diff options
Diffstat (limited to '26716-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 26716-8.txt | 31501 |
1 files changed, 31501 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/26716-8.txt b/26716-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0747d07 --- /dev/null +++ b/26716-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,31501 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Crown of Wild Olive, by John Ruskin + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Crown of Wild Olive + also Munera Pulveris; Pre-Raphaelitism; Aratra Pentelici; The Ethics of the Dust; Fiction, Fair and Foul; The Elements of Drawing + + +Author: John Ruskin + + + +Release Date: September 28, 2008 [eBook #26716] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE*** + + +E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Josephine Paolucci, and +the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 26716-h.htm or 26716-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/1/26716/26716-h/26716-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/1/26716/26716-h.zip) + + + + + +Illustrated Library Edition + +THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE + +Also + +MUNERA PULVERIS + +PRE-RAPHAELITISM--ARATRA PENTELICI + +THE ETHICS OF THE DUST + +FICTION, FAIR AND FOUL + +THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING + +by + +JOHN RUSKIN, M.A. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _Portrait of Carlyle_ + +Etched by E. A. Fowle--From Painting by Samuel Lawrence] + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston and New York +Colonial Press Company +Publishers + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE. + + + PAGE +LECTURE I. + +WORK, 17 + +LECTURE II. + +TRAFFIC, 44 + +LECTURE III. + +WAR, 66 + + +MUNERA PULVERIS. + +PREFACE, 97 + +CHAP. + +I. DEFINITIONS, 111 + +II. STORE-KEEPING, 125 + +III. COIN-KEEPING, 151 + +IV. COMMERCE, 170 + +V. GOVERNMENT, 181 + +VI. MASTERSHIP, 204 + +APPENDICES, 222 + + +PRE-RAPHAELITISM. + +PREFACE, 235 + +PRE-RAPHAELITISM, 237 + + +ARATRA PENTELICI. + +PREFACE, 283 + +LECTURE + +I. OF THE DIVISION OF ARTS, 287 + +II. IDOLATRY, 304 + +III. IMAGINATION, 322 + +IV. LIKENESS, 350 + +V. STRUCTURE, 372 + +VI. THE SCHOOL OF ATHENS, 395 + + +THE FUTURE OF ENGLAND, 415 + + +NOTES ON POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PRUSSIA, 435 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +ARATRA PENTELICI. + +PLATES FACING PAGE + +I. PORCH OF SAN ZENONE. VERONA, 300 + +II. THE ARETHUSA OF SYRACUSE, 302 + +III. THE WARNING TO THE KINGS, 302 + +IV. THE NATIVITY OF ATHENA, 308 + +V. TOMB OF THE DOGES JACOPO AND LORENZO TIEPOLO, 333 + +VI. ARCHAIC ATHENA OF ATHENS AND CORINTH, 334 + +VII. ARCHAIC, CENTRAL AND DECLINING ART OF GREECE, 355 + +VIII. THE APOLLO OF SYRACUSE AND THE SELF-MADE MAN, 366 + +IX. APOLLO CHRYSOCOMES OF CLAZOMENÆ, 368 + +X. MARBLE MASONRY IN THE DUOMO OF VERONA, 381 + +XI. THE FIRST ELEMENTS OF SCULPTURE, 382 + +XII. BRANCH OF PHILLYREA. DARK PURPLE, 390 + +XIII. GREEK FLAT RELIEF AND SCULPTURE BY EDGED INCISION, 392 + +XIV. APOLLO AND THE PYTHON. HERACLES AND THE NEMEAN LION, 400 + +XV. HERA OF ARGOS. ZEUS OF SYRACUSE, 401 + +XVI. DEMETER OF MESSENE. HERA OF CROSSUS, 402 + +XVII. ATHENA OF THURIUM. SEREIE LIGEIA OF TERINA, 402 + +XVIII. ARTEMIS OF SYRACUSE. HERA OF LACINIAN CAPE, 404 + +XIX. ZEUS OF MESSENE. AJAX OF OPUS, 405 + +XX. GREEK AND BARBARIAN SCULPTURE, 407 + +XXI. THE BEGINNINGS OF CHIVALRY, 409 + + +FIGURE PAGE + +1. SPECIMEN OF PLATE, 293 + +2. WOODCUT, 323 + +3. FIGURE ON GREEK TYPE OF VASES, 326 + +4. EARLY DRAWING OF THE MYTH 330 + +5. CUT, "GIVE IT TO ME," 332 + +6. ENGRAVING ON COIN, 335 + +7. DRAWING OF FISH. BY TURNER, 362 + +8. IRON BAR, 379 + +9. DIAGRAM OF LEAF, 391 + + + + +THE + +CROWN OF WILD OLIVE + +THREE LECTURES ON + +WORK, TRAFFIC AND WAR + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Twenty years ago, there was no lovelier piece of lowland scenery in +South England, nor any more pathetic in the world, by its expression of +sweet human character and life, than that immediately bordering on the +sources of the Wandle, and including the lower moors of Addington, and +the villages of Beddington and Carshalton, with all their pools and +streams. No clearer or diviner waters ever sang with constant lips of +the hand which 'giveth rain from heaven;' no pastures ever lightened in +spring time with more passionate blossoming; no sweeter homes ever +hallowed the heart of the passer-by with their pride of peaceful +gladness--fain-hidden--yet full-confessed. The place remains, or, until +a few months ago, remained, nearly unchanged in its larger features; +but, with deliberate mind I say, that I have never seen anything so +ghastly in its inner tragic meaning,--not in Pisan Maremma--not by +Campagna tomb,--not by the sand-isles of the Torcellan shore,--as the +slow stealing of aspects of reckless, indolent, animal neglect, over the +delicate sweetness of that English scene: nor is any blasphemy or +impiety--any frantic saying or godless thought--more appalling to me, +using the best power of judgment I have to discern its sense and scope, +than the insolent defilings of those springs by the human herds that +drink of them. Just where the welling of stainless water, trembling and +pure, like a body of light, enters the pool of Carshalton, cutting +itself a radiant channel down to the gravel, through warp of feathery +weeds, all waving, which it traverses with its deep threads of +clearness, like the chalcedony in moss-agate, starred here and there +with white grenouillette; just in the very rush and murmur of the first +spreading currents, the human wretches of the place cast their street +and house foulness; heaps of dust and slime, and broken shreds of old +metal, and rags of putrid clothes; they having neither energy to cart it +away, nor decency enough to dig it into the ground, thus shed into the +stream, to diffuse what venom of it will float and melt, far away, in +all places where God meant those waters to bring joy and health. And, in +a little pool, behind some houses farther in the village, where another +spring rises, the shattered stones of the well, and of the little +fretted channel which was long ago built and traced for it by gentler +hands, lie scattered, each from each, under a ragged bank of mortar, and +scoria; and brick-layers' refuse, on one side, which the clean water +nevertheless chastises to purity; but it cannot conquer the dead earth +beyond; and there, circled and coiled under festering scum, the stagnant +edge of the pool effaces itself into a slope of black slime, the +accumulation of indolent years. Half-a-dozen men, with one day's work, +could cleanse those pools, and trim the flowers about their banks, and +make every breath of summer air above them rich with cool balm; and +every glittering wave medicinal, as if it ran, troubled of angels, from +the porch of Bethesda. But that day's work is never given, nor will be; +nor will any joy be possible to heart of man, for evermore, about those +wells of English waters. + +When I last left them, I walked up slowly through the back streets of +Croydon, from the old church to the hospital; and, just on the left, +before coming up to the crossing of the High Street, there was a new +public-house built. And the front of it was built in so wise manner, +that a recess of two feet was left below its front windows, between them +and the street-pavement--a recess too narrow for any possible use (for +even if it had been occupied by a seat, as in old time it might have +been, everybody walking along the street would have fallen over the legs +of the reposing wayfarers). But, by way of making this two feet depth of +freehold land more expressive of the dignity of an establishment for the +sale of spirituous liquors, it was fenced from the pavement by an +imposing iron railing, having four or five spearheads to the yard of it, +and six feet high; containing as much iron and iron-work, indeed as +could well be put into the space; and by this stately arrangement, the +little piece of dead ground within, between wall and street, became a +protective receptacle of refuse; cigar ends, and oyster shells, and the +like, such as an open-handed English street-populace habitually scatters +from its presence, and was thus left, unsweepable by any ordinary +methods. Now the iron bars which, uselessly (or in great degree worse +than uselessly), enclosed this bit of ground, and made it pestilent, +represented a quantity of work which would have cleansed the Carshalton +pools three times over;--of work, partly cramped and deadly, in the +mine; partly fierce[1] and exhaustive, at the furnace; partly foolish +and sedentary, of ill-taught students making bad designs: work from the +beginning to the last fruits of it, and in all the branches of it, +venomous, deathful, and miserable. Now, how did it come to pass that +this work was done instead of the other; that the strength and life of +the English operative were spent in defiling ground, instead of +redeeming it; and in producing an entirely (in that place) valueless +piece of metal, which can neither be eaten nor breathed, instead of +medicinal fresh air, and pure water? + +There is but one reason for it, and at present a conclusive one,--that +the capitalist can charge per-centage on the work in the one case, and +cannot in the other. If, having certain funds for supporting labour at +my disposal, I pay men merely to keep my ground in order, my money is, +in that function, spent once for all; but if I pay them to dig iron out +of my ground, and work it, and sell it, I can charge rent for the +ground, and per-centage both on the manufacture and the sale, and make +my capital profitable in these three bye-ways. The greater part of the +profitable investment of capital, in the present day, is in operations +of this kind, in which the public is persuaded to buy something of no +use to it, on production, or sale, of which, the capitalist may charge +per-centage; the said public remaining all the while under the +persuasion that the per-centages thus obtained are real national gains, +whereas, they are merely filchings out of partially light pockets, to +swell heavy ones. + +Thus, the Croydon publican buys the iron railing, to make himself more +conspicuous to drunkards. The public-housekeeper on the other side of +the way presently buys another railing, to out-rail him with. Both are, +as to their _relative_ attractiveness to customers of taste, just where +they were before; but they have lost the price of the railings; which +they must either themselves finally lose, or make their aforesaid +customers of taste pay, by raising the price of their beer, or +adulterating it. Either the publicans, or their customers, are thus +poorer by precisely what the capitalist has gained; and the value of the +work itself, meantime, has been lost to the nation; the iron bars in +that form and place being wholly useless. It is this mode of taxation of +the poor by the rich which is referred to in the text (page 31), in +comparing the modern acquisitive power of capital with that of the lance +and sword; the only difference being that the levy of black mail in old +times was by force, and is now by cozening. The old rider and reiver +frankly quartered himself on the publican for the night; the modern one +merely makes his lance into an iron spike, and persuades his host to buy +it. One comes as an open robber, the other as a cheating pedlar; but the +result, to the injured person's pocket, is absolutely the same. Of +course many useful industries mingle with, and disguise the useless +ones; and in the habits of energy aroused by the struggle, there is a +certain direct good. It is far better to spend four thousand pounds in +making a good gun, and then to blow it to pieces, than to pass life in +idleness. Only do not let it be called 'political economy.' There is +also a confused notion in the minds of many persons, that the gathering +of the property of the poor into the hands of the rich does no ultimate +harm; since, in whosesoever hands it may be, it must be spent at last, +and thus, they think, return to the poor again. This fallacy has been +again and again exposed; but grant the plea true, and the same apology +may, of course, be made for black mail, or any other form of robbery. It +might be (though practically it never is) as advantageous for the nation +that the robber should have the spending of the money he extorts, as +that the person robbed should have spent it. But this is no excuse for +the theft. If I were to put a turnpike on the road where it passes my +own gate, and endeavour to exact a shilling from every passenger, the +public would soon do away with my gate, without listening to any plea on +my part that 'it was as advantageous to them, in the end, that I should +spend their shillings, as that they themselves should.' But if, instead +of out-facing them with a turnpike, I can only persuade them to come in +and buy stones, or old iron, or any other useless thing, out of my +ground, I may rob them to the same extent, and be, moreover, thanked as +a public benefactor, and promoter of commercial prosperity. And this +main question for the poor of England--for the poor of all countries--is +wholly omitted in every common treatise on the subject of wealth. Even +by the labourers themselves, the operation of capital is regarded only +in its effect on their immediate interests; never in the far more +terrific power of its appointment of the kind and the object of labour. +It matters little, ultimately, how much a labourer is paid for making +anything; but it matters fearfully what the thing is, which he is +compelled to make. If his labour is so ordered as to produce food, and +fresh air, and fresh water, no matter that his wages are low;--the food +and fresh air and water will be at last there; and he will at last get +them. But if he is paid to destroy food and fresh air or to produce +iron bars instead of them,--the food and air will finally _not_ be +there, and he will _not_ get them, to his great and final inconvenience. +So that, conclusively, in political as in household economy, the great +question is, not so much what money you have in your pocket, as what you +will buy with it, and do with it. + +I have been long accustomed, as all men engaged in work of investigation +must be, to hear my statements laughed at for years, before they are +examined or believed; and I am generally content to wait the public's +time. But it has not been without displeased surprise that I have found +myself totally unable, as yet, by any repetition, or illustration, to +force this plain thought into my readers' heads,--that the wealth of +nations, as of men, consists in substance, not in ciphers; and that the +real good of all work, and of all commerce, depends on the final worth +of the thing you make, or get by it. This is a practical enough +statement, one would think: but the English public has been so possessed +by its modern school of economists with the notion that Business is +always good, whether it be busy in mischief or in benefit; and that +buying and selling are always salutary, whatever the intrinsic worth of +what you buy or sell,--that it seems impossible to gain so much as a +patient hearing for any inquiry respecting the substantial result of our +eager modern labours. I have never felt more checked by the sense of +this impossibility than in arranging the heads of the following three +lectures, which, though delivered at considerable intervals of time, and +in different places, were not prepared without reference to each other. +Their connection would, however, have been made far more distinct, if I +had not been prevented, by what I feel to be another great difficulty in +addressing English audiences, from enforcing, with any decision, the +common, and to me the most important, part of their subjects. I chiefly +desired (as I have just said) to question my hearers--operatives, +merchants, and soldiers, as to the ultimate meaning of the _business_ +they had in hand; and to know from them what they expected or intended +their manufacture to come to, their selling to come to, and their +killing to come to. That appeared the first point needing determination +before I could speak to them with any real utility or effect. 'You +craftsmen--salesmen--swordsmen,--do but tell me clearly what you want, +then, if I can say anything to help you, I will; and if not, I will +account to you as I best may for my inability.' But in order to put this +question into any terms, one had first of all to face the difficulty +just spoken of--to me for the present insuperable,--the difficulty of +knowing whether to address one's audience as believing, or not +believing, in any other world than this. For if you address any average +modern English company as believing in an Eternal life, and endeavour to +draw any conclusions, from this assumed belief, as to their present +business, they will forthwith tell you that what you say is very +beautiful, but it is not practical. If, on the contrary, you frankly +address them as unbelievers in Eternal life, and try to draw any +consequences from that unbelief,--they immediately hold you for an +accursed person, and shake off the dust from their feet at you. And the +more I thought over what I had got to say, the less I found I could say +it, without some reference to this intangible or intractable part of the +subject. It made all the difference, in asserting any principle of war, +whether one assumed that a discharge of artillery would merely knead +down a certain quantity of red clay into a level line, as in a brick +field; or whether, out of every separately Christian-named portion of +the ruinous heap, there went out, into the smoke and dead-fallen air of +battle, some astonished condition of soul, unwillingly released. It made +all the difference, in speaking of the possible range of commerce, +whether one assumed that all bargains related only to visible +property--or whether property, for the present invisible, but +nevertheless real, was elsewhere purchasable on other terms. It made all +the difference, in addressing a body of men subject to considerable +hardship, and having to find some way out of it--whether one could +confidentially say to them, 'My friends,--you have only to die, and all +will be right;' or whether one had any secret misgiving that such advice +was more blessed to him that gave, than to him that took it. And +therefore the deliberate reader will find, throughout these lectures, a +hesitation in driving points home, and a pausing short of conclusions +which he will feel I would fain have come to; hesitation which arises +wholly from this uncertainty of my hearers' temper. For I do not now +speak, nor have I ever spoken, since the time of my first forward youth, +in any proselyting temper, as desiring to persuade any one of what, in +such matters, I thought myself; but, whomsoever I venture to address, I +take for the time his creed as I find it; and endeavour to push it into +such vital fruit as it seems capable of. Thus, it is a creed with a +great part of the existing English people, that they are in possession +of a book which tells them, straight from the lips of God all they ought +to do, and need to know. I have read that book, with as much care as +most of them, for some forty years; and am thankful that, on those who +trust it, I can press its pleadings. My endeavour has been uniformly to +make them trust it more deeply than they do; trust it, not in their own +favourite verses only, but in the sum of all; trust it not as a fetish +or talisman, which they are to be saved by daily repetitions of; but as +a Captain's order, to be heard and obeyed at their peril. I was always +encouraged by supposing my hearers to hold such belief. To these, if to +any, I once had hope of addressing, with acceptance, words which +insisted on the guilt of pride, and the futility of avarice; from these, +if from any, I once expected ratification of a political economy, which +asserted that the life was more than the meat, and the body than +raiment; and these, it once seemed to me, I might ask without accusation +or fanaticism, not merely in doctrine of the lips, but in the bestowal +of their heart's treasure, to separate themselves from the crowd of whom +it is written, 'After all these things do the Gentiles seek.' + +It cannot, however, be assumed, with any semblance of reason, that a +general audience is now wholly, or even in majority, composed of these +religious persons. A large portion must always consist of men who admit +no such creed; or who, at least, are inaccessible to appeals founded on +it. And as, with the so-called Christian, I desired to plead for honest +declaration and fulfilment of his belief in life,--with the so-called +Infidel, I desired to plead for an honest declaration and fulfilment of +his belief in death. The dilemma is inevitable. Men must either +hereafter live, or hereafter die; fate may be bravely met, and conduct +wisely ordered, on either expectation; but never in hesitation between +ungrasped hope, and unconfronted fear. We usually believe in +immortality, so far as to avoid preparation for death; and in mortality, +so far as to avoid preparation for anything after death. Whereas, a wise +man will at least hold himself prepared for one or other of two events, +of which one or other is inevitable; and will have all things in order, +for his sleep, or in readiness, for his awakening. + +Nor have we any right to call it an ignoble judgment, if he determine to +put them in order, as for sleep. A brave belief in life is indeed an +enviable state of mind, but, as far as I can discern, an unusual one. I +know few Christians so convinced of the splendour of the rooms in their +Father's house, as to be happier when their friends are called to those +mansions, than they would have been if the Queen had sent for them to +live at Court: nor has the Church's most ardent 'desire to depart, and +be with Christ,' ever cured it of the singular habit of putting on +mourning for every person summoned to such departure. On the contrary, a +brave belief in death has been assuredly held by many not ignoble +persons, and it is a sign of the last depravity in the Church itself, +when it assumes that such a belief is inconsistent with either purity of +character, or energy of hand. The shortness of life is not, to any +rational person, a conclusive reason for wasting the space of it which +may be granted him; nor does the anticipation of death to-morrow +suggest, to any one but a drunkard, the expediency of drunkenness +to-day. To teach that there is no device in the grave, may indeed make +the deviceless person more contented in his dulness; but it will make +the deviser only more earnest in devising, nor is human conduct likely, +in every case, to be purer under the conviction that all its evil may in +a moment be pardoned, and all its wrong-doing in a moment redeemed; and +that the sigh of repentance, which purges the guilt of the past, will +waft the soul into a felicity which forgets its pain,--than it may be +under the sterner, and to many not unwise minds, more probable, +apprehension, that 'what a man soweth that shall he also reap'--or +others reap,--when he, the living seed of pestilence, walketh no more in +darkness, but lies down therein. + +But to men whose feebleness of sight, or bitterness of soul, or the +offence given by the conduct of those who claim higher hope, may have +rendered this painful creed the only possible one, there is an appeal to +be made, more secure in its ground than any which can be addressed to +happier persons. I would fain, if I might offencelessly, have spoken to +them as if none others heard; and have said thus: Hear me, you dying +men, who will soon be deaf for ever. For these others, at your right +hand and your left, who look forward to a state of infinite existence, +in which all their errors will be overruled, and all their faults +forgiven; for these, who, stained and blackened in the battle smoke of +mortality, have but to dip themselves for an instant in the font of +death, and to rise renewed of plumage, as a dove that is covered with +silver, and her feathers like gold; for these, indeed, it may be +permissible to waste their numbered moments, through faith in a future +of innumerable hours; to these, in their weakness, it may be conceded +that they should tamper with sin which can only bring forth fruit of +righteousness, and profit by the iniquity which, one day, will be +remembered no more. In them, it may be no sign of hardness of heart to +neglect the poor, over whom they know their Master is watching; and to +leave those to perish temporarily, who cannot perish eternally. But, for +you, there is no such hope, and therefore no such excuse. This fate, +which you ordain for the wretched, you believe to be all their +inheritance; you may crush them, before the moth, and they will never +rise to rebuke you;--their breath, which fails for lack of food, once +expiring, will never be recalled to whisper against you a word of +accusing;--they and you, as you think, shall lie down together in the +dust, and the worms cover you;--and for them there shall be no +consolation, and on you no vengeance,--only the question murmured above +your grave: 'Who shall repay him what he hath done?' Is it therefore +easier for you in your heart to inflict the sorrow for which there is no +remedy? Will you take, wantonly, this little all of his life from your +poor brother, and make his brief hours long to him with pain? Will you +be readier to the injustice which can never be redressed; and niggardly +of mercy which you _can_ bestow but once, and which, refusing, you +refuse for ever? I think better of you, even of the most selfish, than +that you would do this, well understood. And for yourselves, it seems to +me, the question becomes not less grave, in these curt limits. If your +life were but a fever fit,--the madness of a night, whose follies were +all to be forgotten in the dawn, it might matter little how you fretted +away the sickly hours,--what toys you snatched at, or let fall,--what +visions you followed wistfully with the deceived eyes of sleepless +phrenzy. Is the earth only an hospital? Play, if you care to play, on +the floor of the hospital dens. Knit its straw into what crowns please +you; gather the dust of it for treasure, and die rich in that, clutching +at the black motes in the air with your dying hands;--and yet, it may be +well with you. But if this life be no dream, and the world no hospital; +if all the peace and power and joy you can ever win, must be won now; +and all fruit of victory gathered here, or never;--will you still, +throughout the puny totality of your life, weary yourselves in the fire +for vanity? If there is no rest which remaineth for you, is there none +you might presently take? was this grass of the earth made green for +your shroud only, not for your bed? and can you never lie down _upon_ +it, but only _under_ it? The heathen, to whose creed you have returned, +thought not so. They knew that life brought its contest, but they +expected from it also the crown of all contest: No proud one! no +jewelled circlet flaming through Heaven above the height of the +unmerited throne; only some few leaves of wild olive, cool to the tired +brow, through a few years of peace. It should have been of gold, they +thought; but Jupiter was poor; this was the best the god could give +them. Seeking a greater than this, they had known it a mockery. Not in +war, not in wealth, not in tyranny, was there any happiness to be found +for them--only in kindly peace, fruitful and free. The wreath was to be +of _wild_ olive, mark you:--the tree that grows carelessly, tufting the +rocks with no vivid bloom, no verdure of branch; only with soft snow of +blossom, and scarcely fulfilled fruit, mixed with grey leaf and thornset +stem; no fastening of diadem for you but with such sharp embroidery! But +this, such as it is, you may win while yet you live; type of grey honour +and sweet rest.[2] Free-heartedness, and graciousness, and undisturbed +trust, and requited love, and the sight of the peace of others, and the +ministry to their pain;--these, and the blue sky above you, and the +sweet waters and flowers of the earth beneath; and mysteries and +presences, innumerable, of living things,--these may yet be here your +riches; untormenting and divine: serviceable for the life that now is +nor, it may be, without promise of that which is to come. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] 'A fearful occurrence took place a few days since, near +Wolverhampton. Thomas Snape, aged nineteen, was on duty as the "keeper" +of a blast furnace at Deepfield, assisted by John Gardner, aged +eighteen, and Joseph Swift, aged thirty-seven. The furnace contained +four tons of molten iron, and an equal amount of cinders, and ought to +have been run out at 7.30 P.M. But Snape and his mates, engaged in +talking and drinking, neglected their duty, and in the meantime, the +iron rose in the furnace until it reached a pipe wherein water was +contained. Just as the men had stripped, and were proceeding to tap the +furnace, the water in the pipe, converted into steam, burst down its +front and let loose on them the molten metal, which instantaneously +consumed Gardner; Snape, terribly burnt, and mad with pain, leaped into +the canal and then ran home and fell dead on the threshold, Swift +survived to reach the hospital, where he died too. + +In further illustration of this matter, I beg the reader to look at the +article on the 'Decay of the English Race,' in the '_Pall-Mall Gazette_' +of April 17, of this year; and at the articles on the 'Report of the +Thames Commission,' in any journals of the same date. + +[2] [Greek: melitoessa, aethlôn g' eneken]. + + + + +THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE. + + + + +LECTURE I. + +_WORK._ + +(_Delivered before the Working Men's Institute, at Camberwell._) + + +My Friends,--I have not come among you to-night to endeavour to give you +an entertaining lecture; but to tell you a few plain facts, and ask you +some plain, but necessary questions. I have seen and known too much of +the struggle for life among our labouring population, to feel at ease, +even under any circumstances, in inviting them to dwell on the +trivialities of my own studies; but, much more, as I meet to-night, for +the first time, the members of a working Institute established in the +district in which I have passed the greater part of my life, I am +desirous that we should at once understand each other, on graver +matters. I would fain tell you, with what feelings, and with what hope, +I regard this Institution, as one of many such, now happily established +throughout England, as well as in other countries;--Institutions which +are preparing the way for a great change in all the circumstances of +industrial life; but of which the success must wholly depend upon our +clearly understanding the circumstances and necessary _limits_ of this +change. No teacher can truly promote the cause of education, until he +knows the conditions of the life for which that education is to prepare +his pupil. And the fact that he is called upon to address you nominally, +as a 'Working Class,' must compel him, if he is in any wise earnest or +thoughtful, to inquire in the outset, on what you yourselves suppose +this class distinction has been founded in the past, and must be founded +in the future. The manner of the amusement, and the matter of the +teaching, which any of us can offer you, must depend wholly on our first +understanding from you, whether you think the distinction heretofore +drawn between working men and others, is truly or falsely founded. Do +you accept it as it stands? do you wish it to be modified? or do you +think the object of education is to efface it, and make us forget it for +ever? + +Let me make myself more distinctly understood. We call this--you and +I--a 'Working Men's' Institute, and our college in London, a 'Working +Men's' College. Now, how do you consider that these several institutes +differ, or ought to differ, from 'idle men's' institutes and 'idle +men's' colleges? Or by what other word than 'idle' shall I distinguish +those whom the happiest and wisest of working men do not object to call +the 'Upper Classes?' Are there really upper classes,--are there lower? +How much should they always be elevated, how much always depressed? And, +gentlemen and ladies--I pray those of you who are here to forgive me the +offence there may be in what I am going to say. It is not _I_ who wish +to say it. Bitter voices say it; voices of battle and of famine through +all the world, which must be heard some day, whoever keeps silence. +Neither is it to _you_ specially that I say it. I am sure that most now +present know their duties of kindness, and fulfil them, better perhaps +than I do mine. But I speak to you as representing your whole class, +which errs, I know, chiefly by thoughtlessness, but not therefore the +less terribly. Wilful error is limited by the will, but what limit is +there to that of which we are unconscious? + +Bear with me, therefore, while I turn to these workmen, and ask them, +also as representing a great multitude, what they think the 'upper +classes' are, and ought to be, in relation to them. Answer, you workmen +who are here, as you would among yourselves, frankly; and tell me how +you would have me call those classes. Am I to call them--would _you_ +think me right in calling them--the idle classes? I think you would feel +somewhat uneasy, and as if I were not treating my subject honestly, or +speaking from my heart, if I went on under the supposition that all rich +people were idle. You would be both unjust and unwise if you allowed me +to say that;--not less unjust than the rich people who say that all the +poor are idle, and will never work if they can help it, or more than +they can help. + +For indeed the fact is, that there are idle poor and idle rich; and +there are busy poor and busy rich. Many a beggar is as lazy as if he had +ten thousand a year; and many a man of large fortune is busier than his +errand-boy, and never would think of stopping in the street to play +marbles. So that, in a large view, the distinction between workers and +idlers, as between knaves and honest men, runs through the very heart +and innermost economies of men of all ranks and in all positions. There +is a working class--strong and happy--among both rich and poor; there is +an idle class--weak, wicked, and miserable--among both rich and poor. +And the worst of the misunderstandings arising between the two orders +come of the unlucky fact that the wise of one class habitually +contemplate the foolish of the other. If the busy rich people watched +and rebuked the idle rich people, all would be right; and if the busy +poor people watched and rebuked the idle poor people, all would be +right. But each class has a tendency to look for the faults of the +other. A hard-working man of property is particularly offended by an +idle beggar; and an orderly, but poor, workman is naturally intolerant +of the licentious luxury of the rich. And what is severe judgment in the +minds of the just men of either class, becomes fierce enmity in the +unjust--but among the unjust _only_. None but the dissolute among the +poor look upon the rich as their natural enemies, or desire to pillage +their houses and divide their property. None but the dissolute among the +rich speak in opprobrious terms of the vices and follies of the poor. + +There is, then, no class distinction between idle and industrious +people; and I am going to-night to speak only of the industrious. The +idle people we will put out of our thoughts at once--they are mere +nuisances--what ought to be done with _them_, we'll talk of at another +time. But there are class distinctions, among the industrious +themselves; tremendous distinctions, which rise and fall to every +degree in the infinite thermometer of human pain and of human +power--distinctions of high and low, of lost and won, to the whole reach +of man's soul and body. + +These separations we will study, and the laws of them, among energetic +men only, who, whether they work or whether they play, put their +strength into the work, and their strength into the game; being in the +full sense of the word 'industrious,' one way or another--with a +purpose, or without. And these distinctions are mainly four: + +I. Between those who work, and those who play. + +II. Between those who produce the means of life, and those who consume +them. + +III. Between those who work with the head, and those who work with the +hand. + +IV. Between those who work wisely, and who work foolishly. + +For easier memory, let us say we are going to oppose, in our +examination.-- + + I. Work to play; + II. Production to consumption; + III. Head to Hand; and, + IV. Sense to nonsense. + +I. First, then, of the distinction between the classes who work and the +classes who play. Of course we must agree upon a definition of these +terms,--work and play,--before going farther. Now, roughly, not with +vain subtlety of definition, but for plain use of the words, 'play' is +an exertion of body or mind, made to please ourselves, and with no +determined end; and work is a thing done because it ought to be done, +and with a determined end. You play, as you call it, at cricket, for +instance. That is as hard work as anything else; but it amuses you, and +it has no result but the amusement. If it were done as an ordered form +of exercise, for health's sake, it would become work directly. So, in +like manner, whatever we do to please ourselves, and only for the sake +of the pleasure, not for an ultimate object, is 'play,' the 'pleasing +thing,' not the useful thing. Play may be useful in a secondary sense +(nothing is indeed more useful or necessary); but the use of it depends +on its being spontaneous. + +Let us, then, enquire together what sort of games the playing class in +England spend their lives in playing at. + +The first of all English games is making money. That is an all-absorbing +game; and we knock each other down oftener in playing at that than at +foot-ball, or any other roughest sport; and it is absolutely without +purpose; no one who engages heartily in that game ever knows why. Ask a +great money-maker what he wants to do with his money--he never knows. He +doesn't make it to do anything with it. He gets it only that he _may_ +get it. 'What will you make of what you have got?' you ask. 'Well, I'll +get more,' he says. Just as, at cricket, you get more runs. There's no +use in the runs, but to get more of them than other people is the game. +And there's no use in the money, but to have more of it than other +people is the game. So all that great foul city of London +there,--rattling, growling, smoking, stinking,--a ghastly heap of +fermenting brick-work, pouring out poison at every pore,--you fancy it +is a city of work? Not a street of it! It is a great city of play; very +nasty play, and very hard play, but still play. It is only Lord's +cricket ground without the turf,--a huge billiard table without the +cloth, and with pockets as deep as the bottomless pit; but mainly a +billiard table, after all. + +Well, the first great English game is this playing at counters. It +differs from the rest in that it appears always to be producing money, +while every other game is expensive. But it does not always produce +money. There's a great difference between 'winning' money and 'making' +it; a great difference between getting it out of another man's pocket +into ours, or filling both. Collecting money is by no means the same +thing as making it; the tax-gatherer's house is not the Mint; and much +of the apparent gain (so called), in commerce, is only a form of +taxation on carriage or exchange. + +Our next great English game, however, hunting and shooting, is costly +altogether; and how much we are fined for it annually in land, horses, +gamekeepers, and game laws, and all else that accompanies that +beautiful and special English game, I will not endeavour to count now: +but note only that, except for exercise, this is not merely a useless +game, but a deadly one, to all connected with it. For through +horse-racing, you get every form of what the higher classes everywhere +call 'Play,' in distinction from all other plays; that is--gambling; by +no means a beneficial or recreative game: and, through game-preserving, +you get also some curious laying out of ground; that beautiful +arrangement of dwelling-house for man and beast, by which we have grouse +and black-cock--so many brace to the acre, and men and women--so many +brace to the garret. I often wonder what the angelic builders and +surveyors--the angelic builders who build the 'many mansions' up above +there; and the angelic surveyors, who measured that four-square city +with their measuring reeds--I wonder what they think, or are supposed to +think, of the laying out of ground by this nation, which has set itself, +as it seems, literally to accomplish, word for word, or rather fact for +word, in the persons of those poor whom its Master left to represent +him, what that Master said of himself--that foxes and birds had homes, +but He none. + +Then, next to the gentlemen's game of hunting, we must put the ladies' +game of dressing. It is not the cheapest of games. I saw a brooch at a +jeweller's in Bond Street a fortnight ago, not an inch wide, and without +any singular jewel in it, yet worth 3,000_l._ And I wish I could tell +you what this 'play' costs, altogether, in England, France, and Russia +annually. But it is a pretty game, and on certain terms, I like it; nay, +I don't see it played quite as much as I would fain have it. You ladies +like to lead the fashion:--by all means lead it--lead it thoroughly, +lead it far enough. Dress yourselves nicely, and dress everybody else +nicely. Lead the _fashions for the poor_ first; make _them_ look well, +and you yourselves will look, in ways of which you have now no +conception, all the better. The fashions you have set for some time +among your peasantry are not pretty ones; their doublets are too +irregularly slashed, and the wind blows too frankly through them. + +Then there are other games, wild enough, as I could show you if I had +time. + +There's playing at literature, and playing at art--very different, both, +from working at literature, or working at art, but I've no time to speak +of these. I pass to the greatest of all--the play of plays, the great +gentlemen's game, which ladies like them best to play at,--the game of +War. It is entrancingly pleasant to the imagination; the facts of it, +not always so pleasant. We dress for it, however, more finely than for +any other sport; and go out to it, not merely in scarlet, as to hunt, +but in scarlet and gold, and all manner of fine colours: of course we +could fight better in grey, and without feathers; but all nations have +agreed that it is good to be well dressed at this play. Then the bats +and balls are very costly; our English and French bats, with the balls +and wickets, even those which we don't make any use of, costing, I +suppose, now about fifteen millions of money annually to each nation; +all of which, you know is paid for by hard labourer's work in the furrow +and furnace. A costly game!--not to speak of its consequences; I will +say at present nothing of these. The mere immediate cost of all these +plays is what I want you to consider; they all cost deadly work +somewhere, as many of us know too well. The jewel-cutter, whose sight +fails over the diamonds; the weaver, whose arm fails over the web; the +iron-forger, whose breath fails before the furnace--_they_ know what +work is--they, who have all the work, and none of the play, except a +kind they have named for themselves down in the black north country, +where 'play' means being laid up by sickness. It is a pretty example for +philologists, of varying dialect, this change in the sense of the word +'play,' as used in the black country of Birmingham, and the red and +black country of Baden Baden. Yes, gentlemen, and gentlewomen, of +England, who think 'one moment unamused a misery, not made for feeble +man,' this is what you have brought the word 'play' to mean, in the +heart of merry England! You may have your fluting and piping; but there +are sad children sitting in the market-place, who indeed cannot say to +you, 'We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced:' but eternally +shall say to you, 'We have mourned unto you, and ye have not lamented.' + +This, then, is the first distinction between the 'upper and lower' +classes. And this is one which is by no means necessary; which indeed +must, in process of good time, be by all honest men's consent abolished. +Men will be taught that an existence of play, sustained by the blood of +other creatures, is a good existence for gnats and sucking fish; but not +for men: that neither days, nor lives, can be made holy by doing nothing +in them: that the best prayer at the beginning of a day is that we may +not lose its moments; and the best grace before meat, the consciousness +that we have justly earned our dinner. And when we have this much of +plain Christianity preached to us again, and enough respect for what we +regard as inspiration, as not to think that 'Son, go work to-day in my +vineyard,' means 'Fool, go play to-day in my vineyard,' we shall all be +workers, in one way or another; and this much at least of the +distinction between 'upper' and 'lower' forgotten. + +II. I pass then to our second distinction; between the rich and poor, +between Dives and Lazarus,--distinction which exists more sternly, I +suppose, in this day, than ever in the world, Pagan or Christian, till +now. I will put it sharply before you, to begin with, merely by reading +two paragraphs which I cut from two papers that lay on my breakfast +table on the same morning, the 25th of November, 1864. The piece about +the rich Russian at Paris is commonplace enough, and stupid besides (for +fifteen francs,--12_s._ 6_d._,--is nothing for a rich man to give for a +couple of peaches, out of season). Still, the two paragraphs printed on +the same day are worth putting side by side. + +'Such a man is now here. He is a Russian, and, with your permission, we +will call him Count Teufelskine. In dress he is sublime; art is +considered in that toilet, the harmony of colour respected, the _chiar' +oscuro_ evident in well-selected contrast. In manners he is +dignified--nay, perhaps apathetic; nothing disturbs the placid serenity +of that calm exterior. One day our friend breakfasted _chez_ Bignon. +When the bill came he read, "Two peaches, 15f." He paid. "Peaches +scarce, I presume?" was his sole remark. "No, sir," replied the waiter, +"but Teufelskines are."' _Telegraph_, November 25, 1864. + +'Yesterday morning, at eight o'clock, a woman, passing a dung heap in +the stone yard near the recently-erected alms-houses in Shadwell Gap, +High Street, Shadwell, called the attention of a Thames police-constable +to a man in a sitting position on the dung heap, and said she was afraid +he was dead. Her fears proved to be true. The wretched creature appeared +to have been dead several hours. He had perished of cold and wet, and +the rain had been beating down on him all night. The deceased was a +bone-picker. He was in the lowest stage of poverty, poorly clad, and +half-starved. The police had frequently driven him away from the stone +yard, between sunset and sunrise, and told him to go home. He selected a +most desolate spot for his wretched death. A penny and some bones were +found in his pockets. The deceased was between fifty and sixty years of +age. Inspector Roberts, of the K division, has given directions for +inquiries to be made at the lodging-houses respecting the deceased, to +ascertain his identity if possible.'