford--'that sweet city with her dreaming +spires,' lovely as Venice in its splendour, noble in its learning as +Rome, down the long High Street that winds from tower to tower, past +silent cloister and stately gateway, till it reaches that long, grey +seven-arched bridge which Saint Mary used to guard (used to, I say, +because they are now pulling it down to build a tramway and a light cast- +iron bridge in its place, desecrating the loveliest city in +England)--well, we were coming down the street--a troop of young men, +some of them like myself only nineteen, going to river or tennis-court or +cricket-field--when Ruskin going up to lecture in cap and gown met us. He +seemed troubled and prayed us to go back with him to his lecture, which a +few of us did, and there he spoke to us not on art this time but on life, +saying that it seemed to him to be wrong that all the best physique and +strength of the young men in England should be spent aimlessly on cricket- +ground or river, without any result at all except that if one rowed well +one got a pewter-pot, and if one made a good score, a cane-handled bat. +He thought, he said, that we should be working at something that would do +good to other people, at something by which we might show that in all +labour there was something noble. Well, we were a good deal moved, and +said we would do anything he wished. So he went out round Oxford and +found two villages, Upper and Lower Hinksey, and between them there lay a +great swamp, so that the villagers could not pass from one to the other +without many miles of a round. And when we came back in winter he asked +us to help him to make a road across this morass for these village people +to use. So out we went, day after day, and learned how to lay levels and +to break stones, and to wheel barrows along a plank--a very difficult +thing to do. And Ruskin worked with us in the mist and rain and mud of +an Oxford winter, and our friends and our enemies came out and mocked us +from the bank. We did not mind it much then, and we did not mind it +afterwards at all, but worked away for two months at our road. And what +became of the road? Well, like a bad lecture it ended abruptly--in the +middle of the swamp. Ruskin going away to Venice, when we came back for +the next term there was no leader, and the 'diggers,' as they called us, +fell asunder. And I felt that if there was enough spirit amongst the +young men to go out to such work as road-making for the sake of a noble +ideal of life, I could from them create an artistic movement that might +change, as it has changed, the face of England. So I sought them +out--leader they would call me--but there was no leader: we were all +searchers only and we were bound to each other by noble friendship and by +noble art. There was none of us idle: poets most of us, so ambitious +were we: painters some of us, or workers in metal or modellers, +determined that we would try and create for ourselves beautiful work: for +the handicraftsman beautiful work, for those who love us poems and +pictures, for those who love us not epigrams and paradoxes and scorn. + +Well, we have done something in England and we will do something more. +Now, I do not want you, believe me, to ask your brilliant young men, your +beautiful young girls, to go out and make a road on a swamp for any +village in America, but I think you might each of you have some art to +practise. + +* * * * * + +We must have, as Emerson said, a mechanical craft for our culture, a +basis for our higher accomplishments in the work of our hands--the +uselessness of most people's hands seems to me one of the most +unpractical things. 'No separation from labour can be without some loss +of power or truth to the seer,' says Emerson again. The heroism which +would make on us the impression of Epaminondas must be that of a domestic +conqueror. The hero of the future is he who shall bravely and gracefully +subdue this Gorgon of fashion and of convention. + +When you have chosen your own part, abide by it, and do not weakly try +and reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be the common +nor the common the heroic. Congratulate yourself if you have done +something strange and extravagant and broken the monotony of a decorous +age. + +And lastly, let us remember that art is the one thing which Death cannot +harm. The little house at Concord may be desolate, but the wisdom of New +England's Plato is not silenced nor the brilliancy of that Attic genius +dimmed: the lips of Longfellow are still musical for us though his dust +be turning into the flowers which he loved: and as it is with the greater +artists, poet and philosopher and songbird, so let it be with you. + + + + +LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS + + +Delivered to the Art students of the Royal Academy at their Club in +Golden Square, Westminster, on June 30, 1883. The text is taken from the +original manuscript. + +In the lecture which it is my privilege to deliver before you to-night I +do not desire to give you any abstract definition of beauty at all. For, +we who are working in art cannot accept any theory of beauty in exchange +for beauty itself, and, so far from desiring to isolate it in a formula +appealing to the intellect, we, on the contrary, seek to materialise it +in a form that gives joy to the soul through the senses. We want to +create it, not to define it. The definition should follow the work: the +work should not adapt itself to the definition. + +Nothing, indeed, is more dangerous to the young artist than any +conception of ideal beauty: he is constantly led by it either into weak +prettiness or lifeless abstraction: whereas to touch the ideal at all you +must not strip it of vitality. You must find it in life and re-create it +in art. + +While, then, on the one hand I do not desire to give you any philosophy +of beauty--for, what I want to-night is to investigate how we can create +art, not how we can talk of it--on the other hand, I do not wish to deal +with anything like a history of English art. + +To begin with, such an expression as English art is a meaningless +expression. One might just as well talk of English mathematics. Art is +the science of beauty, and Mathematics the science of truth: there is no +national school of either. Indeed, a national school is a provincial +school, merely. Nor is there any such thing as a school of art even. +There are merely artists, that is all. + +And as regards histories of art, they are quite valueless to you unless +you are seeking the ostentatious oblivion of an art professorship. It is +of no use to you to know the date of Perugino or the birthplace of +Salvator Rosa: all that you should learn about art is to know a good +picture when you see it, and a bad picture when you see it. As regards +the date of the artist, all good work looks perfectly modern: a piece of +Greek sculpture, a portrait of Velasquez--they are always modern, always +of our time. And as regards the nationality of the artist, art is not +national but universal. As regards archaeology, then, avoid it +altogether: archaeology is merely the science of making excuses for bad +art; it is the rock on which many a young artist founders