--_Morning Post_, November 25, 1864. + +You have the separation thus in brief compass; and I want you to take +notice of the 'a penny and some bones were found in his pockets,' and to +compare it with this third statement, from the _Telegraph_ of January +16th of this year:-- + +'Again, the dietary scale for adult and juvenile paupers was drawn up by +the most conspicuous political economists in England. It is low in +quantity, but it is sufficient to support nature; yet within ten years +of the passing of the Poor Law Act, we heard of the paupers in the +Andover Union gnawing the scraps of putrid flesh and sucking the marrow +from the bones of horses which they were employed to crush.' + +You see my reason for thinking that our Lazarus of Christianity has some +advantage over the Jewish one. Jewish Lazarus expected, or at least +prayed, to be fed with crumbs from the rich man's table; but _our_ +Lazarus is fed with crumbs from the dog's table. + +Now this distinction between rich and poor rests on two bases. Within +its proper limits, on a basis which is lawful and everlastingly +necessary; beyond them, on a basis unlawful, and everlastingly +corrupting the framework of society. The lawful basis of wealth is, that +a man who works should be paid the fair value of his work; and that if +he does not choose to spend it to-day, he should have free leave to keep +it, and spend it to-morrow. Thus, an industrious man working daily, and +laying by daily, attains at last the possession of an accumulated sum of +wealth, to which he has absolute right. The idle person who will not +work, and the wasteful person who lays nothing by, at the end of the +same time will be doubly poor--poor in possession, and dissolute in +moral habit; and he will then naturally covet the money which the other +has saved. And if he is then allowed to attack the other, and rob him of +his well-earned wealth, there is no more any motive for saving, or any +reward for good conduct; and all society is thereupon dissolved, or +exists only in systems of rapine. Therefore the first necessity of +social life is the clearness of national conscience in enforcing the +law--that he should keep who has JUSTLY EARNED. + +That law, I say, is the proper basis of distinction between rich and +poor. But there is also a false basis of distinction; namely, the power +held over those who earn wealth by those who levy or exact it. There +will be always a number of men who would fain set themselves to the +accumulation of wealth as the sole object of their lives. Necessarily, +that class of men is an uneducated class, inferior in intellect, and +more or less cowardly. It is physically impossible for a well-educated, +intellectual, or brave man to make money the chief object of his +thoughts; as physically impossible as it is for him to make his dinner +the principal object of them. All healthy people like their dinners, but +their dinner is not the main object of their lives. So all healthily +minded people like making money--ought to like it, and to enjoy the +sensation of winning it; but the main object of their life is not money; +it is something better than money. A good soldier, for instance, mainly +wishes to do his fighting well. He is glad of his pay--very properly +so, and justly grumbles when you keep him ten years without it--still, +his main notion of life is to win battles, not to be paid for winning +them. So of clergymen. They like pew-rents, and baptismal fees, of +course; but yet, if they are brave and well educated, the pew-rent is +not the sole object of their lives, and the baptismal fee is not the +sole purpose of the baptism; the clergyman's object is essentially to +baptize and preach, not to be paid for preaching. So of doctors. They +like fees no doubt,--ought to like them; yet if they are brave and well +educated, the entire object of their lives is not fees. They, on the +whole, desire to cure the sick; and,--if they are good doctors, and the +choice were fairly put to them,--would rather cure their patient, and +lose their fee, than kill him, and get it. And so with all other brave +and rightly trained men; their work is first, their fee second--very +important always, but still _second_. But in every nation, as I said, +there are a vast class who are ill-educated, cowardly, and more or less +stupid. And with these people, just as certainly the fee is first, and +the work second, as with brave people the work is first and the fee +second. And this is no small distinction. It is the whole distinction in +a man; distinction between life and death _in_ him, between heaven and +hell _for_ him. You cannot serve two masters;--you _must_ serve one or +other. If your work is first with you, and your fee second, work is your +master, and the lord of work, who is God. But if your fee is first with +you, and your work second, fee is your master, and the lord of fee, who +is the Devil; and not only the Devil, but the lowest of devils--the +'least erected fiend that fell.' So there you have it in brief terms; +Work first--you are God's servants; Fee first--you are the Fiend's. And +it makes a difference, now and ever, believe me, whether you serve Him +who has on His vesture and thigh written, 'King of Kings,' and whose +service is perfect freedom; or him on whose vesture and thigh the name +is written, 'Slave of Slaves,' and whose service is perfect slavery. + +However, in every nation there are, and must always be, a certain number +of these Fiend's servants, who have it principally for the object of +their lives to make money. They are always, as I said, more or less +stupid, and cannot conceive of anything else so nice as money. Stupidity +is always the basis of the Judas bargain. We do great injustice to +Iscariot, in thinking him wicked above all common wickedness. He was +only a common money-lover, and, like all money-lovers, didn't understand +Christ;--couldn't make out the worth of Him, or meaning of Him. He +didn't want Him to be killed. He was horror-struck when he found that +Christ would be killed; threw his money away instantly, and hanged +himself. How many of our present money-seekers, think you, would have +the grace to hang themselves, whoever was killed? But Judas was a +common, selfish, muddle-headed, pilfering fellow; his hand always in the +bag of the poor, not caring for them. He didn't understand Christ;--yet +believed in Him, much more than most of us do; had seen Him do miracles, +thought He was quite strong enough to shift for Himself, and he, Judas, +might as well make his own little bye-perquisites out of the affair. +Christ would come out of it well enough, and he have his thirty pieces. +Now, that is the money-seeker's idea, all over the world. He doesn't +hate Christ, but can't understand Him--doesn't care for him--sees no +good in that benevolent business; makes his own little job out of it at +all events, come what will. And thus, out of every mass of men, you have +a certain number of bag-men--your 'fee-first' men, whose main object is +to make money. And they do make it--make it in all sorts of unfair ways, +chiefly by the weight and force of money itself, or what is called the +power of capital; that is to say, the power which money, once obtained, +has over the labour of the poor, so that the capitalist can take all its +produce to himself, except the labourer's food. That is the modern +Judas's way of 'carrying the bag,' and 'bearing what is put therein.' + +Nay, but (it is asked) how is that an unfair advantage? Has not the man +who has worked for the money a right to use it as he best can? No; in +this respect, money is now exactly what mountain promontories over +public roads were in old times. The barons fought for them fairly:--the +strongest and cunningest got them; then fortified them, and made +everyone who passed below pay toll. Well, capital now is exactly what +crags were then. Men fight fairly (we will, at least, grant so much, +though it is more than we ought) for their money; but, once having got +it, the fortified millionaire can make everybody who passes below pay +toll to his million, and build another tower of his money castle. And I +can tell you, the poor vagrants by the roadside suffer now quite as much +from the bag-baron, as ever they did from the crag-baron. Bags and crags +have just the same result on rags. I have not time, however, to-night to +show you in how many ways the power of capital is unjust; but this one +great principle I have to assert--you will find it quite indisputably +true--that whenever money is the principal object of life with either +man or nation, it is both got ill, and spent ill; and does harm both in +the getting and spending; but when it is not the principal object, it +and all other things will be well got, and well spent. And here is the +test, with every man, of whether money is the principal object with him, +or not. If in mid-life he could pause and say, "Now I have enough to +live upon, I'll live upon it; and having well earned it, I will also +well spend it, and go out of the world poor, as I came into it," then +money is not principal with him; but if, having enough to live upon in +the manner befitting his character and rank, he still wants to make +more, and to _die_ rich, then money is the principal object with him, +and it becomes a curse to himself, and generally to those who spend it +after him. For you know it _must_ be spent some day; the only question +is whether the man who makes it shall spend it, or some one else. And +generally it is better for the maker to spend it, for he will know best +its value and use. This is the true law of life. And if a man does not +choose thus to spend his money, he must either hoard it or lend it, and +the worst thing he can generally do is to lend it; for borrowers are +nearly always ill-spenders, and it is with lent money that all evil is +mainly done, and all unjust war protracted. + +For observe what the real fact is, respecting loans to foreign military +governments, and how strange it is. If your little boy came to you to +ask for money to spend in squibs and crackers, you would think twice +before you gave it him; and you would have some idea that it was wasted, +when you saw it fly off in fireworks, even though he did no mischief +with it. But the Russian children, and Austrian children, come to you, +borrowing money, not to spend in innocent squibs, but in cartridges and +bayonets to attack you in India with, and to keep down all noble life in +Italy with, and to murder Polish women and children with; and _that_ you +will give at once, because they pay you interest for it. Now, in order +to pay you that interest, they must tax every working peasant in their +dominions; and on that work you live. You therefore at once rob the +Austrian peasant, assassinate or banish the Polish peasant, and you live +on the produce of the theft, and the bribe for the assassination! That +is the broad fact--that is the practical meaning of your foreign loans, +and of most large interest of money; and then you quarrel with Bishop +Colenso, forsooth, as if _he_ denied the Bible, and you believed it! +though, wretches as you are, every deliberate act of your lives is a new +defiance of its primary orders; and as if, for most of the rich men of +England at this moment, it were not indeed to be desired, as the best +thing at least for _them_, that the Bible should _not_ be true, since +against them these words are written in it: 'The rust of your gold and +silver shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh, as it +were fire.' + + +III. I pass now to our third condition of separation, between the men +who work with the hand, and those who work with the head. + +And here we have at last an inevitable distinction. There _must_ be work +done by the arms, or none of us could live. There _must_ be work done by +the brains, or the life we get would not be worth having. And the same +men cannot do both. There is rough work to be done, and rough men must +do it; there is gentle work to be done, and gentlemen must do it; and it +is physically impossible that one class should do, or divide, the work +of the other. And it is of no use to try to conceal this sorrowful fact +by fine words, and to talk to the workman about the honourableness of +manual labour and the dignity of humanity. That is a grand old proverb +of Sancho Panza's, 'Fine words butter no parsnips;' and I can tell you +that, all over England just now, you workmen are buying a great deal too +much butter at that dairy. Rough work, honourable or not, takes the life +out of us; and the man who has been heaving clay out of a ditch all day, +or driving an express train against the north wind all night, or holding +a collier's helm in a gale on a lee-shore, or whirling white hot iron at +a furnace mouth, that man is not the same at the end of his day, or +night, as one who has been sitting in a quiet room, with everything +comfortable about him, reading books, or classing butterflies, or +painting pictures. If it is any comfort to you to be told that the rough +work is the more honourable of the two, I should be sorry to take that +much of consolation from you; and in some sense I need not. The rough +work is at all events real, honest, and, generally, though not always, +useful; while the fine work is, a great deal of it, foolish and false as +well as fine, and therefore dishonourable; but when both kinds are +equally well and worthily done, the head's is the noble work, and the +hand's the ignoble; and of all hand work whatsoever, necessary for the +maintenance of life, those old words, 'In the sweat of thy face thou +shalt eat bread,' indicate that the inherent nature of it is one of +calamity; and that the ground, cursed for our sake, casts also some +shadow of degradation into our contest with its thorn and its thistle; +so that all nations have held their days honourable, or 'holy,' and +constituted them 'holydays' or 'holidays,' by making them days of rest; +and the promise, which, among all our distant hopes, seems to cast the +chief brightness over death, is that blessing of the dead who die in the +Lord, that 'they rest from their labours, and their works do follow +them.' + +And thus the perpetual question and contest must arise, who is to do +this rough work? and how is the worker of it to be comforted, redeemed, +and rewarded? and what kind of play should he have, and what rest, in +this world, sometimes, as well as in the next? Well, my good working +friends, these questions will take a little time to answer yet. They +must be answered: all good men are occupied with them, and all honest +thinkers. There's grand head work doing about them; but much must be +discovered, and much attempted in vain, before anything decisive can be +told you. Only note these few particulars, which are already sure. + +As to the distribution of the hard work. None of us, or very few of us, +do either hard or soft work because we think we ought; but because we +have chanced to fall into the way of it, and cannot help ourselves. Now, +nobody does anything well that they cannot help doing: work is only done +well when it is done with a will; and no man has a thoroughly sound will +unless he knows he is doing what he should, and is in his place. And, +depend upon it, all work must be done at last, not in a disorderly, +scrambling, doggish way, but in an ordered, soldierly, human way--a +lawful way. Men are enlisted for the labour that kills--the labour of +war: they are counted, trained, fed, dressed, and praised for that. Let +them be enlisted also for the labour that feeds: let them be counted, +trained, fed, dressed, praised for that. Teach the plough exercise as +carefully as you do the sword exercise, and let the officers of troops +of life be held as much gentlemen as the officers of troops of death; +and all is done: but neither this, nor any other right thing, can be +accomplished--you can't even see your way to it--unless, first of all, +both servant and master are resolved that, come what will of it, they +will do each other justice. People are perpetually squabbling about what +will be best to do, or easiest to do, or adviseablest to do, or +profitablest to do; but they never, so far as I hear them talk, ever ask +what it is _just_ to do. And it is the law of heaven that you shall not +be able to judge what is wise or easy, unless you are first resolved to +judge what is just, and to do it. That is the one thing constantly +reiterated by our Master--the order of all others that is given +oftenest--'Do justice and judgment.' That's your Bible order; that's the +'Service of God,' not praying nor psalm-singing. You are told, indeed, +to sing psalms when you are merry, and to pray when you need anything; +and, by the perversion of the Evil Spirit, we get to think that praying +and psalm-singing are 'service.' If a child finds itself in want of +anything, it runs in and asks its father for it--does it call that, +doing its father a service? If it begs for a toy or a piece of +cake--does it call that serving its father? That, with God, is prayer, +and He likes to hear it: He likes you to ask Him for cake when you want +it; but He doesn't call that 'serving Him.' Begging is not serving: God +likes mere beggars as little as you do--He likes honest servants, not +beggars. So when a child loves its father very much, and is very happy, +it may sing little songs about him; but it doesn't call that serving its +father; neither is singing songs about God, serving God. It is enjoying +ourselves, if it's anything; most probably it is nothing; but if it's +anything, it is serving ourselves, not God. And yet we are impudent +enough to call our beggings and chauntings 'Divine Service:' we say +'Divine service will be "performed"' (that's our word--the form of it +gone through) 'at eleven o'clock.' Alas!--unless we perform Divine +service in every willing act of our life, we never perform it at all. +The one Divine work--the one ordered sacrifice--is to do justice; and it +is the last we are ever inclined to do. Anything rather than that! As +much charity as you choose, but no justice. 'Nay,' you will say, +'charity is greater than justice.' Yes, it is greater; it is the summit +of justice--it is the temple of which justice is the foundation. But you +can't have the top without the bottom; you cannot build upon charity. +You must build upon justice, for this main reason, that you have not, at +first, charity to build with. It is the last reward of good work. Do +justice to your brother (you can do that, whether you love him or not), +and you will come to love him. But do injustice to him, because you +don't love him; and you will come to hate him. It is all very fine to +think you can build upon charity to begin with; but you will find all +you have got to begin with, begins at home, and is essentially love of +yourself. You well-to-do people, for instance, who are here to-night, +will go to 'Divine service' next Sunday, all nice and tidy, and your +little children will have their tight little Sunday boots on, and lovely +little Sunday feathers in their hats; and you'll think, complacently and +piously, how lovely they look! So they do: and you love them heartily +and you like sticking feathers in their hats. That's all right: that +_is_ charity; but it is charity beginning at home. Then you will come to +the poor little crossing-sweeper, got up also,--it, in its Sunday +dress,--the dirtiest rags it has,--that it may beg the better: we shall +give it a penny, and think how good we are. That's charity going abroad. +But what does Justice say, walking and watching near us? Christian +Justice has been strangely mute, and seemingly blind; and, if not blind, +decrepit, this many a day: she keeps her accounts still, however--quite +steadily--doing them at nights, carefully, with her bandage off, and +through acutest spectacles (the only modern scientific invention she +cares about). You must put your ear down ever so close to her lips to +hear her speak; and then you will start at what she first whispers, for +it will certainly be, 'Why shouldn't that little crossing-sweeper have a +feather on its head, as well as your own child?' Then you may ask +Justice, in an amazed manner, 'How she can possibly be so foolish as to +think children could sweep crossings with feathers on their heads?' Then +you stoop again, and Justice says--still in her dull, stupid way--'Then, +why don't you, every other Sunday, leave your child to sweep the +crossing, and take the little sweeper to church in a hat and feather?' +Mercy on us (you think), what will she say next? And you answer, of +course, that 'you don't, because every body ought to remain content in +the position in which Providence has placed them.' Ah, my friends, +that's the gist of the whole question. _Did_ Providence put them in that +position, or did _you_? You knock a man into a ditch, and then you tell +him to remain content in the 'position in which Providence has placed +him.' That's modern Christianity. You say--'_We_ did not knock him into +the ditch.' How do you know what you have done, or are doing? That's +just what we have all got to know, and what we shall never know, until +the question with us every morning, is, not how to do the gainful thing, +but how to do the just thing; nor until we are at least so far on the +way to being Christian, as to have understood that maxim of the poor +half-way Mahometan, 'One hour in the execution of justice is worth +seventy years of prayer.' + +Supposing, then, we have it determined with appropriate justice, _who_ +is to do the hand work, the next questions must be how the hand-workers +are to be paid, and how they are to be refreshed, and what play they are +to have. Now, the possible quantity of play depends on the possible +quantity of pay; and the quantity of pay is not a matter for +consideration to hand-workers only, but to all workers. Generally, good, +useful work, whether of the hand or head, is either ill-paid, or not +paid at all. I don't say it should be so, but it always is so. People, +as a rule, only pay for being amused or being cheated, not for being +served. Five thousand a year to your talker, and a shilling a day to +your fighter, digger, and thinker, is the rule. None of the best head +work in art, literature, or science, is ever paid for. How much do you +think Homer got for his Iliad? or Dante for his Paradise? only bitter +bread and salt, and going up and down other people's stairs. In science, +the man who discovered the telescope, and first saw heaven, was paid +with a dungeon; the man who invented the microscope, and first saw +earth, died of starvation, driven from his home: it is indeed very clear +that God means all thoroughly good work and talk to be done for nothing. +Baruch, the scribe, did not get a penny a line for writing Jeremiah's +second roll for him, I fancy; and St. Stephen did not get bishop's pay +for that long sermon of his to the Pharisees; nothing but stones. For +indeed that is the world-father's proper payment. So surely as any of +the world's children work for the world's good, honestly, with head and +heart; and come to it, saying, 'Give us a little bread, just to keep the +life in us,' the world-father answers them, 'No, my children, not bread; +a stone, if you like, or as many as you need, to keep you quiet.' But +the hand-workers are not so ill off as all this comes to. The worst that +can happen to _you_ is to break stones; not be broken by them. And for +you there will come a time for better payment; some day, assuredly, more +pence will be paid to Peter the Fisherman, and fewer to Peter the Pope; +we shall pay people not quite so much for talking in Parliament and +doing nothing, as for holding their tongues out of it and doing +something; we shall pay our ploughman a little more and our lawyer a +little less, and so on: but, at least, we may even now take care that +whatever work is done shall be fully paid for; and the man who does it +paid for it, not somebody else; and that it shall be done in an orderly, +soldierly, well-guided, wholesome way, under good captains and +lieutenants of labour; and that it shall have its appointed times of +rest, and enough of them; and that in those times the play shall be +wholesome play, not in theatrical gardens, with tin flowers and gas +sunshine, and girls dancing because of their misery; but in true +gardens, with real flowers, and real sunshine, and children dancing +because of their gladness; so that truly the streets shall be full (the +'streets,' mind you, not the gutters) of children, playing in the midst +thereof. We may take care that working-men shall have at least as good +books to read as anybody else, when they've time to read them; and as +comfortable fire-sides to sit at as anybody else, when they've time to +sit at them. This, I think, can be managed for you, my working friends, +in the good time. + +IV. I must go on, however, to our last head, concerning ourselves all, +as workers. What is wise work, and what is foolish work? What the +difference between sense and nonsense, in daily occupation? + +Well, wise work is, briefly, work _with_ God. Foolish work is work +_against_ God. And work done with God, which He will help, may be +briefly described as 'Putting in Order'--that is, enforcing God's law of +order, spiritual and material, over men and things. The first thing you +have to do, essentially; the real 'good work' is, with respect to men, +to enforce justice, and with respect to things, to enforce tidiness, and +fruitfulness. And against these two great human deeds, justice and +order, there are perpetually two great demons contending,--the devil of +iniquity, or inequity, and the devil of disorder, or of death; for death +is only consummation of disorder. You have to fight these two fiends +daily. So far as you don't fight against the fiend of iniquity, you work +for him. You 'work iniquity,' and the judgment upon you, for all your +'Lord, Lord's,' will be 'Depart from me, ye that work iniquity.' And so +far as you do not resist the fiend of disorder, you work disorder, and +you yourself do the work of Death, which is sin, and has for its wages, +Death himself. + +Observe then, all wise work is mainly threefold in character. It is +honest, useful, and cheerful. + + +I. It is HONEST. I hardly know anything more strange than that you +recognise honesty in play, and you do not in work. In your lightest +games, you have always some one to see what you call 'fair-play.' In +boxing, you must hit fair; in racing, start fair. Your English watchword +is fair-play, your English hatred, foul-play. Did it ever strike you +that you wanted another watchword also, fair-work, and another hatred +also, foul-work? Your prize-fighter has some honour in him yet; and so +have the men in the ring round him: they will judge him to lose the +match, by foul hitting. But your prize-merchant gains his match by foul +selling, and no one cries out against that. You drive a gambler out of +the gambling-room who loads dice, but you leave a tradesman in +flourishing business, who loads scales! For observe, all dishonest +dealing _is_ loading scales. What does it matter whether I get short +weight, adulterate substance, or dishonest fabric? The fault in the +fabric is incomparably the worst of the two. Give me short measure of +food, and I only lose by you; but give me adulterate food, and I die by +you. Here, then, is your chief duty, you workmen and tradesmen--to be +true to yourselves, and to us who would help you. We can do nothing for +you, nor you for yourselves, without honesty. Get that, you get all; +without that, your suffrages, your reforms, your free-trade measures, +your institutions of science, are all in vain. It is useless to put your +heads together, if you can't put your hearts together. Shoulder to +shoulder, right hand to right hand, among yourselves, and no wrong hand +to anybody else, and you'll win the world yet. + + +II. Then, secondly, wise work is USEFUL. No man minds, or ought to mind, +its being hard, if only it comes to something; but when it is hard, and +comes to nothing; when all our bees' business turns to spiders'; and +for honeycomb we have only resultant cobweb, blown away by the next +breeze--that is the cruel thing for the worker. Yet do we ever ask +ourselves, personally, or even nationally, whether our work is coming to +anything or not? We don't care to keep what has been nobly done; still +less do we care to do nobly what others would keep; and, least of all, +to make the work itself useful instead of deadly to the doer, so as to +use his life indeed, but not to waste it. Of all wastes, the greatest +waste that you can commit is the waste of labour. If you went down in +the morning into your dairy, and you found that your youngest child had +got down before you; and that he and the cat were at play together, and +that he had poured out all the cream on the floor for the cat to lap up, +you would scold the child, and be sorry the milk was wasted. But if, +instead of wooden bowls with milk in them, there are golden bowls with +human life in them, and instead of the cat to play with--the devil to +play with; and you yourself the player; and instead of leaving that +golden bowl to be broken by God at the fountain, you break it in the +dust yourself, and pour the human blood out on the ground for the fiend +to lick up--that is no waste! What! you perhaps think, 'to waste the +labour of men is not to kill them.' Is it not? I should like to know how +you could kill them more utterly--kill them with second deaths, seventh +deaths, hundredfold deaths? It is the slightest way of killing to stop a +man's breath. Nay, the hunger, and the cold, and the little whistling +bullets--our love-messengers between nation and nation--have brought +pleasant messages from us to many a man before now; orders of sweet +release, and leave at last to go where he will be most welcome and most +happy. At the worst you do but shorten his life, you do not corrupt his +life. But if you put him to base labour, if you bind his thoughts, if +you blind his eyes, if you blunt his hopes, if you steal his joys, if +you stunt his body, and blast his soul, and at last leave him not so +much as to reap the poor fruit of his degradation, but gather that for +yourself, and dismiss him to the grave, when you have done with him, +having, so far as in you lay, made the walls of that grave everlasting +(though, indeed, I fancy the goodly bricks of some of our family vaults +will hold closer in the resurrection day than the sod over the +labourer's head), this you think is no waste, and no sin! + + +III. Then, lastly, wise work is CHEERFUL, as a child's work is. And now +I want you to take one thought home with you, and let it stay with you. + +Everybody in this room has been taught to pray daily, 'Thy kingdom +come.' Now, if we hear a man swear in the streets, we think it very +wrong, and say he 'takes God's name in vain.' But there's a twenty times +worse way of taking His name in vain, than that. It is to _ask God for +what we don't want_. He doesn't like that sort of prayer. If you don't +want a thing, don't ask for it: such asking is the worst mockery of your +King you can mock Him with; the soldiers striking Him on the head with +the reed was nothing to that. If you do not wish for His kingdom, don't +pray for it. But if you do, you must do more than pray for it; you must +work for it. And, to work for it, you must know what it is: we have all +prayed for it many a day without thinking. Observe, it is a kingdom that +is to come to us; we are not to go to it. Also, it is not to be a +kingdom of the dead, but of the living. Also, it is not to come all at +once, but quietly; nobody knows how. 'The kingdom of God cometh not with +observation.' Also, it is not to come outside of us, but in the hearts +of us: 'the kingdom of God is within you.' And, being within us, it is +not a thing to be seen, but to be felt; and though it brings all +substance of good with it, it does not consist in that: 'the kingdom of +God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy +Ghost:' joy, that is to say, in the holy, healthful, and helpful Spirit. +Now, if we want to work for this kingdom, and to bring it, and enter +into it, there's just one condition to be first accepted. You must enter +it as children, or not at all; 'Whosoever will not receive it as a +little child shall not enter therein.' And again, 'Suffer little +children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the +kingdom of heaven.' + +_Of such_, observe. Not of children themselves, but of such as +children. I believe most mothers who read that text think that all +heaven is to be full of babies. But that's not so. There will be +children there, but the hoary head is the crown. 'Length of days, and +long life and peace,' that is the blessing, not to die in babyhood. +Children die but for their parents sins; God means them to live, but He +can't let them always; then they have their earlier place in heaven: and +the little child of David, vainly prayed for;--the little child of +Jeroboam, killed by its mother's step on its own threshold,--they will +be there. But weary old David, and weary old Barzillai, having learned +children's lessons at last, will be there too: and the one question for +us all, young or old, is, have we learned our child's lesson? it is the +_character_ of children we want, and must gain at our peril; let us see, +briefly, in what it consists. + +The first character of right childhood is that it is Modest. A well-bred +child does not think it can teach its parents, or that it knows +everything. It may think its father and mother know everything,--perhaps +that all grown-up people know everything; very certainly it is sure that +_it_ does not. And it is always asking questions, and wanting to know +more. Well, that is the first character of a good and wise man at his +work. To know that he knows very little;--to perceive that there are +many above him wiser than he; and to be always asking questions, wanting +to learn, not to teach. No one ever teaches well who wants to teach, or +governs well who wants to govern; it is an old saying (Plato's, but I +know not if his, first), and as wise as old. + +Then, the second character of right childhood is to be Faithful. +Perceiving that its father knows best what is good for it, and having +found always, when it has tried its own way against his, that he was +right and it was wrong, a noble child trusts him at last wholly, gives +him its hand, and will walk blindfold with him, if he bids it. And that +is the true character of all good men also, as obedient workers, or +soldiers under captains. They must trust their captains;--they are bound +for their lives to choose none but those whom they _can_ trust. Then, +they are not always to be thinking that what seems strange to them, or +wrong in what they are desired to do, _is_ strange or wrong. They know +their captain: where he leads they must follow, what he bids, they must +do; and without this trust and faith, without this captainship and +soldiership, no great deed, no great salvation, is possible to man. +Among all the nations it is only when this faith is attained by them +that they become great: the Jew, the Greek, and the Mahometan, agree at +least in testifying to this. It was a deed of this absolute trust which +made Abraham the father of the faithful; it was the declaration of the +power of God as captain over all men, and the acceptance of a leader +appointed by Him as commander of the faithful, which laid the foundation +of whatever national power yet exists in the East; and the deed of the +Greeks, which has become the type of unselfish and noble soldiership to +all lands, and to all times, was commemorated, on the tomb of those who +gave their lives to do it, in the most pathetic, so far as I know, or +can feel, of all human utterances: 'Oh, stranger, go and tell our people +that we are lying here, having _obeyed_ their words.' + +Then the third character of right childhood is to be Loving and +Generous. Give a little love to a child, and you get a great deal back. +It loves everything near it, when it is a right kind of child--would +hurt nothing, would give the best it has away, always, if you need +it--does not lay plans for getting everything in the house for itself, +and delights in helping people; you cannot please it so much as by +giving it a chance of being useful, in ever so little a way. + +And because of all these characters, lastly, it is Cheerful. Putting its +trust in its father, it is careful for nothing--being full of love to +every creature, it is happy always, whether in its play or in its duty. +Well, that's the great worker's character also. Taking no thought for +the morrow; taking thought only for the duty of the day; trusting +somebody else to take care of to-morrow; knowing indeed what labour is, +but not what sorrow is; and always ready for play--beautiful play,--for +lovely human play is like the play of the Sun. There's a worker for you. +He, steady to his time, is set as a strong man to run his course, but +also, he _rejoiceth_ as a strong man to run his course. See how he +plays in the morning, with the mists below, and the clouds above, with a +ray here and a flash there, and a shower of jewels everywhere; that's +the Sun's play; and great human play is like his--all various--all full +of light and life, and tender, as the dew of the morning. + +So then, you have the child's character in these four things--Humility, +Faith, Charity, and Cheerfulness. That's what you have got to be +converted to. 'Except ye be converted and become as little +children'--You hear much of conversion now-a-days; but people always +seem to think they have got to be made wretched by conversion,--to be +converted to long faces. No, friends, you have got to be converted to +short ones; you have to repent into childhood, to repent into delight, +and delightsomeness. You can't go into a conventicle but you'll hear +plenty of talk of backsliding. Backsliding, indeed! I can tell you, on +the ways most of us go, the faster we slide back the better. Slide back +into the cradle, if going on is into the grave--back, I tell you; +back--out of your long faces, and into your long clothes. It is among +children only, and as children only, that you will find medicine for +your healing and true wisdom for your teaching. There is poison in the +counsels of the _men_ of this world; the words they speak are all +bitterness, 'the poison of asps is under their lips,' but, 'the sucking +child shall play by the hole of the asp.' There is death in the looks of +men. 'Their eyes are privily set against the poor;' they are as the +uncharmable serpent, the cockatrice, which slew by seeing. But 'the +weaned child shall lay his hand on the cockatrice den.' There is death +in the steps of men: 'their feet are swift to shed blood; they have +compassed us in our steps like the lion that is greedy of his prey, and +the young lion lurking in secret places,' but, in that kingdom, the wolf +shall lie down with the lamb, and the fatling with the lion, and 'a +little child shall lead them.' There is death in the thoughts of men: +the world is one wide riddle to them, darker and darker as it draws to a +close; but the secret of it is known to the child, and the Lord of +heaven and earth is most to be thanked in that 'He has hidden these +things from the wise and prudent, and has revealed them unto babes.' +Yes, and there is death--infinitude of death in the principalities and +powers of men. As far as the east is from the west, so far our sins +are--_not_ set from us, but multiplied around us: the Sun himself, think +you he _now_ 'rejoices' to run his course, when he plunges westward to +the horizon, so widely red, not with clouds, but blood? And it will be +red more widely yet. Whatever drought of the early and latter rain may +be, there will be none of that red rain. You fortify yourselves, you arm +yourselves against it in vain; the enemy and avenger will be upon you +also, unless you learn that it is not out of the mouths of the knitted +gun, or the smoothed rifle, but 'out of the mouths of babes and +sucklings' that the strength is ordained which shall 'still the enemy +and avenger.' + + + + +LECTURE II. + +_TRAFFIC._ + +(_Delivered in the Town Hall, Bradford._) + + +My good Yorkshire friends, you asked me down here among your hills that +I might talk to you about this Exchange you are going to build: but +earnestly and seriously asking you to pardon me, I am going to do +nothing of the kind. I cannot talk, or at least can say very little, +about this same Exchange. I must talk of quite other things, though not +willingly;--I could not deserve your pardon, if when you invited me to +speak on one subject, I wilfully spoke on another. But I cannot speak, +to purpose, of anything about which I do not care; and most simply and +sorrowfully I have to tell you, in the outset, that I do _not_ care +about this Exchange of yours. + +If, however, when you sent me your invitation, I had answered, 'I won't +come, I don't care about the Exchange of Bradford,' you would have been +justly offended with me, not knowing the reasons of so blunt a +carelessness. So I have come down, hoping that you will patiently let me +tell you why, on this, and many other such occasions, I now remain +silent, when formerly I should have caught at the opportunity of +speaking to a gracious audience. + +In a word, then, I do not care about this Exchange,--because _you_ +don't; and because you know perfectly well I cannot make you. Look at +the essential circumstances of the case, which you, as business men, +know perfectly well, though perhaps you think I forget them. You are +going to spend 30,000_l._, which to you, collectively, is nothing; the +buying a new coat is, as to the cost of it, a much more important matter +of consideration to me than building a new Exchange is to you. But you +think you may as well have the right thing for your money. You know +there are a great many odd styles of architecture about; you don't want +to do anything ridiculous; you hear of me, among others, as a +respectable architectural man-milliner: and you send for me, that I may +tell you the leading fashion; and what is, in our shops, for the moment, +the newest and sweetest thing in pinnacles. + +Now, pardon me for telling you frankly, you cannot have good +architecture merely by asking people's advice on occasion. All good +architecture is the expression of national life and character; and it is +produced by a prevalent and eager national taste, or desire for beauty. +And I want you to think a little of the deep significance of this word +'taste;' for no statement of mine has been more earnestly or oftener +controverted than that good taste is essentially a moral quality. 'No,' +say many of my antagonists, 'taste is one thing, morality is another. +Tell us what is pretty; we shall be glad to know that; but preach no +sermons to us.' + +Permit me, therefore, to fortify this old dogma of mine somewhat. Taste +is not only a part and an index of morality--it is the ONLY morality. +The first, and last, and closest trial question to any living creature +is, 'What do you like?' Tell me what you like, and I'll tell you what +you are. Go out into the street, and ask the first man or woman you +meet, what their 'taste' is, and if they answer candidly, you know them, +body and soul. 'You, my friend in the rags, with the unsteady gait, what +do _you_ like?' 'A pipe and a quartern of gin.' I know you. 'You, good +woman, with the quick step and tidy bonnet, what do you like?' 'A swept +hearth and a clean tea-table, and my husband opposite me, and a baby at +my breast.' Good, I know you also. 'You, little girl with the golden +hair and the soft eyes, what do you like?' 'My canary, and a run among +the wood hyacinths.' 'You, little boy with the dirty hands and the low +forehead, what do you like?' 'A shy at the sparrows, and a game at +pitch-farthing.' Good; we know them all now. What more need we ask? + +'Nay,' perhaps you answer: 'we need rather to ask what these people and +children do, than what they like. If they _do_ right, it is no matter +that they like what is wrong; and if they _do_ wrong, it is no matter +that they like what is right. Doing is the great thing; and it does not +matter that the man likes drinking, so that he does not drink; nor that +the little girl likes to be kind to her canary, if she will not learn +her lessons; nor that the little boy likes throwing stones at the +sparrows, if he goes to the Sunday school.' Indeed, for a short time, +and in a provisional sense, this is true. For if, resolutely, people do +what is right, in time they come to like doing it. But they only are in +a right moral state when they _have_ come to like doing it; and as long +as they don't like it, they are still in a vicious state. The man is not +in health of body who is always thirsting for the bottle in the +cupboard, though he bravely bears his thirst; but the man who heartily +enjoys water in the morning and wine in the evening, each in its proper +quantity and time. And the entire object of true education is to make +people not merely _do_ the right things, but _enjoy_ the right +things--not merely industrious, but to love industry--not merely +learned, but to love knowledge--not merely pure, but to love purity--not +merely just, but to hunger and thirst after justice. + +But you may answer or think, 'Is the liking for outside ornaments,--for +pictures, or statues, or furniture, or architecture,--a moral quality?' +Yes, most surely, if a rightly set liking. Taste for _any_ pictures or +statues is not a moral quality, but taste for good ones is. Only here +again we have to define the word 'good.' I don't mean by 'good,' +clever--or learned--or difficult in the doing. Take a picture by +Teniers, of sots quarrelling over their dice: it is an entirely clever +picture; so clever that nothing in its kind has ever been done equal to +it; but it is also an entirely base and evil picture. It is an +expression of delight in the prolonged contemplation of a vile thing, +and delight in that is an 'unmannered,' or 'immoral' quality. It is 'bad +taste' in the profoundest sense--it is the taste of the devils. On the +other hand, a picture of Titian's, or a Greek statue, or a Greek coin, +or a Turner landscape, expresses delight in the perpetual contemplation +of a good and perfect thing. That is an entirely moral quality--it is +the taste of the angels. And all delight in art, and all love of it, +resolve themselves into simple love of that which deserves love. That +deserving is the quality which we call 'loveliness'--(we ought to have +an opposite word, hateliness, to be said of the things which deserve to +be hated); and it is not an indifferent nor optional thing whether we +love this or that; but it is just the vital function of all our being. +What we _like_ determines what we _are_, and is the sign of what we are; +and to teach taste is inevitably to form character. As I was thinking +over this, in walking up Fleet Street the other day, my eye caught the +title of a book standing open in a bookseller's window. It was--'On the +necessity of the diffusion of taste among all classes.' 'Ah,' I thought +to myself, 'my classifying friend, when you have diffused your taste, +where will your classes be? The man who likes what you like, belongs to +the same class with you, I think. Inevitably so. You may put him to +other work if you choose; but, by the condition you have brought him +into, he will dislike the other work as much as you would yourself. You +get hold of a scavenger, or a costermonger, who enjoyed the Newgate +Calendar for literature, and "Pop goes the Weasel" for music. You think +you can make him like Dante and Beethoven? I wish you joy of your +lessons; but if you do, you have made a gentleman of him:--he won't like +to go back to his costermongering.' + +And so completely and unexceptionally is this so, that, if I had time +to-night, I could show you that a nation cannot be affected by any vice, +or weakness, without expressing it, legibly, and for ever, either in bad +art, or by want of art; and that there is no national virtue, small or +great, which is not manifestly expressed in all the art which +circumstances enable the people possessing that virtue to produce. Take, +for instance, your great English virtue of enduring and patient courage. +You have at present in England only one art of any consequence--that is, +iron-working. You know thoroughly well how to cast and hammer iron. Now, +do you think in those masses of lava which you build volcanic cones to +melt, and which you forge at the mouths of the Infernos you have +created; do you think, on those iron plates, your courage and endurance +are not written for ever--not merely with an iron pen, but on iron +parchment? And take also your great English vice--European vice--vice of +all the world--vice of all other worlds that roll or shine in heaven, +bearing with them yet the atmosphere of hell--the vice of jealousy, +which brings competition into your commerce, treachery into your +councils, and dishonour into your wars--that vice which has rendered for +you, and for your next neighbouring nation, the daily occupations of +existence no longer possible, but with the mail upon your breasts and +the sword loose in its sheath; so that, at last, you have realised for +all the multitudes of the two great peoples who lead the so-called +civilisation of the earth,--you have realised for them all, I say, in +person and in policy, what was once true only of the rough Border riders +of your Cheviot hills-- + + 'They carved at the meal + With gloves of steel, + And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd;-- + +do you think that this national shame and dastardliness of heart are not +written as legibly on every rivet of your iron armour as the strength of +the right hands that forged it? Friends, I know not whether this thing +be the more ludicrous or the more melancholy. It is quite unspeakably +both. Suppose, instead of being now sent for by you, I had been sent for +by some private gentleman, living in a suburban house, with his garden +separated only by a fruit-wall from his next door neighbour's; and he +had called me to consult with him on the furnishing of his drawing room. +I begin looking about me, and find the walls rather bare; I think such +and such a paper might be desirable--perhaps a little fresco here and +there on the ceiling--a damask curtain or so at the windows. 'Ah,' says +my employer, 'damask curtains, indeed! That's all very fine, but you +know I can't afford that kind of thing just now!' 'Yet the world credits +you with a splendid income!' 'Ah, yes,' says my friend, 'but do you +know, at present, I am obliged to spend it nearly all in steel-traps?' +'Steel-traps! for whom?' 'Why, for that fellow on the other side the +wall, you know: we're very good friends, capital friends; but we are +obliged to keep our traps set on both sides of the wall; we could not +possibly keep on friendly terms without them, and our spring guns. The +worst of it is, we are both clever fellows enough; and there's never a +day passes that we don't find out a new trap, or a new gun-barrel, or +something; we spend about fifteen millions a year each in our traps, +take it all together; and I don't see how we're to do with less.' A +highly comic state of life for two private gentlemen! but for two +nations, it seems to me, not wholly comic? Bedlam would be comic, +perhaps, if there were only one madman in it; and your Christmas +pantomime is comic, when there is only one clown in it; but when the +whole world turns clown, and paints itself red with its own heart's +blood instead of vermilion, it is something else than comic, I think. + +Mind, I know a great deal of this is play, and willingly allow for that. +You don't know what to do with yourselves for a sensation: fox-hunting +and cricketing will not carry you through the whole of this unendurably +long mortal life: you liked pop-guns when you were schoolboys, and +rifles and Armstrongs are only the same things better made: but then the +worst of it is, that what was play to you when boys, was not play to the +sparrows; and what is play to you now, is not play to the small birds of +State neither; and for the black eagles, you are somewhat shy of taking +shots at them, if I mistake not. + +I must get back to the matter in hand, however. Believe me, without +farther instance, I could show you, in all time, that every nation's +vice, or virtue, was written in its art: the soldiership of early +Greece; the sensuality of late Italy; the visionary religion of Tuscany; +the splendid human energy and beauty of Venice. I have no time to do +this to-night (I have done it elsewhere before now); but I proceed to +apply the principle to ourselves in a more searching manner. + +I notice that among all the new buildings that cover your once wild +hills, churches and schools are mixed in due, that is to say, in large +proportion, with your mills and mansions and I notice also that the +churches and schools are almost always Gothic, and the mansions and +mills are never Gothic. Will you allow me to ask precisely the meaning +of this? For, remember, it is peculiarly a modern phenomenon. When +Gothic was invented, houses were Gothic as well as churches; and when +the Italian style superseded the Gothic, churches were Italian as well +as houses. If there is a Gothic spire to the cathedral of Antwerp, there +is a Gothic belfry to the Hôtel de Ville at Brussels; if Inigo Jones +builds an Italian Whitehall, Sir Christopher Wren builds an Italian St. +Paul's. But now you live under one school of architecture, and worship +under another. What do you mean by doing this? Am I to understand that +you are thinking of changing your architecture back to Gothic; and that +you treat your churches experimentally, because it does not matter what +mistakes you make in a church? Or am I to understand that you consider +Gothic a pre-eminently sacred and beautiful mode of building, which you +think, like the fine frankincense, should be mixed for the tabernacle +only, and reserved for your religious services? For if this be the +feeling, though it may seem at first as if it were graceful and +reverent, you will find that, at the root of the matter, it signifies +neither more nor less than that you have separated your religion from +your life. + +For consider what a wide significance this fact has; and remember that +it is not you only, but all the people of England, who are behaving thus +just now. + +You have all got into the habit of calling the church 'the house of +God.' I have seen, over the doors of many churches, the legend actually +carved, '_This_ is the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' +Now, note where that legend comes from, and of what place it was first +spoken. A boy leaves his father's house to go on a long journey on foot, +to visit his uncle; he has to cross a wild hill-desert; just as if one +of your own boys had to cross the wolds of Westmoreland, to visit an +uncle at Carlisle. The second or third day your boy finds himself +somewhere between Hawes and Brough, in the midst of the moors, at +sunset. It is stony ground, and boggy; he cannot go one foot farther +that night. Down he lies, to sleep, on Wharnside, where best he may, +gathering a few of the stones together to put under his head;--so wild +the place is, he cannot get anything but stones. And there, lying under +the broad night, he has a dream; and he sees a ladder set up on the +earth, and the top of it reaches to heaven, and the angels of God are +ascending and descending upon it. And when he wakes out of his sleep, he +says, 'How dreadful is this place; surely, this is none other than the +house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' This PLACE, observe; not +this church; not this city; not this stone, even, which he puts up for a +memorial--the piece of flint on which his head has lain. But this +_place_; this windy slope of Wharnside; this moorland hollow, +torrent-bitten, snow-blighted; this _any_ place where God lets down the +ladder. And how are you to know where that will be? or how are you to +determine where it may be, but by being ready for it always? Do you know +where the lightning is to fall next? You _do_ know that, partly; you can +guide the lightning; but you cannot guide the going forth of the Spirit, +which is that lightning when it shines from the east to the west. + +But the perpetual and insolent warping of that strong verse to serve a +merely ecclesiastical purpose, is only one of the thousand instances in +which we sink back into gross Judaism. We call our churches 'temples.' +Now, you know, or ought to know, they are _not_ temples. They have never +had, never can have, anything whatever to do with temples. They are +'synagogues'--'gathering places'--where you gather yourselves together +as an assembly; and by not calling them so, you again miss the force of +another mighty text--'Thou, when thou prayest, shalt not be as the +hypocrites are; for they love to pray standing in the _churches_' [we +should translate it], 'that they may be seen of men. But thou, when thou +prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray +to thy Father,'--which is, not in chancel nor in aisle, but 'in +secret.' + +Now, you feel, as I say this to you--I know you feel--as if I were +trying to take away the honour of your churches. Not so; I am trying to +prove to you the honour of your houses and your hills; I am trying to +show you--not that the Church is not sacred--but that the whole Earth +is. I would have you feel, what careless, what constant, what infectious +sin there is in all modes of thought, whereby, in calling your churches +only 'holy,' you call your hearths and homes profane; and have separated +yourselves from the heathen by casting all your household gods to the +ground, instead of recognising, in the place of their many and feeble +Lares, the presence of your One and Mighty Lord and Lar. + + +'But what has all this to do with our Exchange?' you ask me, +impatiently. My dear friends, it has just everything to do with it; on +these inner and great questions depend all the outer and little ones; +and if you have asked me down here to speak to you, because you had +before been interested in anything I have written, you must know that +all I have yet said about architecture was to show this. The book I +called 'The Seven Lamps' was to show that certain right states of temper +and moral feeling were the magic powers by which all good architecture, +without exception, had been produced. 