and shipwrecks; +it is the abyss from which no artist, old or young, ever returns. Or, if +he does return, he is so covered with the dust of ages and the mildew of +time, that he is quite unrecognisable as an artist, and has to conceal +himself for the rest of his days under the cap of a professor, or as a +mere illustrator of ancient history. How worthless archaeology is in art +you can estimate by the fact of its being so popular. Popularity is the +crown of laurel which the world puts on bad art. Whatever is popular is +wrong. + +As I am not going to talk to you, then, about the philosophy of the +beautiful, or the history of art, you will ask me what I am going to talk +about. The subject of my lecture to-night is what makes an artist and +what does the artist make; what are the relations of the artist to his +surroundings, what is the education the artist should get, and what is +the quality of a good work of art. + +Now, as regards the relations of the artist to his surroundings, by which +I mean the age and country in which he is born. All good art, as I said +before, has nothing to do with any particular century; but this +universality is the quality of the work of art; the conditions that +produce that quality are different. And what, I think, you should do is +to realise completely your age in order completely to abstract yourself +from it; remembering that if you are an artist at all, you will be not +the mouthpiece of a century, but the master of eternity; that all art +rests on a principle, and that mere temporal considerations are no +principle at all; and that those who advise you to make your art +representative of the nineteenth century are advising you to produce an +art which your children, when you have them, will think old-fashioned. +But you will tell me this is an inartistic age, and we are an inartistic +people, and the artist suffers much in this nineteenth century of ours. + +Of course he does. I, of all men, am not going to deny that. But +remember that there never has been an artistic age, or an artistic +people, since the beginning of the world. The artist has always been, +and will always be, an exquisite exception. There is no golden age of +art; only artists who have produced what is more golden than gold. + +_What_, you will say to me, the Greeks? were not they an artistic people? + +Well, the Greeks certainly not, but, perhaps, you mean the Athenians, the +citizens of one out of a thousand cities. + +Do you think that they were an artistic people? Take them even at the +time of their highest artistic development, the latter part of the fifth +century before Christ, when they had the greatest poets and the greatest +artists of the antique world, when the Parthenon rose in loveliness at +the bidding of a Phidias, and the philosopher spake of wisdom in the +shadow of the painted portico, and tragedy swept in the perfection of +pageant and pathos across the marble of the stage. Were they an artistic +people then? Not a bit of it. What is an artistic people but a people +who love their artists and understand their art? The Athenians could do +neither. + +How did they treat Phidias? To Phidias we owe the great era, not merely +in Greek, but in all art--I mean of the introduction of the use of the +living model. + +And what would you say if all the English bishops, backed by the English +people, came down from Exeter Hall to the Royal Academy one day and took +off Sir Frederick Leighton in a prison van to Newgate on the charge of +having allowed you to make use of the living model in your designs for +sacred pictures? + +Would you not cry out against the barbarism and the Puritanism of such an +idea? Would you not explain to them that the worst way to honour God is +to dishonour man who is made in His image, and is the work of His hands; +and, that if one wants to paint Christ one must take the most Christlike +person one can find, and if one wants to paint the Madonna, the purest +girl one knows? + +Would you not rush off and burn down Newgate, if necessary, and say that +such a thing was without parallel in history? + +Without parallel? Well, that is exactly what the Athenians did. + +In the room of the Parthenon marbles, in the British Museum, you will see +a marble shield on the wall. On it there are two figures; one of a man +whose face is half hidden, the other of a man with the godlike lineaments +of Pericles. For having done this, for having introduced into a bas +relief, taken from Greek sacred history, the image of the great statesman +who was ruling Athens at the time, Phidias was flung into prison and +there, in the common gaol of Athens, died, the supreme artist of the old +world. + +And do you think that this was an exceptional case? The sign of a +Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art, and this cry was +raised by the Athenian people against every great poet and thinker of +their day--AEschylus, Euripides, Socrates. It was the same with Florence +in the thirteenth century. Good handicrafts are due to guilds not to the +people. The moment the guilds lost their power and the people rushed in, +beauty and honesty of work died. + +And so, never talk of an artistic people; there never has been such a +thing. + +But, perhaps, you will tell me that the external beauty of the world has +almost entirely passed away from us, that the artist dwells no longer in +the midst of the lovely surroundings which, in ages past, were the +natural inheritance of every one, and that art is very difficult in this +unlovely town of ours, where, as you go to your work in the morning, or +return from it at eventide, you have to pass through street after street +of the most foolish and stupid architecture that the world has ever seen; +architecture, where every lovely Greek form is desecrated and defiled, +and every lovely Gothic form defiled and desecrated, reducing +three-fourths of the London houses to being, merely, like square boxes of +the vilest proportions, as gaunt as they are grimy, and as poor as they +are pretentious--the hall door always of the wrong colour, and the +windows of the wrong size, and where, even when wearied of the houses you +turn to contemplate the street itself, you have nothing to look at but +chimney-pot hats, men with sandwich boards, vermilion letterboxes, and do +that even at the risk of being run over by an emerald-green omnibus. + +Is not art difficult, you will say to me, in such surroundings as these? +Of course it is difficult, but then art was never easy; you yourselves +would not wish it to be easy; and, besides, nothing is worth doing except +what the world says is impossible. + +Still, you do not care to be answered merely by a paradox. What are the +relations of the artist to the external world, and what is the result of +the loss of beautiful surroundings to you, is one of the most important +questions of modern art; and there is no point on which Mr. Ruskin so +insists as that the decadence of art has come from the decadence of +beautiful things; and that when the artist can not feed his eye on +beauty, beauty goes from his work. + +I remember in one of his lectures, after describing the sordid aspect of +a great English city, he draws