'The Stones of Venice,' had, from +beginning to end, no other aim than to show that the Gothic architecture +of Venice had arisen out of, and indicated in all its features, a state +of pure national faith, and of domestic virtue; and that its Renaissance +architecture had arisen out of, and in all its features indicated, a +state of concealed national infidelity, and of domestic corruption. And +now, you ask me what style is best to build in; and how can I answer, +knowing the meaning of the two styles, but by another question--do you +mean to build as Christians or as Infidels? And still more--do you mean +to build as honest Christians or as honest Infidels? as thoroughly and +confessedly either one or the other? You don't like to be asked such +rude questions. I cannot help it; they are of much more importance than +this Exchange business; and if they can be at once answered, the +Exchange business settles itself in a moment. But, before I press them +farther, I must ask leave to explain one point clearly. In all my past +work, my endeavour has been to show that good architecture is +essentially religious--the production of a faithful and virtuous, not of +an infidel and corrupted people. But in the course of doing this, I have +had also to show that good architecture is not _ecclesiastical_. People +are so apt to look upon religion as the business of the clergy, not +their own, that the moment they hear of anything depending on +'religion,' they think it must also have depended on the priesthood; and +I have had to take what place was to be occupied between these two +errors, and fight both, often with seeming contradiction. Good +architecture is the work of good and believing men; therefore, you say, +at least some people say, 'Good architecture must essentially have been +the work of the clergy, not of the laity.' No--a thousand times no; good +architecture has always been the work of the commonalty, _not_ of the +clergy. What, you say, those glorious cathedrals--the pride of +Europe--did their builders not form Gothic architecture? No; they +corrupted Gothic architecture. Gothic was formed in the baron's castle, +and the burgher's street. It was formed by the thoughts, and hands, and +powers of free citizens and soldier kings. By the monk it was used as an +instrument for the aid of his superstition; when that superstition +became a beautiful madness, and the best hearts of Europe vainly dreamed +and pined in the cloister, and vainly raged and perished in the +crusade--through that fury of perverted faith and wasted war, the Gothic +rose also to its loveliest, most fantastic, and, finally, most foolish +dreams; and, in those dreams, was lost. + +I hope, now, that there is no risk of your misunderstanding me when I +come to the gist of what I want to say to-night--when I repeat, that +every great national architecture has been the result and exponent of a +great national religion. You can't have bits of it here, bits there--you +must have it everywhere, or nowhere. It is not the monopoly of a +clerical company--it is not the exponent of a theological dogma--it is +not the hieroglyphic writing of an initiated priesthood; it is the manly +language of a people inspired by resolute and common purpose, and +rendering resolute and common fidelity to the legible laws of an +undoubted God. + +Now, there have as yet been three distinct schools of European +architecture. I say, European, because Asiatic and African architectures +belong so entirely to other races and climates, that there is no +question of them here; only, in passing, I will simply assure you that +whatever is good or great in Egypt, and Syria, and India, is just good +or great for the same reasons as the buildings on our side of the +Bosphorus. We Europeans, then, have had three great religions: the +Greek, which was the worship of the God of Wisdom and Power; the +Mediæval, which was the Worship of the God of Judgment and Consolation; +the Renaissance, which was the worship of the God of Pride and Beauty; +these three we have had--they are past,--and now, at last, we English +have got a fourth religion, and a God of our own, about which I want to +ask you. But I must explain these three old ones first. + +I repeat, first, the Greeks essentially worshipped the God of Wisdom; so +that whatever contended against their religion,--to the Jews a stumbling +block,--was, to the Greeks--_Foolishness_. + +The first Greek idea of Deity was that expressed in the word, of which +we keep the remnant in our words '_Di_-urnal' and '_Di_-vine'--the god +of _Day_, Jupiter the revealer. Athena is his daughter, but especially +daughter of the Intellect, springing armed from the head. We are only +with the help of recent investigation beginning to penetrate the depth +of meaning couched under the Athenaic symbols: but I may note rapidly, +that her ægis, the mantle with the serpent fringes, in which she often, +in the best statues, is represented as folding up her left hand for +better guard, and the Gorgon on her shield, are both representative +mainly of the chilling horror and sadness (turning men to stone, as it +were,) of the outmost and superficial spheres of knowledge--that +knowledge which separates, in bitterness, hardness, and sorrow, the +heart of the full-grown man from the heart of the child. For out of +imperfect knowledge spring terror, dissension, danger, and disdain; but +from perfect knowledge, given by the full-revealed Athena, strength and +peace, in sign of which she is crowned with the olive spray, and bears +the resistless spear. + +This, then, was the Greek conception of purest Deity, and every habit of +life, and every form of his art developed themselves from the seeking +this bright, serene, resistless wisdom; and setting himself, as a man, +to do things evermore rightly and strongly;[3] not with any ardent +affection or ultimate hope; but with a resolute and continent energy of +will, as knowing that for failure there was no consolation, and for sin +there was no remission. And the Greek architecture rose unerring, +bright, clearly defined, and self-contained. + +Next followed in Europe the great Christian faith, which was essentially +the religion of Comfort. Its great doctrine is the remission of sins; +for which cause it happens, too often, in certain phases of +Christianity, that sin and sickness themselves are partly glorified, as +if, the more you had to be healed of, the more divine was the healing. +The practical result of this doctrine, in art, is a continual +contemplation of sin and disease, and of imaginary states of +purification from them; thus we have an architecture conceived in a +mingled sentiment of melancholy and aspiration, partly severe, partly +luxuriant, which will bend itself to every one of our needs, and every +one of our fancies, and be strong or weak with us, as we are strong or +weak ourselves. It is, of all architecture, the basest, when base people +build it--of all, the noblest, when built by the noble. + +And now note that both these religions--Greek and Mediæval--perished by +falsehood in their own main purpose. The Greek religion of Wisdom +perished in a false philosophy--'Oppositions of science, falsely so +called.' The Mediæval religion of Consolation perished in false comfort; +in remission of sins given lyingly. It was the selling of absolution +that ended the Mediæval faith; and I can tell you more, it is the +selling of absolution which, to the end of time, will mark false +Christianity. Pure Christianity gives her remission of sins only by +_ending_ them; but false Christianity gets her remission of sins by +_compounding for_ them. And there are many ways of compounding for them. +We English have beautiful little quiet ways of buying absolution, +whether in low Church or high, far more cunning than any of Tetzel's +trading. + +Then, thirdly, there followed the religion of Pleasure, in which all +Europe gave itself to luxury, ending in death. First, _bals masqués_ in +every saloon, and then guillotines in every square. And all these three +worships issue in vast temple building. Your Greek worshipped Wisdom, +and built you the Parthenon--the Virgin's temple. The Mediæval +worshipped Consolation, and built you Virgin temples also--but to our +Lady of Salvation. Then the Revivalist worshipped beauty, of a sort, and +built you Versailles, and the Vatican. Now, lastly, will you tell me +what _we_ worship, and what _we_ build? + +You know we are speaking always of the real, active, continual, national +worship; that by which men act while they live; not that which they talk +of when they die. Now, we have, indeed, a nominal religion, to which we +pay tithes of property, and sevenths of time; but we have also a +practical and earnest religion, to which we devote nine-tenths of our +property and six-sevenths of our time. And we dispute a great deal about +the nominal religion; but we are all unanimous about this practical one, +of which I think you will admit that the ruling goddess may be best +generally described as the 'Goddess of Getting-on,' or 'Britannia of the +Market.' The Athenians had an 'Athena Agoraia,' or Minerva of the +Market: but she was a subordinate type of their goddess, while our +Britannia Agoraia is the principal type of ours. And all your great +architectural works, are, of course, built to her. It is long since you +built a great cathedral; and how you would laugh at me, if I proposed +building a cathedral on the top of one of these hills of yours, taking +it for an Acropolis! But your railroad mounds, prolonged masses of +Acropolis; your railroad stations, vaster than the Parthenon, and +innumerable; your chimneys, how much more mighty and costly than +cathedral spires! your harbour-piers; your warehouses; your +exchanges!--all these are built to your great Goddess of 'Getting-on;' +and she has formed, and will continue to form, your architecture, as +long as you worship her; and it is quite vain to ask me to tell you how +to build to _her_; you know far better than I. + +There might indeed, on some theories, be a conceivably good architecture +for Exchanges--that is to say if there were any heroism in the fact or +deed of exchange, which might be typically carved on the outside of your +building. For, you know, all beautiful architecture must be adorned with +sculpture or painting; and for sculpture or painting, you must have a +subject. And hitherto it has been a received opinion among the nations +of the world that the only right subjects for either, were _heroisms_ of +some sort. Even on his pots and his flagons, the Greek put a Hercules +slaying lions, or an Apollo slaying serpents, or Bacchus slaying +melancholy giants, and earth-born despondencies. On his temples, the +Greek put contests of great warriors in founding states, or of gods with +evil spirits. On his houses and temples alike, the Christian put +carvings of angels conquering devils; or of hero-martyrs exchanging this +world for another; subject inappropriate, I think, to our manner of +exchange here. And the Master of Christians not only left his followers +without any orders as to the sculpture of affairs of exchange on the +outside of buildings, but gave some strong evidence of his dislike of +affairs of exchange within them. And yet there might surely be a heroism +in such affairs; and all commerce become a kind of selling of doves, not +impious. The wonder has always been great to me, that heroism has never +been supposed to be in anywise consistent with the practice of +supplying people with food, or clothes; but rather with that of +quartering oneself upon them for food, and stripping them of their +clothes. Spoiling of armour is an heroic deed in all ages; but the +selling of clothes, old, or new, has never taken any colour of +magnanimity. Yet one does not see why feeding the hungry and clothing +the naked should ever become base businesses, even when engaged in on a +large scale. If one could contrive to attach the notion of conquest to +them anyhow? so that, supposing there were anywhere an obstinate race, +who refused to be comforted, one might take some pride in giving them +compulsory comfort; and as it were, 'occupying a country' with one's +gifts, instead of one's armies? If one could only consider it as much a +victory to get a barren field sown, as to get an eared field stripped; +and contend who should build villages, instead of who should 'carry' +them. Are not all forms of heroism, conceivable in doing these +serviceable deeds? You doubt who is strongest? It might be ascertained +by push of spade, as well as push of sword. Who is wisest? There are +witty things to be thought of in planning other business than campaigns. +Who is bravest? There are always the elements to fight with, stronger +than men; and nearly as merciless. The only absolutely and +unapproachably heroic element in the soldier's work seems to be--that he +is paid little for it--and regularly: while you traffickers, and +exchangers, and others occupied in presumably benevolent business, like +to be paid much for it--and by chance. I never can make out how it is +that a knight-errant does not expect to be paid for his trouble, but a +pedlar-errant always does;--that people are willing to take hard knocks +for nothing, but never to sell ribands cheap;--that they are ready to go +on fervent crusades to recover the tomb of a buried God, never on any +travels to fulfil the orders of a living God;--that they will go +anywhere barefoot to preach their faith, but must be well bribed to +practise it, and are perfectly ready to give the Gospel gratis, but +never the loaves and fishes. If you chose to take the matter up on any +such soldierly principle, to do your commerce, and your feeding of +nations, for fixed salaries; and to be as particular about giving people +the best food, and the best cloth, as soldiers are about giving them the +best gunpowder, I could carve something for you on your exchange worth +looking at. But I can only at present suggest decorating its frieze with +pendant purses; and making its pillars broad at the base for the +sticking of bills. And in the innermost chambers of it there might be a +statue of Britannia of the Market, who may have, perhaps advisably, a +partridge for her crest, typical at once of her courage in fighting for +noble ideas; and of her interest in game; and round its neck the +inscription in golden letters, 'Perdix fovit quæ non peperit.'[4] Then, +for her spear, she might have a weaver's beam; and on her shield, +instead of her Cross, the Milanese boar, semi-fleeced, with the town of +Gennesaret proper, in the field and the legend 'In the best market,' and +her corslet, of leather, folded over her heart in the shape of a purse, +with thirty slits in it for a piece of money to go in at, on each day of +the month. And I doubt not but that people would come to see your +exchange, and its goddess, with applause. + +Nevertheless, I want to point out to you certain strange characters in +this goddess of yours. She differs from the great Greek and Mediæval +deities essentially in two things--first, as to the continuance of her +presumed power; secondly, as to the extent of it. + +1st, as to the Continuance. + +The Greek Goddess of Wisdom gave continual increase of wisdom, as the +Christian Spirit of Comfort (or Comforter) continual increase of +comfort. There was no question, with these, of any limit or cessation of +function. But with your Agora Goddess, that is just the most important +question. Getting on--but where to? Gathering together--but how much? Do +you mean to gather always--never to spend? If so, I wish you joy of your +goddess, for I am just as well off as you, without the trouble of +worshipping her at all. But if you do not spend, somebody else +will--somebody else must. And it is because of this (among many other +such errors) that I have fearlessly declared your so-called science of +Political Economy to be no science; because, namely, it has omitted the +study of exactly the most important branch of the business--the study of +_spending_. For spend you must, and as much as you make, ultimately. You +gather corn:--will you bury England under a heap of grain; or will you, +when you have gathered, finally eat? You gather gold:--will you make +your house-roofs of it, or pave your streets with it? That is still one +way of spending it. But if you keep it, that you may get more, I'll give +you more; I'll give you all the gold you want--all you can imagine--if +you can tell me what you'll do with it. You shall have thousands of gold +pieces;--thousands of thousands--millions--mountains, of gold: where +will you keep them? Will you put an Olympus of silver upon a golden +Pelion--make Ossa like a wart? Do you think the rain and dew would then +come down to you, in the streams from such mountains, more blessedly +than they will down the mountains which God has made for you, of moss +and whinstone? But it is not gold that you want to gather! What is it? +greenbacks? No; not those neither. What is it then--is it ciphers after +a capital I? Cannot you practise writing ciphers, and write as many as +you want? Write ciphers for an hour every morning, in a big book, and +say every evening, I am worth all those noughts more than I was +yesterday. Won't that do? Well, what in the name of Plutus is it you +want? Not gold, not greenbacks, not ciphers after a capital I? You will +have to answer, after all, 'No; we want, somehow or other, money's +_worth_.' Well, what is that? Let your Goddess of Getting-on discover +it, and let her learn to stay therein. + + +II. But there is yet another question to be asked respecting this +Goddess of Getting-on. The first was of the continuance of her power; +the second is of its extent. + +Pallas and the Madonna were supposed to be all the world's Pallas, and +all the world's Madonna. They could teach all men, and they could +comfort all men. But, look strictly into the nature of the power of your +Goddess of Getting-on; and you will find she is the Goddess--not of +everybody's getting on--but only of somebody's getting on. This is a +vital, or rather deathful, distinction. Examine it in your own ideal of +the state of national life which this Goddess is to evoke and maintain. +I asked you what it was, when I was last here;[5]--you have never told +me. Now, shall I try to tell you? + +Your ideal of human life then is, I think, that it should be passed in a +pleasant undulating world, with iron and coal everywhere underneath it. +On each pleasant bank of this world is to be a beautiful mansion, with +two wings; and stables, and coach-houses; a moderately sized park; a +large garden and hot houses; and pleasant carriage drives through the +shrubberies. In this mansion are to live the favoured votaries of the +Goddess; the English gentleman, with his gracious wife, and his +beautiful family; always able to have the boudoir and the jewels for the +wife, and the beautiful ball dresses for the daughters, and hunters for +the sons, and a shooting in the Highlands for himself. At the bottom of +the bank, is to be the mill; not less than a quarter of a mile long, +with a steam engine at each end, and two in the middle, and a chimney +three hundred feet high. In this mill are to be in constant employment +from eight hundred to a thousand workers, who never drink, never strike, +always go to church on Sunday, and always express themselves in +respectful language. + +Is not that, broadly, and in the main features, the kind of thing you +propose to yourselves? It is very pretty indeed seen from above; not at +all so pretty, seen from below. For, observe, while to one family this +deity is indeed the Goddess of Getting on, to a thousand families she is +the Goddess of _not_ Getting on. 'Nay,' you say, 'they have all their +chance.' Yes, so has every one in a lottery, but there must always be +the same number of blanks. 'Ah! but in a lottery it is not skill and +intelligence which take the lead, but blind chance.' What then! do you +think the old practice, that 'they should take who have the power, and +they should keep who can,' is less iniquitous, when the power has become +power of brains instead of fist? and that, though we may not take +advantage of a child's or a woman's weakness, we may of a man's +foolishness? 'Nay, but finally, work must be done, and some one must be +at the top, some one at the bottom.' Granted, my friends. Work must +always be, and captains of work must always be; and if you in the least +remember the tone of any of my writings, you must know that they are +thought unfit for this age, because they are always insisting on need of +government, and speaking with scorn of liberty. But I beg you to observe +that there is a wide difference between being captains or governors of +work, and taking the profits of it. It does not follow, because you are +general of an army, that you are to take all the treasure, or land, it +wins (if it fight for treasure or land); neither, because you are king +of a nation, that you are to consume all the profits of the nation's +work. Real kings, on the contrary, are known invariably by their doing +quite the reverse of this,--by their taking the least possible quantity +of the nation's work for themselves. There is no test of real kinghood +so infallible as that. Does the crowned creature live simply, bravely, +unostentatiously? probably he _is_ a King. Does he cover his body with +jewels, and his table with delicates? in all probability he is _not_ a +King. It is possible he may be, as Solomon was; but that is when the +nation shares his splendour with him. Solomon made gold, not only to be +in his own palace as stones, but to be in Jerusalem as stones. But even +so, for the most part, these splendid kinghoods expire in ruin, and only +the true kinghoods live, which are of royal labourers governing loyal +labourers; who, both leading rough lives, establish the true dynasties. +Conclusively you will find that because you are king of a nation, it +does not follow that you are to gather for yourself all the wealth of +that nation; neither, because you are king of a small part of the +nation, and lord over the means of its maintenance--over field, or mill, +or mine, are you to take all the produce of that piece of the foundation +of national existence for yourself. + +You will tell me I need not preach against these things, for I cannot +mend them. No, good friends, I cannot; but you can, and you will; or +something else can and will. Do you think these phenomena are to stay +always in their present power or aspect? All history shows, on the +contrary, that to be the exact thing they never can do. Change _must_ +come; but it is ours to determine whether change of growth, or change of +death. Shall the Parthenon be in ruins on its rock, and Bolton priory in +its meadow, but these mills of yours be the consummation of the +buildings of the earth, and their wheels be as the wheels of eternity? +Think you that 'men may come, and men may go,' but--mills--go on +forever? Not so; out of these, better or worse shall come; and it is for +you to choose which. + +I know that none of this wrong is done with deliberate purpose. I know, +on the contrary, that you wish your workmen well; that you do much for +them, and that you desire to do more for them, if you saw your way to it +safely. I know that many of you have done, and are every day doing, +whatever you feel to be in your power; and that even all this wrong and +misery are brought about by a warped sense of duty, each of you striving +to do his best, without noticing that this best is essentially and +centrally the best for himself, not for others. And all this has come of +the spreading of that thrice accursed, thrice impious doctrine of the +modern economist, that 'To do the best for yourself, is finally to do +the best for others.' Friends, our great Master said not so; and most +absolutely we shall find this world is not made so. Indeed, to do the +best for others, is finally to do the best for ourselves; but it will +not do to have our eyes fixed on that issue. The Pagans had got beyond +that. Hear what a Pagan says of this matter; hear what were, perhaps, +the last written words of Plato,--if not the last actually written (for +this we cannot know), yet assuredly in fact and power his parting +words--in which, endeavouring to give full crowning and harmonious close +to all his thoughts, and to speak the sum of them by the imagined +sentence of the Great Spirit, his strength and his heart fail him, and +the words cease, broken off for ever. It is the close of the dialogue +called 'Critias,' in which he describes, partly from real tradition, +partly in ideal dream, the early state of Athens; and the genesis, and +order, and religion, of the fabled isle of Atlantis; in which genesis he +conceives the same first perfection and final degeneracy of man, which +in our own Scriptural tradition is expressed by saying that the Sons of +God intermarried with the daughters of men, for he supposes the earliest +race to have been indeed the children of God; and to have corrupted +themselves, until 'their spot was not the spot of his children.' And +this, he says, was the end; that indeed 'through many generations, so +long as the God's nature in them yet was full, they were submissive to +the sacred laws, and carried themselves lovingly to all that had kindred +with them in divineness; for their uttermost spirit was faithful and +true, and in every wise great; so that, in all meekness of wisdom, they +dealt with each other, and took all the chances of life; and despising +all things except virtue, they cared little what happened day by day, +and _bore lightly the burden_ of gold and of possessions; for they saw +that, if only their common love and virtue increased, all these things +would be increased together with them; but to set their esteem and +ardent pursuit upon material possession would be to lose that first, and +their virtue and affection together with it. And by such reasoning, and +what of the divine nature remained in them, they gained all this +greatness of which we have already told, but when the God's part of them +faded and became extinct, being mixed again and again, and effaced by +the prevalent mortality; and the human nature at last exceeded, they +then became unable to endure the courses of fortune; and fell into +shapelessness of life, and baseness in the sight of him who could see, +having lost everything that was fairest of their honour; while to the +blind hearts which could not discern the true life, tending to +happiness, it seemed that they were then chiefly noble and happy, being +filled with all iniquity of inordinate possession and power. Whereupon, +the God of God's, whose Kinghood is in laws, beholding a once just +nation thus cast into misery, and desiring to lay such punishment upon +them as might make them repent into restraining, gathered together all +the gods into his dwelling-place, which from heaven's centre overlooks +whatever has part in creation; and having assembled them, he said'---- + +The rest is silence. So ended are the last words of the chief wisdom of +the heathen, spoken of this idol of riches; this idol of yours; this +golden image high by measureless cubits, set up where your green fields +of England are furnace-burnt into the likeness of the plain of Dura: +this idol, forbidden to us, first of all idols, by our own Master and +faith; forbidden to us also by every human lip that has ever, in any age +or people, been accounted of as able to speak according to the purposes +of God. Continue to make that forbidden deity your principal one, and +soon no more art, no more science, no more pleasure will be possible. +Catastrophe will come; or worse than catastrophe, slow mouldering and +withering into Hades. But if you can fix some conception of a true human +state of life to be striven for--life for all men as for yourselves--if +you can determine some honest and simple order of existence; following +those trodden ways of wisdom, which are pleasantness, and seeking her +quiet and withdrawn paths, which are peace;--then, and so sanctifying +wealth into 'commonwealth,' all your art, your literature, your daily +labours, your domestic affection, and citizen's duty, will join and +increase into one magnificent harmony. You will know then how to build, +well enough; you will build with stone well, but with flesh better; +temples not made with hands, but riveted of hearts; and that kind of +marble, crimson-veined, is indeed eternal. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] It is an error to suppose that the Greek worship, or seeking, was +chiefly of Beauty. It was essentially of Rightness and Strength, founded +on Forethought: the principal character of Greek art is not Beauty, but +Design: and the Dorian Apollo-worship and Athenian Virgin-worship are +both expressions of adoration of divine Wisdom and Purity. Next to these +great deities rank, in power over the national mind, Dionysus and Ceres, +the givers of human strength and life: then, for heroic example, +Hercules. There is no Venus-worship among the Greek in the great times: +and the Muses are essentially teachers of Truth, and of its harmonies. + +[4] Jerem. xvii. 11 (best in Septuagint and Vulgate). 'As the partridge, +fostering what she brought not forth, so he that getteth riches, not by +right shall leave them in the midst of his days, and at his end shall be +a fool.' + +[5] Two Paths, p. 98. + + + + +LECTURE III. + +_WAR._ + +(_Delivered at the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich._) + + +Young soldiers, I do not doubt but that many of you came unwillingly +to-night, and many in merely contemptuous curiosity, to hear what a +writer on painting could possibly say, or would venture to say, +respecting your great art of war. You may well think within yourselves, +that a painter might, perhaps without immodesty, lecture younger +painters upon painting, but not young lawyers upon law, nor young +physicians upon medicine--least of all, it may seem to you, young +warriors upon war. And, indeed, when I was asked to address you, I +declined at first, and declined long; for I felt that you would not be +interested in my special business, and would certainly think there was +small need for me to come to teach you yours. Nay, I knew that there +ought to be _no_ such need, for the great veteran soldiers of England +are now men every way so thoughtful, so noble, and so good, that no +other teaching than their knightly example, and their few words of grave +and tried counsel should be either necessary for you, or even, without +assurance of due modesty in the offerer, endured by you. + +But being asked, not once nor twice, I have not ventured persistently to +refuse; and I will try, in very few words, to lay before you some reason +why you should accept my excuse, and hear me patiently. You may imagine +that your work is wholly foreign to, and separate from mine. So far from +that, all the pure and noble arts of peace are founded on war; no great +art ever yet rose on earth, but among a nation of soldiers. There is no +art among a shepherd people, if it remains at peace. There is no art +among an agricultural people, if it remains at peace. Commerce is barely +consistent with fine art; but cannot produce it. Manufacture not only is +unable to produce it, but invariably destroys whatever seeds of it +exist. There is no great art possible to a nation but that which is +based on battle. + +Now, though I hope you love fighting for its own sake, you must, I +imagine, be surprised at my assertion that there is any such good fruit +of fighting. You supposed, probably, that your office was to defend the +works of peace, but certainly not to found them: nay, the common course +of war, you may have thought, was only to destroy them. And truly, I who +tell you this of the use of war, should have been the last of men to +tell you so, had I trusted my own experience only. Hear why: I have +given a considerable part of my life to the investigation of Venetian +painting and the result of that enquiry was my fixing upon one man as +the greatest of all Venetians, and therefore, as I believed, of all +painters whatsoever. I formed this faith, (whether right or wrong +matters at present nothing,) in the supremacy of the painter Tintoret, +under a roof covered with his pictures; and of those pictures, three of +the noblest were then in the form of shreds of ragged canvas, mixed up +with the laths of the roof, rent through by three Austrian shells. Now +it is not every lecturer who _could_ tell you that he had seen three of +his favourite pictures torn to rags by bombshells. And after such a +sight, it is not every lecturer who _would_ tell you that, nevertheless, +war was the foundation of all great art. + +Yet the conclusion is inevitable, from any careful comparison of the +states of great historic races at different periods. Merely to show you +what I mean, I will sketch for you, very briefly, the broad steps of the +advance of the best art of the world. The first dawn of it is in Egypt; +and the power of it is founded on the perpetual contemplation of death, +and of future judgment, by the mind of a nation of which the ruling +caste were priests, and the second, soldiers. The greatest works +produced by them are sculptures of their kings going out to battle, or +receiving the homage of conquered armies. And you must remember also, +as one of the great keys to the splendour of the Egyptian nation, that +the priests were not occupied in theology only. Their theology was the +basis of practical government and law, so that they were not so much +priests as religious judges, the office of Samuel, among the Jews, being +as nearly as possible correspondent to theirs. + +All the rudiments of art then, and much more than the rudiments of all +science, are laid first by this great warrior-nation, which held in +contempt all mechanical trades, and in absolute hatred the peaceful life +of shepherds. From Egypt art passes directly into Greece, where all +poetry, and all painting, are nothing else than the description, praise, +or dramatic representation of war, or of the exercises which prepare for +it, in their connection with offices of religion. All Greek institutions +had first respect to war; and their conception of it, as one necessary +office of all human and divine life, is expressed simply by the images +of their guiding gods. Apollo is the god of all wisdom of the intellect; +he bears the arrow and the bow, before he bears the lyre. Again, Athena +is the goddess of all wisdom in conduct. It is by the helmet and the +shield, oftener than by the shuttle, that she is distinguished from +other deities. + +There were, however, two great differences in principle between the +Greek and the Egyptian theories of policy. In Greece there was no +soldier caste; every citizen was necessarily a soldier. And, again, +while the Greeks rightly despised mechanical arts as much as the +Egyptians, they did not make the fatal mistake of despising agricultural +and pastoral life; but perfectly honoured both. These two conditions of +truer thought raise them quite into the highest rank of wise manhood +that has yet been reached; for all our great arts, and nearly all our +great thoughts, have been borrowed or derived from them. Take away from +us what they have given; and I hardly can imagine how low the modern +European would stand. + +Now, you are to remember, in passing to the next phase of history, that +though you _must_ have war to produce art--you must also have much more +than war; namely, an art-instinct or genius in the people; and that, +though all the talent for painting in the world won't make painters of +you, unless you have a gift for fighting as well, you may have the gift +for fighting, and none for painting. Now, in the next great dynasty of +soldiers, the art-instinct is wholly wanting. I have not yet +investigated the Roman character enough to tell you the causes of this; +but I believe, paradoxical as it may seem to you, that, however truly +the Roman might say of himself that he was born of Mars, and suckled by +the wolf, he was nevertheless, at heart, more of a farmer than a +soldier. The exercises of war were with him practical, not poetical; his +poetry was in domestic life only, and the object of battle, 'pacis +imponere morem.' And the arts are extinguished in his hands, and do not +rise again, until, with Gothic chivalry, there comes back into the mind +of Europe a passionate delight in war itself, for the sake of war. And +then, with the romantic knighthood which can imagine no other noble +employment,--under the fighting kings of France, England, and Spain; and +under the fighting dukeships and citizenships of Italy, art is born +again, and rises to her height in the great valleys of Lombardy and +Tuscany, through which there flows not a single stream, from all their +Alps or Apennines, that did not once run dark red from battle: and it +reaches its culminating glory in the city which gave to history the most +intense type of soldiership yet seen among men;--the city whose armies +were led in their assault by their king, led through it to victory by +their king, and so led, though that king of theirs was blind, and in the +extremity of his age. + +And from this time forward, as peace is established or extended in +Europe, the arts decline. They reach an unparalleled pitch of +costliness, but lose their life, enlist themselves at last on the side +of luxury and various corruption, and, among wholly tranquil nations, +wither utterly away; remaining only in partial practice among races who, +like the French and us, have still the minds, though we cannot all live +the lives, of soldiers. + +'It may be so,' I can suppose that a philanthropist might exclaim. +'Perish then the arts, if they can flourish only at such a cost. What +worth is there in toys of canvas and stone if compared to the joy and +peace of artless domestic life?' And the answer is--truly, in +themselves, none. But as expressions of the highest state of the human +spirit, their worth is infinite. As results they may be worthless, but, +as signs, they are above price. For it is an assured truth that, +whenever the faculties of men are at their fulness, they _must_ express +themselves by art; and to say that a state is without such expression, +is to say that it is sunk from its proper level of manly nature. So +that, when I tell you that war is the foundation of all the arts, I mean +also that it is the foundation of all the high virtues and faculties of +men. + +It was very strange to me to discover this; and very dreadful--but I saw +it to be quite an undeniable fact. The common notion that peace and the +virtues of civil life flourished together, I found, to be wholly +untenable. Peace and the _vices_ of civil life only flourish together. +We talk of peace and learning, and of peace and plenty, and of peace and +civilisation; but I found that those were not the words which the Muse +of History coupled together: that on her lips, the words were--peace and +sensuality, peace and selfishness, peace and corruption, peace and +death. I found, in brief, that all great nations learned their truth of +word, and strength of thought, in war; that they were nourished in war, +and wasted by peace; taught by war, and deceived by peace; trained by +war, and betrayed by peace;--in a word, that they were born in war, and +expired in peace. + +Yet now note carefully, in the second place, it is not _all_ war of +which this can be said--nor all dragon's teeth, which, sown, will start +up into men. It is not the ravage of a barbarian wolf-flock, as under +Genseric or Suwarrow; nor the habitual restlessness and rapine of +mountaineers, as on the old borders of Scotland; nor the occasional +struggle of a strong peaceful nation for its life, as in the wars of the +Swiss with Austria; nor the contest of merely ambitious nations for +extent of power, as in the wars of France under Napoleon, or the just +terminated war in America. None of these forms of war build anything but +tombs. But the creative or foundational war is that in which the +natural restlessness and love of contest among men are disciplined, by +consent, into modes of beautiful--though it may be fatal--play: in which +the natural ambition and love of power of men are disciplined into the +aggressive conquest of surrounding evil: and in which the natural +instincts of self-defence are sanctified by the nobleness of the +institutions, and purity of the households, which they are appointed to +defend. To such war as this all men are born; in such war as this any +man may happily die; and forth from such war as this have arisen +throughout the extent of past ages, all the highest sanctities and +virtues of humanity. + +I shall therefore divide the war of which I would speak to you into +three heads. War for exercise or play; war for dominion; and, war for +defence. + + +I. And first, of war for exercise or play. I speak of it primarily in +this light, because, through all past history, manly war has been more +an exercise than anything else, among the classes who cause, and +proclaim it. It is not a game to the conscript, or the pressed sailor; +but neither of these are the causers of it. To the governor who +determines that war shall be, and to the youths who voluntarily adopt it +as their profession, it has always been a grand pastime; and chiefly +pursued because they had nothing else to do. And this is true without +any exception. No king whose mind was fully occupied with the +development of the inner resources of his kingdom, or with any other +sufficing subject of thought, ever entered into war but on compulsion. +No youth who was earnestly busy with any peaceful subject of study, or +set on any serviceable course of action, ever voluntarily became a +soldier. Occupy him early, and wisely, in agriculture or business, in +science or in literature, and he will never think of war otherwise than +as a calamity. But leave him idle; and, the more brave and active and +capable he is by nature, the more he will thirst for some appointed +field for action; and find, in the passion and peril of battle, the only +satisfying fulfilment of his unoccupied being. And from the earliest +incipient civilisation until now, the population of the earth divides +itself, when you look at it widely, into two races; one of workers, and +the other of players--one tilling the ground, manufacturing, building, +and otherwise providing for the necessities of life;--the other part +proudly idle, and continually therefore needing recreation, in which +they use the productive and laborious orders partly as their cattle, and +partly as their puppets or pieces in the game of death. + +Now, remember, whatever virtue or goodliness there may be in this game +of war, rightly played, there is none when you thus play it with a +multitude of small human pawns. + +If you, the gentlemen of this or any other kingdom, choose to make your +pastime of contest, do so, and welcome; but set not up these unhappy +peasant-pieces upon the green fielded board. If the wager is to be of +death, lay it on your own heads, not theirs. A goodly struggle in the +Olympic dust, though it be the dust of the grave, the gods will look +upon, and be with you in; but they will not be with you, if you sit on +the sides of the amphitheatre, whose steps are the mountains of earth, +whose arena its valleys, to urge your peasant millions into gladiatorial +war. You also, you tender and delicate women, for whom, and by whose +command, all true battle has been, and must ever be; you would perhaps +shrink now, though you need not, from the thought of sitting as queens +above set lists where the jousting game might be mortal. How much more, +then, ought you to shrink from the thought of sitting above a theatre +pit in which even a few condemned slaves were slaying each other only +for your delight! And do you _not_ shrink from the _fact_ of sitting +above a theatre pit, where,--not condemned slaves,--but the best and +bravest of the poor sons of your people, slay each other,--not man to +man,--as the coupled gladiators; but race to race, in duel of +generations? You would tell me, perhaps, that you do not sit to see +this; and it is indeed true, that the women of Europe--those who have no +heart-interests of their own at peril in the contest--draw the curtains +of their boxes, and muffle the openings; so that from the pit of the +circus of slaughter there may reach them only at intervals a half-heard +cry and a murmur as of the wind's sighing, when myriads of souls expire. +They shut out the death-cries; and are happy, and talk wittily among +themselves. That is the utter literal fact of what our ladies do in +their pleasant lives. + +Nay, you might answer, speaking for them--'We do not let these wars come +to pass for our play, nor by our carelessness; we cannot help them. How +can any final quarrel of nations be settled otherwise than by war?' I +cannot now delay, to tell you how political quarrels might be otherwise +settled. But grant that they cannot. Grant that no law of reason can be +understood by nations; no law of justice submitted to by them: and that, +while questions of a few acres, and of petty cash, can be determined by +truth and equity, the questions which are to issue in the perishing or +saving of kingdoms can be determined only by the truth of the sword, and +the equity of the rifle. Grant this, and even then, judge if it will +always be necessary for you to put your quarrel into the hearts of your +poor, and sign your treaties with peasants' blood. You would be ashamed +to do this in your own private position and power. Why should you not be +ashamed also to do it in public place and power? If you quarrel with +your neighbour, and the quarrel be indeterminable by law, and mortal, +you and he do not send your footmen to Battersea fields to fight it out; +nor do you set fire to his tenants' cottages, nor spoil their goods. You +fight out your quarrel yourselves, and at your own danger, if at all. +And you do not think it materially affects the arbitrement that one of +you has a larger household than the other; so that, if the servants or +tenants were brought into the field with their masters, the issue of the +contest could not be doubtful? You either refuse the private duel, or +you practise it under laws of honour, not of physical force; that so it +may be, in a manner, justly concluded. Now the just or unjust conclusion +of the private feud is of little moment, while the just or unjust +conclusion of the public feud is of eternal moment: and yet, in this +public quarrel, you take your servants' sons from their arms to fight +for it, and your servants' food from their lips to support it; and the +black seals on the parchment of your treaties of peace are the deserted +hearth and the fruitless field. There is a ghastly ludicrousness in +this, as there is mostly in these wide and universal crimes. Hear the +statement of the very fact of it in the most literal words of the +greatest of our English thinkers:-- + + 'What, speaking in quite unofficial language, is the + net-purport and upshot of war? To my own knowledge, for + example, there dwell and toil, in the British village of + Dumdrudge, usually some five hundred souls. From these, by + certain "natural enemies" of the French, there are + successively selected, during the French war, say thirty + able-bodied men. Dumdrudge, at her own expense, has suckled + and nursed them; she has, not without difficulty and sorrow, + fed them up to manhood, and even trained them to crafts, so + that one can weave, another build, another hammer, and the + weakest can stand under thirty stone avoirdupois. + Nevertheless, amid much weeping and swearing, they are + selected; all dressed in red; and shipped away, at the + public charges, some two thousand miles, or say only to the + south of Spain; and fed there till wanted. + + 'And now to that same spot in the south of Spain are thirty + similar French artisans, from a French Dumdrudge, in like + manner wending; till at length, after infinite effort, the + two parties come into actual juxtaposition; and Thirty + stands fronting Thirty, each with a gun in his hand. + + 'Straightway the word "Fire!" is given, and they blow the + souls out of one another, and in place of sixty brisk useful + craftsmen, the world has sixty dead carcases, which it must + bury, and anon shed tears for. Had these men any quarrel? + Busy as the devil is, not the smallest! They lived far + enough apart; were the entirest strangers; nay, in so wide a + universe, there was even, unconsciously, by commerce, some + mutual helpfulness between them. How then? Simpleton! their + governors had fallen out; and instead of shooting one + another, had the cunning to make these poor blockheads + shoot.' (Sartor Resartus.) + +Positively, then, gentlemen, the game of battle must not, and shall not, +ultimately be played this way. But should it be played any way? Should +it, if not by your servants, be practised by yourselves? I think, yes. +Both history and human instinct seem alike to say, yes. All healthy men +like fighting, and like the sense of danger; all brave women like to +hear of their fighting, and of their facing danger. This is a fixed +instinct in the fine race of them; and I cannot help fancying that fair +fight is the best play for them, and that a tournament was a better game +than a steeple-chase. The time may perhaps come in France as well as +here, for universal hurdle-races and cricketing: but I do not think +universal 'crickets' will bring out the best qualities of the nobles of +either country. I use, in such question, the test which I have adopted, +of the connection of war with other arts; and I reflect how, as a +sculptor, I should feel, if I were asked to design a monument for a dead +knight, in Westminster abbey, with a carving of a bat at one end, and a +ball at the other. It may be the remains in me only of savage Gothic +prejudice; but I had rather carve it with a shield at one end, and a +sword at the other. And this, observe, with no reference whatever to any +story of duty done, or cause defended. Assume the knight merely to have +ridden out occasionally to fight his neighbour for exercise; assume him +even a soldier of fortune, and to have gained his bread, and filled his +purse, at the sword's point. Still, I feel as if it were, somehow, +grander and worthier in him to have made his bread by sword play than +any other play; had rather he had made it by thrusting than by +batting;--much more, than by betting. Much rather that he should ride +war horses, than back race horses; and--I say it sternly and +deliberately--much rather would I have him slay his neighbour, than +cheat him. + +But remember, so far as this may be true, the game of war is only that +in which the _full personal power of the human creature_ is brought out +in management of its weapons. And this for three reasons:-- + +First, the great justification of this game is that it truly, when well +played, determines _who is the best man_;--who is the highest bred, the +most self-denying, the most fearless, the coolest of nerve, the swiftest +of eye and hand. You cannot test these qualities wholly, unless there is +a clear possibility of the struggle's ending in death. It is only in the +fronting of that condition that the full trial of the man, soul and +body, comes out. You may go to your game of wickets, or of hurdles, or +of cards, and any knavery that is in you may stay unchallenged all the +while. But if the play may be ended at any moment by a lance-thrust, a +man will probably make up his accounts a little before he enters it. +Whatever is rotten and evil in him will weaken his hand more in holding +a sword hilt, than in balancing a billiard cue; and on the whole, the +habit of living lightly hearted, in daily presence of death, always has +had, and must have, a tendency both to the making and testing of honest +men. But for the final testing, observe, you must make the issue of +battle strictly dependent on fineness of frame, and firmness of hand. +You must not make it the question, which of the combatants has the +longest gun, or which has got behind the biggest tree, or which has the +wind in his face, or which has gunpowder made by the best chemist, or +iron smelted with the best coal, or the angriest mob at his back. Decide +your battle, whether of nations, or individuals, on _those_ terms;--and +you have only multiplied confusion, and added slaughter to iniquity. But +decide your battle by pure trial which has the strongest arm, and +steadiest heart,--and you have gone far to decide a great many matters +besides, and to decide them rightly. + +And the other reasons for this mode of decision of cause, are the +diminution both of the material destructiveness, or cost, and of the +physical distress of war. For you must not think that in speaking to you +in this (as you may imagine), fantastic praise of battle, I have +overlooked the conditions weighing against me. I pray all of you, who +have not read, to read with the most earnest attention, Mr. Helps's two +essays on War and Government, in the first volume of the last series of +'Friends in Council.' Everything that can be urged against war is there +simply, exhaustively, and most graphically stated. And all, there urged, +is true. But the two great counts of evil alleged against war by that +most thoughtful writer, hold only against modern war. If you have to +take away masses of men from all industrial employment,--to feed them by +the labour of others,--to move them and provide them with destructive +machines, varied daily in national rivalship of inventive cost; if you +have to ravage the country which you attack,--to destroy for a score of +future years, its roads, its woods, its cities, and its harbours;--and +if, finally, having brought masses of men, counted by hundreds of +thousands, face to face, you tear those masses to pieces with jagged +shot, and leave the fragments of living creatures countlessly beyond all +help of surgery, to starve and parch, through days of torture, down into +clots of clay--what book of accounts shall record the cost of your +work;--What book of judgment sentence the guilt of it? + +That, I say, is _modern_ war,--scientific war,--chemical and mechanic +war, worse even than the savage's poisoned arrow. And yet you will tell +me, perhaps, that any other war than this is impossible now. It may be +so; the progress of science cannot, perhaps, be otherwise registered +than by new facilities of destruction; and the brotherly love of our +enlarging Christianity be only proved by multiplication of murder. Yet +hear, for a moment, what war was, in Pagan and ignorant days;--what war +might yet be, if we could extinguish our science in darkness, and join +the heathen's practice to the Christian's theory. I read you this from a +book which probably most of you know well, and all ought to +know--Muller's 'Dorians;'--but I have put the points I wish you to +remember in closer connection than in his text. + +'The chief characteristic of the warriors of Sparta was great composure +and subdued strength; the violence [Greek: lyssa] of Aristodemus and +Isadas being considered as deserving rather of blame than praise; and +these qualities in general distinguished the Greeks from the northern +Barbarians, whose boldness always consisted in noise and tumult. For the +same reason the Spartans _sacrificed to the Muses_ before an action; +these goddesses being expected to produce regularity and order in +battle; as they _sacrificed on the same occasion in Crete to the god of +love_, as the confirmer of mutual esteem and shame. Every man put on a +crown, when the band of flute-players gave the signal for attack; all +the shields of the line glittered with their high polish, and mingled +their splendour with the dark red of the purple mantles, which were +meant both to adorn the combatant, and to conceal the blood of the +wounded; to fall well and decorously being an incentive the more to the +most heroic valour. The conduct of the Spartans in battle denotes a high +and noble disposition, which rejected all the extremes of brutal rage. +The pursuit of the enemy ceased when the victory was completed; and +after the signal for retreat had been given, all hostilities ceased. The +spoiling of arms, at least during the battle, was also interdicted; and +the consecration of the spoils of slain enemies to the gods, as, in +general, all rejoicings for victory, were considered as ill-omened. + +Such was the war of the greatest soldiers who prayed to heathen gods. +What Christian war is, preached by Christian ministers, let any one tell +you, who saw the sacred crowning, and heard the sacred flute-playing, +and was inspired and sanctified by the divinely-measured and musical +language, of any North American regiment preparing for its charge. And +what is the relative cost of life in pagan and Christian wars, let this +one fact tell you:--the Spartans won the decisive battle of Corinth with +the loss of eight men; the victors at indecisive Gettysburg confess to +the loss of 30,000. + + +II. I pass now to our second order of war, the commonest among men, that +undertaken in desire of dominion. And let me ask you to think for a few +moments what the real meaning of this desire of dominion is--first in +the minds of kings--then in that of nations. + +Now, mind you this first,--that I speak either about kings, or masses of +men, with a fixed conviction that human nature is a noble and beautiful +thing; not a foul nor a base thing. All the sin of men I esteem as their +disease, not their nature; as a folly which may be prevented, not a +necessity which must be accepted. And my wonder, even when things are at +their worst, is always at the height which this human nature can attain. +Thinking it high, I find it always a higher thing than I thought it; +while those who think it low, find it, and will find it, always lower +than they thought it: the fact being, that it is infinite, and capable +of infinite height and infinite fall; but the nature of it--and here is +the faith which I would have you hold with me--the _nature_ of it is in +the nobleness, not in the catastrophe. + +Take the faith in its utmost terms. When the captain of the 'London' +shook hands with his mate, saying 'God speed you! I will go down with my +passengers,' _that_ I believe to be 'human nature.' He does not do it +from any religious motive--from any hope of reward, or any fear of +punishment; he does it because he is a man. But when a mother, living +among the fair fields of merry England, gives her two-year-old child to +be suffocated under a mattress in her inner room, while the said mother +waits and talks outside; _that_ I believe to be _not_ human nature. You +have the two extremes there, shortly. And you, men, and mothers, who are +here face to face with me to-night, I call upon you to say which of +these is human, and which inhuman--which 'natural' and which +'unnatural?' Choose your creed at once, I beseech you:--choose it with +unshaken choice--choose it forever. Will you take, for foundation of act +and hope, the faith that this man was such as God made him, or that this +woman was such as God made her? Which of them has failed from their +nature--from their present, possible, actual nature;--not their nature +of long ago, but their nature of now? Which has betrayed it--falsified +it? Did the guardian who died in his trust, die inhumanly, and as a +fool; and did the murderess of her child fulfil the law of her being? +Choose, I say; infinitude of choices hang upon this. You have had false +prophets among you--for centuries you have had them--solemnly warned +against them though you were; false prophets, who have told you that all +men are nothing but fiends or wolves, half beast, half devil. Believe +that and indeed you may sink to that. But refuse that, and have faith +that God 'made you upright,' though _you_ have sought out many +inventions; so, you will strive daily to become more what your Maker +meant and means you to be, and daily gives you also the power to be--and +you will cling more and more to the nobleness and virtue that is in you, +saying, 'My righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go.' + +I have put this to you as a choice, as if you might hold either of these +creeds you liked best. But there is in reality no choice for you; the +facts being quite easily ascertainable. You have no business to _think_ +about this matter, or to choose in it. The broad fact is, that a human +creature of the highest race, and most perfect as a human thing, is +invariably both kind and true; and that as you lower the race, you get +cruelty and falseness, as you get deformity: and this so steadily and +assuredly, that the two great words which, in their first use, meant +only perfection of race, have come, by consequence of the invariable +connection of virtue with the fine human nature, both to signify +benevolence of disposition. The word generous, and the word gentle, +both, in their origin, meant only 'of pure race,' but because charity +and tenderness are inseparable from this purity of blood, the words +which once stood only for pride, now stand as synonyms for virtue. + +Now, this being the true power of our inherent humanity, and seeing that +all the aim of education should be to develop this;--and seeing also +what magnificent self sacrifice the higher classes of men are capable +of, for any cause that they understand or feel,--it is wholly +inconceivable to me how well-educated princes, who ought to be of all +gentlemen the gentlest, and of all nobles the most generous, and whose +title of royalty means only their function of doing every man +'_right_'--how these, I say, throughout history, should so rarely +pronounce themselves on the side of the poor and of justice, but +continually maintain themselves and their own interests by oppression of +the poor, and by wresting of justice; and how this should be accepted as +so natural, that the word loyalty, which means faithfulness to law, is +used as if it were only the duty of a people to be loyal to their king, +and not the duty of a king to be infinitely more loyal to his people. +How comes it to pass that a captain will die with his passengers, and +lean over the gunwale to give the parting boat its course; but that a +king will not usually die with, much less _for_, his passengers,--thinks +it rather incumbent on his passengers, in any number, to die for _him_? +Think, I beseech you, of the wonder of this. The sea captain, not +captain by divine right, but only by company's appointment;--not a man +of royal descent, but only a plebeian who can steer;--not with the eyes +of the world upon him, but with feeble chance, depending on one poor +boat, of his name being ever heard above the wash of the fatal +waves;--not with the cause of a nation resting on his act, but helpless +to save so much as a child from among the lost crowd with whom he +resolves to be lost,--yet goes down quietly to his grave, rather than +break his faith to these few emigrants. But your captain by divine +right,--your captain with the hues of a hundred shields of kings upon +his breast,--your captain whose every deed, brave or base, will be +illuminated or branded for ever before unescapable eyes of men,--your +captain whose every thought and act are beneficent, or fatal, from +sunrising to setting, blessing as the sunshine, or shadowing as the +night,--this captain, as you find him in history, for the most part +thinks only how he may tax his passengers, and sit at most ease in his +state cabin! + +For observe, if there had been indeed in the hearts of the rulers of +great multitudes of men any such conception of work for the good of +those under their command, as there is in the good and thoughtful +masters of any small company of men, not only wars for the sake of mere +increase of power could never take place, but our idea of power itself +would be entirely altered. Do you suppose that to think and act even for +a million of men, to hear their complaints, watch their weaknesses, +restrain their vices, make laws for them, lead them, day by day, to +purer life, is not enough for one man's work? If any of us were absolute +lord only of a district of a hundred miles square, and were resolved on +doing our utmost for it; making it feed as large a number of people as +possible; making every clod productive, and every rock defensive, and +every human being happy; should we not have enough on our hands think +you? But if the ruler has any other aim than this; if, careless of the +result of his interference, he desire only the authority to interfere; +and, regardless of what is ill-done or well-done, cares only that it +shall be done at his bidding,--if he would rather do two hundred miles' +space of mischief, than one hundred miles' space of good, of course he +will try to add to his territory; and to add inimitably. But does he add +to his power? Do you call it power in a child, if he is allowed to play +with the wheels and bands of some vast engine, pleased with their murmur +and whirl, till his unwise touch, wandering where it ought not, scatters +beam and wheel into ruin? Yet what machine is so vast, so incognisable, +as the working of the mind of a nation what child's touch so wanton, as +the word of a selfish king? And yet, how long have we allowed the +historian to speak of the extent of the calamity a man causes, as a just +ground for his pride; and to extol him as the greatest prince, who is +only the centre of the widest error. Follow out this thought by +yourselves; and you will find that all power, properly so called, is +wise and benevolent. There may be capacity in a drifting fire-ship to +destroy a fleet; there may be venom enough in a dead body to infect a +nation:--but which of you, the most ambitious, would desire a drifting +kinghood, robed in consuming fire, or a poison-dipped sceptre whose +touch was mortal? There is no true potency, remember, but that of help; +nor true ambition, but ambition to save. + +And then, observe farther, this true power, the power of saving, depends +neither on multitude of men, nor on extent of territory. We are +continually assuming that nations become strong according to their +numbers. They indeed become so, if those numbers can be made of one +mind; but how are you sure you can stay them in one mind, and keep them +from having north and south minds? Grant them unanimous, how know you +they will be unanimous in right? If they are unanimous in wrong, the +more they are, essentially the weaker they are. Or, suppose that they +can neither be of one mind, nor of two minds, but can only be of _no_ +mind? Suppose they are a more helpless mob; tottering into precipitant +catastrophe, like a waggon load of stones when the wheel comes off. +Dangerous enough for their neighbours, certainly, but not 'powerful.' + +Neither does strength depend on extent of territory, any more than upon +number of population. Take up your maps when you go home this +evening,--put the cluster of British Isles beside the mass of South +America; and then consider whether any race of men need care how much +ground they stand upon. The strength is in the men, and in their unity +and virtue, not in their standing room: a little group of wise hearts is +better than a wilderness full of fools; and only that nation gains true +territory, which gains itself. + +And now for the brief practical outcome of all this. Remember, no +government is ultimately strong, but in proportion to its kindness and +justice; and that a nation does not strengthen, by merely multiplying +and diffusing itself. We have not strengthened as yet, by multiplying +into America. Nay, even when it has not to encounter the separating +conditions of emigration, a nation need not boast itself of multiplying +on its own ground, if it multiplies only as flies or locusts do, with +the god of flies for its god. It multiplies its strength only by +increasing as one great family, in perfect fellowship and brotherhood. +And lastly, it does not strengthen itself by seizing dominion over races +whom it cannot benefit. Austria is not strengthened, but weakened, by +her grasp of Lombardy; and whatever apparent increase of majesty and of +wealth may have accrued to us from the possession of India, whether +these prove to us ultimately power or weakness, depends wholly on the +degree in which our influence on the native race shall be benevolent and +exalting. But, as it is at their own peril that any race extends their +dominion in mere desire of power, so it is at their own still greater +peril, that they refuse to undertake aggressive war, according to their +force, whenever they are assured that their authority would be helpful +and protective. Nor need you listen to any sophistical objection of the +impossibility of knowing when a people's help is needed, or when not. +Make your national conscience clean, and your national eyes will soon be +clear. No man who is truly ready to take part in a noble quarrel will +ever stand long in doubt by whom, or in what cause, his aid is needed. I +hold it my duty to make no political statement of any special bearing in +this presence; but I tell you broadly and boldly, that, within these +last ten years, we English have, as a knightly nation, lost our spurs: +we have fought where we should not have fought, for gain; and we have +been passive where we should not have been passive, for fear. I tell you +that the principle of non-intervention, as now preached among us, is as +selfish and cruel as the worst frenzy of conquest, and differs from it +only by being not only malignant, but dastardly. + +I know, however, that my opinions on this subject differ too widely from +those ordinarily held, to be any farther intruded upon you; and +therefore I pass lastly to examine the conditions of the third kind of +noble war;--war waged simply for defence of the country in which we were +born, and for the maintenance and execution of her laws, by whomsoever +threatened or defied. It is to this duty that I suppose most men +entering the army consider themselves in reality to be bound, and I want +you now to reflect what the laws of mere defence are; and what the +soldier's duty, as now understood, or supposed to be understood. You +have solemnly devoted yourselves to be English soldiers, for the +guardianship of England. I want you to feel what this vow of yours +indeed means, or is gradually coming to mean. You take it upon you, +first, while you are sentimental schoolboys; you go into your military +convent, or barracks, just as a girl goes into her convent while she is +a sentimental schoolgirl; neither of you then know what you are about, +though both the good soldiers and good nuns make the best of it +afterwards. You don't understand perhaps why I call you 'sentimental' +schoolboys, when you go into the army? Because, on the whole, it is love +of adventure, of excitement, of fine dress and of the pride of fame, all +which are sentimental motives, which chiefly make a boy like going into +the Guards better than into a counting-house. You fancy, perhaps, that +there is a severe sense of duty mixed with these peacocky motives? And +in the best of you, there is; but do not think that it is principal. If +you cared to do your duty to your country in a prosaic and unsentimental +way, depend upon it, there is now truer duty to be done in raising +harvests than in burning them; more in building houses, than in shelling +them--more in winning money by your own work, wherewith to help men, +than in taxing other people's work, for money wherewith to slay men; +more duty finally, in honest and unselfish living than in honest and +unselfish dying, though that seems to your boys' eyes the bravest. So +far then, as for your own honour, and the honour of your families, you +choose brave death in a red coat before brave life in a black one, you +are sentimental; and now see what this passionate vow of yours comes +to. For a little while you ride, and you hunt tigers or savages, you +shoot, and are shot; you are happy, and proud, always, and honoured and +wept if you die; and you are satisfied with your life, and with the end +of it; believing, on the whole, that good rather than harm of it comes +to others, and much pleasure to you. But as the sense of duty enters +into your forming minds, the vow takes another aspect. You find that you +have put yourselves into the hand of your country as a weapon. You have +vowed to strike, when she bids you, and to stay scabbarded when she bids +you; all that you need answer for is, that you fail not in her grasp. +And there is goodness in this, and greatness, if you can trust the hand +and heart of the Britomart who has braced you to her side, and are +assured that when she leaves you sheathed in darkness, there is no need +for your flash to the sun. But remember, good and noble as this state +may be, it is a state of slavery. There are different kinds of slaves +and different masters. Some slaves are scourged to their work by whips, +others are scourged to it by restlessness or ambition. It does not +matter what the whip is; it is none the less a whip, because you have +cut thongs for it out of your own souls: the fact, so far, of slavery, +is in being driven to your work without thought, at another's bidding. +Again, some slaves are bought with money, and others with praise. It +matters not what the purchase-money is. The distinguishing sign of +slavery is to have a price, and be bought for it. Again, it matters not +what kind of work you are set on; some slaves are set to forced +diggings, others to forced marches; some dig furrows, others +field-works, and others graves. Some press the juice of reeds, and some +the juice of vines, and some the blood of men. The fact of the captivity +is the same whatever work we are set upon, though the fruits of the toil +may be different. But, remember, in thus vowing ourselves to be the +slaves of any master, it ought to be some subject of forethought with +us, what work he is likely to put us upon. You may think that the whole +duty of a soldier is to be passive, that it is the country you have left +behind who is to command, and you have only to obey. But are you sure +that you have left _all_ your country behind, or that the part of it you +have so left is indeed the best part of it? Suppose--and, remember, it +is quite conceivable--that you yourselves are indeed the best part of +England; that you who have become the slaves, ought to have been the +masters; and that those who are the masters, ought to have been the +slaves! If it is a noble and whole-hearted England, whose bidding you +are bound to do, it is well; but if you are yourselves the best of her +heart, and the England you have left be but a half-hearted England, how +say you of your obedience? You were too proud to become shopkeepers: are +you satisfied then to become the servants of shopkeepers? You were too +proud to become merchants or farmers yourselves: will you have merchants +or farmers then for your field marshals? You had no gifts of special +grace for Exeter Hall: will you have some gifted person thereat for your +commander-in-chief, to judge of your work, and reward it? You imagine +yourselves to be the army of England: how if you should find yourselves, +at last, only the police of her manufacturing towns, and the beadles of +her little Bethels? + +It is not so yet, nor will be so, I trust, for ever; but what I want you +to see, and to be assured of, is, that the ideal of soldiership is not +mere passive obedience and bravery; that, so far from this, no country +is in a healthy state which has separated, even in a small degree, her +civil from her military power. All states of the world, however great, +fall at once when they use mercenary armies; and although it is a less +instant form of error (because involving no national taint of +cowardice), it is yet an error no less ultimately fatal--it is the error +especially of modern times, of which we cannot yet know all the +calamitous consequences--to take away the best blood and strength of the +nation, all the soul-substance of it that is brave, and careless of +reward, and scornful of pain, and faithful in trust; and to cast that +into steel, and make a mere sword of it; taking away its voice and will; +but to keep the worst part of the nation--whatever is cowardly, +avaricious, sensual, and faithless--and to give to this the voice, to +this the authority, to this the chief privilege, where there is least +capacity, of thought. The fulfilment of your vow for the defence of +England will by no means consist in carrying out such a system. You are +not true soldiers, if you only mean to stand at a shop door, to protect +shop-boys who are cheating inside. A soldier's vow to his country is +that he will die for the guardianship of her domestic virtue, of her +righteous laws, and of her anyway challenged or endangered honour. A +state without virtue, without laws, and without honour, he is bound +_not_ to defend; nay, bound to redress by his own right hand that which +he sees to be base in her. So sternly is this the law of Nature and +life, that a nation once utterly corrupt can only be redeemed by a +military despotism--never by talking, nor by its free effort. And the +health of any state consists simply in this: that in it, those who are +wisest shall also be strongest; its rulers should be also its soldiers; +or, rather, by force of intellect more than of sword, its soldiers its +rulers. Whatever the hold which the aristocracy of England has on the +heart of England, in that they are still always in front of her battles, +this hold will not be enough, unless they are also in front of her +thoughts. And truly her thoughts need good captain's leading now, if +ever! Do you know what, by this beautiful division of labour (her brave +men fighting, and her cowards thinking), she has come at last to think? +Here is a bit of paper in my hand,[6] a good one too, and an honest one; +quite representative of the best common public thought of England at +this moment; and it is holding forth in one of its leaders upon our +'social welfare,'--upon our 'vivid life'--upon the 'political supremacy +of Great Britain.' And what do you think all these are owing to? To what +our English sires have done for us, and taught us, age after age? No: +not to that. To our honesty of heart, or coolness of head, or steadiness +of will? No: not to these. To our thinkers, or our statesmen, or our +poets, or our captains, or our martyrs, or the patient labour of our +poor? No: not to these; or at least not to these in any chief measure. +Nay, says the journal, 'more than any agency, it is the cheapness and +abundance of our coal which have made us what we are.' If it be so, then +'ashes to ashes' be our epitaph! and the sooner the better. I tell you, +gentlemen of England, if ever you would have your country breathe the +pure breath of heaven again, and receive again a soul into her body, +instead of rotting into a carcase, blown up in the belly with carbonic +acid (and great _that_ way), you must think, and feel, for your England, +as well as fight for her: you must teach her that all the true greatness +she ever had, or ever can have, she won while her fields were green and +her faces ruddy;--that greatness is still possible for Englishmen, even +though the ground be not hollow under their feet, nor the sky black over +their heads;--and that, when the day comes for their country to lay her +honours in the dust, her crest will not rise from it more loftily +because it is dust of coal. Gentlemen, I tell you, solemnly, that the +day is coming when the soldiers of England must be her tutors and the +captains of her army, captains also of her mind. + +And now, remember, you soldier youths, who are thus in all ways the hope +of your country; or must be, if she have any hope: remember that your +fitness for all future trust depends upon what you are now. No good +soldier in his old age was ever careless or indolent in his youth. Many +a giddy and thoughtless boy has become a good bishop, or a good lawyer, +or a good merchant; but no such an one ever became a good general. I +challenge you, in all history, to find a record of a good soldier who +was not grave and earnest in his youth. And, in general, I have no +patience with people who talk about 'the thoughtlessness of youth' +indulgently, I had infinitely rather hear of thoughtless old age, and +the indulgence due to _that_. When a man has done his work, and nothing +can any way be materially altered in his fate, let him forget his toil, +and jest with his fate, if he will; but what excuse can you find for +wilfulness of thought, at the very time when every crisis of future +fortune hangs on your decisions? A youth thoughtless! when all the +happiness of his home for ever depends on the chances, or the passions, +of an hour! A youth thoughtless! when the career of all his days depends +on the opportunity of a moment! A youth thoughtless! when his every act +is a foundation-stone of future conduct, and every imagination a +fountain of life or death! Be thoughtless in _any_ after years, rather +than now--though, indeed, there is only one place where a man may be +nobly thoughtless,--his deathbed. No thinking should ever be left to be +done there. + +Having, then, resolved that you will not waste recklessly, but earnestly +use, these early days of yours, remember that all the duties of her +children to England may be summed in two words--industry, and honour. I +say first, industry, for it is in this that soldier youth are especially +tempted to fail. Yet surely, there is no reason because your life may +possibly or probably be shorter than other men's, that you should +therefore waste more recklessly the portion of it that is granted you; +neither do the duties of your profession, which require you to keep your +bodies strong, in any wise involve the keeping of your minds weak. So +far from that, the experience, the hardship, and the activity of a +soldier's life render his powers of thought more accurate than those of +other men; and while, for others, all knowledge is often little more +than a means of amusement, there is no form of science which a soldier +may not at some time or other find bearing on business of life and +death. A young mathematician may be excused for langour in studying +curves to be described only with a pencil; but not in tracing those +which are to be described with a rocket. Your knowledge of a wholesome +herb may involve the feeding of an army; and acquaintance with an +obscure point of geography, the success of a campaign. Never waste an +instant's time, therefore; the sin of idleness is a thousandfold greater +in you than in other youths; for the fates of those who will one day be +under your command hang upon your knowledge; lost moments now will be +lost lives then, and every instant which you carelessly take for play, +you buy with blood. But there is one way of wasting time, of all the +vilest, because it wastes, not time only, but the interest and energy of +your minds. Of all the ungentlemanly habits into which you can fall, the +vilest is betting, or interesting yourselves in the issues of betting. +It unites nearly every condition of folly and vice; you concentrate your +interest upon a matter of chance, instead of upon a subject of true +knowledge; and you back opinions which you have no grounds for forming, +merely because they are your own. All the insolence of egotism is in +this; and so far as the love of excitement is complicated with the hope +of winning money, you turn yourselves into the basest sort of +tradesmen--those who live by speculation. Were there no other ground for +industry, this would be a sufficient one; that it protected you from the +temptation to so scandalous a vice. Work faithfully, and you will put +yourselves in possession of a glorious and enlarging happiness: not such +as can be won by the speed of a horse, or marred by the obliquity of a +ball. + +First, then, by industry you must fulfil your vow to your country; but +all industry and earnestness will be useless unless they are consecrated +by your resolution to be in all things men of honour; not honour in the +common sense only, but in the highest. Rest on the force of the two main +words in the great verse, _integer_ vitæ, scelerisque _purus_. You have +vowed your life to England; give it her wholly--a bright, stainless, +perfect life--a knightly life. Because you have to fight with machines +instead of lances, there may be a necessity for more ghastly danger, but +there is none for less worthiness of character, than in olden time. You +may be true knights yet, though perhaps not _equites_; you may have to +call yourselves 'cannonry' instead of 'chivalry,' but that is no reason +why you should not call yourselves true men. So the first thing you have +to see to in becoming soldiers is that you make yourselves wholly true. +Courage is a mere matter of course among any ordinarily well-born +youths; but neither truth nor gentleness is matter of course. You must +bind them like shields about your necks; you must write them on the +tables of your hearts. Though it be not exacted of you, yet exact it of +yourselves, this vow of stainless truth. Your hearts are, if you leave +them unstirred, as tombs in which a god lies buried. Vow yourselves +crusaders to redeem that sacred sepulchre. And remember, before all +things--for no other memory will be so protective of you--that the +highest law of this knightly truth is that under which it is vowed to +women. Whomsoever else you deceive, whomsoever you injure, whomsoever +you leave unaided, you must not deceive, nor injure, nor leave unaided +according to your power, any woman of whatever rank. Believe me, every +virtue of the higher phases of manly character begins in this;--in truth +and modesty before the face of all maidens; in truth and pity, or truth +and reverence, to all womanhood. + +And now let me turn for a moment to you,--wives and maidens, who are the +souls of soldiers; to you,--mothers, who have devoted your children to +the great hierarchy of war. Let me ask you to consider what part you +have to take for the aid of those who love you; for if you fail in your +part they cannot fulfil theirs; such absolute helpmates you are that mo +man can stand without that help, nor labour in his own strength. + +I know your hearts, and that the truth of them never fails when an hour +of trial comes which you recognise for such. But you know not when the +hour of trial first finds you, nor when it verily finds you. You imagine +that you are only called upon to wait and to suffer; to surrender and to +mourn. You know that you must not weaken the hearts of your husbands and +lovers, even by the one fear of which those hearts are capable,--the +fear of parting from you, or of causing you grief. Through weary years +of separation, through fearful expectancies of unknown fate; through the +tenfold bitterness of the sorrow which might so easily have been joy, +and the tenfold yearning for glorious life struck down in its +prime--through all these agonies you fail not, and never will fail. But +your trial is not in these. To be heroic in danger is little;--you are +Englishwomen. To be heroic in change and sway of fortune is little;--for +do you not love? To be patient through the great chasm and pause of loss +is little;--for do you not still love in heaven? But to be heroic in +happiness; to bear yourselves gravely and righteously in the dazzling of +the sunshine of morning; not to forget the God in whom you trust, when +He gives you most; not to fail those who trust you, when they seem to +need you least; this is the difficult fortitude. It is not in the pining +of absence, not in the peril of battle, not in the wasting of sickness, +that your prayer should be most passionate, or your guardianship most +tender. Pray, mothers and maidens, for your young soldiers in the bloom +of their pride; pray for them, while the only dangers round them are in +their own wayward wills; watch you, and pray, when they have to face, +not death, but temptation. But it is this fortitude also for which there +is the crowning reward. Believe me, the whole course and character of +your lovers' lives is in your hands; what you would have them be, they +shall be, if you not only desire to have them so, but deserve to have +them so; for they are but mirrors in which you will see yourselves +imaged. If you are frivolous, they will be so also; if you have no +understanding of the scope of their duty, they also will forget it; they +will listen,--they _can_ listen,--to no other interpretation of it than +that uttered from your lips. Bid them be brave;--they will be brave for +you; bid them be cowards; and how noble soever they be;--they will quail +for you. Bid them be wise, and they will be wise for you; mock at their +counsel, they will be fools for you: such and so absolute is your rule +over them. You fancy, perhaps, as you have been told so often, that a +wife's rule should only be over her husband's house, not over his mind. +Ah, no! the true rule is just the reverse of that; a true wife, in her +husband's house, is his servant; it is in his heart that she is queen. +Whatever of the best he can conceive, it is her part to be; whatever of +highest he can hope, it is hers to promise; all that is dark in him she +must purge into purity; all that is failing in him she must strengthen +into truth: from her, through all the world's clamour, he must win his +praise; in her, through all the world's warfare, he must find his peace. + +And, now, but one word more. You may wonder, perhaps, that I have spoken +all this night in praise of war. Yet, truly, if it might be, I, for one, +would fain join in the cadence of hammer-strokes that should beat swords +into ploughshares: and that this cannot be, is not the fault of us men. +It is _your_ fault. Wholly yours. Only by your command, or by your +permission, can any contest take place among us. And the real, final, +reason for all the poverty, misery, and rage of battle, throughout +Europe, is simply that you women, however good, however religious, +however self-sacrificing for those whom you love, are too selfish and +too thoughtless to take pains for any creature out of your own immediate +circles. You fancy that you are sorry for the pain of others. Now I just +tell you this, that if the usual course of war, instead of unroofing +peasants' houses, and ravaging peasants' fields, merely broke the china +upon your own drawing-room tables, no war in civilised countries would +last a week. I tell you more, that at whatever moment you chose to put a +period to war, you could do it with less trouble than you take any day +to go out to dinner. You know, or at least you might know if you would +think, that every battle you hear of has made many widows and orphans. +We have, none of us, heart enough truly to mourn with these. But at +least we might put on the outer symbols of mourning with them. Let but +every Christian lady who has conscience toward God, vow that she will +mourn, at least outwardly, for His killed creatures. Your praying is +useless, and your churchgoing mere mockery of God, if you have not plain +obedience in you enough for this. Let every lady in the upper classes of +civilised Europe simply vow that, while any cruel war proceeds, she will +wear _black_;--a mute's black,--with no jewel, no ornament, no excuse +for, or evasion into, prettiness.--I tell you again, no war would last a +week. + +And lastly. You women of England are all now shrieking with one +voice,--you and your clergymen together,--because you hear of your +Bibles being attacked. If you choose to obey your Bibles, you will never +care who attacks them. It is just because you never fulfil a single +downright precept of the Book, that you are so careful for its credit: +and just because you don't care to obey its whole words, that you are so +particular about the letters of them. The Bible tells you to dress +plainly,--and you are mad for finery; the Bible tells you to have pity +on the poor,--and you crush them under your carriage-wheels; the Bible +tells you to do judgment and justice,--and you do not know, nor care to +know, so much as what the Bible word 'justice means.' Do but learn so +much of God's truth as that comes to; know what He means when He tells +you to be just: and teach your sons, that their bravery is but a fool's +boast, and their deeds but a firebrand's tossing, unless they are indeed +Just men, and Perfect in the Fear of God;--and you will soon have no +more war, unless it be indeed such as is willed by Him, of whom, though +Prince of Peace, it is also written, 'In Righteousness He doth judge, +and make war.' + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] I do not care to refer to the journal quoted, because the article +was unworthy of its general tone, though in order to enable the audience +to verify the quoted sentence, I left the number containing it on the +table, when I delivered this lecture. But a saying of Baron Liebig's, +quoted at the head of a leader on the same subject in the 'Daily +Telegraph' of January 11, 1866, summarily digests and presents the +maximum folly of modern thought in this respect. 'Civilization,' says +the Baron, 'is the economy of power, and English power is coal.' Not +altogether so, my chemical friend. Civilization is the making of civil +persons, which is a kind of distillation of which alembics are +incapable, and does not at all imply the turning of a small company of +gentlemen into a large company of ironmongers. And English power (what +little of it may be left), is by no means coal, but, indeed, of that +which, 'when the whole world turns to coal, then chiefly lives.' + + + + +MUNERA PULVERIS + +SIX ESSAYS + +ON THE ELEMENTS OF + +POLITICAL ECONOMY + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The following pages contain, I believe, the first accurate analysis of +the laws of Political Economy which has been published in England. Many +treatises, within their scope, correct, have appeared in contradiction +of the views popularly received; but no exhaustive examination of the +subject was possible to any person unacquainted with the value of the +products of the highest industries, commonly called the "Fine Arts;" and +no one acquainted with the nature of those industries has, so far as I +know, attempted, or even approached, the task. + +So that, to the date (1863) when these Essays were published, not only +the chief conditions of the production of wealth had remained unstated, +but the nature of wealth itself had never been defined. "Every one has a +notion, sufficiently correct for common purposes, of what is meant by +wealth," wrote Mr. Mill, in the outset of his treatise; and contentedly +proceeded, as if a chemist should proceed to investigate the laws of +chemistry without endeavouring to ascertain the nature of fire or water, +because every one had a notion of them, "sufficiently correct for common +purposes." + +But even that apparently indisputable statement was untrue. There is not +one person in ten thousand who has a notion sufficiently correct, even +for the commonest purposes, of "what is meant" by wealth; still less of +what wealth everlastingly _is_, whether we mean it or not; which it is +the business of every student of economy to ascertain. We, indeed, know +(either by experience or in imagination) what it is to be able to +provide ourselves with luxurious food, and handsome clothes; and if Mr. +Mill had thought that wealth consisted only in these, or in the means +of obtaining these, it would have been easy for him to have so defined +it with perfect scientific accuracy. But he knew better: he knew that +some kinds of wealth consisted in the possession, or power of obtaining, +other things than these; but, having, in the studies of his life, no +clue to the principles of essential value, he was compelled to take +public opinion as the ground of his science; and the public, of course, +willingly accepted the notion of a science founded on their opinions. + +I had, on the contrary, a singular advantage, not only in the greater +extent of the field of investigation opened to me by my daily pursuits, +but in the severity of some lessons I accidentally received in the +course of them. + +When, in the winter of 1851, I was collecting materials for my work on +Venetian architecture, three of the pictures of Tintoret on the roof of +the School of St. Roch were hanging down in ragged fragments, mixed with +lath and plaster, round the apertures made by the fall of three Austrian +heavy shot. The city of Venice was not, it appeared, rich enough to +repair the damage that winter; and buckets were set on the floor of the +upper room of the school to catch the rain, which not only fell directly +through the shot holes, but found its way, owing to the generally +pervious state of the roof, through many of the canvases of Tintoret's +in other parts of the ceiling. + +It was a lesson to me, as I have just said, no less direct than severe; +for I knew already at that time (though I have not ventured to assert, +until recently at Oxford,) that the pictures of Tintoret in Venice were +accurately the most precious articles of wealth in Europe, being the +best existing productions of human industry. Now at the time that three +of them were thus fluttering in moist rags from the roof they had +adorned, the shops of the Rue Rivoli at Paris were, in obedience +to a steadily-increasing public Demand, beginning to show a +steadily-increasing Supply of elaborately-finished and coloured +lithographs, representing the modern dances of delight, among which the +cancan has since taken a distinguished place. + +The labour employed on the stone of one of these lithographs is very +much more than Tintoret was in the habit of giving to a picture of +average size. Considering labour as the origin of value, therefore, the +stone so highly wrought would be of greater value than the picture; and +since also it is capable of producing a large number of immediately +saleable or exchangeable impressions, for which the "demand" is +constant, the city of Paris naturally supposed itself, and on all +hitherto believed or stated principles of political economy, was, +infinitely richer in the possession of a large number of these +lithographic stones, (not to speak of countless oil pictures and marble +carvings of similar character), than Venice in the possession of those +rags of mildewed canvas, flaunting in the south wind and its salt rain. +And, accordingly, Paris provided (without thought of the expense) lofty +arcades of shops, and rich recesses of innumerable private apartments, +for the protection of these better treasures of hers from the weather. + +Yet, all the while, Paris was not the richer for these possessions. +Intrinsically, the delightful lithographs were not wealth, but polar +contraries of wealth. She was, by the exact quantity of labour she had +given to produce these, sunk below, instead of above, absolute Poverty. +They not only were false Riches--they were true _Debt_, which had to be +paid at last--and the present aspect of the Rue Rivoli shows in what +manner. + +And the faded stains of the Venetian ceiling, all the while, were +absolute and inestimable wealth. Useless to their possessors as +forgotten treasure in a buried city, they had in them, nevertheless, the +intrinsic and eternal nature of wealth; and Venice, still possessing the +ruins of them, was a rich city; only, the Venetians had _not_ a notion +sufficiently correct even for the very common purpose of inducing them +to put slates on a roof, of what was "meant by wealth." + +The vulgar economist would reply that his science had nothing to do with +the qualities of pictures, but with their exchange-value only; and that +his business was, exclusively, to consider whether the remains of +Tintoret were worth as many ten-and-sixpences as the impressions which +might be taken from the lithographic stones. + +But he would not venture, without reserve, to make such an answer, if +the example be taken in horses, instead of pictures. The most dull +economist would perceive, and admit, that a gentleman who had a fine +stud of horses was absolutely richer than one who had only ill-bred and +broken-winded ones. He would instinctively feel, though his +pseudo-science had never taught him, that the price paid for the +animals, in either case, did not alter the fact of their worth: that the +good horse, though it might have been bought by chance for a few +guineas, was not therefore less valuable, nor the owner of the galled +jade any the richer, because he had given a hundred for it. + +So that the economist, in saying that his science takes no account of +the qualities of pictures, merely signifies that he cannot conceive of +any quality of essential badness or goodness existing in pictures; and +that he is incapable of investigating the laws of wealth in such +articles. Which is the fact. But, being incapable of defining intrinsic +value in pictures, it follows that he must be equally helpless to define +the nature of intrinsic value in painted glass, or in painted pottery, +or in patterned stuffs, or in any other national produce requiring true +human ingenuity. Nay, though capable of conceiving the idea of intrinsic +value with respect to beasts of burden, no economist has endeavoured to +state the general principles of National Economy, even with regard to +the horse or the ass. And, in fine, _the modern political economists +have been, without exception, incapable of apprehending the nature of +intrinsic value at all_. + +And the first specialty of the following treatise consists in its giving +at the outset, and maintaining as the foundation of all subsequent +reasoning, a definition of Intrinsic Value, and Intrinsic +Contrary-of-Value; the negative power having been left by former writers +entirely out of account, and the positive power left entirely undefined. + +But, secondly: the modern economist, ignoring intrinsic value, and +accepting the popular estimate of things as the only ground of his +science, has imagined himself to have ascertained the constant laws +regulating the relation of this popular demand to its supply; or, at +least, to have proved that demand and supply were connected by heavenly +balance, over which human foresight had no power. I chanced, by singular +coincidence, lately to see this theory of the law of demand and supply +brought to as sharp practical issue in another great siege, as I had +seen the theories of intrinsic value brought, in the siege of Venice. + +I had the honour of being on the committee under the presidentship of +the Lord Mayor of London, for the victualling of Paris after her +surrender. It became, at one period of our sittings, a question of vital +importance at what moment the law of demand and supply would come into +operation, and what the operation of it would exactly be: the demand, on +this occasion, being very urgent indeed; that of several millions of +people within a few hours of utter starvation, for any kind of food +whatsoever. Nevertheless, it was admitted, in the course of debate, to +be probable that the divine principle of demand and supply might find +itself at the eleventh hour, and some minutes over, in want of carts and +horses; and we ventured so far to interfere with the divine principle as +to provide carts and horses, with haste which proved, happily, in time +for the need; but not a moment in advance of it. It was farther +recognized by the committee that the divine principle of demand and +supply would commence its operations by charging the poor of Paris +twelve-pence for a penny's worth of whatever they wanted; and would end +its operations by offering them twelve-pence worth for a penny, of +whatever they didn't want. Whereupon it was concluded by the committee +that the tiny knot, on this special occasion, was scarcely "_dignus +vindice_," by the divine principle of demand and supply: and that we +would venture, for once, in a profane manner, to provide for the poor of +Paris what they wanted, when they wanted it. Which, to the value of the +sums entrusted to us, it will be remembered we succeeded in doing. + +But the fact is that the so-called "law," which was felt to be false in +this case of extreme exigence, is alike false in cases of less +exigence. It is false always, and everywhere. Nay to such an extent is +its existence imaginary, that the vulgar economists are not even agreed +in their account of it; for some of them mean by it, only that prices +are regulated by the relation between demand and supply, which is partly +true; and others mean that the relation itself is one with the process +of which it is unwise to interfere; a statement which is not only, as in +the above instance, untrue; but accurately the reverse of the truth: for +all wise economy, political or domestic, consists in the resolved +maintenance of a given relation between supply and demand, other than +the instinctive, or (directly) natural, one. + +Similarly, vulgar political economy asserts for a "law" that wages are +determined by competition. + +Now I pay my servants exactly what wages I think necessary to make them +comfortable. The sum is not determined at all by competition; but +sometimes by my notions of their comfort and deserving, and sometimes by +theirs. If I were to become penniless to-morrow, several of them would +certainly still serve me for nothing. + +In both the real and supposed cases the so-called "law" of vulgar +political economy is absolutely set at defiance. But I cannot set the +law of gravitation at defiance, nor determine that in my house I will +not allow ice to melt, when the temperature is above thirty-two degrees. +A true law outside of my house, will remain a true one inside of it. It +is not, therefore, a law of Nature that wages are determined by +competition. Still less is it a law of State, or we should not now be +disputing about it publicly, to the loss of many millions of pounds to +the country. The fact which vulgar economists have been weak enough to +imagine a law, is only that, for the last twenty years a number of very +senseless persons have attempted to determine wages in that manner; and +have, in a measure, succeeded in occasionally doing so. + +Both in definition of the elements of wealth, and in statement of the +laws which govern its distribution, modern political economy has been +thus absolutely incompetent, or absolutely false. And the following +treatise is not, as it has been asserted with dull pertinacity, an +endeavour to put sentiment in the place of science; but it contains the +exposure of what insolently pretended to be a science; and the +definition, hitherto unassailed--and I do not fear to assert, +unassailable--of the material elements with which political economy has +to deal, and the moral principles in which it consists; being not itself +a science, but "a system of conduct founded on the sciences, and +impossible, except under certain conditions of moral culture." Which is +only to say, that industry, frugality, and discretion, the three +foundations of economy, are moral qualities, and cannot be attained +without moral discipline: a flat truism, the reader may think, thus +stated, yet a truism which is denied both vociferously, and in all +endeavour, by the entire populace of Europe; who are at present hopeful +of obtaining wealth by tricks of trade, without industry; who, +possessing wealth, have lost in the use of it even the conception,--how +much more the habit?