for us a picture of what were the artistic +surroundings long ago. + +Think, he says, in words of perfect and picturesque imagery, whose beauty +I can but feebly echo, think of what was the scene which presented +itself, in his afternoon walk, to a designer of the Gothic school of +Pisa--Nino Pisano or any of his men {317}: + + On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter palaces, + arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and with + serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding troops of + knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse + and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light--the purple, + and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and + clashing mail, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. Opening on each + side from the river were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long + successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of + fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and still along the + garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of the pomegranate + shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women that Italy ever + saw--fairest, because purest and thoughtfullest; trained in all high + knowledge, as in all courteous art--in dance, in song, in sweet wit, + in lofty learning, in loftier courage, in loftiest love--able alike to + cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all this scenery + of perfect human life, rose dome and bell-tower, burning with white + alabaster and gold: beyond dome and bell-tower the slopes of mighty + hills, hoary with olive; far in the north, above a purple sea of peaks + of solemn Apennine, the clear, sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up + their steadfast flames of marble summit into amber sky; the great sea + itself, scorching with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to + the Gorgonian isles; and over all these, ever present, near or + far--seen through the leaves of vine, or imaged with all its march of + clouds in the Arno's stream, or set with its depth of blue close + against the golden hair and burning cheek of lady and knight,--that + untroubled and sacred sky, which was to all men, in those days of + innocent faith, indeed the unquestioned abode of spirits, as the earth + was of men; and which opened straight through its gates of cloud and + veils of dew into the awfulness of the eternal world;--a heaven in + which every cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel, + and every ray of its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of + God. + +What think you of that for a school of design? + +And then look at the depressing, monotonous appearance of any modern +city, the sombre dress of men and women, the meaningless and barren +architecture, the colourless and dreadful surroundings. Without a +beautiful national life, not sculpture merely, but all the arts will die. + +Well, as regards the religious feeling of the close of the passage, I do +not think I need speak about that. Religion springs from religious +feeling, art from artistic feeling: you never get one from the other; +unless you have the right root you will not get the right flower; and, if +a man sees in a cloud the chariot of an angel, he will probably paint it +very unlike a cloud. + +But, as regards the general idea of the early part of that lovely bit of +prose, is it really true that beautiful surroundings are necessary for +the artist? I think not; I am sure not. Indeed, to me the most +inartistic thing in this age of ours is not the indifference of the +public to beautiful things, but the indifference of the artist to the +things that are called ugly. For, to the real artist, nothing is +beautiful or ugly in itself at all. With the facts of the object he has +nothing to do, but with its appearance only, and appearance is a matter +of light and shade, of masses, of position, and of value. + +Appearance is, in fact, a matter of effect merely, and it is with the +effects of nature that you have to deal, not with the real condition of +the object. What you, as painters, have to paint is not things as they +are but things as they seem to be, not things as they are but things as +they are not. + +No object is so ugly that, under certain conditions of light and shade, +or proximity to other things, it will not look beautiful; no object is so +beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly. I +believe that in every twenty-four hours what is beautiful looks ugly, and +what is ugly looks beautiful, once. + +And, the commonplace character of so much of our English painting seems +to me due to the fact that so many of our young artists look merely at +what we may call 'ready-made beauty,' whereas you exist as artists not to +copy beauty but to create it in your art, to wait and watch for it in +nature. + +What would you say of a dramatist who would take nobody but virtuous +people as characters in his play? Would you not say he was missing half +of life? Well, of the young artist who paints nothing but beautiful +things, I say he misses one half of the world. + +Do not wait for life to be picturesque, but try and see life under +picturesque conditions. These conditions you can create for yourself in +your studio, for they are merely conditions of light. In nature, you +must wait for them, watch for them, choose them; and, if you wait and +watch, come they will. + +In Gower Street at night you may see a letterbox that is picturesque; on +the Thames Embankment you may see picturesque policemen. Even Venice is +not always beautiful, nor France. + +To paint what you see is a good rule in art, but to see what is worth +painting is better. See life under pictorial conditions. It is better +to live in a city of changeable weather than in a city of lovely +surroundings. + +Now, having seen what makes the artist, and what the artist makes, who is +the artist? There is a man living amongst us who unites in himself all +the qualities of the noblest art, whose work is a joy for all time, who +is, himself, a master of all time. That man is Mr. Whistler. + +But, you will say, modern dress, that is bad. If you cannot paint black +cloth you could not have painted silken doublet. Ugly dress is better +for art--facts of vision, not of the object. + +What is a picture? Primarily, a picture is a beautifully coloured +surface, merely, with no more spiritual message or meaning for you than +an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a blue tile from the wall of +Damascus. It is, primarily, a purely decorative thing, a delight to look +at. + +All archaeological pictures that make you say 'How curious!' all +sentimental pictures that make you say 'How sad!' all historical pictures +that make you say 'How interesting!' all pictures that do not immediately +give you such artistic joy as to make you say 'How beautiful!' are bad +pictures. + +* * * * * + +We never know what an artist is going to do. Of course not. The artist +is not a specialist. All such divisions as animal painters, landscape +painters, painters of Scotch cattle in an English mist, painters of +English cattle in a Scotch