--of frugality; and who, in the choice of the +elements of wealth, cannot so much as lose--since they have never +hitherto at any time possessed,--the faculty of discretion. + +Now if the teachers of the pseudo-science of economy had ventured to +state distinctly even the poor conclusions they had reached on the +subjects respecting which it is most dangerous for a populace to be +indiscreet, they would have soon found, by the use made of them, which +were true, and which false. + +But on main and vital questions, no political economist has hitherto +ventured to state one guiding principle. I will instance three subjects +of universal importance. National Dress. National Rent. National Debt. + +Now if we are to look in any quarter for a systematic and exhaustive +statement of the principles of a given science, it must certainly be +from its Professor at Cambridge. + +Take the last edition of Professor Fawcett's _Manual of Political +Economy_, and forming, first clearly in your mind these three following +questions, see if you can find an answer to them. + +I. Does expenditure of capital on the production of luxurious dress and +furniture tend to make a nation rich or poor? + +II. Does the payment, by the nation, of a tax on its land, or on the +produce of it, to a certain number of private persons, to be expended by +them as they please, tend to make the nation rich or poor? + +III. Does the payment, by the nation, for an indefinite period, of +interest on money borrowed from private persons, tend to make the nation +rich or poor? + +These three questions are, all of them, perfectly simple, and primarily +vital. Determine these, and you have at once a basis for national +conduct in all important particulars. Leave them undetermined, and there +is no limit to the distress which may be brought upon the people by the +cunning of its knaves, and the folly of its multitudes. + +I will take the three in their order. + + +I. Dress. The general impression on the public mind at this day is, that +the luxury of the rich in dress and furniture is a benefit to the poor. +Probably not even the blindest of our political economists would venture +to assert this in so many words. But where do they assert the contrary? +During the entire period of the reign of the late Emperor it was assumed +in France, as the first principle of fiscal government, that a large +portion of the funds received as rent from the provincial labourer +should be expended in the manufacture of ladies' dresses in Paris. Where +is the political economist in France, or England, who ventured to assert +the conclusions of his science as adverse to this system? As early as +the year 1857 I had done my best to show the nature of the error, and to +give warning of its danger;[7] but not one of the men who had the +foolish ears of the people intent on their words, dared to follow me in +speaking what would have been an offence to the powers of trade; and the +powers of trade in Paris had their full way for fourteen years +more,--with this result, to-day,--as told us in precise and curt terms +by the Minister of Public Instruction,--[8] + + "We have replaced glory by gold, work by speculation, faith + and honour by scepticism. To absolve or glorify immorality; + to make much of loose women; to gratify our eyes with + luxury, our ears with the tales of orgies; to aid in the + manoeuvres of public robbers, or to applaud them; to laugh + at morality, and only believe in success; to love nothing + but pleasure, adore nothing but force; to replace work with + a fecundity of fancies; to speak without thinking; to prefer + noise to glory; to erect sneering into a system, and lying + into an institution--is this the spectacle that we have + seen?--is this the society that we have been?" + +Of course, other causes, besides the desire of luxury in furniture and +dress, have been at work to produce such consequences; but the most +active cause of all has been the passion for these; passion unrebuked by +the clergy, and, for the most part, provoked by economists, as +advantageous to commerce; nor need we think that such results have been +arrived at in France only; we are ourselves following rapidly on the +same road. France, in her old wars with us, never was so fatally our +enemy as she has been in the fellowship of fashion, and the freedom of +trade: nor, to my mind, is any fact recorded of Assyrian or Roman luxury +more ominous, or ghastly, than one which came to my knowledge a few +weeks ago, in England; a respectable and well-to-do father and mother, +in a quiet north country town, being turned into the streets in their +old age, at the suit of their only daughter's milliner. + + +II. Rent. The following account of the real nature of rent is given, +quite accurately, by Professor Fawcett, at page 112 of the last edition +of his _Political Economy_:-- + + "Every country has probably been subjugated, and grants of + vanquished territory were the ordinary rewards which the + conquering chief bestowed upon his more distinguished + followers. Lands obtained by force had to be defended by + force; and before law had asserted her supremacy, and + property was made secure, no baron was able to retain his + possessions, unless those who lived on his estates were + prepared to defend them....[9] As property became secure, + and landlords felt that the power of the State would protect + them in all the rights of property, every vestige of these + feudal tenures was abolished, and the relation between + landlord and tenant has thus become purely commercial. A + landlord offers his land to any one who is willing to take + it; he is anxious to receive the highest rent he can obtain. + What are the principles which regulate the rent which may + thus be paid?" + +These principles the Professor goes on contentedly to investigate, never +appearing to contemplate for an instant the possibility of the first +principle in the whole business--the maintenance, by force, of the +possession of land obtained by force, being ever called in question by +any human mind. It is, nevertheless, the nearest task of our day to +discover how far original theft may be justly encountered by reactionary +theft, or whether reactionary theft be indeed theft at all; and farther, +what, excluding either original or corrective theft, are the just +conditions of the possession of land. + + +III. Debt. Long since, when, a mere boy, I used to sit silently +listening to the conversation of the London merchants who, all of them +good and sound men of business, were wont occasionally to meet round my +father's dining-table; nothing used to surprise me more than the +conviction openly expressed by some of the soundest and most cautious of +them, that "if there were no National debt they would not know what to +do with their money, or where to place it safely." At the 399th page of +his Manual, you will find Professor Fawcett giving exactly the same +statement. + + "In our own country, this certainty against risk of loss is + provided by the public funds;" + +and again, as on the question of rent, the Professor proceeds, without +appearing for an instant to be troubled by any misgiving that there may +be an essential difference between the effects on national prosperity of +a Government paying interest on money which it spent in fire works +fifty years ago, and of a Government paying interest on money to be +employed to-day on productive labour. + +That difference, which the reader will find stated and examined at +length, in §§ 127-129 of this volume, it is the business of economists, +before approaching any other question relating to government, fully to +explain. And the paragraphs to which I refer, contain, I believe, the +only definite statement of it hitherto made. + +The practical result of the absence of any such statement is, that +capitalists, when they do not know what to do with their money, persuade +the peasants, in various countries, that the said peasants want guns to +shoot each other with. The peasants accordingly borrow guns, out of the +manufacture of which the capitalists get a per-centage, and men of +science much amusement and credit. Then the peasants shoot a certain +number of each other, until they get tired; and burn each other's homes +down in various places. Then they put the guns back into towers, +arsenals, &c., in ornamental patterns; (and the victorious party put +also some ragged flags in churches). And then the capitalists tax both, +annually, ever afterwards, to pay interest on the loan of the guns and +gunpowder. And that is what capitalists call "knowing what to do with +their money;" and what commercial men in general call "practical" as +opposed to "sentimental" Political Economy. + +Eleven years ago, in the summer of 1860, perceiving then fully, (as +Carlyle had done long before), what distress was about to come on the +said populace of Europe through these errors of their teachers, I began +to do the best I might, to combat them, in the series of papers for the +_Cornhill Magazine_, since published under the title of _Unto this +Last_. The editor of the Magazine was my friend, and ventured the +insertion of the three first essays; but the outcry against them became +then too strong for any editor to endure, and he wrote to me, with great +discomfort to himself, and many apologies to me, that the Magazine must +only admit one Economical Essay more. + +I made, with his permission, the last one longer than the rest, and gave +it blunt conclusion as well as I could--and so the book now stands; but, +as I had taken not a little pains with the Essays, and knew that they +contained better work than most of my former writings, and more +important truths than all of them put together, this violent reprobation +of them by the _Cornhill_ public set me still more gravely thinking; +and, after turning the matter hither and thither in my mind for two +years more, I resolved to make it the central work of my life to write +an exhaustive treatise on Political Economy. It would not have been +begun, at that time, however, had not the editor of _Fraser's Magazine_ +written to me, saying that he believed there was something in my +theories, and would risk the admission of what I chose to write on this +dangerous subject; whereupon, cautiously, and at intervals, during the +winter of 1862-63, I sent him, and he ventured to print, the preface of +the intended work, divided into four chapters. Then, though the Editor +had not wholly lost courage, the Publisher indignantly interfered; and +the readers of _Fraser_, as those of the _Cornhill_, were protected, for +that time, from farther disturbance on my part. Subsequently, loss of +health, family distress, and various untoward chances, prevented my +proceeding with the body of the book;--seven years have passed +ineffectually; and I am now fain to reprint the Preface by itself, under +the title which I intended for the whole. + +Not discontentedly; being, at this time of life, resigned to the sense +of failure; and also, because the preface is complete in itself as a +body of definitions, which I now require for reference in the course of +my _Letters to Workmen_; by which also, in time, I trust less formally +to accomplish the chief purpose of _Munera Pulveris_, practically summed +in the two paragraphs 27 and 28: namely, to examine the moral results +and possible rectifications of the laws of distribution of wealth, which +have prevailed hitherto without debate among men. Laws which ordinary +economists assume to be inviolable, and which ordinary socialists +imagine to be on the eve of total abrogation. But they are both alike +deceived. The laws which at present regulate the possession of wealth +are unjust, because the motives which provoke to its attainment are +impure; but no socialism can effect their abrogation, unless it can +abrogate also covetousness and pride, which it is by no means yet in the +way of doing. Nor can the change be, in any case, to the extent that has +been imagined. Extremes of luxury may be forbidden, and agony of penury +relieved; but nature intends, and the utmost efforts of socialism will +not hinder the fulfilment of her intention, that a provident person +shall always be richer than a spendthrift; and an ingenious one more +comfortable than a fool. But, indeed, the adjustment of the possession +of the products of industry depends more on their nature than their +quantity, and on wise determination therefore of the aims of industry. + +A nation which desires true wealth, desires it moderately, and can +therefore distribute it with kindness, and possess it with pleasure; but +one which desires false wealth, desires it immoderately, and can neither +dispense it with justice, nor enjoy it in peace. + +Therefore, needing, constantly in my present work, to refer to the +definitions of true and false wealth given in the following Essays, I +republish them with careful revisal. They were written abroad; partly at +Milan, partly during a winter residence on the south-eastern slope of +the Mont Saléve, near Geneva; and sent to London in as legible MS. as I +could write; but I never revised the press sheets, and have been +obliged, accordingly, now to amend the text here and there, or correct +it in unimportant particulars. Wherever any modification has involved +change in the sense, it is enclosed in square brackets; and what few +explanatory comments I have felt it necessary to add, have been +indicated in the same manner. No explanatory comments, I regret to +perceive, will suffice to remedy the mischief of my affected +concentration of language, into the habit of which I fell by thinking +too long over particular passages, in many and many a solitary walk +towards the mountains of Bonneville or Annecy. But I never intended the +book for anything else than a dictionary of reference, and that for +earnest readers; who will, I have good hope, if they find what they +want in it, forgive the affectedly curt expressions. + +The Essays, as originally published, were, as I have just stated, four +in number. I have now, more conveniently, divided the whole into six +chapters; and (as I purpose throughout this edition of my works) +numbered the paragraphs. + +I inscribed the first volume of this series to the friend who aided me +in chief sorrow. Let me inscribe the second to the friend and guide who +has urged me to all chief labour, THOMAS CARLYLE. + + * * * * * + +I would that some better means were in my power of showing reverence to +the man who alone, of all our masters of literature, has written, +without thought of himself, what he knew it to be needful for the people +of his time to hear, if the will to hear were in them: whom, therefore, +as the time draws near when his task must be ended, Republican and +Free-thoughted England assaults with impatient reproach; and out of the +abyss of her cowardice in policy and dishonour in trade, sets the hacks +of her literature to speak evil, grateful to her ears, of the Solitary +Teacher who has asked her to be brave for the help of Man, and just, for +the love of God. + + _Denmark Hill,_ + _25th November, 1871._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] _Political Economy of Art._ (Smith and Elder, 1857, pp. 65-76.) + +[8] See report of speech of M. Jules Simon, in _Pall Mall Gazette_ of +October 27, 1871. + +[9] The omitted sentences merely amplify the statement; they in no wise +modify it. + + + + +MUNERA PULVERIS. + + "Te maris et terræ numeroque carentis arenæ + Mensorem cohibent, Archyta, + Pulveris exigui prope litus parva Matinum + Munera." + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +DEFINITIONS. + + +1. As domestic economy regulates the acts and habits of a household, +Political economy regulates those of a society or State, with reference +to the means of its maintenance. + +Political economy is neither an art nor a science; but a system of +conduct and legislature, founded on the sciences, directing the arts, +and impossible, except under certain conditions of moral culture. + +2. The study which lately in England has been called Political Economy +is in reality nothing more than the investigation of some accidental +phenomena of modern commercial operations, nor has it been true in its +investigation even of these. It has no connection whatever with +political economy, as understood and treated of by the great thinkers of +past ages; and as long as its unscholarly and undefined statements are +allowed to pass under the same name, every word written on the subject +by those thinkers--and chiefly the words of Plato, Xenophon, Cicero and +Bacon--must be nearly useless to mankind. The reader must not, +therefore, be surprised at the care and insistance with which I have +retained the literal and earliest sense of all important terms used in +these papers; for a word is usually well made at the time it is first +wanted; its youngest meaning has in it the full strength of its youth: +subsequent senses are commonly warped or weakened; and as all careful +thinkers are sure to have used their words accurately, the first +condition, in order to be able to avail our selves of their sayings at +all, is firm definition of terms. + +3. By the "maintenance" of a State is to be understood the support of +its population in healthy and happy life; and the increase of their +numbers, so far as that increase is consistent with their happiness. It +is not the object of political economy to increase the numbers of a +nation at the cost of common health or comfort; nor to increase +indefinitely the comfort of individuals, by sacrifice of surrounding +lives, or possibilities of life. + +4. The assumption which lies at the root of nearly all erroneous +reasoning on political economy,--namely, that its object is to +accumulate money or exchangeable property,--may be shown in a few words +to be without foundation. For no economist would admit national economy +to be legitimate which proposed to itself only the building of a pyramid +of gold. He would declare the gold to be wasted, were it to remain in +the monumental form, and would say it ought to be employed. But to what +end? Either it must be used only to gain more gold, and build a larger +pyramid, or for some purpose other than the gaining of gold. And this +other purpose, however at first apprehended, will be found to resolve +itself finally into the service of man;--that is to say, the extension, +defence, or comfort of his life. The golden pyramid may perhaps be +providently built, perhaps improvidently; but the wisdom or folly of the +accumulation can only be determined by our having first clearly stated +the aim of all economy, namely, the extension of life. + +If the accumulation of money, or of exchangeable property, were a +certain means of extending existence, it would be useless, in discussing +economical questions, to fix our attention upon the more distant +object--life--instead of the immediate one--money. But it is not so. +Money may sometimes be accumulated at the cost of life, or by +limitations of it; that is to say, either by hastening the deaths of +men, or preventing their births. It is therefore necessary to keep +clearly in view the ultimate object of economy; and to determine the +expediency of minor operations with reference to that ulterior end. + +5. It has been just stated that the object of political economy is the +continuance not only of life, but of healthy and happy life. But all +true happiness is both a consequence and cause of life: it is a sign of +its vigor, and source of its continuance. All true suffering is in like +manner a consequence and cause of death. I shall therefore, in future, +use the word "Life" singly: but let it be understood to include in its +signification the happiness and power of the entire human nature, body +and soul. + +6. That human nature, as its Creator made it, and maintains it wherever +His laws are observed, is entirely harmonious. No physical error can be +more profound, no moral error more dangerous, than that involved in the +monkish doctrine of the opposition of body to soul. No soul can be +perfect in an imperfect body: no body perfect without perfect soul. +Every right action and true thought sets the seal of its beauty on +person and face; every wrong action and foul thought its seal of +distortion; and the various aspects of humanity might be read as plainly +as a printed history, were it not that the impressions are so complex +that it must always in some cases (and, in the present state of our +knowledge, in all cases) be impossible to decipher them completely. +Nevertheless, the face of a consistently just, and of a consistently +unjust person, may always be rightly distinguished at a glance; and if +the qualities are continued by descent through a generation or two, +there arises a complete distinction of race. Both moral and physical +qualities are communicated by descent, far more than they can be +developed by education; (though both may be destroyed by want of +education), and there is as yet no ascertained limit to the nobleness of +person and mind which the human creature may attain, by persevering +observance of the laws of God respecting its birth and training. + +7. We must therefore yet farther define the aim of political economy to +be "The multiplication of human life at the highest standard." It might +at first seem questionable whether we should endeavour to maintain a +small number of persons of the highest type of beauty and intelligence, +or a larger number of an inferior class. But I shall be able to show in +the sequel, that the way to maintain the largest number is first to aim +at the highest standard. Determine the noblest type of man, and aim +simply at maintaining the largest possible number of persons of that +class, and it will be found that the largest possible number of every +healthy subordinate class must necessarily be produced also. + +8. The perfect type of manhood, as just stated, involves the perfections +(whatever we may hereafter determine these to be) of his body, +affections, and intelligence. The material things, therefore, which it +is the object of political economy to produce and use, (or accumulate +for use,) are things which serve either to sustain and comfort the body, +or exercise rightly the affections and form the intelligence.[10] +Whatever truly serves either of these purposes is "useful" to man, +wholesome, healthful, helpful, or holy. By seeking such things, man +prolongs and increases his life upon the earth. + +On the other hand, whatever does not serve either of these +purposes,--much more whatever counteracts them,--is in like manner +useless to man, unwholesome, unhelpful, or unholy; and by seeking such +things man shortens and diminishes his life upon the earth. + +9. And neither with respect to things useful or useless can man's +estimate of them alter their nature. Certain substances being good for +his food, and others noxious to him, what he thinks or wishes respecting +them can neither change, nor prevent, their power. If he eats corn, he +will live; if nightshade, he will die. If he produce or make good and +beautiful things, they will _Re-Create_ him; (note the solemnity and +weight of the word); if bad and ugly things, they will "corrupt" or +"break in pieces"--that is, in the exact degree of their power, Kill +him. For every hour of labour, however enthusiastic or well intended, +which he spends for that which is not bread, so much possibility of life +is lost to him. His fancies, likings, beliefs, however brilliant, +eager, or obstinate, are of no avail if they are set on a false object. +Of all that he has laboured for, the eternal law of heaven and earth +measures out to him for reward, to the utmost atom, that part which he +ought to have laboured for, and withdraws from him (or enforces on him, +it may be) inexorably, that part which he ought not to have laboured for +until, on his summer threshing-floor, stands his heap of corn; little or +much, not according to his labour, but to his discretion. No "commercial +arrangements," no painting of surfaces, nor alloying of substances, will +avail him a pennyweight. Nature asks of him calmly and inevitably, What +have you found, or formed--the right thing or the wrong? By the right +thing you shall live; by the wrong you shall die. + +10. To thoughtless persons it seems otherwise. The world looks to them +as if they could cozen it out of some ways and means of life. But they +cannot cozen IT: they can only cozen their neighbours. The world is not +to be cheated of a grain; not so much as a breath of its air can be +drawn surreptitiously. For every piece of wise work done, so much life +is granted; for every piece of foolish work, nothing; for every piece of +wicked work, so much death is allotted. This is as sure as the courses +of day and night. But when the means of life are once produced, men, by +their various struggles and industries of accumulation or exchange, may +variously gather, waste, restrain, or distribute them; necessitating, in +proportion to the waste or restraint, accurately, so much more death. +The rate and range of additional death are measured by the rate and +range of waste; and are inevitable;--the only question (determined +mostly by fraud in peace, and force in war) is, Who is to die, and how? + +11. Such being the everlasting law of human existence, the essential +work of the political economist is to determine what are in reality +useful or life-giving things, and by what degrees and kinds of labour +they are attainable and distributable. This investigation divides itself +under three great heads;--the studies, namely, of the phenomena, first, +of WEALTH; secondly, of MONEY; and thirdly, of RICHES. + +These terms are often used as synonymous, but they signify entirely +different things. "Wealth" consists of things in themselves valuable; +"Money," of documentary claims to the possession of such things; and +"Riches" is a relative term, expressing the magnitude of the possessions +of one person or society as compared with those of other persons or +societies. + +The study of Wealth is a province of natural science:--it deals with the +essential properties of things. + +The study of Money is a province of commercial science:--it deals with +conditions of engagement and exchange. + +The study of Riches is a province of moral science:--it deals with the +due relations of men to each other in regard of material possessions; +and with the just laws of their association for purposes of labour. + +I shall in this first chapter shortly sketch out the range of subjects +which will come before us as we follow these three branches of inquiry. + +12. And first of WEALTH, which, it has been said, consists of things +essentially valuable. We now, therefore, need a definition of "value." + +"Value" signifies the strength, or "availing" of anything towards the +sustaining of life, and is always twofold; that is to say, primarily, +INTRINSIC, and secondarily, EFFECTUAL. + +The reader must, by anticipation, be warned against confusing value with +cost, or with price. _Value is the life-giving power of anything; cost, +the quantity of labour required to produce it; price, the quantity of +labour which its possessor will take in exchange for it._[11] Cost and +price are commercial conditions, to be studied under the head of money. + +13. Intrinsic value is the absolute power of anything to support life. A +sheaf of wheat of given quality and weight has in it a measurable power +of sustaining the substance of the body; a cubic foot of pure air, a +fixed power of sustaining its warmth; and a cluster of flowers of given +beauty a fixed power of enlivening or animating the senses and heart. + +It does not in the least affect the intrinsic value of the wheat, the +air, or the flowers, that men refuse or despise them. Used or not, their +own power is in them, and that particular power is in nothing else. + +14. But in order that this value of theirs may become effectual, a +certain state is necessary in the recipient of it. The digesting, +breathing, and perceiving functions must be perfect in the human +creature before the food, air, or flowers can become of their full value +to it. _The production of effectual value, therefore, always involves +two needs: first, the production of a thing essentially useful; then the +production of the capacity to use it._ Where the intrinsic value and +acceptant capacity come together there is Effectual value, or wealth; +where there is either no intrinsic value, or no acceptant capacity, +there is no effectual value; that is to say, no wealth. A horse is no +wealth to us if we cannot ride, nor a picture if we cannot see, _nor can +any noble thing be wealth, except to a noble person_. As the aptness of +the user increases, the effectual value of the thing used increases; and +in its entirety can co-exist only with perfect skill of use, and fitness +of nature. + +15. Valuable material things may be conveniently referred to five heads: + +(i.) Land, with its associated air, water, and organisms. + +(ii.) Houses, furniture, and instruments. + +(iii.) Stored or prepared food, medicine, and articles of bodily luxury, +including clothing. + +(iv.) Books. + +(v.) Works of art. + +The conditions of value in these things are briefly as follows:-- + +16. (i.) Land. Its value is twofold; first, as producing food and +mechanical power; secondly, as an object of sight and thought, producing +intellectual power. + +Its value, as a means of producing food and mechanical power, varies +with its form (as mountain or plain), with its substance (in soil or +mineral contents), and with its climate. All these conditions of +intrinsic value must be known and complied with by the men who have to +deal with it, in order to give effectual value; but at any given time +and place, the intrinsic value is fixed: such and such a piece of land, +with its associated lakes and seas, rightly treated in surface and +substance, can produce precisely so much food and power, and no more. + +The second element of value in land being its beauty, united with such +conditions of space and form as are necessary for exercise, and for +fullness of animal life, land of the highest value in these respects +will be that lying in temperate climates, and boldly varied in form; +removed from unhealthy or dangerous influences (as of miasm or volcano); +and capable of sustaining a rich fauna and flora. Such land, carefully +tended by the hand of man, so far as to remove from it unsightlinesses +and evidences of decay, guarded from violence, and inhabited, under +man's affectionate protection, by every kind of living creature that can +occupy it in peace, is the most precious "property" that human beings +can possess. + +17. (ii.) Buildings, furniture, and instruments. + +The value of buildings consists, first, in permanent strength, with +convenience of form, of size, and of position; so as to render +employment peaceful, social intercourse easy, temperature and air +healthy. The advisable or possible magnitude of cities and mode of their +distribution in squares, streets, courts, &c.; the relative value of +sites of land, and the modes of structure which are healthiest and most +permanent, have to be studied under this head. + +The value of buildings consists secondly in historical association, and +architectural beauty, of which we have to examine the influence on +manners and life. + +The value of instruments consists, first, in their power of shortening +labour, or otherwise accomplishing what human strength unaided could +not. The kinds of work which are severally best accomplished by hand or +by machine;--the effect of machinery in gathering and multiplying +population, and its influence on the minds and bodies of such +population; together with the conceivable uses of machinery on a +colossal scale in accomplishing mighty and useful works, hitherto +unthought of, such as the deepening of large river channels;--changing +the surface of mountainous districts;--irrigating tracts of desert in +the torrid zone;--breaking up, and thus rendering capable of quicker +fusion, edges of ice in the northern and southern Arctic seas, &c., so +rendering parts of the earth habitable which hitherto have been +lifeless, are to be studied under this head. + +The value of instruments is, secondarily, in their aid to abstract +sciences. The degree in which the multiplication of such instruments +should be encouraged, so as to make them, if large, easy of access to +numbers (as costly telescopes), or so cheap as that they might, in a +serviceable form, become a common part of the furniture of households, +is to be considered under this head.[12] + +18. (iii.) Food, medicine, and articles of luxury. Under this head we +shall have to examine the possible methods of obtaining pure food in +such security and equality of supply as to avoid both waste and famine: +then the economy of medicine and just range of sanitary law: finally the +economy of luxury, partly an æsthetic and partly an ethical question. + +19. (iv.) Books. The value of these consists, + +First, in their power of preserving and communicating the knowledge of +facts. + +Secondly, in their power of exciting vital or noble emotion and +intellectual action. They have also their corresponding negative powers +of disguising and effacing the memory of facts, and killing the noble +emotions, or exciting base ones. Under these two heads we have to +consider the economical and educational value, positive and negative, of +literature;--the means of producing and educating good authors, and the +means and advisability of rendering good books generally accessible, and +directing the reader's choice to them. + +20. (v.) Works of art. The value of these is of the same nature as that +of books; but the laws of their production and possible modes of +distribution are very different, and require separate examination. + + +21. II.--MONEY. Under this head, we shall have to examine the laws of +currency and exchange; of which I will note here the first principles. + + +Money has been inaccurately spoken of as merely a means of exchange. But +it is far more than this. It is a documentary expression of legal claim. +It is not wealth, but a documentary claim to wealth, being the sign of +the relative quantities of it, or of the labour producing it, to which, +at a given time, persons, or societies, are entitled. + +If all the money in the world, notes and gold, were destroyed in an +instant, it would leave the world neither richer nor poorer than it was. +But it would leave the individual inhabitants of it in different +relations. + +Money is, therefore, correspondent in its nature to the title-deed of an +estate. Though the deed be burned, the estate still exists, but the +right to it has become disputable. + +22. The real worth of money remains unchanged, as long as the proportion +of the quantity of existing money to the quantity of existing wealth or +available labour remains unchanged. + +If the wealth increases, but not the money, the worth of the money +increases; if the money increases, but not the wealth, the worth of the +money diminishes. + +23. Money, therefore, cannot be arbitrarily multiplied, any more than +title-deeds can. So long as the existing wealth or available labour is +not fully represented by the currency, the currency may be increased +without diminution of the assigned worth of its pieces. But when the +existing wealth, or available labour is once fully represented, every +piece of money thrown into circulation diminishes the worth of every +other existing piece, in the proportion it bears to the number of them, +provided the new piece be received with equal credit; if not, the +depreciation of worth takes place, according to the degree of its +credit. + +24. When, however, new money, composed of some substance of supposed +intrinsic value (as of gold), is brought into the market, or when new +notes are issued which are supposed to be deserving of credit, the +desire to obtain the money will, under certain circumstances, stimulate +industry: an additional quantity of wealth is immediately produced, and +if this be in proportion to the new claims advanced, the value of the +existing currency is undepreciated. If the stimulus given be so great as +to produce more goods than are proportioned to the additional coinage, +the worth of the existing currency will be raised. + +Arbitrary control and issues of currency affect the production of +wealth, by acting on the hopes and fears of men, and are, under certain +circumstances, wise. But the issue of additional currency to meet the +exigencies of immediate expense, is merely one of the disguised forms of +borrowing or taxing. It is, however, in the present low state of +economical knowledge, often possible for governments to venture on an +issue of currency, when they could not venture on an additional loan or +tax, because the real operation of such issue is not understood by the +people, and the pressure of it is irregularly distributed, and with an +unperceived gradation. + +25. The use of substances of intrinsic value as the materials of a +currency, is a barbarism;--a remnant of the conditions of barter, which +alone render commerce possible among savage nations. It is, however, +still necessary, partly as a mechanical check on arbitrary issues; +partly as a means of exchanges with foreign nations. In proportion to +the extension of civilization, and increase of trustworthiness in +Governments, it will cease. So long as it exists, the phenomena of the +cost and price of the articles used for currency are mingled with those +proper to currency itself, in an almost inextricable manner: and the +market worth of bullion is affected by multitudinous accidental +circumstances, which have been traced, with more or less success, by +writers on commercial operations: but with these variations the true +political economist has no more to do than an engineer, fortifying a +harbour of refuge against Atlantic tide, has to concern himself with the +cries or quarrels of children who dig pools with their fingers for its +streams among the sand. + +26. III.--RICHES. According to the various industry, capacity, good +fortune, and desires of men, they obtain greater or smaller share of, +and claim upon, the wealth of the world. + +The inequalities between these shares, always in some degree just and +necessary, may be either restrained by law or circumstance within +certain limits; or may increase indefinitely. + +Where no moral or legal restraint is put upon the exercise of the will +and intellect of the stronger, shrewder, or more covetous men, these +differences become ultimately enormous. But as soon as they become so +distinct in their extremes as that, on one side, there shall be manifest +redundance of possession, and on the other manifest pressure of +need,--the terms "riches" and "poverty" are used to express the opposite +states; being contrary only as the terms "warmth" and "cold" are +contraries, of which neither implies an actual degree, but only a +relation to other degrees, of temperature. + +27. Respecting riches, the economist has to inquire, first, into the +advisable modes of their collection; secondly, into the advisable modes +of their administration. + +Respecting the collection of national riches, he has to inquire, first, +whether he is justified in calling the nation rich, if the quantity of +wealth it possesses relatively to the wealth of other nations, be large; +irrespectively of the manner of its distribution. Or does the mode of +distribution in any wise affect the nature of the riches? Thus, if the +king alone be rich--suppose Croesus or Mausolus--are the Lydians or +Carians therefore a rich nation? Or if a few slave-masters are rich, and +the nation is otherwise composed of slaves, is it to be called a rich +nation? For if not, and the ideas of a certain mode of distribution or +operation in the riches, and of a certain degree of freedom in the +people, enter into our idea of riches as attributed to a people, we +shall have to define the degree of fluency, or circulative character +which is essential to the nature of common wealth; and the degree of +independence of action required in its possessors. Questions which look +as if they would take time in answering.[13] + +28. And farther. Since the inequality, which is the condition of riches, +may be established in two opposite modes--namely, by increase of +possession on the one side, and by decrease of it on the other--we have +to inquire, with respect to any given state of riches, precisely in what +manner the correlative poverty was produced: that is to say, whether by +being surpassed only, or being depressed also; and if by being +depressed, what are the advantages, or the contrary, conceivable in the +depression. For instance, it being one of the commonest advantages of +being rich to entertain a number of servants, we have to inquire, on the +one side, what economical process produced the riches of the master; and +on the other, what economical process produced the poverty of the +persons who serve him; and what advantages each, on his own side, +derives from the result. + +29. These being the main questions touching the collection of riches, +the next, or last, part of the inquiry is into their administration. + +Their possession involves three great economical powers which require +separate examination: namely, the powers of selection, direction, and +provision. + +The power of SELECTION relates to things of which the supply is limited +(as the supply of best things is always). When it becomes matter of +question to whom such things are to belong, the richest person has +necessarily the first choice, unless some arbitrary mode of distribution +be otherwise determined upon. The business of the economist is to show +how this choice may be a wise one. + +The power of DIRECTION arises out of the necessary relation of rich men +to poor, which ultimately, in one way or another, involves the +direction of, or authority over, the labour of the poor; and this nearly +as much over their mental as their bodily labour. The business of the +economist is to show how this direction may be a Just one. + +The power of PROVISION is dependent upon the redundance of wealth, which +may of course by active persons be made available in preparation for +future work or future profit; in which function riches have generally +received the name of capital; that is to say, of head-, or +source-material. The business of the economist is to show how this +provision may be a Distant one. + +30. The examination of these three functions of riches will embrace +every final problem of political economy;--and, above, or before all, +this curious and vital problem,--whether, since the wholesome action of +riches in these three functions will depend (it appears), on the Wisdom, +Justice, and Farsightedness of the holders; and it is by no means to be +assumed that persons primarily rich, must therefore be just and +wise,--it may not be ultimately possible so, or somewhat so, to arrange +matters, as that persons primarily just and wise, should therefore be +rich? + +Such being the general plan of the inquiry before us, I shall not limit +myself to any consecutive following of it, having hardly any good hope +of being able to complete so laborious a work as it must prove to me; +but from time to time, as I have leisure, shall endeavour to carry +forward this part or that, as may be immediately possible; indicating +always with accuracy the place which the particular essay will or should +take in the completed system. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] _See_ Appendix I. + +[11] Observe these definitions,--they are of much importance,--and +connect with them the sentences in italics on this and the next page. + +[12] [I cannot now recast these sentences, pedantic in their +generalization, and intended more for index than statement, but I must +guard the reader from thinking that I ever wish for cheapness by bad +quality. A poor boy need not always learn mathematics; but, if you set +him to do so, have the farther kindness to give him good compasses, not +cheap ones, whose points bend like lead.] + +[13] [I regret the ironical manner in which this passage, one of great +importance in the matter of it, was written. The gist of it is, that the +first of all inquiries respecting the wealth of any nation is not, how +much it has; but whether it is in a form that can be used, and in the +possession of persons who can use it.] + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +STORE-KEEPING. + + +31. The first chapter having consisted of little more than definition of +terms, I purpose, in this, to expand and illustrate the given +definitions. + +The view which has here been taken of the nature of wealth, namely, that +it consists in an intrinsic value developed by a vital power, is +directly opposed to two nearly universal conceptions of wealth. In the +assertion that value is primarily intrinsic, it opposes the idea that +anything which is an object of desire to numbers, and is limited in +quantity, so as to have rated worth in exchange, may be called, or +virtually become, wealth. And in the assertion that value is, +secondarily, dependent upon power in the possessor, it opposes the idea +that the worth of things depends on the demand for them, instead of on +the use of them. Before going farther, we will make these two positions +clearer. + +32. I. First. All wealth is intrinsic, and is not constituted by the +judgment of men. This is easily seen in the case of things affecting the +body; we know, that no force of fantasy will make stones nourishing, or +poison innocent; but it is less apparent in things affecting the mind. +We are easily--perhaps willingly--misled by the appearance of beneficial +results obtained by industries addressed wholly to the gratification of +fanciful desire; and apt to suppose that whatever is widely coveted, +dearly bought, and pleasurable in possession, must be included in our +definition of wealth. It is the more difficult to quit ourselves of this +error because many things which are true wealth in moderate use, become +false wealth in immoderate; and many things are mixed of good and +evil,--as mostly, books, and works of art,--out of which one person Will +get the good, and another the evil; so that it seems as if there were +no fixed good or evil in the things themselves, but only in the view +taken, and use made of them. + +But that is not so. The evil and good are fixed; in essence, and in +proportion. And in things in which evil depends upon excess, the point +of excess, though indefinable, is fixed; and the power of the thing is +on the hither side for good, and on the farther side for evil. And in +all cases this power is inherent, not dependent on opinion or choice. +Our thoughts of things neither make, nor mar their eternal force; +nor--which is the most serious point for future consideration--can they +prevent the effect of it (within certain limits) upon ourselves. + +33. Therefore, the object of any special analysis of wealth will be not +so much to enumerate what is serviceable, as to distinguish what is +destructive; and to show that it is inevitably destructive; that to +receive pleasure from an evil thing is not to escape from, or alter the +evil of it, but to be _altered by_ it; that is, to suffer from it to the +utmost, having our own nature, in that degree, made evil also. And it +may be shown farther, that, through whatever length of time or +subtleties of connexion the harm is accomplished, (being also less or +more according to the fineness and worth of the humanity on which it is +wrought), still, nothing _but_ harm ever comes of a bad thing. + +34. So that, in sum, the term wealth is never to be attached to the +_accidental object of a morbid_ desire, but only to the _constant object +of a legitimate one_.[14] By the fury of ignorance, and fitfulness of +caprice, large interests may be continually attached to things +unserviceable or hurtful; if their nature could be altered by our +passions, the science of Political Economy would remain, what it has +been hitherto among us, the weighing of clouds, and the portioning out +of shadows. But of ignorance there is no science; and of caprice no law. +Their disturbing forces interfere with the operations of faithful +Economy, but have nothing in common with them: she, the calm arbiter of +national destiny, regards only essential power for good in all that she +accumulates, and alike disdains the wanderings[15] of imagination, and +the thirsts of disease. + +35. II. Secondly. The assertion that wealth is not _only_ intrinsic, but +dependent, in order to become effectual, on a given degree of vital +power in its possessor, is opposed to another popular view of +wealth;--namely, that though it may always be constituted by caprice, it +is, when so constituted, a substantial thing, of which given quantities +may be counted as existing here, or there, and exchangeable at rated +prices. + +In this view there are three errors. The first and chief is the +overlooking the fact that all exchangeableness of commodity, or +effective demand for it, depends on the sum of capacity for its use +existing, here or elsewhere. The book we cannot read, or picture we take +no delight in, may indeed be called part of our wealth, in so far as we +have power of exchanging either for something we like better. But our +power of effecting such exchange, and yet more, of effecting it to +advantage, depends absolutely on the number of accessible persons who +can understand the book, or enjoy the painting, and who will dispute the +possession of them. Thus the actual worth of either, even to us, depends +no more on their essential goodness than on the capacity existing +somewhere for the perception of it; and it is vain in any completed +system of production to think of obtaining one without the other. So +that, though the true political economist knows that co-existence of +capacity for use with temporary possession cannot be always secured, the +final fact, on which he bases all action and administration, is that, in +the whole nation, or group of nations, he has to deal with, for every +atom of intrinsic value produced he must with exactest chemistry produce +its twin atom of acceptant digestion, or understanding capacity; or, in +the degree of his failure, he has no wealth. Nature's challenge to us +is, in earnest, as the Assyrians mock; "I will give thee two thousand +horses, if thou be able on thy part to set riders upon them." Bavieca's +paces are brave, if the Cid backs him; but woe to us, if we take the +dust of capacity, wearing the armour of it, for capacity itself, for so +all procession, however goodly in the show of it, is to the tomb. + +36. The second error in this popular view of wealth is, that in giving +the name of wealth to things which we cannot use, we in reality confuse +wealth with money. The land we have no skill to cultivate, the book +which is sealed to us, or dress which is superfluous, may indeed be +exchangeable, but as such are nothing more than a cumbrous form of +bank-note, of doubtful or slow convertibility. As long as we retain +possession of them, we merely keep our bank-notes in the shape of gravel +or clay, of book-leaves, or of embroidered tissue. Circumstances may, +perhaps, render such forms the safest, or a certain complacency may +attach to the exhibition of them; into both these advantages we shall +inquire afterwards; I wish the reader only to observe here, that +exchangeable property which we cannot use is, to us personally, merely +one of the forms of money, not of wealth. + +37. The third error in the popular view is the confusion of Guardianship +with Possession; the real state of men of property being, too commonly, +that of curators, not possessors, of wealth. + +A man's power over his property is at the widest range of it, fivefold; +it is power of Use, for himself, Administration, to others, Ostentation, +Destruction, or Bequest: and possession is in use only, which for each +man is sternly limited; so that such things, and so much of them as he +can use, are, indeed, well for him, or Wealth; and more of them, or any +other things, are ill for him, or Illth.