mist, racehorse painters, bull-terrier +painters, all are shallow. If a man is an artist he can paint +everything. + +The object of art is to stir the most divine and remote of the chords +which make music in our soul; and colour is, indeed, of itself a mystical +presence on things, and tone a kind of sentinel. + +Am I pleading, then, for mere technique? No. As long as there are any +signs of technique at all, the picture is unfinished. What is finish? A +picture is finished when all traces of work, and of the means employed to +bring about the result, have disappeared. + +In the case of handicraftsmen--the weaver, the potter, the smith--on +their work are the traces of their hand. But it is not so with the +painter; it is not so with the artist. + +Art should have no sentiment about it but its beauty, no technique except +what you cannot observe. One should be able to say of a picture not that +it is 'well painted,' but that it is 'not painted.' + +What is the difference between absolutely decorative art and a painting? +Decorative art emphasises its material: imaginative art annihilates it. +Tapestry shows its threads as part of its beauty: a picture annihilates +its canvas; it shows nothing of it. Porcelain emphasises its glaze: +water-colours reject the paper. + +A picture has no meaning but its beauty, no message but its joy. That is +the first truth about art that you must never lose sight of. A picture +is a purely decorative thing. + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY BY STUART MASON + + +NOTE + + +Part I. includes all the authorised editions published in England, and +the two French editions of Salome published in Paris. Authorised +editions of some of the works were issued in the United States of America +simultaneously with the English publication. + +Part II. contains the only two 'Privately Printed' editions which are +authorised. + +Part III. is a chronological list of all contributions (so far as at +present known) to magazines, periodicals, etc., the date given being that +of the first publication only. Those marked with an asterisk (*) were +published anonymously. Many of the poems have been included in +anthologies of modern verse, but no attempt has been made to give +particulars of such reprints in this Bibliography. + + + +I.--AUTHORISED ENGLISH EDITIONS + + +NEWDIGATE PRIZE POEM. RAVENNA. Recited in the Theatre, Oxford, June 26, +1878. By OSCAR WILDE, Magdalen College. Oxford: Thos. Shrimpton and +Son, 1878. + +POEMS. London: David Bogue, 1881 (June 30). + +Second and Third Editions, 1881. + +Fourth and Fifth Editions [Revised], 1882. + +220 copies (200 for sale) of the Fifth Edition, with a new title-page and +cover designed by Charles Ricketts. London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, +1892 (May 26). + +THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES. ('The Happy Prince,' 'The Nightingale +and the Rose,' 'The Selfish Giant,' 'The Devoted Friend,' 'The Remarkable +Rocket.') Illustrated by Walter Crane and Jacomb Hood. London: David +Nutt, 1888 (May). + +Also 75 copies (65 for sale) on Large Paper, with the plates in two +states. + +Second Edition, January 1889. + +Third Edition, February 1902. + +Fourth Impression, September 1905. + +Fifth Impression, February 1907. + +INTENTIONS. ('The Decay of Lying,' 'Pen, Pencil, and Poison,' 'The +Critic as Artist,' 'The Truth of Masks.') London: James R. Osgood, +McIlvaine and Co., 1891 (May). New Edition, 1894. + +Edition for Continental circulation only. The English Library, No. 54. +Leipzig: Heinemann and Balestier, 1891. Frequently reprinted. + +THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. London: Ward, Lock and Co. [1891 (July 1).] + +Also 250 copies on Large Paper. Dated 1891. + +[Note.--July 1 is the official date of publication, but presentation +copies signed by the author and dated May 1891 are known.] + +New Edition [1894 (October 1).] London: Ward, Lock and Bowden. + +Reprinted. Paris: Charles Carrington, 1901, 1905, 1908 (January). + +Edition for Continental circulation only. Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, +vol. 4049. 1908 (July). + +LORD ARTHUR SAVILE'S CRIME AND OTHER STORIES. ('Lord Arthur Savile's +Crime,' 'The Sphinx Without a Secret,' 'The Canterville Ghost,' 'The +Model Millionaire.') London: James R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891 +(July). + +A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES. ('The Young King,' 'The Birthday of the +Infanta,' 'The Fisherman and His Soul,' 'The Star Child.') With Designs +and Decorations by Charles Ricketts and C. H. Shannon. London: James R. +Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891 (November). + +SALOME. DRAME EN UN ACTE. Paris: Librairie de l'Art Independant. +Londres: Elkin Mathews et John Lane, 1893 (February 22). + +600 copies (500 for sale) and 25 on Large Paper. + +New Edition. With sixteen Illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley. Paris: +Edition a petit nombre imprimee pour les Souscripteurs. 1907. + +500 copies. + +[Note.--Several editions, containing only a portion of the text, have +been issued for the performance of the Opera by Richard Strauss. London: +Methuen and Co.; Berlin: Adolph Furstner. ] + +LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. A PLAY ABOUT A GOOD WOMAN. London: Elkin Mathews +and John Lane, 1893 (November 8). + +500 copies and 50 on Large Paper. + +Acting Edition. London: Samuel French. (Text Incomplete.) + +SALOME. A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT. Translated from the French [by Lord +Alfred Bruce Douglas.] Pictured by Aubrey Beardsley. London: Elkin +Mathews and John Lane, 1894 (February 9). + +500 copies and 100 on Large Paper. + +With the two suppressed plates and extra title-page. Preface by Robert +Ross. London: John Lane, 1907 (September 1906). + +New Edition (without illustrations). London: John Lane, 1906 (June), +1908. + +THE SPHINX. With Decorations by Charles Ricketts. London: Elkin Mathews +and John Lane, 1894 (July). + +200 copies and 25 on Large Paper. + +A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE. London: John Lane, 1894 (October 9). + +500 copies and 50 on Large Paper. + +THE SOUL OF MAN. London: Privately Printed, 1895. + +[Reprinted from the Fortnightly Review (February 1891), by permission of +the Proprietors, and published by A. L. Humphreys.] + +New Edition. London: Arthur L. Humphreys, 1907. + +Reprinted in Sebastian Melmoth. London: Arthur L. Humphreys, 1904, 1905. + +THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL. By C.3.3. London: Leonard Smithers, 1898 +(February 13). + +800 copies and 30 on Japanese Vellum. + +Second Edition, March 1898. + +Third Edition, 1898. 99 copies only, signed by the author. + +Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Editions, 1898. + +Seventh Edition, 1899. {328a} + +[Note.