[16] Plunged to the lips in +Orinoco, he shall drink to his thirst measure; more, at his peril: with +a thousand oxen on his lands, he shall eat to his hunger measure; more, +at his peril. He cannot live in two houses at once; a few bales of silk +or wool will suffice for the fabric of all the clothes he can ever wear, +and a few books will probably hold all the furniture good for his brain. +Beyond these, in the best of us but narrow, capacities, we have but the +power of administering, or _mal_-administering, wealth: (that is to say, +distributing, lending, or increasing it);--of exhibiting it (as in +magnificence of retinue or furniture),--of destroying, or, finally, of +bequeathing it. And with multitudes of rich men, administration +degenerates into curatorship; they merely hold their property in charge, +as Trustees, for the benefit of some person or persons to whom it is to +be delivered upon their death; and the position, explained in clear +terms, would hardly seem a covetable one. What would be the probable +feelings of a youth, on his entrance into life, to whom the career hoped +for him was proposed in terms such as these: "You must work +unremittingly, and with your utmost intelligence, during all your +available years, you will thus accumulate wealth to a large amount; but +you must touch none of it, beyond what is needful for your support. +Whatever sums you gain, beyond those required for your decent and +moderate maintenance, and whatever beautiful things you may obtain +possession of, shall be properly taken care of by servants, for whose +maintenance you will be charged, and whom you will have the trouble of +superintending, and on your deathbed you shall have the power of +determining to whom the accumulated property shall belong, or to what +purposes be applied." + +38. The labour of life, under such conditions, would probably be neither +zealous nor cheerful; yet the only difference between this position and +that of the ordinary capitalist is the power which the latter supposes +himself to possess, and which is attributed to him by others, of +spending his money at any moment. This pleasure, taken _in the +imagination of power to part with that with which we have no intention +of parting_, is one of the most curious, though commonest forms of the +Eidolon, or Phantasm of Wealth. But the political economist has nothing +to do with this idealism, and looks only to the practical issue of +it--namely, that the holder of wealth, in such temper, may be regarded +simply as a mechanical means of collection; or as a money-chest with a +slit in it, not only receptant but suctional, set in the public +thoroughfare;--chest of which only Death has the key, and evil Chance +the distribution of the contents. In his function of Lender (which, +however, is one of administration, not use, as far as he is himself +concerned), the capitalist takes, indeed, a more interesting aspect; but +even in that function, his relations with the state are apt to +degenerate into a mechanism for the convenient contraction of debt;--a +function the more mischievous, because a nation invariably appeases its +conscience with respect to an unjustifiable expense, by meeting it with +borrowed funds, expresses its repentance of a foolish piece of business, +by letting its tradesmen wait for their money, and always leaves its +descendants to pay for the work which will be of the least advantage to +them.[17] + +39. Quit of these three sources of misconception, the reader will have +little farther difficulty in apprehending the real nature of Effectual +value. He may, however, at first not without surprise, perceive the +consequences involved in his acceptance of the definition. For if the +actual existence of wealth be dependent on the power of its possessor, +it follows that the sum of wealth held by the nation, instead of being +constant, or calculable, varies hourly, nay, momentarily, with the +number and character of its holders! and that in changing hands, it +changes in quantity. And farther, since the worth of the currency is +proportioned to the sum of material wealth which it represents, if the +sum of the wealth changes, the worth of the currency changes. And thus +both the sum of the property, and power of the currency, of the state, +vary momentarily as the character and number of the holders. And not +only so, but different rates and kinds of variation are caused by the +character of the holders of different kinds of wealth. The transitions +of value caused by the character of the holders of land differ in mode +from those caused by character in holders of works of art; and these +again from those caused by character in holders of machinery or other +working capital. But we cannot examine these special phenomena of any +kind of wealth until we have a clear idea of the way in which true +currency expresses them; and of the resulting modes in which the cost +and price of any article are related to its value. To obtain this we +must approach the subject in its first elements. + +40. Let us suppose a national store of wealth, composed of material +things either useful, or believed to be so, taken charge of by the +Government,[18] and that every workman, having produced any article +involving labour in its production, and for which he has no immediate +use, brings it to add to this store, receiving from the Government, in +exchange, an order either for the return of the thing itself, or of its +equivalent in other things, such as he may choose out of the store, at +any time when he needs them. The question of equivalence itself (how +much wine a man is to receive in return for so much corn, or how much +coal in return for so much iron) is a quite separate one, which we will +examine presently. For the time, let it be assumed that this equivalence +has been determined, and that the Government order, in exchange for a +fixed weight of any article (called, suppose _a_), is either for the +return of that weight of the article itself, or of another fixed weight +of the article _b_, or another of the article _c_, and so on. + +Now, supposing that the labourer speedily and continually presents these +general orders, or, in common language, "spends the money," he has +neither changed the circumstances of the nation, nor his own, except in +so far as he may have produced useful and consumed useless articles, or +_vice versâ_. But if he does not use, or uses in part only, the orders +he receives, and lays aside some portion of them; and thus every day +bringing his contribution to the national store, lays by some +per-centage of the orders received in exchange for it, he increases the +national wealth daily by as much as he does not use of the received +order, and to the same amount accumulates a monetary claim on the +Government. It is, of course, always in his power, as it is his legal +right, to bring forward this accumulation of claim, and at once to +consume, destroy, or distribute, the sum of his wealth. Supposing he +never does so, but dies, leaving his claim to others, he has enriched +the State during his life by the quantity of wealth over which that +claim extends, or has, in other words, rendered so much additional life +possible in the State, of which additional life he bequeaths the +immediate possibility to those whom he invests with his claim. Supposing +him to cancel the claim, he would distribute this possibility of life +among the nation at large. + +41. We hitherto consider the Government itself as simply a conservative +power, taking charge of the wealth entrusted to it. + +But a Government may be more or less than a conservative power. It may +be either an improving, or destructive one. + +If it be an improving power, using all the wealth entrusted to it to the +best advantage, the nation is enriched in root and branch at once, and +the Government is enabled, for every order presented, to return a +quantity of wealth greater than the order was written for, according to +the fructification obtained in the interim. This ability may be either +concealed, in which case the currency does not completely represent the +wealth of the country, or it may be manifested by the continual payment +of the excess of value on each order, in which case there is +(irrespectively, observe, of collateral results afterwards to be +examined) a perpetual rise in the worth of the currency, that is to say, +a fall in the price of all articles represented by it. + +42. But if the Government be destructive, or a consuming power, it +becomes unable to return the value received on the presentation of the +order. + +This inability may either be concealed by meeting demands to the full, +until it issue in bankruptcy, or in some form of national debt;--or it +may be concealed during oscillatory movements between destructiveness +and productiveness, which result on the whole in stability;--or it may +be manifested by the consistent return of less than value received on +each presented order, in which case there is a consistent fall in the +worth of the currency, or rise in the price of the things represented by +it. + +43. Now, if for this conception of a central Government, we substitute +that of a body of persons occupied in industrial pursuits, of whom each +adds in his private capacity to the common store, we at once obtain an +approximation to the actual condition of a civilized mercantile +community, from which approximation we might easily proceed into still +completer analysis. I purpose, however, to arrive at every result by the +gradual expansion of the simpler conception; but I wish the reader to +observe, in the meantime, that both the social conditions thus supposed +(and I will by anticipation say also, all possible social conditions), +agree in two great points; namely, in the primal importance of the +supposed national store or stock, and in its destructibility or +improveability by the holders of it. + +44. I. Observe that in both conditions, that of central +Government-holding, and diffused private-holding, the quantity of stock +is of the same national moment. In the one case, indeed, its amount may +be known by examination of the persons to whom it is confided; in the +other it cannot be known but by exposing the private affairs of every +individual. But, known or unknown, its significance is the same under +each condition. The riches of the nation consist in the abundance, and +their wealth depends on the nature, of this store. + +45. II. In the second place, both conditions, (and all other possible +ones) agree in the destructibility or improveability of the store by its +holders. Whether in private hands, or under Government charge, the +national store may be daily consumed, or daily enlarged, by its +possessors; and while the currency remains apparently unaltered, the +property it represents may diminish or increase. + +46. The first question, then, which we have to put under our simple +conception of central Government, namely, "What store has it?" is one of +equal importance, whatever may be the constitution of the State; while +the second question--namely, "Who are the holders of the store?" +involves the discussion of the constitution of the State itself. + +The first inquiry resolves itself into three heads: + +1. What is the nature of the store? + +2. What is its quantity in relation to the population? + +3. What is its quantity in relation to the currency? + +The second inquiry into two: + +1. Who are the Holders of the store, and in what proportions? + +2. Who are the Claimants of the store, (that is to say, the holders of +the currency,) and in what proportions? + +We will examine the range of the first three questions in the present +paper; of the two following, in the sequel. + +47. I. QUESTION FIRST. What is the nature of the store? Has the nation +hitherto worked for and gathered the right thing or the wrong? On that +issue rest the possibilities of its life. + +For example, let us imagine a society, of no great extent, occupied in +procuring and laying up store of corn, wine, wool, silk, and other such +preservable materials of food and clothing; and that it has a currency +representing them. Imagine farther, that on days of festivity, the +society, discovering itself to derive satisfaction from pyrotechnics, +gradually turns its attention more and more to the manufacture of +gunpowder; so that an increasing number of labourers, giving what time +they can spare to this branch of industry, bring increasing quantities +of combustibles into the store, and use the general orders received in +exchange to obtain such wine, wool, or corn, as they may have need of. +The currency remains the same, and represents precisely the same amount +of material in the store, and of labour spent in producing it. But the +corn and wine gradually vanish, and in their place, as gradually, appear +sulphur and saltpetre, till at last the labourers who have consumed corn +and supplied nitre, presenting on a festal morning some of their +currency to obtain materials for the feast, discover that no amount of +currency will command anything Festive, except Fire. The supply of +rockets is unlimited, but that of food, limited, in a quite final +manner; and the whole currency in the hands of the society represents an +infinite power of detonation, but none of existence. + +48. This statement, caricatured as it may seem, is only exaggerated in +assuming the persistence of the folly to extremity, unchecked, as in +reality it would be, by the gradual rise in price of food. But it falls +short of the actual facts of human life in expression of the depth and +intensity of the folly itself. For a great part (the reader would not +believe how great until he saw the statistics in detail) of the most +earnest and ingenious industry of the world is spent in producing +munitions of war; gathering, that is to say the materials, not of +festive, but of consuming fire; filling its stores with all power of the +instruments of pain, and all affluence of the ministries of death. It +was no true _Trionfo della Morte_[19] which men have seen and feared +(sometimes scarcely feared) so long; wherein he brought them rest from +their labours. We see, and share, another and higher form of his triumph +now. Task-master, instead of Releaser, he rules the dust of the arena no +less than of the tomb; and, content once in the grave whither man went, +to make his works to cease and his devices to vanish,--now, in the busy +city and on the serviceable sea, makes his work to increase, and his +devices to multiply. + +49. To this doubled loss, or negative power of labour, spent in +producing means of destruction, we have to add, in our estimate of the +consequences of human folly, whatever more insidious waste of toil there +is in production of unnecessary luxury. Such and such an occupation (it +is said) supports so many labourers, because so many obtain wages in +following it; but it is never considered that unless there be a +supporting power in the product of the occupation, the wages given to +one man are merely withdrawn from another. We cannot say of any trade +that it maintains such and such a number of persons, unless we know how +and where the money, now spent in the purchase of its produce, would +have been spent, if that produce had not been manufactured. The +purchasing funds truly support a number of people in making This; but +(probably) leave unsupported an equal number who are making, or could +have made That. The manufacturers of small watches thrive at Geneva;--it +is well;--but where would the money spent on small watches have gone, +had there been no small watches to buy? + +50. If the so frequently uttered aphorism of mercantile economy--"labour +is limited by capital," were true, this question would be a definite +one. But it is untrue; and that widely. Out of a given quantity of funds +for wages, more or less labour is to be had, according to the quantity +of will with which we can inspire the workman; and the true limit of +labour is only in the limit of this moral stimulus of the will, and of +the bodily power. In an ultimate, but entirely unpractical sense, labour +is limited by capital, as it is by matter--that is to say, where there +is no material, there can be no work,--but in the practical sense, +labour is limited only by the great original capital of head, heart, and +hand. Even in the most artificial relations of commerce, labour is to +capital as fire to fuel: out of so much fuel, you _can_ have only so +much fire; but out of so much fuel, you _shall_ have so much fire,--not +in proportion to the mass of combustible, but to the force of wind that +fans and water that quenches; and the appliance of both. And labour is +furthered, as conflagration is, not so much by added fuel, as by +admitted air.[20] + +51. For which reasons, I had to insert, in § 49, the qualifying +"probably;" for it can never be said positively that the purchase-money, +or wages fund of any trade is withdrawn from some other trade. The +object itself may be the stimulus of the production of the money which +buys it; that is to say, the work by which the purchaser obtained the +means of buying it, would not have been done by him unless he had wanted +that particular thing. And the production of any article not +intrinsically (nor in the process of manufacture) injurious, is useful, +if the desire of it causes productive labour in other directions. + +52. In the national store, therefore, the presence of things +intrinsically valueless does not imply an entirely correlative absence +of things valuable. We cannot be certain that all the labour spent on +vanity has been diverted from reality, and that for every bad thing +produced, a precious thing has been lost. In great measure, the vain +things represent the results of roused indolence; they have been carved, +as toys, in extra time; and, if they had not been made, nothing else +would have been made. Even to munitions of war this principle applies; +they partly represent the work of men who, if they had not made spears, +would never have made pruning hooks, and who are incapable of any +activities but those of contest. + +53. Thus then, finally, the nature of the store has to be considered +under two main lights; the one, that of its immediate and actual +utility; the other, that of the past national character which it +signifies by its production, and future character which it must develop +by its use. And the issue of this investigation will be to show us that. + +Economy does not depend merely on principles of "demand and supply," but +primarily on what is demanded, and what is supplied; which I will beg of +you to observe, and take to heart. + + * * * * * + +54. II. QUESTION SECOND.--What is the quantity of the store, in relation +to the population? + +It follows from what has been already stated that the accurate form in +which this question has to be put is--"What quantity of each article +composing the store exists in proportion to the real need for it by the +population?" But we shall for the time assume, in order to keep all our +terms at the simplest, that the store is wholly composed of useful +articles, and accurately proportioned to the several needs for them. + +Now it cannot be assumed, because the store is large in proportion to +the number of the people, that the people must be in comfort; nor +because it is small, that they must be in distress. An active and +economical race always produces more than it requires, and lives (if it +is permitted to do so) in competence on the produce of its daily labour. +The quantity of its store, great or small, is therefore in many respects +indifferent to it, and cannot be inferred from its aspect. Similarly an +inactive and wasteful population, which cannot live by its daily labour, +but is dependent, partly or wholly, on consumption of its store, may be +(by various difficulties, hereafter to be examined, in realizing or +getting at such store) retained in a state of abject distress, though +its possessions may be immense. But the results always involved in the +magnitude of store are, the commercial power of the nation, its +security, and its mental character. Its commercial power, in that +according to the quantity of its store, may be the extent of its +dealings; its security, in that according to the quantity of its store +are its means of sudden exertion or sustained endurance; and its +character, in that certain conditions of civilization cannot be attained +without permanent and continually accumulating store, of great intrinsic +value, and of peculiar nature.[21] + +55. Now, seeing that these three advantages arise from largeness of +store in proportion to population, the question arises immediately, +"Given the store--is the nation enriched by diminution of its numbers? +Are a successful national speculation, and a pestilence, economically +the same thing?" + +This is in part a sophistical question; such as it would be to ask +whether a man was richer when struck by disease which must limit his +life within a predicable period, than he was when in health. He is +enabled to enlarge his current expenses, and has for all purposes a +larger sum at his immediate disposal (for, given the fortune, the +shorter the life, the larger the annuity); yet no man considers himself +richer because he is condemned by his physician. + +56. The logical reply is that, since Wealth is by definition only the +means of life, a nation cannot be enriched by its own mortality. Or in +shorter words, the life is more than the meat; and existence itself, +more wealth than the means of existence. Whence, of two nations who have +equal store, the more numerous is to be considered the richer, provided +the type of the inhabitant be as high (for, though the relative bulk of +their store be less, its relative efficiency, or the amount of effectual +wealth, must be greater). But if the type of the population be +deteriorated by increase of its numbers, we have evidence of poverty in +its worst influence; and then, to determine whether the nation in its +total may still be justifiably esteemed rich, we must set or weigh, the +number of the poor against that of the rich. + +To effect which piece of scale-work, it is of course necessary to +determine, first, who are poor and who are rich; nor this only, but also +how poor and how rich they are. Which will prove a curious +thermometrical investigation; for we shall have to do for gold and for +silver, what we have done for quicksilver;--determine, namely, their +freezing-point, their zero, their temperate and fever-heat points; +finally, their vaporescent point, at which riches, sometimes +explosively, as lately in America, "make to themselves wings:"--and +correspondently, the number of degrees _below_ zero at which poverty, +ceasing to brace with any wholesome cold, burns to the bone.[22] + +57. For the performance of these operations, in the strictest sense +scientific, we will first look to the existing so-called "science" of +Political Economy; we will ask it to define for us the comparatively and +superlatively rich, and the comparatively and superlatively poor; and on +its own terms--if any terms it can pronounce--examine, in our prosperous +England, how many rich and how many poor people there are; and whether +the quantity and intensity of the poverty is indeed so overbalanced by +the quantity and intensity of wealth, that we may permit ourselves a +luxurious blindness to it, and call ourselves, complacently, a rich +country. And if we find no clear definition in the existing science, we +will endeavour for ourselves to fix the true degrees of the scale, and +to apply them.[23] + + * * * * * + +58. QUESTION THIRD. What is the quantity of the store in relation to the +Currency? + +We have seen that the real worth of the currency, so far as dependent on +its relation to the magnitude of the store, may vary, within certain +limits, without affecting its worth in exchange. The diminution or +increase of the represented wealth may be unperceived, and the currency +may be taken either for more or less than it is truly worth. Usually it +is taken for much more; and its power in exchange, or credit-power, is +thus increased up to a given strain upon its relation to existing +wealth. This credit-power is of chief importance in the thoughts, +because most sharply present to the experience, of a mercantile +community: but the conditions of its stability[24] and all other +relations of the currency to the material store are entirely simple in +principle, if not in action. Far other than simple are the relations of +the currency to the available labour which it also represents. For this +relation is involved not only with that of the magnitude of the store to +the number, but with that of the magnitude of the store to the mind, of +the population. Its proportion to their number, and the resulting worth +of currency, are calculable; but its proportion to their will for labour +is not. The worth of the piece of money which claims a given quantity of +the store is, in exchange, less or greater according to the facility of +obtaining the same quantity of the same thing without having recourse to +the store. In other words it depends on the immediate Cost and Price of +the thing. We must now, therefore, complete the definition of these +terms. + +59. All cost and price are counted in Labour. We must know first, +therefore, what is to be counted _as_ Labour. + +I have already defined labour to be the Contest of the life of man with +an opposite. Literally, it is the quantity of "Lapse," loss, or failure +of human life, caused by any effort. It is usually confused with effort +itself, or the application of power (opera); but there is much effort +which is merely a mode of recreation, or of pleasure. The most beautiful +actions of the human body, and the highest results of the human +intelligence, are conditions, or achievements, of quite +unlaborious,--nay, of recreative,--effort. But labour is the _suffering_ +in effort. It is the negative quantity, or quantity of de-feat, which +has to be counted against every Feat, and of de-fect which has to be +counted against every Fact, or Deed of men. In brief, it is "that +quantity of our toil which we die in." + +We might, therefore, _à priori_, conjecture (as we shall ultimately +find), that it cannot be bought, nor sold. Everything else is bought and +sold for Labour, but labour itself cannot be bought nor sold for +anything, being priceless.[25] The idea that it is a commodity to be +bought or sold, is the alpha and omega of Politico-Economic fallacy. + +60. This being the nature of labour, the "Cost" of anything is the +quantity of labour necessary to obtain it;--the quantity for which, or +at which, it "stands" (constant). It is literally the "Constancy" of the +thing;--you shall win it--move it--come at it, for no less than this. + +Cost is measured and measurable (using the accurate Latin terms) only in +"labour," not in "opera."[26] It does not matter how much _work_ a thing +needs to produce it; it matters only how much _distress_. Generally the +more the power it requires, the less the distress; so that the noblest +works of man cost less than the meanest. + +True labour, or spending of life, is either of the body, in fatigue or +pain; of the temper or heart (as in perseverance of search for +things,--patience in waiting for them,--fortitude or degradation in +suffering for them, and the like), or of the intellect. All these kinds +of labour are supposed to be included in the general term, and the +quantity of labour is then expressed by the time it lasts. So that a +unit of labour is "an hour's work" or a day's work, as we may +determine.[27] + +61. Cost, like value, is both intrinsic and effectual. Intrinsic cost is +that of getting the thing in the right way; effectual cost is that of +getting the thing in the way we set about it. But intrinsic cost cannot +be made a subject of analytical investigation, being only partially +discoverable, and that by long experience. Effectual cost is all that +the political Economist can deal with; that is to say, the cost of the +thing under existing circumstances, and by known processes. + +Cost, being dependent much on application of method, varies with the +quantity of the thing wanted, and with the number of persons who work +for it. It is easy to get a little of some things, but difficult to get +much; it is impossible to get some things with few hands, but easy to +get them with many. + +62. The cost and value of things, however difficult to determine +accurately, are thus both dependent on ascertainable physical +circumstances.[28] + +But their _price_ is dependent on the human will. + +Such and such a thing is demonstrably good for so much. And it may +demonstrably be had for so much. + +But it remains questionable, and in all manner of ways questionable, +whether I choose to give so much.[29] + +This choice is always a relative one. It is a choice to give a price for +this, rather than for that;--a resolution to have the thing, if getting +it does not involve the loss of a better thing. Price depends, +therefore, not only on the cost of the commodity itself, but on its +relation to the cost of every other attainable thing. + +Farther. The _power_ of choice is also a relative one. It depends not +merely on our own estimate of the thing, but on everybody else's +estimate; therefore on the number and force of the will of the +concurrent buyers, and on the existing quantity of the thing in +proportion to that number and force. + +Hence the price of anything depends on four variables. + +(1.) Its cost. + +(2.) Its attainable quantity at that cost. + +(3.) The number and power of the persons who want it. + +(4.) The estimate they have formed of its desirableness. + +Its value only affects its price so far as it is contemplated in this +estimate; perhaps, therefore, not at all. + +63. Now, in order to show the manner in which price is expressed in +terms of a currency, we must assume these four quantities to be known, +and the "estimate of desirableness," commonly called the Demand, to be +certain. We will take the number of persons at the lowest. Let A and B +be two labourers who "demand," that is to say, have resolved to labour +for, two articles, _a_ and _b_. Their demand for these articles (if the +reader likes better, he may say their need) is to be conceived as +absolute, their existence depending on the getting these two things. +Suppose, for instance, that they are bread and fuel, in a cold country, +and let a represent the least quantity of bread, and _b_ the least +quantity of fuel, which will support a man's life for a day. Let _a_ be +producible by an hour's labour, but _b_ only by two hours' labour. + +Then the _cost of a_ is one hour, and of _b_ two (cost, by our +definition, being expressible in terms of time). If, therefore, each man +worked both for his corn and fuel, each would have to work three hours a +day. But they divide the labour for its greater ease.[30] Then if A +works three hours, he produces 3 _a_, which is one a more than both the +men want. And if B works three hours, he produces only 1-1/2 _b_, or +half of _b_ less than both want. But if A work three hours and B six, A +has 3 _a_, and B has 3 _b_, a maintenance in the right proportion for +both for a day and half; so that each might take half a day's rest. But +as B has worked double time, the whole of this day's rest belongs in +equity to him. Therefore the just exchange should be, A giving two _a_ +for one _b_, has one _a_ and one _b_;--maintenance for a day. B giving +one _b_ for two _a_, has two _a_ and two _b_; maintenance for two days. + +But B cannot rest on the second day, or A would be left without the +article which B produces. Nor is there any means of making the exchange +just, unless a third labourer is called in. Then one workman, A, +produces _a_, and two, B and C, produce _b_:--A, working three hours, +has three _a_;--B, three hours, 1-1/2 _b_;--C, three hours, 1-1/2 _b_. B +and C each give half of _b_ for _a_, and all have their equal daily +maintenance for equal daily work. + +To carry the example a single step farther, let three articles, _a_, +_b_, and _c_ be needed. + +Let _a_ need one hour's work, _b_ two, and _c_ four; then the day's work +must be seven hours, and one man in a day's work can make 7 _a_, or +3-1/2 _b_, or 1-3/4 _c_. + +Therefore one A works for _a_, producing 7 _a_; two B's work for _b_, +producing 7 _b_; four C's work for _c_, producing 7 _c_. + +A has six _a_ to spare, and gives two _a_ for one _b_, and four _a_ for +one _c_. Each B has 2-1/2 _b_ to spare, and gives 1/2 _b_ for one _a_, +and two _b_ for one _c_. + +Each C has 3/4 of _c_ to spare, and gives 1/2 _c_ for one _b_, and 1/4 +of _c_ for one _a_. + +And all have their day's maintenance. + +Generally, therefore, it follows that if the demand is constant,[31] the +relative prices of things are as their costs, or as the quantities of +labour involved in production. + +64. Then, in order to express their prices in terms of a currency, we +have only to put the currency into the form of orders for a certain +quantity of any given article (with us it is in the form of orders for +gold), and all quantities of other articles are priced by the relation +they bear to the article which the currency claims. + +But the worth of the currency itself is not in the slightest degree +founded more on the worth of the article which it either claims or +consists in (as gold) than on the worth of every other article for which +the gold is exchangeable. It is just as accurate to say, "so many pounds +are worth an acre of land," as "an acre of land is worth so many +pounds." The worth of gold, of land, of houses, and of food, and of all +other things, depends at any moment on the existing quantities and +relative demands for all and each; and a change in the worth of, or +demand for, any one, involves an instantaneously correspondent change in +the worth of, and demand for, all the rest;--a change as inevitable and +as accurately balanced (though often in its process as untraceable) as +the change in volume of the outflowing river from some vast lake, caused +by change in the volume of the inflowing streams, though no eye can +trace, nor instrument detect, motion, either on its surface, or in the +depth. + +65. Thus, then, the real working power or worth of the currency is +founded on the entire sum of the relative estimates formed by the +population of its possessions; a change in this estimate in any +direction (and therefore every change in the national character), +instantly alters the value of money, in its second great function of +commanding labour. But we must always carefully and sternly distinguish +between this worth of currency, dependent on the conceived or +appreciated value of what it represents, and the worth of it, dependent +on the _existence_ of what it represents. A currency is _true, or +false_, in proportion to the security with which it gives claim to the +possession of land, house, horse, or picture; but a currency is _strong +or weak_,[32] worth much, or worth little, in proportion to the degree +of estimate in which the nation holds the house, horse, or picture which +is claimed. Thus the power of the English currency has been, till of +late, largely based on the national estimate of horses and of wine: so +that a man might always give any price to furnish choicely his stable, +or his cellar; and receive public approval therefor: but if he gave the +same sum to furnish his library, he was called mad or a biblio-maniac. +And although he might lose his fortune by his horses, and his health or +life by his cellar, and rarely lost either by his books, he was yet +never called a Hippo-maniac nor an Oino-maniac; but only Biblio-maniac, +because the current worth of money was understood to be legitimately +founded on cattle and wine, but not on literature. The prices lately +given at sales for pictures and MSS. indicate some tendency to change in +the national character in this respect, so that the worth of the +currency may even come in time to rest, in an acknowledged manner, +somewhat on the state and keeping of the Bedford missal, as well as on +the health of Caractacus or Blink Bonny; and old pictures be considered +property, no less than old port. They might have been so before now, but +that it is more difficult to choose the one than the other. + +66. Now, observe, all these sources of variation in the power of the +currency exist, wholly irrespective of the influences of vice, +indolence, and improvidence. We have hitherto supposed, throughout the +analysis, every professing labourer to labour honestly, heartily, and in +harmony with his fellows. We have now to bring farther into the +calculation the effects of relative industry, honour, and forethought; +and thus to follow out the bearings of our second inquiry: Who are the +holders of the Store and Currency, and in what proportions? + +This, however, we must reserve for our next paper--noticing here only +that, however distinct the several branches of the subject are, +radically, they are so interwoven in their issues that we cannot rightly +treat any one, till we have taken cognizance of all. Thus the need of +the currency in proportion to number of population is materially +influenced by the probable number of the holders in proportion to the +non-holders; and this again, by the number of holders of goods, or +wealth, in proportion to the non-holders of goods. For as, by +definition, the currency is a claim to goods which are not possessed, +its quantity indicates the number of claimants in proportion to the +number of holders; and the force and complexity of claim. For if the +claims be not complex, currency as a means of exchange may be very small +in quantity. A sells some corn to B, receiving a promise from B to pay +in cattle, which A then hands over to C, to get some wine. C in due time +claims the cattle from B; and B takes back his promise. These exchanges +have, or might have been, all effected with a single coin or promise; +and the proportion of the currency to the store would in such +circumstances indicate only the circulating vitality of it--that is to +say, the quantity and convenient divisibility of that part of the store +which the _habits_ of the nation keep in circulation. If a cattle +breeder is content to live with his household chiefly on meat and milk, +and does not want rich furniture, or jewels, or books--if a wine and +corn grower maintains himself and his men chiefly on grapes and +bread;--if the wives and daughters of families weave and spin the +clothing of the household, and the nation, as a whole, remains content +with the produce of its own soil and the work of its own hands, it has +little occasion for circulating media. It pledges and promises little +and seldom; exchanges only so far as exchange is necessary for life. The +store belongs to the people in whose hands it is found, and money is +little needed either as an expression of right, or practical means of +division and exchange. + +67. But in proportion as the habits of the nation become complex and +fantastic (and they may be both, without therefore being civilized), its +circulating medium must increase in proportion to its store. If every +one wants a little of everything,--if food must be of many kinds, and +dress of many fashions,--if multitudes live by work which, ministering +to fancy, has its pay measured by fancy, so that large prices will be +given by one person for what is valueless to another,--if there are +great inequalities of knowledge, causing great inequalities of +estimate,--and, finally, and worst of all, if the currency itself, from +its largeness, and the power which the possession of it implies, becomes +the sole object of desire with large numbers of the nation, so that the +holding of it is disputed among them as the main object of life:--in +each and all of these cases, the currency necessarily enlarges in +proportion to the store; and as a means of exchange and division, as a +bond of right, and as an object of passion, has a more and more +important and malignant power over the nation's dealings, character, and +life. + +Against which power, when, as a bond of Right, it becomes too +conspicuous and too burdensome, the popular voice is apt to be raised in +a violent and irrational manner, leading to revolution instead of +remedy. Whereas all possibility of Economy depends on the clear +assertion and maintenance of this bond of right, however burdensome. The +first necessity of all economical government is to secure the +unquestioned and unquestionable working of the great law of +Property--that a man who works for a thing shall be allowed to get it, +keep it, and consume it, in peace; and that he who does not eat his cake +to-day, shall be seen, without grudging, to have his cake to-morrow. +This, I say, is the first point to be secured by social law; without +this, no political advance, nay, no political existence, is in any sort +possible. Whatever evil, luxury, iniquity, may seem to result from it, +this is nevertheless the first of all Equities; and to the enforcement +of this, by law and by police-truncheon, the nation must always +primarily set its mind--that the cupboard door may have a firm lock to +it, and no man's dinner be carried off by the mob, on its way home from +the baker's. Which, thus fearlessly asserting, we shall endeavour in +next paper to consider how far it may be practicable for the mob itself, +also, in due breadth of dish, to have dinners to carry home. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] Remember carefully this statement, that Wealth consists only in the +things which the nature of humanity has rendered in all ages, and must +render in all ages to come, (that is what I meant by "constant") the +objects of legitimate desire. And see Appendix II. + +[15] The _Wanderings_, observe, not the Right goings, of Imagination. +She is very far from despising these. + +[16] _See_ Appendix III. + +[17] I would beg the reader's very close attention to these 37th and +38th paragraphs. It would be well if a dogged conviction could be +enforced on nations, as on individuals, that, with few exceptions, what +they cannot at present pay for, they should not at present have. + +[18] _See_ Appendix IV. + +[19] I little thought, what _Trionfo della Morte_ would be, for this +very cause, and in literal fulfilment of the closing words of the 47th +paragraph, over the fields and houses of Europe, and over its fairest +city--within seven years from the day I wrote it. + +[20] The meaning of which is, that you may spend a great deal of money, +and get very little work for it, and that little bad; but having good +"air" or "spirit," to put life into it, with very little money, you may +get a great deal of work, and all good; which, observe, is an +arithmetical, not at all a poetical or visionary circumstance. + +[21] More especially, works of great art. + +[22] The meaning of that, in plain English, is, that we must find out +how far poverty and riches are good or bad for people, and what is the +difference between being miserably poor--so as, perhaps, to be driven to +crime, or to pass life in suffering--and being blessedly poor, in the +sense meant in the Sermon on the Mount. For I suppose the people who +believe that sermon, do not think (if they ever honestly ask themselves +what they do think), either that Luke vi. 24. is a merely poetical +exclamation, or that the Beatitude of Poverty has yet been attained in +St. Martin's Lane and other back streets of London. + +[23] Large plans!--Eight years are gone, and nothing done yet. But I +keep my purpose of making one day this balance, or want of balance, +visible, in those so seldom used scales of Justice. + +[24] These are nearly all briefly represented by the image used for the +force of money by Dante, of mast and sail:-- + + Quali dal vento le gonfiate vele + Caggiono avvolte, poi che l'alber fiacca + Tal cadde a terra la fiera crudele. + +The image may be followed out, like all of Dante's, into as close detail +as the reader chooses. Thus the stress of the sail must be proportioned +to the strength of the mast, and it is only in unforeseen danger that a +skilful seaman ever carries all the canvas his spars will bear, states +of mercantile languor are like the flap of the sail in a calm; of +mercantile precaution, like taking in reefs; and mercantile ruin is +instant on the breaking of the mast. + +[I mean by credit-power, the general impression on the national mind +that a sovereign, or any other coin, is worth so much bread and +cheese--so much wine--so much horse and carriage--or so much fine art: +it may be really worth, when tried, less or more than is thought: the +thought of it is the credit-power.] + +[25] The object of Political Economy is not to buy, nor to sell labour, +but to spare it. Every attempt to buy or sell it is, in the outcome, +ineffectual; so far as successful, it is not sale, but Betrayal; and the +purchase-money is a part of that thirty pieces which bought, first the +greatest of labours, and afterwards the burial-field of the Stranger; +for this purchase-money, being in its very smallness or vileness the +exactly measured opposite of the "vilis annona amicorum," makes all men +strangers to each other. + +[26] Cicero's distinction, "sordidi quæstus, quorum operæ, non quorum +artes emuntur," admirable in principle, is inaccurate in expression, +because Cicero did not practically know how much operative dexterity is +necessary in all the higher arts; but the cost of this dexterity is +incalculable. Be it great or small, the "cost" of the mere perfectness +of touch in a hammer-stroke of Donatello's, or a pencil-touch of +Correggio's, is inestimable by any ordinary arithmetic. + +[Old notes, these, more embarrassing I now perceive, than elucidatory; +but right, and worth retaining.] + +[27] Only observe, as some labour is more destructive of life than other +labour, the hour or day of the more destructive toil is supposed to +include proportionate rest. Though men do not, or cannot, usually take +such rest, except in death. + +[28] There is, therefore, observe, no such thing as cheapness (in the +common use of that term), without some error or injustice. A thing is +said to be cheap, not because it is common, but because it is supposed +to be sold under its worth. Everything has its proper and true worth at +any given time, in relation to everything else; and at that worth should +be bought and sold. If sold under it, it is cheap to the buyer by +exactly so much as the seller loses, and no more. Putrid meat, at +twopence a pound, is not "cheaper" than wholesome meat at sevenpence a +pound; it is probably much dearer; but if, by watching your opportunity, +you can get the wholesome meat for sixpence a pound, it is cheaper to +you by a penny, which you have gained, and the seller has lost. The +present rage for cheapness is either, therefore, simply and literally a +rage for badness of all commodities, or it is an attempt to find persons +whose necessities will force them to let you have more than you should +for your money. It is quite easy to produce such persons, and in large +numbers; for the more distress there is in a nation, the more cheapness +of this sort you can obtain, and your boasted cheapness is thus merely a +measure of the extent of your national distress. + +There is, indeed, a condition of apparent cheapness, which we have some +right to be triumphant in; namely, the real reduction in cost of +articles by right application of labour. But in this case the article is +only cheap with reference to its _former_ price; the so-called cheapness +is only our expression for the sensation of contrast between its former +and existing prices. So soon as the new methods of producing the article +are established, it ceases to be esteemed either cheap or dear, at the +new price, as at the old one, and is felt to be cheap only when accident +enables it to be purchased beneath this new value. And it is no +advantage to produce the article more easily, except as it enables you +to multiply your population. Cheapness of this kind is merely the +discovery that more men can be maintained on the same ground; and the +question how many you will maintain in proportion to your additional +means, remains exactly in the same terms that it did before. + +A form of immediate cheapness results, however, in many cases, without +distress, from the labour of a population where food is redundant, or +where the labour by which the food is produced leaves much idle time on +their hands, which may be applied to the production of "cheap" articles. + +All such phenomena indicate to the political economist places where the +labour is unbalanced. In the first case, the just balance is to be +effected by taking labourers from the spot where pressure exists, and +sending them to that where food is redundant. In the second, the +cheapness is a local accident, advantageous to the local purchaser, +disadvantageous to the local producer. It is one of the first duties of +commerce to extend the market, and thus give the local producer his full +advantage. + +Cheapness caused by natural accidents of harvest, weather, &c., is +always counterbalanced, in due time, by natural scarcity, similarly +caused. It is the part of wise government, and healthy commerce, so to +provide in times and places of plenty for times and places of dearth, as +that there shall never be waste, nor famine. + +Cheapness caused by gluts of the market is merely a disease of clumsy +and wanton commerce. + +[29] Price has been already defined (p. 9) to be the quantity of labour +which the possessor of a thing is willing to take for it. It is best to +consider the price to be that fixed by the possessor, because the +possessor has absolute power of refusing sale, while the purchaser has +no absolute power of compelling it; but the effectual or market price is +that at which their estimates coincide. + +[30] This "greater ease" ought to be allowed for by a diminution in the +times of the divided work; but as the proportion of times would remain +the same, I do not introduce this unnecessary complexity into the +calculation. + +[31] Compare _Unto this Last_, p. 115, _et seq._ + +[32] [That is to say, the love of money is founded first on the +intenseness of desire for given things; a youth will rob the till, +now-a-days, for pantomime tickets and cigars; the "strength" of the +currency being irresistible to him, in consequence of his desire for +those luxuries.] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +COIN-KEEPING. + + +68. It will be seen by reference to the last chapter that our present +task is to examine the relation of holders of store to holders of +currency; and of both to those who hold neither. In order to do this, we +must determine on which side we are to place substances such as gold, +commonly known as bases of currency. By aid of previous definitions the +reader will now be able to understand closer statements than have yet +been possible. + +69. _The currency of any country consists of every document +acknowledging debt, which is transferable in the country._[33] + +This transferableness depends upon its intelligibility and credit. Its +intelligibility depends chiefly on the difficulty of forging anything +like it;--its credit much on national character, but ultimately _always +on the existence of substantial means of meeting its demand_.