--The above are printed at the Chiswick Press on handmade paper. +All reprints on ordinary paper are unauthorised.] + +THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. A TRIVIAL COMEDY FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE. BY +THE AUTHOR OF LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. London: Leonard Smithers and Co., +1899 (February). + +1000 copies. Also 100 copies on Large Paper, and 12 on Japanese Vellum. + +Acting Edition. London: Samuel French. (Text Incomplete.) + +AN IDEAL HUSBAND. BY THE AUTHOR OF LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. London: +Leonard Smithers and Co., 1889 (July). + +1000 copies. Also 100 copies on Large Paper, and 12 on Japanese Vellum. + +DE PROFUNDIS. London: Methuen and Co., 1905 (February 23). + +Also 200 copies on Large Paper, and 50 on Japanese Vellum. + +Second Edition, March 1905. + +Third Edition, March 1905. + +Fourth Edition, April 1905. + +Fifth Edition, September 1905. + +Sixth Edition, March 1906. + +Seventh Edition, January 1907. + +Eighth Edition, April 1907. + +Ninth Edition, July 1907. + +Tenth Edition, October 1907. + +Eleventh Edition, January 1908. {328b} + +THE WORKS OF OSCAR WILDE. London: Methuen and Co., 1908 (February 13). +In thirteen volumes. 1000 copies on Handmade Paper and 80 on Japanese +Vellum. + +THE DUCHESS OF PADUA. A PLAY. + +SALOME. A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY. VERA. + +LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. A PLAY ABOUT A GOOD WOMAN. + +A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE. A PLAY. + +AN IDEAL HUSBAND. A PLAY. + +THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. A TRIVIAL COMEDY FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE. + +LORD ARTHUR SAVILE'S CRIME AND OTHER PROSE PIECES. + +INTENTIONS AND THE SOUL OF MAN. + +THE POEMS. + +A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES, THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES. + +DE PROFUNDIS. + +REVIEWS. + +MISCELLANIES. + +Uniform with the above. Paris: Charles Carrington, 1908 (April 16). + +THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. + + + +II.--EDITIONS PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR + + +VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS. A DRAMA IN A PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS. [New +York] 1882. + +THE DUCHESS OF PADUA: A TRAGEDY OF THE XVI CENTURY WRITTEN IN PARIS IN +THE XIX CENTURY. Privately Printed as Manuscript. [New York, 1883 +(March 15).] + + + +III.--MISCELLANEOUS CONTRIBUTIONS TO MAGAZINES, PERIODICALS, Etc. + + +1875 + +November. CHORUS OF CLOUD MAIDENS ([Greek], 275-287 and 295-307). Dublin +University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVI. No. 515, page 622. + +1876 + +January. FROM SPRING DAYS TO WINTER. (FOR MUSIC.) Dublin University +Magazine, Vol. LXXXVII. No. 517, page 47. + +March. GRAFFITI D'ITALIA. I. SAN MINIATO. (JUNE 15.) Dublin +University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVII. No. 519, page 297. + +June. THE DOLE OF THE KING'S DAUGHTER. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. +LXXXVII. No. 522, page 682. + +Trinity Term. [Greek]. (THE ROSE OF LOVE, AND WITH A ROSE'S THORNS.) +Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 10, page 268. + +September. [Greek]. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVIII. No. 525, +page 291. + +September. THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE. Irish Monthly, Vol. IV. No. 39, page +594. + +September. GRAFFITI D'ITALIA. (ARONA. LAGO MAGGIORE.) Month and +Catholic Review, Vol. xxviii. No. 147, page 77. + +Michaelmas Term. [Greek]. Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 11, page 298. + +1877 + +February. LOTUS LEAVES. Irish Monthly, Vol. v. No. 44, page 133. + +Hilary Term. A FRAGMENT FROM THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLOS. Kottabos, Vol. +II. No. 12, page 320. + +Hilary Term. A NIGHT VISION. Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 12, page 331. + +June. SALVE SATURNIA TELLUS. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 48, page 415. + +June. URBS SACRA AETERNA. Illustrated Monitor, Vol. IV. No. 3, page +130. + +July. THE TOMB OF KEATS. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 49, page 476. + +July. SONNET WRITTEN DURING HOLY WEEK. Illustrated Monitor, Vol. IV. +No. 4, page 186. + +July. THE GROSVENOR GALLERY. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. XC. No. +535, page 118. + +Michaelmas Term. WASTED DAYS. (FROM A PICTURE PAINTED BY MISS V. T.) +Kottabos, Vol. III. No. 2, page 56. + +December. [Greek]. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 54, page 746. + +1878 + +April. MAGDALEN WALKS. Irish Monthly, Vol. VI. No. 58, page 211. + +1879 + +Hilary Term. 'LA BELLE MARGUERITE.' BALLADE DU MOYEN AGE. Kottabos, +Vol. III. No. 6, page 146. + +April. THE CONQUEROR OF TIME. Time, Vol. I. No. 1, page 30. + +May 5. GROSVENOR GALLERY (First Notice.) Saunders' Irish Daily News, +Vol. CXC. No. 42,886, page 5. + +June. EASTER DAY. Waifs and Strays, Vol. I. No. 1, page 2. + +June 11. TO SARAH BERNHARDT. World, No. 258, page 18. + +July. THE NEW HELEN. Time, Vol. I. No. 4, page 400. + +July 16. QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA. (Charles I,, act iii.) World, No. 263, +page 18. + +Michaelmas Term. AVE! MARIA. Kottabos, Vol. III. No. 8, page 206. + +1880 + +January 14. PORTIA. World, No. 289, page 13. + +March. IMPRESSION DE VOYAGE. Waifs and Strays, Vol. I. No. 3, page 77. + +August 25. AVE IMPERATRIX! A POEM ON ENGLAND. World, No. 321, page 12. + +November 10. LIBERTATIS SACRA FAMES. World, No. 332, page 15. + +December. SEN ARTYSTY; OR, THE ARTIST'S DREAM. Translated from the +Polish of Madame Helena Modjeska. Routledge's Christmas Annual: The +Green Room, page 66. + +1881 + +January. THE GRAVE OF KEATS. Burlington, Vol. I. No. 1, page 35. + +March 2. IMPRESSION DE MATIN. World, No. 348, page 15. + +1882 + +February 15. IMPRESSIONS: I. LE JARDIN. II. LA MER. Our Continent +(Philadelphia), Vol. I. No. 1, page 9. + +November 7. MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER GRAZEBROOK. New York World, page 5. + +L'ENVOI, An Introduction to Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf, by Rennell Rodd, +page 11. Philadelphia: J. M. Stoddart and Co. + +[Besides the ordinary edition a limited number of an edition de luxe was +issued printed in brown ink on one side only of a thin transparent +handmade parchment paper, the whole book being interleaved with green +tissue.] + +1883 + +November 14. TELEGRAM TO WHISTLER. World, No. 489, page 16. + +1884 + +May 29. UNDER THE BALCONY. Shaksperean Show-Book, page 23. + +(Set to Music by Lawrence Kellie as OH! BEAUTIFUL STAR. SERENADE. +London: Robert Cocks and Co., 1892.) + +October 14. MR. OSCAR WILDE ON WOMAN'S DRESS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XL. No. 6114, page 6. + +November 11. MORE RADICAL IDEAS UPON DRESS REFORM. (With two +illustrations.) Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XL. No. 6138, page 14. + +1885 + +February 21. MR. WHISTLER'S TEN O'CLOCK. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. +No. 6224, page 1. + +February 25. TENDERNESS IN TITE STREET. World, No. 556, page 14. + +February 28. THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART. A NOTE IN BLACK AND WHITE ON +MR. WHISTLER'S LECTURE. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6230, page 4. + +March 7. *DINNERS AND DISHES. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6236, +page 5. + +March 13. *A MODERN EPIC. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6241, page +11. + +March 14. SHAKESPEARE ON SCENERY. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 7, page +99. + +March 27. *A BEVY OF POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6253, page +5. + +April 1. *PARNASSUS VERSUS PHILOLOGY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. +6257, page 6. + +April 11. THE HARLOT'S HOUSE. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 11, page +167. + +May. SHAKESPEARE AND STAGE COSTUME. Nineteenth Century, Vol. XVII. No. +99, page 800. + +May 9. HAMLET AT THE LYCEUM. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 15, page 227. + +May 15. *TWO NEW NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6293, page 4. + +May 23. HENRY THE FOURTH AT OXFORD. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 17, +page 264. + +May 27. *MODERN GREEK POETRY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6302, +page 5. + +May 30. OLIVIA AT THE LYCEUM. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 18, page +278. + +June. LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES. (With an illustration by L. Troubridge.) +In a Good Cause, page 83. London: Wells Gardner, Darton and Co. + +June 6. AS YOU LIKE IT AT COOMBE HOUSE. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. +19, page 296. + +July. ROSES AND RUE. Midsummer Dreams, Summer Number of Society. + +(No copy of this is known to exist.) + +November 18. *A HANDBOOK TO MARRIAGE. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLII. No. +6452, page 5. + +1886 + +January 15. *HALF-HOURS WITH THE WORST AUTHORS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLIII. No. 6501, page 4. + +January 23. SONNET. ON THE RECENT SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE +LETTERS. Dramatic Review, Vol. II. No. 52, page 249. + +February 1. *ONE OF MR. CONWAY'S REMAINDERS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLIII. No. 6515, page 5. + +February 8. TO READ OR NOT TO READ. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. +6521, page 11. + +February 20. TWELFTH NIGHT AT OXFORD. Dramatic Review, Vol. III. No. +56, page 34. + +March 6. *THE LETTERS OF A GREAT WOMAN. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. +No. 6544, page 4. + +April 12. *NEWS FROM PARNASSUS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. +6575, page 5. + +April 14. *SOME NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. 6577, page +5. + +April 17. *A LITERARY PILGRIM. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. 6580, +page 5. + +April 21. *BERANGER IN ENGLAND. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. +6583, page 5. + +May 13. *THE POETRY OF THE PEOPLE. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIII. No. +6601, page 5. + +May 15. THE CENCI. Dramatic Review, Vol. III. No. 68, page 151. + +May 22. HELENA IN TROAS. Dramatic Review, Vol. III. No. 69, page 161. + +July. KEATS' SONNET ON BLUE. (With facsimile of original Manuscript.) +Century Guild Hobby Horse, Vol. I. No. 3, page 83. + +August 4. *PLEASING AND PRATTLING. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6672, page 5. + +September 13. *BALZAC IN ENGLISH. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6706, page 5. + +September 16. *TWO NEW NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. 6709, +page 5. + +September 20. *BEN JONSON. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. 6712, page +6. + +September 27. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6718, page 5. + +October 8. *A RIDE THROUGH MOROCCO. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6728, page 5. + +October 14. *THE CHILDREN OF THE POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. +No. 6733, page 5. + +October 28. *NEW NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. 6745, page +4. + +November 3. *A POLITICIAN'S POETRY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6750, page 4. + +November 10. *MR. SYMONDS' HISTORY OF THE RENAISSANCE. Pall Mall +Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. 6756, page 5. + +November 18. *A 'JOLLY' ART CRITIC. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. +6763, page 6. + +November 24. NOTE ON WHISTLER. World, No. 647, page 14. + +December 1. *A 'SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY' THROUGH LITERATURE. Pall Mall +Gazette, Vol. XLIV. No. 6774, page 5. + +December 11. *TWO BIOGRAPHIES OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Pall Mall Gazette, +Vol. XLIV. No. 6783, page 5. + +1887 + +January 8. *COMMON SENSE IN ART. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6806, +page 5. + +February 1. *MINER AND MINOR POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. +6826, page 5. + +February 17. *A NEW CALENDAR. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6840, +page 5. + +February 23. THE CANTERVILLE GHOST--I. Illustrated by F. H. Townsend. +Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. No. 138, page 193. + +March 2. THE CANTERVILLE GHOST--II. Illustrated by F. H. Townsend. +Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. No. 139, page 207. + +March 8. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6856, +page 5. + +March 23. *THE AMERICAN INVASION. Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. +No. 142, page 270. + +March 28. *GREAT WRITERS BY LITTLE MEN. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. +No. 6873, page 5. + +March 31. *A NEW BOOK ON DICKENS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. +6876, page 5. + +April 12. *OUR BOOK SHELF. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6885, page +5. + +April 18. *A CHEAP EDITION OF A GREAT MAN. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. +No. 6890, page 5. + +April 26. *MR. MORRIS'S ODYSSEY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6897, +page 5. + +May 2. *A BATCH OF NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6902, page +11. + +May 7. *SOME NOVELS. Saturday Review, Vol. LXIII. No. 1645, page 663. + +May 11. LORD ARTHUR SAVILE'S CRIME. A STORY OF CHEIROMANCY.--I. II. +Illustrated by F. H. Townsend. Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. No. +149, page 447. + +May 18. LORD ARTHUR SAVILE'S CRIME. A STORY OF CHEIROMANCY.--III. IV. +Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. No. 150, page 471. + +May 25. LORD ARTHUR SAVILE'S CRIME. A STORY OF CHEIROMANCY.--V. VI. +Illustrated by F. H. Townsend. Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. No. +151, page 495. + +May 25. LADY ALROY. World, No. 673, page 18. + +May 30. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. No. 6926, page +5. + +June 11. *MR. PATER'S IMAGINARY PORTRAITS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLV. +No. 6937, page 2. + +June 22. THE MODEL MILLIONAIRE. World, No. 677, page 18. + +August 8. *A GOOD HISTORICAL NOVEL. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. No. +6986, page 3. + +August 20. *NEW NOVELS. Saturday Review, Vol. LXIV. No. 1660, page 264. + +September 27. *TWO BIOGRAPHIES OF KEATS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. +No. 7029, page 3. + +October 15. *SERMONS IN STONES AT BLOOMSBURY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLVI. No. 7045, page 5. + +October 24. *A SCOTCHMAN ON SCOTTISH POETRY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLVI. No. 7052, page 3. + +November. LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. I. No. 1, page +36. + +November 9. *MR. MAHAFFY'S NEW BOOK. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. No. +7066, page 3. + +November 24. *MR. MORRIS'S COMPLETION OF THE ODYSSEY. Pall Mall +Gazette, Vol. XLVI. No. 7079, page 3. + +November 30. *SIR CHARLES BOWEN'S VIRGIL. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. +No. 7084, page 3. + +December. LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. I. No. 2, page +81. + +December 12. *THE UNITY OF THE ARTS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. No. +7094, page 13. + +December 13. UN AMANT DE NOS JOURS. Court and Society Review, Vol. IV. +No. 180, page 587. + +December 16. *ARISTOTLE AT AFTERNOON TEA. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVI. +No. 7098, page 3. + +December 17. *EARLY CHRISTIAN ART IN IRELAND. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLVI. No. 7099, page 3. + +December 25. *ART AT WILLIS'S ROOMS. Sunday Times, No. 3376, page 7. + +December 25. FANTAISIES DECORATIVES. I. LE PANNEAU. II. LES BALLONS. +Illustrated by Bernard Partridge. Lady's Pictorial Christmas Number, +pages 2, 3. + +1888 + +January. LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. I. No. 3, page +132. + +January 20. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVII. No. +7128, page 3. + +February. LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. I. No. 4, page +180. + +February 15. THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVII. No. +7150, page 3. + +February 24. *VENUS OR VICTORY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVII. No. +7158, page 2. + +March. LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. I. No. 5, page +229. + +April. CANZONET. Art and Letters, Vol. II. No. 1, page 46. + +April 6. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVII. No. 7193, +page 3. + +April 14. *M. CARO ON GEORGE SAND. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVII. No. +7200, page 3. + +October 24. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVIII. No. +7365, page 5. + +November. A FASCINATING BOOK. A NOTE BY THE EDITOR. Woman's World, +Vol. II. No. 13, page 53. + +November 2. *MR. MORRIS ON TAPESTRY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVIII. +No. 7373, page 6. + +November 9. *SCULPTURE AT THE 'ARTS AND CRAFTS.' Pall Mall Gazette, +Vol. XLVIII. No. 7379, page 3. + +November 16. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVIII. No. +7385, page 2. + +November 16. *PRINTING AND PRINTERS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVIII. +No. 7385, page 5. + +November 23. *THE BEAUTIES OF BOOKBINDING. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLVIII. No. 7391, page 3. + +November 30. *THE CLOSE OF THE 'ARTS AND CRAFTS.' Pall Mall Gazette, +Vol. XLVIII. No. 7397, page 3. + +December. A NOTE ON SOME MODERN POETS. Woman's World, Vol. II. No. 14, +page 108. + +December 8. ENGLISH POETESSES. Queen, Vol. LXXXIV. No. 2189, page 742. + +December 11. *SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S LAST VOLUME. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLVIII. No. 7046, page 3. + +December 14. *AUSTRALIAN POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLVIII. No. +7409, page 3. + +December. THE YOUNG KING. Illustrated by Bernard Partridge. Lady's +Pictorial Christmas Number, page 1. + +1889 + +January. THE DECAY OF LYING: A DIALOGUE. Nineteenth Century, Vol. XXV. +No. 143, page 35. + +January. PEN, PENCIL, AND POISON: A STUDY. Fortnightly Review, Vol. +XLV. No. 265, page 41. + +January. LONDON MODELS. Illustrated by Harper Pennington. English +Illustrated Magazine, Vol. VI. No. 64, page 313. + +January. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. II. No. 15, page 164. + +January 3. *POETRY AND PRISON. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7425, +page 3. + +January 25. *THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO WALT WHITMAN. Pall Mall Gazette, +Vol. XLIX. No. 7444, page 3. + +January 26. *THE NEW PRESIDENT. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7445, +page 3. + +February. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. II. No. 16, page +221. + +February. SYMPHONY IN YELLOW. Centennial Magazine (Sydney), Vol. II. +No. 7, page 437. + +February 12. *ONE OF THE BIBLES OF THE WORLD. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLIX. No. 7459, page 3. + +February 15. *POETICAL SOCIALISTS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. +7462, page 3. + +February 27. *MR. BRANDER MATTHEWS' ESSAYS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. +XLIX. No. 7472, page 3. + +March. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. III. No. 17, page 277. + +March 2. *MR. WILLIAM MORRIS'S LAST BOOK. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. +No. 7475, page 3. + +March 25. *ADAM LINDSAY GORDON. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7494, +page 3. + +March 30. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7499, +page 3. + +April. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. II. No. 18, page 333. + +April 13. MR. FROUDE'S BLUE-BOOK. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. +7511, page 3. + +May. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. ii. No. 19, page 389. + +May 17. *OUIDA'S NEW NOVEL. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7539, +page 3. + +June. SOME LITERARY NOTES. Woman's World, Vol. II. No. 20, page 446. + +June 5. *A THOUGHT-READER'S NOVEL. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. +7555, page 2. + +June 24. *THE POETS' CORNER. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. No. 7571, +page 3. + +June 27. *MR. SWINBURNE'S LAST VOLUME. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLIX. +No. 7574, page 3. + +July. THE PORTRAIT OF MR. W. H. Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. +CXLVI. No. 885, page 1. + +July 12. *THREE NEW POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. I. No. 7587, page 3. + +December. IN THE FOREST. Illustrated by Bernard Partridge. Lady's +Pictorial Christmas Number, page 9. + +(Set to music by Edwin Tilden and published by Miles and Thompson, +Boston, U.S.A., 1891.) + +1890 + +January 9. REPLY TO MR. WHISTLER. Truth, Vol. XXVII. No. 680, page 51. + +February 8. A CHINESE SAGE. Speaker, Vol. I. No. 6, page 144. + +March 22. MR. PATER'S LAST VOLUME. Speaker, Vol. I. No. 12, page 319. + +May 24. *PRIMAVERA. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. LI. No. 7856, page 3. + +June 20. THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. Lippincott's Monthly Magazine +(July), Vol. XLVI. No. 271, page 3. + +(Containing thirteen chapters only.) + +June 26. MR. WILDE'S BAD CASE. St. James's Gazette, Vol. XX. No. 3135, +page 4. + +June 27. MR. OSCAR WILDE AGAIN. St. James's Gazette, Vol. XX. No. 3136, +page 5. + +June 28. MR. OSCAR WILDE'S DEFENCE. St. James's Gazette, Vol. XX. No. +3137, page 5. + +June 30. MR. OSCAR WILDE'S DEFENCE. St. James's Gazette, Vol. XX. No. +3138, page 5. + +July. THE TRUE FUNCTION AND VALUE OF CRITICISM; WITH SOME REMARKS ON THE +IMPORTANCE OF DOING NOTHING: A DIALOGUE. Nineteenth Century, Vol. +XXVIII. No. 161, page 123. + +July 2. 'DORIAN GRAY.' Daily Chronicle and Clerkenwell News, No. 8830, +page 5. + +July 12. MR. WILDE'S REJOINDER. Scots Observer, Vol. IV. No. 86, page +201. + +August 2. ART AND MORALITY. Scots Observer, Vol. IV. No. 89, page 279. + +August 16. ART AND MORALITY. Scots Observer, Vol. IV. No. 91, page 332. + +September. THE TRUE FUNCTION AND VALUE OF CRITICISM; WITH SOME REMARKS +ON THE IMPORTANCE OF DOING NOTHING: A DIALOGUE (concluded). Nineteenth +Century, Vol. XXVIII. No. 163, page 435. + +1891 + +February. THE SOUL OF MAN UNDER SOCIALISM. Fortnightly Review, Vol. +XLIX. No. 290, page 292. + +March. A PREFACE TO 'DORIAN GRAY.' Fortnightly Review, Vol. XLIX. No. +291, page 480. + +September 26. AN ANGLO-INDIAN'S COMPLAINT. Times, No. 33,440, page 10. + +December 5. 'A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES.' Speaker, Vol. IV. No. 101, page +682. + +December 11. MR. OSCAR WILDE'S 'HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES.' Pall Mall +Gazette, Vol. LIII. No. 8339, page 2. + +1892 + +February 20. PUPPETS AND ACTORS. Daily Telegraph, No. 11,470, page 3. + +February 27. MR. OSCAR WILDE EXPLAINS. St. James's Gazette, Vol. XXIV. +No. 3654, page 4. + +December 6. THE NEW REMORSE. Spirit Lamp, Vol. II. No. 4, page 97. + +1893 + +February 17. THE HOUSE OF JUDGMENT. Spirit Lamp, Vol. III. No. 2, page +52. + +March 2. MR. OSCAR WILDE ON 'SALOME.' Times, No. 33,888, page 4. + +June 6. THE DISCIPLE. Spirit Lamp, Vol. IV. No. 2, page 49. + +TO MY WIFE: WITH A COPY OF MY POEMS; AND WITH A COPY OF 'THE HOUSE OF +POMEGRANATES.' Book-Song, An Anthology of Poems of Books and Bookmen +from Modern Authors. Edited by Gleeson White, pages 156, 157. London: +Elliot Stock. + +[This was the first publication of these two poems. Anthologies +containing reprints are not included in this list.] + +1894 + +January 15. LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE THIRTEEN CLUB. Times, No. +34,161, page 7. + +July. POEMS IN PROSE. ('The Artist,' 'The Doer of Good,' 'The +Disciple,' 'The Master,' 'The House of Judgment.') Fortnightly Review, +Vol. LIV. No. 331, page 22. + +September 20. THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. LIX. +No. 9202, page 3. + +September 25. THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. LIX. +No. 9206, page 3. + +October 2. 'THE GREEN CARNATION.' Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. LIX. No. +9212, page 3. + +December. PHRASES AND PHILOSOPHIES FOR THE USE OF THE YOUNG. Chameleon, +Vol. I. No. 1, page 1. + +1895 + +April 6. LETTER ON THE QUEENSBERRY CASE. Evening News, No. 4226, page +3. + +1897 + +May 28. THE CASE OF WARDER MARTIN. SOME CRUELTIES OF PRISON LIFE. Daily +Chronicle, No. 10,992, page 9. + +1898 + +March 24. LETTER ON PRISON REFORM. Daily Chronicle, No. 11,249, page 5. + + + + +Footnotes. + + +{0a} See Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and other Prose Pieces in this +edition, page 223. + +{3} Reverently some well-meaning persons have placed a marble slab on +the wall of the cemetery with a medallion-profile of Keats on it and some +mediocre lines of poetry. The face is ugly, and rather hatchet-shaped, +with thick sensual lips, and is utterly unlike the poet himself, who was +very beautiful to look upon. 'His countenance,' says a lady who saw him +at one of Hazlitt's lectures, 'lives in my mind as one of singular beauty +and brightness; it had the expression as if he had been looking on some +glorious sight.' And this is the idea which Severn's picture of him +gives. Even Haydon's rough pen-and-ink sketch of him is better than this +'marble libel,' which I hope will soon be taken down. I think the best +representation of the poet would be a coloured bust, like that of the +young Rajah of Koolapoor at Florence, which is a lovely and lifelike work +of art. + +{19} It is perhaps not generally known that there is another and older +peacock ceiling in the world besides the one Mr. Whistler has done at +Kensington. I was surprised lately at Ravenna to come across a mosaic +ceiling done in the keynote of a peacock's tail--blue, green, purple, and +gold--and with four peacocks in the four spandrils. Mr. Whistler was +unaware of the existence of this ceiling at the time he did his own. + +{43} An Unequal Match, by Tom Taylor, at Wallack's Theatre, New York, +November 6, 1882. + +{74} 'Make' is of course a mere printer's error for 'mock,' and was +subsequently corrected by Lord Houghton. The sonnet as given in The +Garden of Florence reads 'orbs' for 'those.' + +{158} September 1890. See Intentions, page 214. + +{163} November 30, 1891. + +{164} February 12, 1892. + +{170} February 23, 1893. + +{172} The verses called 'The Shamrock' were printed in the Sunday Sun, +August 5, 1894, and the charge of plagiarism was made in the issue dated +September 16, 1894. + +{188} Cousin errs a good deal in this respect. To say, as he did, 'Give +me the latitude and the longitude of a country, its rivers and its +mountains, and I will deduce the race,' is surely a glaring exaggeration. + +{190} The monarchical, aristocratical, and democratic elements of the +Roman constitution are referred to. + +{193a} Polybius, vi. 9. [Greek]. + +{193b} [Greek]. + +{193c} The various stages are [Greek]. + +{197a} Polybius, xii. 24. + +{197b} Polybius, i. 4, viii. 4, specially; and really passim. + +{198a} He makes one exception. + +{198b} Polybius, viii. 4. + +{199} Polybius, xvi. 12. + +{200a} Polybius, viii. 4: [Greek]. + +{200b} Polybius resembled Gibbon in many respects. Like him he held +that all religions were to the philosopher equally false, to the vulgar +equally true, to the statesman equally useful. + +{203} Cf. Polybius, xii. 25, [Greek]. + +{205} Polybius, xxii. 22. + +{207} I mean particularly as regards his sweeping denunciation of the +complete moral decadence of Greek society during the Peloponnesian War +which, from what remains to us of Athenian literature, we know must have +been completely exaggerated. Or, rather, he is looking at men merely in +their political dealings: and in politics the man who is personally +honourable and refined will not scruple to do anything for his party. + +{211} Polybius, xii. 25. + +{253} As an instance of the inaccuracy of published reports of this +lecture, it may be mentioned that all previous versions give this passage +as The artist may trace the depressed revolution of Bunthorne simply to +the lack of technical means! + +{317} The Two Paths, Lect. III. p. 123 (1859 ed.). + +{328a} Edition for Continental circulation only. Leipzig: Bernhard +Tauchnitz, vol. 4056. 1908 (August). + +{328b} Edition for Continental circulation only. Leipzig: Bernhard +Tauchnitz, vol. 4056. 1908 (August). + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISCELLANIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 14062.txt or 14062.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/6/14062 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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