[34] + +As the degrees of transferableness are variable, (some documents passing +only in certain places, and others passing, if at all, for less than +their inscribed value), both the mass, and, so to speak, fluidity, of +the currency, are variable. True or perfect currency flows freely, like +a pure stream; it becomes sluggish or stagnant in proportion to the +quantity of less transferable matter which mixes with it, adding to its +bulk, but diminishing its purity. [Articles of commercial value, on +which bills are drawn, increase the currency indefinitely; and +substances of intrinsic value if stamped or signed without restriction +so as to become acknowledgments of debt, increase it indefinitely also.] +Every bit of gold found in Australia, so long as it remains uncoined, is +an article offered for sale like any other; but as soon as it is coined +into pounds, it diminishes the value of every pound we have now in our +pockets. + +70. Legally authorized or national currency, in its perfect condition, +is a form of public acknowledgment of debt, so regulated and divided +that any person presenting a commodity of tried worth in the public +market, shall, if he please, receive in exchange for it a document +giving him claim to the return of its equivalent, (1) in any place, (2) +at any time, and (3) in any kind. + +When currency is quite healthy and vital, the persons entrusted with its +management are always able to give on demand either, + +A. The assigning document for the assigned quantity of goods. Or, + +B. The assigned quantity of goods for the assigning document. + +If they cannot give document for goods, the national exchange is at +fault. + +If they cannot give goods for document, the national credit is at fault. + +The nature and power of the document are therefore to be examined under +the three relations it bears to Place, Time, and Kind. + +71. (1.) It gives claim to the return of equivalent wealth in any +_Place_. Its use in this function is to save carriage, so that parting +with a bushel of corn in London, we may receive an order for a bushel of +corn at the Antipodes, or elsewhere. To be perfect in this use, the +substance of currency must be to the maximum portable, credible, and +intelligible. Its non-acceptance or discredit results always from some +form of ignorance or dishonour: so far as such interruptions rise out +of differences in denomination, there is no ground for their continuance +among civilized nations. It may be convenient in one country to use +chiefly copper for coinage, in another silver, and in another +gold,--reckoning accordingly in centimes, francs, or zecchins: but that +a franc should be different in weight and value from a shilling, and a +zwanziger vary from both, is wanton loss of commercial power. + +72. (2.) It gives claim to the return of equivalent wealth at any +_Time_. In this second use, currency is the exponent of accumulation: it +renders the laying-up of store at the command of individuals unlimitedly +possible;--whereas, but for its intervention, all gathering would be +confined within certain limits by the bulk of property, or by its decay, +or the difficulty of its guardianship. "I will pull down my barns and +build greater," cannot be a daily saying; and all material investment is +enlargement of care. The national currency transfers the guardianship of +the store to many; and preserves to the original producer the right of +re-entering on its possession at any future period. + +73. (3.) It gives claim (practical, though not legal) to the return of +equivalent wealth in any _Kind_. It is a transferable right, not merely +to this or that, but to anything; and its power in this function is +proportioned to the range of choice. If you give a child an apple or a +toy, you give him a determinate pleasure, but if you give him a penny, +an indeterminate one, proportioned to the range of selection offered by +the shops in the village. The power of the world's currency is similarly +in proportion to the openness of the world's fair, and, commonly, +enhanced by the brilliancy of external aspect, rather than solidity of +its wares. + +74. We have said that the currency consists of orders for equivalent +goods. If equivalent, their quality must be guaranteed. The kinds of +goods chosen for specific claim must, therefore, be capable of test, +while, also, that a store may be kept in hand to meet the call of the +currency, smallness of bulk, with great relative value, is desirable; +and indestructibility, over at least a certain period, essential. + +Such indestructibility, and facility of being tested, are united in +gold; its intrinsic value is great, and its imaginary value greater; so +that, partly through indolence, partly through necessity and want of +organization, most nations have agreed to take gold for the only basis +of their currencies;--with this grave disadvantage, that its portability +enabling the metal to become an active part of the medium of exchange, +the stream of the currency itself becomes opaque with gold--half +currency and half commodity, in unison of functions which partly +neutralize, partly enhance each other's force. + +75. They partly neutralize, since in so far as the gold is commodity, it +is bad currency, because liable to sale; and in so far as it is +currency, it is bad commodity, because its exchange value interferes +with its practical use. Especially its employment in the higher branches +of the arts becomes unsafe on account of its liability to be melted down +for exchange. + +Again. They partly enhance, since in so far as the gold has acknowledged +intrinsic value, it is good currency, because everywhere acceptable; and +in so far as it has legal exchangeable value, its worth as a commodity +is increased. We want no gold in the form of dust or crystal; but we +seek for it coined, because in that form it will pay baker and butcher. +And this worth in exchange not only absorbs a large quantity in that +use,[35] but greatly increases the effect on the imagination of the +quantity used in the arts. Thus, in brief, the force of the functions is +increased, but their precision blunted, by their unison. + +76. These inconveniences, however, attach to gold as a basis of currency +on account of its portability and preciousness. But a far greater +inconvenience attaches to it as the only legal basis of currency. +Imagine gold to be only attainable in masses weighing several pounds +each, and its value, like that of malachite or marble, proportioned to +its largeness of bulk;--it could not then get itself confused with the +currency in daily use, but it might still remain as its basis; and this +second inconvenience would still affect it, namely, that its +significance as an expression of debt varies, as that of every other +article would, with the popular estimate of its desirableness, and with +the quantity offered in the market. My power of obtaining other goods +for gold depends always on the strength of public passion for gold, and +on the limitation of its quantity, so that when either of two things +happen--that the world esteems gold less, or finds it more easily--_my +right of claim is in that degree effaced_; and it has been even gravely +maintained that a discovery of a mountain of gold would cancel the +National Debt; in other words, that men may be paid for what costs much +in what costs nothing. Now, it is true that there is little chance of +sudden convulsion in this respect; the world will not so rapidly +increase in wisdom as to despise gold on a sudden; and perhaps may [for +a little time] desire it more eagerly the more easily it is obtained; +nevertheless, the right of debt ought not to rest on a basis of +imagination; nor should the frame of a national currency vibrate with +every miser's panic, and every merchant's imprudence. + +77. There are two methods of avoiding this insecurity, which would have +been fallen upon long ago, if, instead of calculating the conditions of +the supply of gold, men had only considered how the world might live and +manage its affairs without gold at all.[36] One is, to base the currency +on substances of truer intrinsic value; the other, to base it on +several substances instead of one. If I can only claim gold, the +discovery of a golden mountain starves me; but if I can claim bread, the +discovery of a continent of corn-fields need not trouble me. If, +however, I wish to exchange my bread for other things, a good harvest +will for the time limit my power in this respect; but if I can claim +either bread, iron, or silk at pleasure, the standard of value has three +feet instead of one, and will be proportionately firm. Thus, ultimately, +the steadiness of currency depends upon the breadth of its base; but the +difficulty of organization increasing with this breadth, the discovery +of the condition at once safest and most convenient[37] can only be by +long analysis, which must for the present be deferred. Gold or +silver[38] may always be retained in limited use, as a luxury of coinage +and questionless standard, of one weight and alloy among all nations, +varying only in the die. The purity of coinage, when metallic, is +closely indicative of the honesty of the system of revenue, and even of +the general dignity of the State.[39] + +78. Whatever the article or articles may be which the national currency +promises to pay, a premium on that article indicates bankruptcy of the +government in that proportion, the division of its assets being +restrained only by the remaining confidence of the holders of notes in +the return of prosperity to the firm. Currencies of forced acceptance, +or of unlimited issue, are merely various modes of disguising taxation, +and delaying its pressure, until it is too late to interfere with the +cause of pressure. To do away with the possibility of such disguise +would have been among the first results of a true economical science, +had any such existed; but there have been too many motives for the +concealment, so long as it could by any artifices be maintained, to +permit hitherto even the founding of such a science. + +79. And indeed, it is only through evil conduct, wilfully persisted in, +that there is any embarrassment, either in the theory or working of +currency. No exchequer is ever embarrassed, nor is any financial +question difficult of solution, when people keep their practice honest, +and their heads cool. But when governments lose all office of pilotage, +protection, or scrutiny; and live only in magnificence of authorized +larceny, and polished mendacity; or when the people, choosing +Speculation (the s usually redundant in the spelling) instead of Toil, +visit no dishonesty with chastisement, that each may with impunity take +his dishonest turn;--there are no tricks of financial terminology that +will save them; all signature and mintage do but magnify the ruin they +retard; and even the riches that remain, stagnant or current, change +only from the slime of Avernus to the sand of Phlegethon--_quick_sand at +the embouchure;--land fluently recommended by recent auctioneers as +"eligible for building leases." + +80. Finally, then, the power of true currency is fourfold. + +(1.) Credit power. Its worth in exchange, dependent on public opinion of +the stability and honesty of the issuer. + +(2.) Real worth. Supposing the gold, or whatever else the currency +expressly promises, to be required from the issuer, for all his notes; +and that the call cannot be met in full. Then the actual worth of the +document would be, and its actual worth at any moment is, therefore to +be defined as, what the division of the assets of the issuer would +produce for it. + +(3.) The exchange power, of its base. Granting that we can get five +pounds in gold for our note, it remains a question how much of other +things we can get for five pounds in gold. The more of other things +exist, and the less gold, the greater this power. + +(4.) The power over labour, exercised by the given quantity of the base, +or of the things to be got for it. The question in this case is, how +much work, and (question of questions!) _whose_ work, is to be had for +the food which five pounds will buy. This depends on the number of the +population, on their gifts, and on their dispositions, with which, down +to their slightest humours, and up to their strongest impulses, the +power of the currency varies. + +81. Such being the main conditions of national currency, we proceed to +examine those of the total currency, under the broad definition, +"transferable acknowledgment of debt;"[40] among the many forms of +which there are in effect only two, distinctly opposed; namely, the +acknowledgments of debts which will be paid, and of debts which will +not. Documents, whether in whole or part, of bad debt, being to those of +good debt as bad money to bullion, we put for the present these forms of +imposture aside (as in analysing a metal we should wash it clear of +dross), and then range, in their exact quantities, the true currency of +the country on one side, and the store or property of the country on the +other. We place gold, and all such substances, on the side of documents, +as far as they operate by signature;--on the side of store as far as +they operate by value. Then the currency represents the quantity of debt +in the country, and the store the quantity of its possession. The +ownership of all the property is divided between the holders of currency +and holders of store, and whatever the claiming value of the currency is +at any moment, that value is to be deducted from the riches of the +store-holders. + +82. Farther, as true currency represents by definition debts which will +be paid, it represents either the debtor's wealth, or his ability and +willingness; that is to say, either wealth existing in his hands +transferred to him by the creditor, or wealth which, as he is at some +time surely to return it, he is either increasing, or, if diminishing, +has the will and strength to reproduce. A sound currency therefore, as +by its increase it represents enlarging debt, represents also enlarging +means; but in this curious way, that a certain quantity of it marks the +deficiency of the wealth of the country from what it would have been if +that currency had not existed.[41] In this respect it is like the +detritus of a mountain; assume that it lies at a fixed angle, and the +more the detritus, the larger must be the mountain; but it would have +been larger still, had there been none. + +83. Farther, though, as above stated, every man possessing money has +usually also some property beyond what is necessary for his immediate +wants, and men possessing property usually also hold currency beyond +what is necessary for their immediate exchanges, it mainly determines +the class to which they belong, whether in their eyes the money is an +adjunct of the property, or the property of the money. In the first case +the holder's pleasure is in his possessions, and in his money +subordinately, as the means of bettering or adding to them. In the +second, his pleasure is in his money, and in his possessions only as +representing it. (In the first case the money is as an atmosphere +surrounding the wealth, rising from it and raining back upon it; but in +the second, it is as a deluge, with the wealth floating, and for the +most part perishing in it.[42]) The shortest distinction between the men +is that the one wishes always to buy, and the other to sell. + +84. Such being the great relations of the classes, their several +characters are of the highest importance to the nation; for on the +character of the store-holders chiefly depend the preservation, display, +and serviceableness of its wealth; on that of the currency-holders, its +distribution; on that of both, its reproduction. + +We shall, therefore, ultimately find it to be of incomparably greater +importance to the nation in whose hands the thing is put, than how much +of it is got; and that the character of the holders may be conjectured +by the quality of the store; for such and such a man always asks for +such and such a thing; nor only asks for it, but if it can be bettered, +betters it: so that possession and possessor reciprocally act on each +other, through the entire sum of national possession. The base nation, +asking for base things, sinks daily to deeper vileness of nature and +weakness in use; while the noble nation, asking for noble things, rises +daily into diviner eminence in both; the tendency to degradation being +surely marked by "[Greek: ataxia];" that is to say, (expanding the Greek +thought), by carelessness as to the hands in which things are put, +consequent dispute for the acquisition of them, disorderliness in the +accumulation of them, inaccuracy in the estimate of them, and bluntness +in conception as to the entire nature of possession. + +85. The currency-holders always increase in number and influence in +proportion to the bluntness of nature and clumsiness of the +store-holders; for the less use people can make of things, the more they +want of them, and the sooner weary of them, and want to change them for +something else; and all frequency of change increases the quantity and +power of currency. The large currency-holder himself is essentially a +person who never has been able to make up his mind as to what he will +have, and proceeds, therefore, in vague collection and aggregation, with +more and more infuriate passion, urged by complacency in progress, +vacancy in idea, and pride of conquest. + +While, however, there is this obscurity in the nature of possession of +currency, there is a charm in the seclusion of it, which is to some +people very enticing. In the enjoyment of real property, others must +partly share. The groom has some enjoyment of the stud, and the gardener +of the garden; but the money is, or seems, shut up; it is wholly +enviable. No one else can have part in any complacencies arising from +it. + +The power of arithmetical comparison is also a great thing to +unimaginative people. They know always they are so much better than they +were, in money; so much better than others, in money; but wit cannot be +so compared, nor character. My neighbour cannot be convinced that I am +wiser than he is, but he can, that I am worth so much more; and the +universality of the conviction is no less flattering than its clearness. +Only a few can understand,--none measure--and few will willingly adore, +superiorities in other things; but everybody can understand money, +everybody can count it, and most will worship it. + +86. Now, these various temptations to accumulation would be politically +harmless if what was vainly accumulated had any fair chance of being +wisely spent. For as accumulation cannot go on for ever, but must some +day end in its reverse--if this reverse were indeed a beneficial +distribution and use, as irrigation from reservoir, the fever of +gathering, though perilous to the gatherer, might be serviceable to the +community. But it constantly happens (so constantly, that it may be +stated as a political law having few exceptions), that what is +unreasonably gathered is also unreasonably spent by the persons into +whose hands it finally falls. Very frequently it is spent in war, or +else in a stupefying luxury, twice hurtful, both in being indulged by +the rich and witnessed by the poor. So that the _mal tener_ and _mal +dare_ are as correlative as complementary colours; and the circulation +of wealth, which ought to be soft, steady, strong, far-sweeping, and +full of warmth, like the Gulf stream, being narrowed into an eddy, and +concentrated at a point, changes into the alternate suction and +surrender of Charybdis. Which is indeed, I doubt not, the true meaning +of that marvellous fable, "infinite," as Bacon said of it, "in matter of +meditation."[43] + +87. It is a strange habit of wise humanity to speak in enigmas only, so +that the highest truths and usefullest laws must be hunted for through +whole picture-galleries of dreams, which to the vulgar seem dreams only. +Thus Homer, the Greek tragedians, Plato, Dante, Chaucer, Shakspeare, and +Goethe, have hidden all that is chiefly serviceable in their work, and +in all the various literature they absorbed and re-embodied, under types +which have rendered it quite useless to the multitude. What is worse, +the two primal declarers of moral discovery, Homer and Plato, are partly +at issue; for Plato's logical power quenched his imagination, and he +became incapable of understanding the purely imaginative element either +in poetry or painting: he therefore somewhat overrates the pure +discipline of passionate art in song and music, and misses that of +meditative art. There is, however, a deeper reason for his distrust of +Homer. His love of justice, and reverently religious nature, made him +dread, as death, every form of fallacy; but chiefly, fallacy respecting +the world to come (his own myths being only symbolic exponents of a +rational hope). We shall perhaps now every day discover more clearly how +right Plato was in this, and feel ourselves more and more wonderstruck +that men such as Homer and Dante (and, in an inferior sphere, Milton), +not to speak of the great sculptors and painters of every age, have +permitted themselves, though full of all nobleness and wisdom, to coin +idle imaginations of the mysteries of eternity, and guide the faiths of +the families of the earth by the courses of their own vague and +visionary arts: while the indisputable truths of human life and duty, +respecting which they all have but one voice, lie hidden behind these +veils of phantasy, unsought, and often unsuspected. I will gather +carefully, out of Dante and Homer, what, in this kind, bears on our +subject, in its due place; the first broad intention of their symbols +may be sketched at once. + +88. The rewards of a worthy use of riches, subordinate to other ends, +are shown by Dante in the fifth and sixth orbs of Paradise; for the +punishment of their unworthy use, three places are assigned; one for the +avaricious and prodigal whose souls are lost, (_Hell_, canto 7); one for +the avaricious and prodigal whose souls are capable of purification, +(_Purgatory_, canto 19); and one for the usurers, of whom _none_ can be +redeemed (_Hell_, canto 17). The first group, the largest in all hell +("gente piu che altrove troppa," compare Virgil's "quæ maxima turba"), +meet in contrary currents, _as the_ _waves of Charybdis_, casting +weights at each other from opposite sides. This weariness of contention +is the chief element of their torture; so marked by the beautiful lines +beginning "Or puoi, figliuol," &c.: (but the usurers, who made their +money inactively, _sit_ on the sand, equally without rest, however. "Di +qua, di la, soccorrien," &c.) For it is not avarice, but _contention_ +for riches, leading to this double misuse of them, which, in Dante's +light, is the unredeemable sin. The place of its punishment is guarded +by Plutus, "the great enemy," and "la fièra crudele," a spirit quite +different from the Greek Plutus, who, though old and blind, is not +cruel, and is curable, so as to become far-sighted. ([Greek: ou typhlos +all' oxy blepôn].--Plato's epithets in first book of the _Laws_.) Still +more does this Dantesque type differ from the resplendent Plutus of +Goethe in the second part of _Faust_, who is the personified power of +wealth for good or evil--not the passion for wealth; and again from the +Plutus of Spenser, who is the passion of mere aggregation. Dante's +Plutus is specially and definitely the Spirit of Contention and +Competition, or Evil Commerce; because, as I showed before, this kind of +commerce "makes all men strangers;" his speech is therefore +unintelligible, and no single soul of all those ruined by him _has +recognizable features_. + +On the other hand, the redeemable sins of avarice and prodigality are, +in Dante's sight, those which are without deliberate or calculated +operation. The lust, or lavishness, of riches can be purged, so long as +there has been no servile consistency of dispute and competition for +them. The sin is spoken of as that of degradation by the love of earth; +it is purified by deeper humiliation--the souls crawl on their bellies; +their chant is, "my soul cleaveth unto the dust." But the spirits thus +condemned are all recognizable, and even the worst examples of the +thirst for gold, which they are compelled to tell the histories of +during the night, are of men swept by the passion of avarice into +violent crime, but not sold to its steady work. + +89. The precept given to each of these spirits for its deliverance +is--Turn thine eyes to the lucre (lure) which the Eternal King rolls +with the mighty wheels. Otherwise, the wheels of the "Greater Fortune," +of which the constellation is ascending when Dante's dream begins. +Compare George Herbert-- + + "Lift up thy head; + Take stars for money; stars, not to be told + By any art, yet to be purchased." + +And Plato's notable sentence in the third book of the _Polity_.--"Tell +them they have divine gold and silver in their souls for ever; that they +need no money stamped of men--neither may they otherwise than impiously +mingle the gathering of the divine with the mortal treasure, _for +through that which the law of the multitude has coined, endless crimes +have been done and suffered; but in their's is neither pollution nor +sorrow_." + +90. At the entrance of this place of punishment an evil spirit is seen +by Dante, quite other than the "Gran Nemico." The great enemy is obeyed +knowingly and willingly; but this spirit--feminine--and called a +Siren--is the "_Deceitfulness_ of riches," [Greek: apatê ploutou] of the +Gospels, winning obedience by guile. This is the Idol of riches, made +doubly phantasmal by Dante's seeing her in a dream. She is lovely to +look upon, and enchants by her sweet singing, but her womb is loathsome. +Now, Dante does not call her one of the Sirens carelessly, any more than +he speaks of Charybdis carelessly; and though he had got at the meaning +of the Homeric fable only through Virgil's obscure tradition of it, the +clue he has given us is quite enough. Bacon's interpretation, "the +Sirens, _or pleasures_," which has become universal since his time, is +opposed alike to Plato's meaning and Homer's. The Sirens are not +pleasures, but _Desires_: in the Odyssey they are the phantoms of vain +desire; but in Plato's Vision of Destiny, phantoms of divine desire; +singing each a different note on the circles of the distaff of +Necessity, but forming one harmony, to which the three great Fates put +words. Dante, however, adopted the Homeric conception of them, which was +that they were demons of the Imagination, not carnal; (desire of the +eyes; not lust of the flesh); therefore said to be daughters of the +Muses. Yet not of the Muses, heavenly or historical but of the Muse of +pleasure; and they are at first winged, because even vain hope excites +and helps when first formed; but afterwards, contending for the +possession of the imagination with the Muses themselves, they are +deprived of their wings. + +91. And thus we are to distinguish the Siren power from the power of +Circe, who is no daughter of the Muses, but of the strong elements, Sun +and Sea; her power is that of frank, and full vital pleasure, which, if +governed and watched, nourishes men; but, unwatched, and having no +"moly," bitterness or delay, mixed with it, turns men into beasts, but +does not slay them,--leaves them, on the contrary, power of revival. She +is herself indeed an Enchantress;--pure Animal life; transforming--or +degrading--but always wonderful (she puts the stores on board the ship +invisibly, and is gone again, like a ghost); even the wild beasts +rejoice and are softened around her cave; the transforming poisons she +gives to men are mixed with no rich feast, but with pure and right +nourishment,--Pramnian wine, cheese, and flour; that is, wine, milk, and +corn, the three great sustainers of life--it is their own fault if these +make swine of them; (see Appendix V.) and swine are chosen merely as the +type of consumption; as Plato's [Greek: hyôn polis], in the second book +of the _Polity_, and perhaps chosen by Homer with a deeper knowledge of +the likeness in variety of nourishment, and internal form of body. + +"Et quel est, s'il vous plait, cet audacieux animal qui se permet d'être +bâti au dedans comme une jolie petite fille?" + +"Hélas! chère enfant, j'ai honte de le nommer, et il ne faudra pas m'en +vouloir. C'est ... c'est le cochon. Ce n'est pas précisément flatteur +pour vous; mais nous en sommes tous là, et si cela vous contrarie par +trop, il faut aller vous plaindre au bon Dieu qui a voulu que les choses +fussent arrangées ainsi: seulement le cochon, qui ne pense qu'à manger, +a l'estomac bien plus vaste que nous et c'est toujours une +consolation."--_(Histoire d'une Bouchée de Pain_, Lettre ix.) + +92. But the deadly Sirens are in all things opposed to the Circean +power. They promise pleasure, but never give it. They nourish in no +wise; but slay by slow death. And whereas they corrupt the heart and +the head, instead of merely betraying the senses, there is no recovery +from their power; they do not tear nor scratch, like Scylla, but the men +who have listened to them are poisoned, and waste away. Note that the +Sirens' field is covered, not merely with the bones, but with the +_skins_, of those who have been consumed there. They address themselves, +in the part of the song which Homer gives, not to the passions of +Ulysses, but to his vanity, and the only man who ever came within +hearing of them, and escaped untempted, was Orpheus, who silenced the +vain imaginations by singing the praises of the gods. + +93. It is, then, one of these Sirens whom Dante takes as the phantasm or +deceitfulness of riches; but note further, that she says it was her song +that deceived Ulysses. Look back to Dante's account of Ulysses' death, +and we find it was not the love of money, but pride of knowledge, that +betrayed him; whence we get the clue to Dante's complete meaning: that +the souls whose love of wealth is pardonable have been first deceived +into pursuit of it by a dream of its higher uses, or by ambition. His +Siren is therefore the Philotimé of Spenser, daughter of Mammon-- + + "Whom all that folk with such contention + Do flock about, my deare, my daughter is-- + Honour and dignitie from her alone + Derived are." + +By comparing Spenser's entire account of this Philotimé with Dante's of +the Wealth-Siren, we shall get at the full meaning of both poets; but +that of Homer lies hidden much more deeply. For his Sirens are +indefinite; and they are desires of any evil thing; power of wealth is +not specially indicated by him, until, escaping the 'harmonious danger +of imagination, Ulysses has to choose between two practical ways of +life, indicated by the two _rocks_ of Scylla and Charybdis. The monsters +that haunt them are quite distinct from the rocks themselves, which, +having many other subordinate significations, are in the main Labour and +Idleness, or getting and spending; each with its attendant monster, or +betraying demon. The rock of gaining has its summit in the clouds, +invisible, and not to be climbed; that of spending is low, but marked by +the cursed fig-tree, which has leaves, but no fruit. We know the type +elsewhere; and there is a curious lateral allusion to it by Dante when +Jacopo di Sant' Andrea, who had ruined himself by profusion and +committed suicide, scatters the leaves of the bush of Lotto degli Agli, +endeavouring to hide himself among them. We shall hereafter examine the +type completely; here I will only give an approximate rendering of +Homer's words, which have been obscured more by translation than even by +tradition. + +94. "They are overhanging rocks. The great waves of blue water break +round them; and the blessed Gods call them the Wanderers. + +"By one of them no winged thing can pass--not even the wild doves that +bring ambrosia to their father Jove--but the smooth rock seizes its +sacrifice of them." (Not even ambrosia to be had without Labour. The +word is peculiar--as a part of anything is offered for Sacrifice; +especially used of heave-offering.) "It reaches the wide heaven with its +top, and a dark blue cloud rests on it, and never passes; neither does +the clear sky hold it, in summer nor in harvest. Nor can any man climb +it--not if he had twenty feet and hands, for it is smooth as though it +were hewn. + +"And in the midst of it is a cave which is turned the way of hell. And +therein dwells Scylla, whining for prey: her cry, indeed, is no louder +than that of a newly-born whelp: but she herself is an awful thing--nor +can any creature see her face and be glad; no, though it were a god that +rose against her. For she has twelve feet, all fore-feet, and six necks, +and terrible heads on them; and each has three rows of teeth, full of +black death. + +"But the opposite rock is lower than this, though but a bow-shot +distant; and upon it there is a great fig-tree, full of leaves; and +under it the terrible Charybdis sucks down the black water. Thrice in +the day she sucks it down, and thrice; casts it up again: be not thou +there when she sucks down, for Neptune himself could not save thee." + +[Thus far went my rambling note, in _Fraser's Magazine_. The Editor sent +me a compliment on it--of which I was very proud; what the Publisher +thought of it, I am not informed; only I know that eventually he stopped +the papers. I think a great deal of it myself, now, and have put it all +in large print accordingly, and should like to write more; but will, on +the contrary, self-denyingly, and in gratitude to any reader who has got +through so much, end my chapter.] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[33] Remember this definition: it is of great importance as opposed to +the imperfect ones usually given. When first these essays were +published, I remember one of their reviewers asking contemptuously, "Is +half-a-crown a document?" it never having before occurred to him that a +document might be stamped as well as written, and stamped on silver as +well as on parchment. + +[34] I do not mean the demand of the holder of a five-pound note for +five pounds, but the demand of the holder of a pound for a pound's worth +of something good. + +[35] [Read and think over, the following note very carefully.] The waste +of labour in obtaining the gold, though it cannot be estimated by help +of any existing data, may be understood in its bearing on entire economy +by supposing it limited to transactions between two persons. If two +farmers in Australia have been exchanging corn and cattle with each +other for years, keeping their accounts of reciprocal debt in any simple +way, the sum of the possessions of either would not be diminished, +though the part of it which was lent or borrowed were only reckoned by +marks on a stone, or notches on a tree; and the one counted himself +accordingly, so many scratches, or so many notches, better than the +other. But it would soon be seriously diminished if, discovering gold in +their fields, each resolved only to accept golden counters for a +reckoning; and accordingly, whenever he wanted a sack of corn or a cow, +was obliged to go and wash sand for a week before he could get the means +of giving a receipt for them. + +[36] It is difficult to estimate the curious futility of discussions +such as that which lately occupied a section of the British Association, +on the absorption of gold, while no one can produce even the simplest of +the data necessary for the inquiry. To take the first occurring +one,--What means have we of ascertaining the weight of gold employed +this year in the toilettes of the women of Europe (not to speak of +Asia); and, supposing it known, what means of conjecturing the weight by +which, next year, their fancies, and the changes of style among their +jewellers, will diminish or increase it? + +[37] See, in Pope's epistle to Lord Bathurst, his sketch of the +difficulties and uses of a currency literally "pecuniary"--(consisting +of herds of cattle). + + "His Grace will game--to White's a bull be led," &c. + +[38] Perhaps both; perhaps silver only. It may be found expedient +ultimately to leave gold free for use in the arts. As a means of +reckoning, the standard might be, and in some cases has already been, +entirely ideal.--_See_ Mill's _Political Economy_, book iii. chap. VII. +at beginning. + +[39] The purity of the drachma and zecchin were not without significance +of the state of intellect, art, and policy, both in Athens and +Venice;--a fact first impressed upon me ten years ago, when, in taking +daguerreotypes at Venice, I found no purchaseable gold pure enough to +gild them with, except that of the old Venetian zecchin. + +[40] Under which term, observe, we include all documents of debt, which, +being honest, might be transferable, though they practically are not +transferred; while we exclude all documents which are in reality +worthless, though in fact transferred temporarily, as bad money is. The +document of honest debt, not transferred, is merely to paper currency as +gold withdrawn from circulation is to that of bullion. Much confusion +has crept into the reasoning on this subject from the idea that the +withdrawal from circulation is a definable state, whereas it is a +graduated state, and indefinable. The sovereign in my pocket is +withdrawn from circulation as long as I choose to keep it there. It is +no otherwise withdrawn if I bury it, nor even if I choose to make it, +and others, into a golden cup, and drink out of them; since a rise in +the price of the wine, or of other things, may at any time cause me to +melt the cup and throw it back into currency; and the bullion operates +on the prices of the things in the market as directly, though not as +forcibly, while it is in the form of a cup as it does in the form of a +sovereign. No calculation can be founded on my humour in either case. If +I like to handle rouleaus, and therefore keep a quantity of gold, to +play with, in the form of jointed basaltic columns, it is all one in its +effect on the market as if I kept it in the form of twisted filigree, +or, steadily "amicus lamnæ," beat the narrow gold pieces into broad +ones, and dined off them. The probability is greater that I break the +rouleau than that I melt the plate; but the increased probability is not +calculable. Thus, documents are only withdrawn from the currency when +cancelled, and bullion when it is so effectually lost as that the +probability of finding it is no greater than of finding new gold in the +mine. + +[41] For example, suppose an active peasant, having got his ground into +good order and built himself a comfortable house, finding time still on +his hands, sees one of his neighbours little able to work, and +ill-lodged, and offers to build him also a house, and to put his land in +order, on condition of receiving for a given period rent for the +building and tithe of the fruits. The offer is accepted, and a document +given promissory of rent and tithe. This note is money. It can only be +good money if the man who has incurred the debt so far recovers his +strength as to be able to take advantage of the help he has received, +and meet the demand of the note; if he lets his house fall to ruin, and +his field to waste, his promissory note will soon be valueless: but the +existence of the note at all is a consequence of his not having worked +so stoutly as the other. Let him gain as much as to be able to pay back +the entire debt; the note is cancelled, and we have two rich +store-holders and no currency. + +[42] [You need not trouble yourself to make out the sentence in +parenthesis, unless you like, but do not think it is mere metaphor. It +states a fact which I could not have stated so shortly, _but_ by +metaphor.] + +[43] [What follows, to the end of the chapter, was a note only, in the +first printing; but for after service, it is of more value than any +other part of the book, so I have put it into the main text.] + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +COMMERCE. + + +95. As the currency conveys right of choice out of many things in +exchange for one, so Commerce is the agency by which the power of choice +is obtained; so that countries producing only timber can obtain for +their timber silk and gold; or, naturally producing only jewels and +frankincense, can obtain for them cattle and corn. In this function, +commerce is of more importance to a country in proportion to the +limitations of its products, and the restlessness of its +fancy;--generally of greater importance towards Northern latitudes. + +96. Commerce is necessary, however, not only to exchange local products, +but local skill. Labour requiring the agency of fire can only be given +abundantly in cold countries; labour requiring suppleness of body and +sensitiveness of touch, only in warm ones; labour involving accurate +vivacity of thought only in temperate ones; while peculiar imaginative +actions are produced by extremes of heat and cold, and of light and +darkness. The production of great art is limited to climates warm enough +to admit of repose in the open air, and cool enough to render such +repose delightful. Minor variations in modes of skill distinguish every +locality. The labour which at any place is easiest, is in that place +cheapest; and it becomes often desirable that products raised in one +country should be wrought in another. Hence have arisen discussions on +"International values" which will be one day remembered as highly +curious exercises of the human mind. For it will be discovered, in due +course of tide and time, that international value is regulated just as +inter-provincial or inter-parishional value is. Coals and hops are +exchanged between Northumberland and Kent on absolutely the same +principles as iron and wine between Lancashire and Spain. The greater +breadth of an arm of the sea increases the cost, but does not modify the +principle of exchange; and a bargain written in two languages will have +no other economical results than a bargain written in one. The distances +of nations are measured, not by seas, but by ignorances; and their +divisions determined, not by dialects, but by enmities.[44] + +97. Of course, a system of international values may always be +constructed if we assume a relation of moral law to physical geography; +as, for instance, that it is right to cheat or rob across a river, +though not across a road; or across a sea, though not across a river, +&c.;--again, a system of such values may be constructed by assuming +similar relations of taxation to physical geography; as, for instance, +that an article should be taxed in crossing a river, but not in crossing +a road; or in being carried fifty miles, but not in being carried five, +&c.; such positions are indeed not easily maintained when once put in +logical form; but _one_ law of international value is maintainable in +any form: namely, that the farther your neighbour lives from you, and +the less he understands you, _the more you are bound to be true in your +dealings with him_; because your power over him is greater in proportion +to his ignorance, and his remedy more difficult in proportion to his +distance.[45] + +98. I have just said the breadth of sea increases the cost of exchange. +Now note that exchange, or commerce, _in itself_, is always costly; the +sum of the value of the goods being diminished by the cost of their +conveyance, and by the maintenance of the persons employed in it; so +that it is only when there is advantage to both producers (in getting +the one thing for the other) greater than the loss in conveyance, that +the exchange is expedient. And it can only be justly conducted when the +porters kept by the producers (commonly called merchants) expect _mere_ +pay, and not profit.[46] For in just commerce there are but three +parties--the two persons or societies exchanging, and the agent or +agents of exchange; the value of the things to be exchanged is known by +both the exchangers, and each receives equal value, neither gaining nor +losing (for whatever one gains the other loses). The intermediate agent +is paid a known per-centage by both, partly for labour in conveyance, +partly for care, knowledge, and risk; every attempt at concealment of +the amount of the pay indicates either effort on the part of the agent +to obtain unjust profit, or effort on the part of the exchangers to +refuse him just pay. But for the most part it is the first, namely, the +effort on the part of the merchant to obtain larger profit (so-called) +by buying cheap and selling dear. Some part, indeed, of this larger gain +is deserved, and might be openly demanded, because it is the reward of +the merchant's knowledge, and foresight of probable necessity; but the +greater part of such gain is unjust; and unjust in this most fatal way, +that it depends, first, on keeping the exchangers ignorant of the +exchange value of the articles; and, secondly, on taking advantage of +the buyer's need and the seller's poverty. It is, therefore, one of the +essential, and quite the most fatal, forms of usury; for usury means +merely taking an exorbitant[47] sum for the use of anything; and it is +no matter whether the exorbitance is on loan or exchange, on rent or on +price--the essence of the usury being that it is obtained by advantage +of opportunity or necessity, and not as due reward for labour. All the +great thinkers, therefore, have held it to be unnatural and impious, in +so far as it feeds on the distress of others, or their folly.[48] +Nevertheless, attempts to repress it by law must for ever be +ineffective; though Plato, Bacon, and the First Napoleon--all three of +them men who knew somewhat more of humanity than the "British merchant" +usually does--tried their hands at it, and have left some (probably) +good moderative forms of law, which we will examine in their place. But +the only final check upon it must be radical purifying of the national +character, for being, as Bacon calls it, "concessum propter duritiem +cordis," it is to be done away with by touching the heart only; not, +however, without medicinal law--as in the case of the other permission, +"propter duritiem." But in this more than in anything (though much in +all, and though in this he would not himself allow of their application, +for his own laws against usury are sharp enough), Plato's words in the +fourth book of the Polity are true, that neither drugs, nor charms, nor +burnings, will touch a deep-lying political sore, any more than a deep +bodily one; but only right and utter change of constitution: and that +"they do but lose their labour who think that by any tricks of law they +can get the better of these mischiefs of commerce, and see not that they +hew at a Hydra." + +99. And indeed this Hydra seems so unslayable, and sin sticks so fast +between the joinings of the stones of buying and selling, that "to +trade" in things, or literally "cross-give" them, has warped itself, by +the instinct of nations, into their worst word for fraud; for, because +in trade there cannot but be trust, and it seems also that there cannot +but also be injury in answer to it, what is merely fraud between enemies +becomes treachery among friends: and "trader," "traditor," and "traitor" +are but the same word. For which simplicity of language there is more +reason than at first appears: for as in true commerce there is no +"profit," so in true commerce there is no "sale." The idea of sale is +that of an interchange between enemies respectively endeavouring to get +the better one of another; but commerce is an exchange between friends; +and there is no desire but that it should be just, any more than there +would be between members of the same family.[49] The moment there is a +bargain over the pottage, the family relation is dissolved:--typically, +"the days of mourning for my father are at hand." Whereupon follows the +resolve, "then will I slay my brother." + +100. This inhumanity of mercenary commerce is the more notable because +it is a fulfilment of the law that the corruption of the best is the +worst. For as, taking the body natural for symbol of the body politic, +the governing and forming powers may be likened to the brain, and the +labouring to the limbs, the mercantile, presiding over circulation and +communication of things in changed utilities, is symbolized by the +heart; and, if that hardens, all is lost. And this is the ultimate +lesson which the leader of English intellect meant for us, (a lesson, +indeed, not all his own, but part of the old wisdom of humanity), in the +tale of the _Merchant of Venice_; in which the true and incorrupt +merchant,--_kind and free beyond every other Shakspearian conception of +men_,--is opposed to the corrupted merchant, or usurer; the lesson being +deepened by the expression of the strange hatred which the corrupted +merchant bears to the pure one, mixed with intense scorn,-- + +"This is the fool that lent out money gratis; look to him, jailer," (as +to lunatic no less than criminal) the enmity, observe, having its +symbolism literally carried out by being aimed straight at the heart, +and finally foiled by a literal appeal to the great moral law that flesh +and blood cannot be weighed, enforced by "Portia"[50] ("Portion"), the +type of divine Fortune, found, not in gold, nor in silver, but in lead, +that is to say, in endurance and patience, not in splendour; and finally +taught by her lips also, declaring, instead of the law and quality of +"merces," the greater law and quality of mercy, which is not strained, +but drops as the rain, blessing him that gives and him that takes. And +observe that this "mercy" is not the mean "Misericordia," but the mighty +"Gratia," answered by Gratitude, (observe Shylock's leaning on the, to +him detestable, word, _gratis_, and compare the relations of Grace to +Equity given in the second chapter of the second book of the +_Memorabilia_;) that is to say, it is the gracious or loving, instead of +the strained, or competing manner, of doing things, answered, not only +with "merces" or pay, but with "merci" or thanks. And this is indeed the +meaning of the great benediction "Grace, mercy, and peace," for there +can be no peace without grace, (not even by help of rifled cannon), nor +even without triplicity of graciousness, for the Greeks, who began but +with one Grace, had to open their scheme into three before they had +done. + +101. With the usual tendency of long repeated thought, to take the +surface for the deep, we have conceived these goddesses as if they only +gave loveliness to gesture; whereas their true function is to give +graciousness to deed, the other loveliness arising naturally out of +that. In which function Charis becomes Charitas;[51] and has a name and +praise even greater than that of Faith or Truth, for these may be +maintained sullenly and proudly; but Charis is in her countenance always +gladdening (Aglaia), and in her service instant and humble; and the true +wife of Vulcan, or Labour. And it is not until her sincerity of function +is lost, and her mere beauty contemplated instead of her patience, that +she is born again of the foam flake, and becomes Aphrodite; and it is +then only that she becomes capable of joining herself to war and to the +enmities of men, instead of to labour and their services. Therefore the +fable of Mars and Venus is chosen by Homer, picturing himself as +Demodocus, to sing at the games in the court of Alcinous. Phæacia is the +Homeric island of Atlantis; an image of noble and wise government, +concealed, (how slightly!) merely by the change of a short vowel for a +long one in the name of its queen; yet misunderstood by all later +writers, (even by Horace, in his "pinguis, Phæaxque"). That fable +expresses the perpetual error of men in thinking that grace and dignity +can only be reached by the soldier, and never by the artisan; so that +commerce and the useful arts have had the honour and beauty taken away, +and only the Fraud and Pain left to them, with the lucre. Which is, +indeed, one great reason of the continual blundering about the offices +of government with respect to commerce. The higher classes are ashamed +to employ themselves in it; and though ready enough to fight for (or +occasionally against) the people,--to preach to them,--or judge them, +will not break bread for them; the refined upper servant who has +willingly looked after the burnishing of the armoury and ordering of the +library, not liking to set foot in the larder. + +102. Farther still. As Charis becomes Charitas on the one side, she +becomes--better still--Chara, Joy, on the other; or rather this is her +very mother's milk and the beauty of her childhood; for God brings no +enduring Love, nor any other good, out of pain; nor out of contention; +but out of joy and harmony. And in this sense, human and divine, music +and gladness, and the measures of both, come into her name; and Cher +becomes full-vowelled Cheer, and Cheerful; and Chara opens into Choir +and Choral.[52] + +103. And lastly. As Grace passes into Freedom of action, Charis becomes +Eleutheria, or Liberality; a form of liberty quite curiously and +intensely different from the thing usually understood by "Liberty" in +modern language: indeed, much more like what some people would call +slavery: for a Greek always understood, primarily, by liberty, +deliverance from the law of his own passions (or from what the Christian +writers call bondage of corruption), and this a complete liberty: not +being merely safe from the Siren, but also unbound from the mast, and +not having to resist the passion, but making it fawn upon, and follow +him--(this may be again partly the meaning of the fawning beasts about +the Circean cave; so, again, George Herbert-- + + Correct thy passion's spite, + Then may the beasts draw thee to happy light)-- + +And it is only in such generosity that any man becomes capable of so +governing others as to take true part in any system of national economy. +Nor is there any other eternal distinction between the upper and lower +classes than this form of liberty, Eleutheria, or benignity, in the one, +and its opposite of slavery, Douleia, or malignity, in the other; the +separation of these two orders of men, and the firm government of the +lower by the higher, being the first conditions of possible wealth and +economy in any state,--the Gods giving it no greater gift than the power +to discern its true freemen, and "malignum spernere vulgus." + +104. While I have traced the finer and higher laws of this matter for +those whom they concern, I have also to note the material law--vulgarly +expressed in the proverb, "Honesty is the best policy." That proverb is +indeed wholly inapplicable to matters of private interest. It is not +true that honesty, as far as material gain is concerned, profits +individuals. A clever and cruel knave will in a mixed society always be +richer than an honest person can be. But Honesty is the best "policy," +if policy mean practice of State. For fraud gains nothing in a State. It +only enables the knaves in it to live at the expense of honest people; +while there is for every act of fraud, however small, a loss of wealth +to the community. Whatever the fraudulent person gains, some other +person loses, as fraud produces nothing; and there is, _besides_, the +loss of the time and thought spent in accomplishing the fraud, and of +the strength otherwise obtainable by mutual help (not to speak of the +fevers of anxiety and jealousy in the blood, which are a heavy physical +loss, as I will show in due time). Practically, when the nation is +deeply corrupt cheat answers to cheat; every one is in turn imposed +upon, and there is to the body politic the dead loss of the ingenuity, +together with the incalculable mischief of the injury to each defrauded +person, producing collateral effect unexpectedly. My neighbour sells me +bad meat: I sell him in return flawed iron. We neither of us get one +atom of pecuniary advantage on the whole transaction, but we both suffer +unexpected inconvenience; my men get scurvy, and his cattle-truck runs +off the rails. + +105. The examination of this form of Charis must, therefore, lead us +into the discussion of the principles of government in general, and +especially of that of the poor by the rich, discovering how the +Graciousness joined with the Greatness, or Love with Majestas, is the +true Dei Gratia, or Divine Right, of every form and manner of King; _i. +e._, specifically, of the thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, and +powers of the earth:--of the thrones, stable, or "ruling," literally +right-doing powers ("rex eris, recte si facies"):--of the +dominations--lordly, edifying, dominant and harmonious powers; chiefly +domestic, over the "built thing," domus, or house; and inherently +twofold, Dominus and Domina; Lord and Lady:--of the Princedoms, +pre-eminent, incipient, creative, and demonstrative powers; thus poetic +and mercantile, in the "princeps carmen deduxisse" and the +merchant-prince:--of the Virtues or Courages; militant, guiding, or +Ducal powers:--and finally of the Strengths, or Forces pure; magistral +powers, of the More over the less, and the forceful and free over the +weak and servile elements of life. + +Subject enough for the next paper, involving "economical" principles of +some importance, of which, for theme, here is a sentence, which I do not +care to translate, for it would sound harsh in English,[53] though, +truly, it is one of the tenderest ever uttered by man; which may be +meditated over, or rather _through_, in the meanwhile, by any one who +will take the pains:-- + +[Greek: Ar oun, hôsper Hippos tô anepistêmoni men encheirounti de +chrêsthai zêmia estin, houtô kai adelphos, otan tis autô mê epistamenos +encheir chrêsthai, zêmia esti]; + +FOOTNOTES: + +[44] I have repeated the substance of this and the next paragraph so +often since, that I am ashamed and weary. The thing is too true, and too +simple, it seems, for anybody ever to believe. Meantime, the theories of +"international values," as explained by Modern Political Economy, have +brought about last year's pillage of France by Germany, and the +affectionate relations now existing in consequence between the +inhabitants of the right and left banks of the Rhine. + +[45] I wish some one would examine and publish accurately the late +dealings of the Governors of the Cape with the Caffirs. + +[46] By "pay," I mean wages for labour or skill; by "profit," gain +dependent on the state of the market. + +[47] Since I wrote this, I have worked out the question of interest of +money, which always, until lately, had embarrassed and defeated me; and +I find that the payment of interest of any amount whatever is real +"usury," and entirely unjustifiable. I was shown this chiefly by the +pamphlets issued by Mr. W. C. Sillar, though I greatly regret the +impatience which causes Mr. Sillar to regard usury as the radical crime +in political economy. There are others worse, that act with it. + +[48] Hence Dante's companionship of Cahors, _Inf._, canto xi., supported +by the view taken of the matter throughout the middle ages, in common +with the Greeks. + +[49] I do not wonder when I re-read this, that people talk about my +"sentiment." But there is no sentiment whatever in the matter. It is a +hard and bare commercial fact, that if two people deal together who +don't try to cheat each other, they will in a given time, make more +money out of each other than if they do. See § 104. + +[50] Shakspeare would certainly never have chosen this name had he been +forced to retain the Roman spelling. Like Perdita, "lost lady," or +Cordelia, "heart-lady," Portia is "fortune" lady. The two great relative +groups of words, Fortuna, fero, and fors--Portio, porto, and pars (with +the lateral branch, op-portune, im-portune, opportunity, &c.), are of +deep and intricate significance; their various senses of bringing, +abstracting, and sustaining being all centralized by the wheel (which +bears and moves at once), or still better, the ball (spera) of +Fortune,--"Volve sua spera, e beata si gode:" the motive power of this +wheel distinguishing its goddess from the fixed majesty of Necessitas +with her iron nails; or [Greek: anankê], with her pillar of fire and +iridescent orbits, _fixed_ at the centre. Portus and porta, and gate in +its connexion with gain, form another interesting branch group; and +Mors, the concentration of delaying, is always to be remembered with +Fors, the concentration of bringing and bearing, passing on into Fortis +and Fortitude. + +[This note is literally a mere memorandum for the future work which I am +now completing in _Fors Clavigera_; it was printed partly in vanity, but +also with real desire to get people to share the interest I found in the +careful study of the leading words in noble languages. Compare the next +note.] + +[51] As Charis becomes Charitas, the word "Cher," or "Dear," passes from +Shylock's sense of it (to buy cheap and sell dear) into Antonio's sense +of it: emphasized with the final _i_ in tender "Cheri," and hushed to +English calmness in our noble "Cherish." The reader must not think that +any care can be misspent in tracing the connexion and power of the words +which we have to use in the sequel. (See Appendix VI.) Much education +sums itself in making men economize their words, and understand them. +Nor is it possible to estimate the harm which has been done, in matters +of higher speculation and conduct, by loose verbiage, though we may +guess at it by observing the dislike which people show to having +anything about their religion said to them in simple words, because then +they understand it. Thus congregations meet weekly to invoke the +influence of a Spirit of Life and Truth; yet if any part of that +character were intelligibly expressed to them by the formulas of the +service, they would be offended. Suppose, for instance, in the closing +benediction, the clergyman were to give vital significance to the vague +word "Holy," and were to say, "the fellowship of the Helpful and Honest +Ghost be with you, and remain with you always," what would be the horror +of many, first at the irreverence of so intelligible an expression; and +secondly, at the discomfortable occurrence of the suspicion that while +throughout the commercial dealings of the week they had denied the +propriety of Help, and possibility of Honesty, the Person whose company +they had been now asking to be blessed with could have no fellowship +with cruel people or knaves. + +[52] "[Greek: ta men oun alla zôa ouk echein aisthêsin tôn en tais +kinêsesi taxeôn oude ataxiôn ois dê rythmos unoma kai haomonia êmin de +ous eipomen tous Theous] (Apollo, the Muses, and Bacchus--the grave +Bacchus, that is--ruling the choir of age; or Bacchus restraining; 'sæva +_tene_, cum Berecyntio cornu tympana,' &c.) [Greek: synchoreutas +dedosthai, toutous einai kai tous dedôkotas tên enrythmon te kai +enarmonion aisthêsin meth' êdonês ... chorous te ônomakenai para tês +charas emphyton onoma]." "Other animals have no perception of order nor +of disorder in motion; but for us, Apollo and Bacchus and the Muses are +appointed to mingle in our dances; and there are they who have given us +the sense of delight in rhythm and harmony. And the name of choir, +choral dance, (we may believe,) came from chara (delight)."--Laws, book +ii. + +[53] [My way now, is to say things plainly, if I can, whether they sound +harsh or not;--this is the translation--"Is it possible, then, that as a +horse is only a mischief to any one who attempts to use him without +knowing how, so also our brother, if we attempt to use him without +knowing how, may be a mischief to us?"] + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +GOVERNMENT. + + +106. It remains for us, as I stated in the close of the last chapter, to +examine first the principles of government in general, and then those of +the government of the Poor by the Rich. + +The government of a state consists in its customs, laws, and councils, +and their enforcements. + + +I. CUSTOMS. + +As one person primarily differs from another by fineness of nature, and, +secondarily, by fineness of training, so also, a polite nation differs +from a savage one, first, by the refinement of its nature, and secondly +by the delicacy of its customs. + +In the completeness of custom, which is the nation's self-government, +there are three stages--first, fineness in method of doing or of +being;--called the manner or moral of acts; secondly, firmness in +holding such method after adoption, so that it shall become a habit in +the character: _i. e._, a constant "having" or "behaving;" and, lastly, +ethical power in performance and endurance, which is the skill following +on habit, and the ease reached by frequency of right doing. + +The sensibility of the nation is indicated by the fineness of its +customs; its courage, continence, and self-respect by its persistence in +them. + +By sensibility I mean its natural perception of beauty, fitness, and +rightness; or of what is lovely, decent, and just: faculties dependent +much on race, and the primal signs of fine breeding in man; but +cultivable also by education, and necessarily perishing without it. True +education has, indeed, no other function than the development of these +faculties, and of the relative will. It has been the great error of +modern intelligence to mistake science for education. You do not educate +a man by telling him what he knew not, but by making him what he was +not. + +And making him what he will remain for ever: for no wash of weeds will +bring back the faded purple. And in that dyeing there are two +processes--first, the cleansing and wringing-out, which is the baptism +with water; and then the infusing of the blue and scarlet colours, +gentleness and justice, which is the baptism with fire. + +107.[54] The customs and manners of a sensitive and highly-trained race +are always Vital: that is to say, they are orderly manifestations of +intense life, like the habitual action of the fingers of a musician. The +customs and manners of a vile and rude race, on the contrary, are +conditions of decay: they are not, properly speaking, habits, but +incrustations; not restraints, or forms, of life; but gangrenes, +noisome, and the beginnings of death. + +And generally, so far as custom attaches itself to indolence instead of +action, and to prejudice instead of perception, it takes this deadly +character, so that thus + + Custom hangs upon us with a weight + Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life. + +But that weight, if it become impetus, (living instead of dead weight) +is just what gives value to custom, when it works _with_ life, instead +of against it. + +108. The high ethical training of a nation implies perfect Grace, +Pitifulness, and Peace; it is irreconcilably inconsistent with filthy or +mechanical employments,--with the desire of money,--and with mental +states of anxiety, jealousy, or indifference to pain. The present +insensibility of the upper classes of Europe to the surrounding aspects +of suffering, uncleanness, and crime, binds them not only into one +responsibility with the sin, but into one dishonour with the foulness, +which rot at their thresholds. The crimes daily recorded in the +police-courts of London and Paris (and much more those which are +_un_recorded) are a disgrace to the whole body politic;[55] they are, as +in the body natural, stains of disease on a face of delicate skin, +making the delicacy itself frightful. Similarly, the filth and poverty +permitted or ignored in the midst of us are as dishonourable to the +whole social body, as in the body natural it is to wash the face, but +leave the hands and feet foul. Christ's way is the only true one: begin +at the feet; the face will take care of itself. + +109. Yet, since necessarily, in the frame of a nation, nothing but the +head can be of gold, and the feet, for the work they have to do, must be +part of iron, part of clay;--foul or mechanical work is always reduced +by a noble race to the minimum in quantity; and, even then, performed +and endured, not without sense of degradation, as a fine temper is +wounded by the sight of the lower offices of the body. The highest +conditions of human society reached hitherto have cast such work to +slaves; but supposing slavery of a politically defined kind to be done +away with, mechanical and foul employment must, in all highly organized +states, take the aspect either of punishment or probation. All criminals +should at once be set to the most dangerous and painful forms of it, +especially to work in mines and at furnaces,[56] so as to relieve the +innocent population as far as possible: of merely rough (not mechanical) +manual labour, especially agricultural, _a large portion should be done +by the upper classes_;--_bodily health, and sufficient contrast and +repose for the mental functions, being unattainable without it_; what +necessarily inferior labour remains to be done, as especially in +manufactures, should, and always will, when the relations of society are +reverent and harmonious, fall to the lot of those who, for the time, are +fit for nothing better. For as, whatever the perfectness of the +educational system, there must remain infinite differences between the +natures and capacities of men; and these differing natures are generally +rangeable under the two qualities of lordly, (or tending towards rule, +construction, and harmony), and servile (or tending towards misrule, +destruction, and discord); and since the lordly part is only in a state +of profitableness while ruling, and the servile only in a state of +redeemableness while serving, the whole health of the state depends on +the manifest separation of these two elements of its mind; for, if the +servile part be not separated and rendered visible in service, it mixes +with, and corrupts, the entire body of the state; and if the lordly part +be not distinguished, and set to rule, it is crushed and lost, being +turned to no account, so that the rarest qualities of the nation are all +given to it in vain.[57] + + +II. LAWS. + +110. These are the definitions and bonds of custom, or of what the +nation desires should become custom. + +Law is either archic,[58] (of direction), meristic, (of division), or +critic, (of judgment). + +Archic law is that of appointment and precept: it defines what is and is +not to be _done_. + +Meristic law is that of balance and distribution: it defines what is and +is not to be _possessed_. + +Critic law is that of discernment and award: it defines what is and is +not to be _suffered_. + + +111. A. ARCHIC LAW. If we choose to unite the laws of precept and +distribution under the head of "statutes," all law is simply either of +statute or judgment; that is, first the establishment of ordinance, and, +secondly, the assignment of the reward, or penalty, due to its +observance or violation. + +To some extent these two forms of law must be associated, and, with +every ordinance, the penalty of disobedience to it be also determined. +But since the degrees and guilt of disobedience vary, the determination +of due reward and punishment must be modified by discernment of special +fact, which is peculiarly the office of the judge, as distinguished from +that of the lawgiver and law-sustainer, or king; not but that the two +offices are always theoretically, and in early stages, or limited +numbers, of society, are often practically, united in the same person or +persons. + +112. Also, it is necessary to keep clearly in view the distinction +between these two kinds of law, because the possible range of law is +wider in proportion to their separation. There are many points of +conduct respecting which the nation may wisely express its will by a +written precept or resolve, yet not enforce it by penalty:[59] and the +expedient degree of penalty is always quite a separate consideration +from the expedience of the statute; for the statute may often be better +enforced by mercy than severity, and is also easier in the bearing, and +less likely to be abrogated. Farther, laws of precept have reference +especially to youth, and concern themselves with training; but laws of +judgment to manhood, and concern themselves with remedy and reward. +There is a highly curious feeling in the English mind against +educational law: we think no man's liberty should be interfered with +till he has done irrevocable wrong; whereas it is then just too late for +the only gracious and kingly interference, which is to hinder him from +doing it. Make your educational laws strict, and your criminal ones may +be gentle; but, leave youth its liberty and you will have to dig +dungeons for age. And it is good for a man that he "wear the yoke in his +youth:" for the reins may then be of silken thread; and with sweet chime +of silver bells at the bridle; but, for the captivity of age, you must +forge the iron fetter, and cast the passing bell. + +113. Since no law can be, in a final or true sense, established, but by +right, (all unjust laws involving the ultimate necessity of their own +abrogation), the law-giving can only become a law-sustaining power in so +far as it is Royal, or "right doing;"--in so far, that is, as it rules, +not misrules, and orders, not dis-orders, the things submitted to it. +Throned on this rock of justice, the kingly power becomes established +and establishing; "[Greek: theios]," or divine, and, therefore, it is +literally true that no ruler can err, so long as he is a ruler, or +[Greek: archôn oudeis amartanei tote hotan archôn ê]; perverted by +careless thought, which has cost the world somewhat, into--"the king can +do no wrong." + +114. B. MERISTIC LAW,[60] or that of the tenure of property, first +determines what every individual possesses by right, and secures it to +him; and what he possesses by wrong, and deprives him of it. But it has +a far higher provisory function: it determines what every man _should_ +possess, and puts it within his reach on due conditions; and what he +should _not_ possess, and puts this out of his reach, conclusively. + +115. Every article of human wealth has certain conditions attached to +its merited possession; when these are unobserved, possession becomes +rapine. And the object of meristic law is not only to secure to every +man his rightful share (the share, that is, which he has worked for, +produced, or received by gift from a rightful owner), but to enforce the +due conditions of possession, as far as law may conveniently reach; for +instance, that land shall not be wantonly allowed to run to waste, that +streams shall not be poisoned by the persons through whose properties +they pass, nor air be rendered unwholesome beyond given limits. Laws of +this kind exist already in rudimentary degree, but need large +development; the just laws respecting the possession of works of art +have not hitherto been so much as conceived, and the daily loss of +national wealth, and of its use, in this respect, is quite incalculable. +And these laws need revision quite as much respecting property in +national as in private hands. For instance: the public are under a vague +impression that, because they have paid for the contents of the British +Museum, every one has an equal right to see and to handle them. But the +public have similarly paid for the contents of Woolwich arsenal; yet do +not expect free access to it, or handling of its contents. The British +Museum is neither a free circulating library, nor a free school: it is a +place for the safe preservation, and exhibition on due occasion, of +unique books, unique objects of natural history, and unique works of +art; its books can no more be used by everybody than its coins can be +handled, or its statues cast. There ought to be free libraries in every +quarter of London, with large and complete reading-rooms attached; so +also free educational museums should be open in every quarter of London, +all day long, until late at night, well lighted, well catalogued, and +rich in contents both of art and natural history. But neither the +British Museum nor National Gallery is a school; they are _treasuries_; +and both should be severely restricted in access and in use. Unless some +order of this kind is made, and that soon, for the MSS. department of +the Museum, (its superintendents have sorrowfully told me this, and +repeatedly), the best MSS. in the collection will be destroyed, +irretrievably, by the careless and continual handling to which they are +now subjected. + +Finally, in certain conditions of a nation's progress, laws limiting +accumulation of any kind of property may be found expedient. + +116. C. CRITIC LAW determines questions of injury, and assigns due +rewards and punishments to conduct. + +Two curious economical questions arise laterally with respect to this +branch of law, namely, the cost of crime, and the cost of judgment. The +cost of crime is endured by nations ignorantly, that expense being +nowhere stated in their budgets; the cost of judgment, patiently, +(provided only it can be had pure for the money), because the science, +or perhaps we ought rather to say the art, of law, is felt to found a +noble profession and discipline; so that civilized nations are usually +glad that a number of persons should be supported by exercise in oratory +and analysis. But it has not yet been calculated what the practical +value might have been, in other directions, of the intelligence now +occupied in deciding, through courses of years, what might have been +decided as justly, had the date of judgment been fixed, in as many +hours. Imagine one half of the funds which any great nation devotes to +dispute by law, applied to the determination of physical questions in +medicine, agriculture, and theoretic science; and calculate the probable +results within the next ten years! + +I say nothing yet of the more deadly, more lamentable loss, involved in +the use of purchased, instead of personal, justice--[Greek: "epaktô par +allôn--aporia oikeiôn."] + +117. In order to true analysis of critic law, we must understand the +real meaning of the word "injury." + +We commonly understand by it, any kind of harm done by one man to +another; but we do not define the idea of harm: sometimes we limit it to +the harm which the sufferer is conscious of; whereas much the worst +injuries are those he is unconscious of; and, at other times, we limit +the idea to violence, or restraint; whereas much the worse forms of +injury are to be accomplished by indolence, and the withdrawal of +restraint. + +118. "Injury" is then simply the refusal, or violation of, any man's +right or claim upon his fellows: which claim, much talked of in modern +times, under the term "right," is mainly resolvable into two branches: a +man's claim not to be hindered from doing what he should; and his claim +to be hindered from doing what he should not; these two forms of +hindrance being intensified by reward, help, and fortune, or Fors, on +one side, and by punishment, impediment, and even final arrest, or Mors, +on the other. + +119. Now, in order to a man's obtaining these two rights, it is clearly +needful that the _worth_ of him should be approximately known; as well +as the _want_ of worth, which has, unhappily, been usually the principal +subject of study for critic law, careful hitherto only to mark degrees +of de-merit, instead of merit;--assigning, indeed, to the _De_ficiencies +(not always, alas! even to these) just estimate, fine, or penalty; but +to the _Ef_ficiencies, on the other side, which are by much the more +interesting, as well as the only profitable part of its subject, +assigning neither estimate nor aid. + +120. Now, it is in this higher and perfect function of critic law, +_en_abling instead of _dis_abling, that it becomes truly Kingly, instead +of Draconic: (what Providence gave the great, wrathful legislator his +name?): that is, it becomes the law of man and of life, instead of the +law of the worm and of death--both of these laws being set in changeless +poise one against another, and the enforcement of both being the eternal +function of the lawgiver, and true claim of every living soul: such +claim being indeed strong to be mercifully hindered, and even, if need +be, abolished, when longer existence means only deeper destruction, but +stronger still to be mercifully helped, and recreated, when longer +existence and new creation mean nobler life. So that reward and +punishment will be found to resolve themselves mainly[61] into help and +hindrance; and these again will issue naturally from time recognition of +deserving, and the just reverence and just wrath which follow +instinctively on such recognition. + +121. I say, "follow," but, in reality, they are part of the recognition. +Reverence is as instinctive as anger;--both of them instant on true +vision: it is sight and understanding that we have to teach, and these +_are_ reverence. Make a man perceive worth, and in its reflection he +sees his own relative unworth, and worships thereupon inevitably, not +with stiff courtesy, but rejoicingly, passionately, and, best of all, +_restfully_: for the inner capacity of awe and love is infinite in man, +and only in finding these, can we find peace. And the common insolences +and petulances of the people, and their talk of equality, are not +irreverence in them in the least, but mere blindness, stupefaction, and +fog in the brains,[62] the first sign of any cleansing away of which is, +that they gain some power of discerning, and some patience in submitting +to, their true counsellors and governors. In the mode of such +discernment consists the real "constitution" of the state, more than in +the titles or offices of the discerned person; for it is no matter, save +in degree of mischief, to what office a man is appointed, if he cannot +fulfil it. + +122. III. GOVERNMENT BY COUNCIL. + +This is the determination, by living authority, of the national conduct +to be observed under existing circumstances; and the modification or +enlargement, abrogation or enforcement, of the code of national law +according to present needs or purposes. This government is necessarily +always by council, for though the authority of it may be vested in one +person, that person cannot form any opinion on a matter of public +interest but by (voluntarily or involuntarily) submitting himself to the +influence of others. + +This government is always twofold--visible and invisible. + +The visible government is that which nominally carries on the national +business; determines its foreign relations, raises taxes, levies +soldiers, orders war or peace, and otherwise becomes the arbiter of the +national fortune. The invisible government is that exercised by all +energetic and intelligent men, each in his sphere, regulating the inner +will and secret ways of the people, essentially forming its character, +and preparing its fate. + +Visible governments are the toys of some nations, the diseases of +others, the harness of some, the burdens of more the necessity of all. +Sometimes their career is quite distinct from that of the people, and to +write it, as the national history, is as if one should number the +accidents which befall a man's weapons and wardrobe, and call the list +his biography. Nevertheless, a truly noble and wise nation necessarily +has a noble and wise visible government, for its wisdom issues in that +conclusively. + +123. Visible governments are, in their agencies, capable of three pure +forms, and of no more than three. + +They are either monarchies, where the authority is vested in one person; +oligarchies, when it is vested in a minority; or democracies, when +vested in a majority. + +But these three forms are not only, in practice, variously limited and +combined, but capable of infinite difference in character and use, +receiving specific names according to their variations; which names, +being nowise agreed upon, nor consistently used, either in thought or +writing, no man can at present tell, in speaking of any kind of +government, whether he is understood; nor, in hearing, whether he +understands. Thus we usually call a just government by one person a +monarchy, and an unjust or cruel one, a tyranny: this might be +reasonable if it had reference to the divinity of true government; but +to limit the term "oligarchy" to government by a few rich people, and to +call government by a few wise or noble people "aristocracy," is +evidently absurd, unless it were proved that rich people never could be +wise, or noble people rich; and farther absurd, because there are other +distinctions in character, as well as riches or wisdom (greater purity +of race, or strength of purpose, for instance), which may give the power +of government to the few. So that if we had to give names to every group +or kind of minority, we should have verbiage enough. But there is only +one right name--"oligarchy." + +124. So also the terms "republic" and "democracy"[63] are confused, +especially in modern use; and both of them are liable to every sort of +misconception. A republic means, properly, a polity in which the state, +with its all, is at every man's service, and every man, with his all, at +the state's service--(people are apt to lose sight of the last +condition), but its government may nevertheless be oligarchic (consular, +or decemviral, for instance), or monarchic (dictatorial). But a +democracy means a state in which the government rests directly with the +majority of the citizens. And both these conditions have been judged +only by such accidents and aspects of them as each of us has had +experience of; and sometimes both have been confused with anarchy, as it +is the fashion at present to talk of the "failure of republican +institutions in America," when there has never yet been in America any +such thing as an institution, but only defiance of institution; neither +any such thing as a _res-publica_, but only a multitudinous +_res-privata_; every man for himself. It is not republicanism which +fails now in America; it is your model science of political economy, +brought to its perfect practice. There you may see competition, and the +"law of demand and supply" (especially in paper), in beautiful and +unhindered operation.[64] Lust of wealth, and trust in it; vulgar faith +in magnitude and multitude, instead of nobleness; besides that +faith natural to backwoodsmen--"lucum ligna,"[65]--perpetual +self-contemplation, issuing in passionate vanity; total ignorance of the +finer and higher arts, and of all that they teach and bestow; and the +discontent of energetic minds unoccupied, frantic with hope of +uncomprehended change, and progress they know not whither;[66]--these +are the things that have "failed" in America; and yet not altogether +failed--it is not collapse, but collision; the greatest railroad +accident on record, with fire caught from the furnace, and Catiline's +quenching "non aquâ, sed ruinâ."[67] But I see not, in any of our talk +of them, justice enough done to their erratic strength of purpose, nor +any estimate taken of the strength of endurance of domestic sorrow, in +what their women and children suppose a righteous cause. And out of that +endurance and suffering, its own fruit will be born with time; [_not_ +abolition of slavery, however. See § 130.] and Carlyle's prophecy of +them (June, 1850), as it has now come true in the first clause, will, in +the last:-- + +"America, too, will find that caucuses, divisionalists, stump-oratory, +and speeches to Buncombe will not carry men to the immortal gods; that +the Washington Congress, and constitutional battle of Kilkenny cats is +there, as here, naught for such objects; quite incompetent for such; +and, in fine, that said sublime constitutional arrangement will require +to be (with terrible throes, and travail such as few expect yet) +remodelled, abridged, extended, suppressed, torn asunder, put together +again--not without heroic labour and effort, quite other than that of +the stump-orator and the revival preacher, one day." + +125.[68] Understand, then, once for all, that no form of government, +provided it be a government at all, is, as such, to be either condemned +or praised, or contested for in anywise, but by fools. But all forms of +government are good just so far as they attain this one vital necessity +of policy--_that the wise and kind, few or many, shall govern the unwise +and unkind_; and they are evil so far as they miss of this, or reverse +it. Not does the form, in any case, signify one whit, but its +_firmness_, and adaptation to the need; for if there be many foolish +persons in a state, and few wise, then it is good that the few govern; +and if there be many wise, and few foolish, then it is good that the +many govern; and if many be wise, yet one wiser, then it is good that +one should govern; and so on. Thus, we may have "the ant's republic, and +the realm of bees," both good in their kind; one for groping, and the +other for building; and nobler still, for flying;--the Ducal +monarchy[69] of those + + Intelligent of seasons, that set forth + The aery caravan, high over seas. + +126. Nor need we want examples, among the inferior creatures, of +dissoluteness, as well as resoluteness, in government. I once saw +democracy finely illustrated by the beetles of North Switzerland, who by +universal suffrage, and elytric acclamation, one May twilight, carried +it, that they would fly over the Lake of Zug; and flew _short_, to the +great disfigurement of the Lake of Zug,--[Greek: Kantharon limên]--over +some leagues square, and to the close of the cockchafer democracy for +that year. Then, for tyranny, the old fable of the frogs and the stork +finely touches one form of it; but truth will image it more closely than +fable, for tyranny is not complete when it is only over the idle, but +when it is over the laborious and the blind. This description of +pelicans and climbing perch, which I find quoted in one of our popular +natural histories, out of Sir Emerson Tennant's _Ceylon_, comes as near +as may be to the true image of the thing:-- + +"Heavy rains came on, and as we stood on the high ground, we observed a +pelican on the margin of the shallow pool gorging himself; our people +went towards him, and raised a cry of 'Fish, fish!' We hurried down, and +found numbers of fish struggling upward through the grass, in the rills +formed by the trickling of the rain. There was scarcely water to cover +them, but nevertheless they made rapid progress up the bank, on which +our followers collected about two baskets of them. They were forcing +their way up the knoll, and had they not been interrupted, first by the +pelican, and afterwards by ourselves, they would in a few minutes have +gained the highest point, and descended on the other side into a pool +which formed another portion of the tank. In going this distance, +however, they must have used muscular exertion enough to have taken them +half a mile on level ground; for at these places all the cattle and wild +animals of the neighbourhood had latterly come to drink, so that the +surface was everywhere indented with footmarks, in addition to the +cracks in the surrounding baked mud, into which the fish tumbled in +their progress. In those holes, which were deep, and the sides +perpendicular, they remained to die, and were carried off by kites and +crows."[70] + +127. But whether governments be bad or good, one general disadvantage +seems to attach to them in modern times--that they are all _costly_.[71] +This, however, is not essentially the fault of the governments. If +nations choose to play at war, they will always find their governments +willing to lead the game, and soon coming under that term of +Aristophanes, "[Greek: kapêloi aspidôn]," "shield-sellers." And when +([Greek: pêm epi pêmati])[72] the shields take the form of iron ships, +with apparatus "for defence against liquid fire,"--as I see by latest +accounts they are now arranging the decks in English dockyards--they +become costly biers enough for the grey convoy of chief mourner waves, +wreathed with funereal foam, to bear back the dead upon; the massy +shoulders of those corpse-bearers being intended for quite other work, +and to bear the living, and food for the living, if we would let them. + +128. Nor have we the least right to complain of our governments being +expensive, so long as we set the government _to do precisely the work +which brings no return_. If our present doctrines of political economy +be just, let us trust them to the utmost; take that war business out of +the government's hands, and test therein the principles of supply and +demand. Let our future sieges of Sebastopol be done by contract--no +capture, no pay--(I admit that things might sometimes go better so); and +let us sell the commands of our prospective battles, with our vicarages, +to the lowest bidder; so may we have cheap victories, and divinity. On +the other hand, if we have so much suspicion of our science that we dare +not trust it on military or spiritual business, would it not be but +reasonable to try whether some authoritative handling may not prosper in +matters utilitarian? If we were to set our governments to do useful +things instead of mischievous, possibly even the apparatus itself might +in time come to be less costly. The machine, applied to the building of +the house, might perhaps pay, when it seems not to pay, applied to +pulling it down. If we made in our dockyards ships to carry timber and +coals, instead of cannon, and with provision for the brightening of +domestic solid culinary fire, instead of for the scattering of liquid +hostile fire, it might have some effect on the taxes. Or suppose that we +tried the experiment on land instead of water carriage; already the +government, not unapproved, carries letters and parcels for us; larger +packages may in time follow;--even general merchandise--why not, at +last, ourselves? Had the money spent in local mistakes and vain private +litigation, on the railroads of England, been laid out, instead, under +proper government restraint, on really useful railroad work, and had no +absurd expense been incurred in ornamenting stations, we might already +have had,--what ultimately it will be found we must have,--quadruple +rails, two for passengers, and two for traffic, on every great line; and +we might have been carried in swift safety, and watched and warded by +well-paid pointsmen, for half the present fares. [For, of course, a +railroad company is merely an association of turnpike-keepers, who make +the tolls as high as they can, not to mend the roads with, but to +pocket. The public will in time discover this, and do away with +turnpikes on railroads, as on all other public-ways.] + +129. Suppose it should thus turn out, finally, that a true government +set to true work, instead of being a costly engine, was a paying one? +that your government, rightly organized, instead of itself subsisting by +an income-tax, would produce its subjects some subsistence in the shape +of an income dividend?--police, and judges duly paid besides, only with +less work than the state at present provides for them. + +A true government set to true work!--Not easily to be imagined, still +less obtained; but not beyond human hope or ingenuity. Only you will +have to alter your election systems somewhat, first. Not by universal +suffrage, nor by votes purchasable with beer, is such government to be +had. That is to say, not by universal _equal_ suffrage. Every man +upwards of twenty, who has been convicted of no legal crime, should have +his say in this matter; but afterwards a louder voice, as he grows +older, and approves himself wiser. If he has one vote at twenty, he +should have two at thirty, four at forty, ten at fifty. For every single +vote which he has with an income of a hundred a year, he should have ten +with an income of a thousand, (provided you first see to it that wealth +is, as nature intended it to be, the reward of sagacity and +industry--not of good luck in a scramble or a lottery). For every single +vote which he had as subordinate in any business, he should have two +when he became a master; and every office and authority nationally +bestowed, implying trustworthiness and intellect, should have its known +proportional number of votes attached to it. But into the detail and +working of a true system in these matters we cannot now enter; we are +concerned as yet with definitions only, and statements of first +principles, which will be established now sufficiently for our purposes +when we have examined the nature of that form of government last on the +list in § 105,--the purely "Magistral," exciting at present its full +share of public notice, under its ambiguous title of "slavery." + +130. I have not, however, been able to ascertain in definite terms, from +the declaimers against slavery, what they understand by it. If they mean +only the imprisonment or compulsion of one person by another, such +imprisonment or compulsion being in many cases highly expedient, +slavery, so defined, would be no evil in itself, but only in its abuse; +that is, when men are slaves, who should not be, or masters, who should +not be, or even the fittest characters for either state, placed in it +under conditions which should not be. It is not, for instance, a +necessary condition of slavery, nor a desirable one, that parents should +be separated from children, or husbands from wives; but the institution +of war, against which people declaim with less violence, effects such +separations,--not unfrequently in a very permanent manner. To press a +sailor, seize a white youth by conscription for a soldier, or carry off +a black one for a labourer, may all be right acts, or all wrong ones, +according to needs and circumstances. It is wrong to scourge a man +unnecessarily. So it is to shoot him. Both must be done on occasion; and +it is better and kinder to flog a man to his work, than to leave him +idle till he robs, and flog him afterwards. The essential thing for all +creatures is to be made to do right; how they are made to do it--by +pleasant promises, or hard necessities, pathetic oratory, or the +whip--is comparatively immaterial.[73] To be deceived is perhaps as +incompatible with human dignity as to be whipped; and I suspect the last +method to be not the worst, for the help of many individuals. The Jewish +nation throve under it, in the hand of a monarch reputed not unwise; it +is only the change of whip for scorpion which is inexpedient; and that +change is as likely to come to pass on the side of license as of law. +For the true scorpion whips are those of the nation's pleasant vices, +which are to it as St. John's locusts--crown on the head, ravin in the +mouth, and sting in the tail. If it will not bear the rule of Athena and +Apollo, who shepherd without smiting ([Greek: ou plêgê nemontes]), +Athena at last calls no more in the corners of the streets; and then +follows the rule of Tisiphone, who smites without shepherding. + +131. If, however, by slavery, instead of absolute compulsion, is meant +_the purchase, by money, of the right of compulsion_, such purchase is +necessarily made whenever a portion of any territory is transferred, for +money, from one monarch to another: which has happened frequently enough +in history, without its being supposed that the inhabitants of the +districts so transferred became therefore slaves. In this, as in the +former case, the dispute seems about the fashion of the thing, rather +than the fact of it. There are two rocks in mid-sea, on each of which, +neglected equally by instructive and commercial powers, a handful of +inhabitants live as they may. Two merchants bid for the two properties, +but not in the same terms. One bids for the people, buys _them_, and +sets them to work, under pain of scourge; the other bids for the rock, +buys _it_, and throws the inhabitants into the sea. The former is the +American, the latter the English method, of slavery; much is to be said +for, and something against, both, which I hope to say in due time and +place.[74] + +132. If, however, slavery mean not merely the purchase of the right of +compulsion, but _the purchase of the body and soul of the creature +itself for money_, it is not, I think, among the black races that +purchases of this kind are most extensively made, or that separate souls +of a fine make fetch the highest price. This branch of the inquiry we +shall have occasion also to follow out at some length, for in the worst +instances of the selling of souls, we are apt to get, when we ask if the +sale is valid, only Pyrrhon's answer[75]--"None can know." + +133. The fact is that slavery is not a political institution at all, +_but an inherent, natural, and eternal inheritance_ of a large portion +of the human race--to whom, the more you give of their own free will, +the more slaves they will make themselves. In common parlance, we idly +confuse captivity with slavery, and are always thinking of the +difference between pine-trunks (Ariel in the pine), and cowslip-bells +("in the cowslip-bell I lie"), or between carrying wood and drinking +(Caliban's slavery and freedom), instead of noting the far more serious +differences between Ariel and Caliban themselves, and the means by +which, practically, that difference may be brought about or diminished. + +134.[76] Plato's slave, in the _Polity_, who, well dressed and washed, +aspires to the hand of his master's daughter, corresponds curiously to +Caliban attacking Prospero's cell; and there is an undercurrent of +meaning throughout, in the _Tempest_ as well as in the _Merchant of +Venice_; referring in this case to government, as in that to commerce. +Miranda[77] ("the wonderful," so addressed first by Ferdinand, "Oh, you +wonder!") corresponds to Homer's Arete: Ariel and Caliban are +respectively the spirits of faithful and imaginative labour, opposed to +rebellious, hurtful and slavish labour. Prospero ("for hope"), a true +governor, is opposed to Sycorax, the mother of slavery, her name +"Swine-raven," indicating at once brutality and deathfulness; hence the +line-- + + "As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed, with _raven's feather_,"--&c. + +For all these dreams of Shakespeare, as those of true and strong men +must be, are "[Greek: phantasmata theia, kai skiai tôn ontôn]"--divine +phantasms, and shadows of things that are. We hardly tell our children, +willingly, a fable with no purport in it; yet we think God sends his +best messengers only to sing fairy tales to us, fond and empty. The +_Tempest_ is just like a grotesque in a rich missal, "clasped where +paynims pray." Ariel is the spirit of generous and free-hearted service, +in early stages of human society oppressed by ignorance and wild +tyranny: venting groans as fast as mill-wheels strike; in shipwreck of +states, dreadful; so that "all but mariners plunge in the brine, and +quit the vessel, then all afire with _me_," yet having in itself the +will and sweetness of truest peace, whence that is especially called +"Ariel's" song, "Come unto these yellow sands, and there, _take hands_," +"courtesied when you have, and kissed, the wild waves whist:" (mind, it +is "cortesia," not "curtsey,") and read "quiet" for "whist," if you want +the full sense. Then you may indeed foot it featly, and sweet spirits +bear the burden for you--with watch in the night, and call in early +morning. The _vis viva_ in elemental transformation follows--"Full +fathom five thy father lies, of his bones are coral made." Then, giving +rest _after_ labour, it "fetches dew from the still vext Bermoöthes, +and, with a charm joined to their suffered labour, leaves men asleep." +Snatching away the feast of the cruel, it seems to them as a harpy; +followed by the utterly vile, who cannot see it in any shape, but to +whom it is the picture of nobody, it still gives shrill harmony to their +false and mocking catch, "Thought is free;" but leads them into briers +and foul places, and at last hollas the hounds upon them. Minister of +fate against the great criminal, it joins itself with the "incensed seas +and shores "--the sword that layeth at it cannot hold, and may "with +bemocked-at stabs as soon kill the still-closing waters, as diminish one +dowle that is in its plume." As the guide and aid of true love, it is +always called by Prospero "fine" (the French "fine," not the English), +or "delicate"--another long note would be needed to explain all the +meaning in this word. Lastly, its work done, and war, it resolves itself +into the elements. The intense significance of the last song, "Where the +bee sucks," I will examine in its due place. + +The types of slavery in Caliban are more palpable, and need not be dwelt +on now: though I will notice them also, severally, in their proper +places;--the heart of his slavery is in his worship: "That's a brave +god, and bears celestial--liquor." But, in illustration of the sense in +which the Latin "benignus" and "malignus" are to be coupled with +Eleutheria and Douleia, note that Caliban's torment is always the +physical reflection of his own nature--"cramps" and "side stiches that +shall pen thy breath up; thou shalt be pinched, as thick as honeycombs:" +the whole nature of slavery being one cramp and cretinous contraction. +Fancy this of Ariel! You may fetter him, but you set no mark on him; you +may put him to hard work and far journey, but you cannot give him a +cramp. + +135. I should dwell, even in these prefatory papers, at more length on +this subject of slavery, had not all I would say been said already, in +vain, (not, as I hope, ultimately in vain), by Carlyle, in the first of +the _Latter-day Pamphlets_, which I commend to the reader's gravest +reading; together with that as much neglected, and still more +immediately needed, on model prisons, and with the great chapter on +"Permanence" (fifth of the last section of "Past and Present"), which +sums what is known, and foreshadows, or rather forelights, all that is +to be learned of National Discipline. I have only here farther to +examine the nature of one world-wide and everlasting form of slavery, +wholesome in use, as deadly in abuse;--the service of the rich by the +poor. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[54] [Think over this paragraph carefully; it should have been much +expanded to be quite intelligible; but it contains all that I want it to +contain.] + +[55] "The ordinary brute, who flourishes in the very centre of ornate +life, tells us of unknown depths on the verge of which we totter, being +bound to thank our stars every day we live that there is not a general +outbreak, and a revolt from the yoke of civilization."--_Times_ leader, +Dec. 25, 1862. Admitting that our stars are to be thanked for our +safety, whom are we to thank for the danger? + +[56] Our politicians, even the best of them, regard only the distress +caused by the _failure_ of mechanical labour. The degradation caused by +its excess is a far more serious subject of thought, and of future fear. +I shall examine this part of our subject at length hereafter. There can +hardly be any doubt, at present, cast on the truth of the above +passages, as all the great thinkers are unanimous on the matter. Plato's +words are terrific in their scorn and pity whenever he touches on the +mechanical arts. He calls the men employed in them not even human, but +partially and diminutively human, "[Greek: anthrôpiskoi,]" and opposes +such work to noble occupations, not merely as prison is opposed to +freedom but as a convict's dishonoured prison is to the temple (escape +from them being like that of a criminal to the sanctuary); and the +destruction caused by them being of soul no less than body.--_Rep._ vi. +9. Compare _Laws_, v. 11. Xenophon dwells on the evil of occupations at +the furnace and especially their "[Greek: ascholia], want of +leisure."--_Econ._ i. 4. (Modern England, with all its pride of +education, has lost that first sense of the word "school;" and till it +recover that, it will find no other rightly.) His word for the harm to +the soul is to "break" it, as we say of the heart.--_Econ._ i. 6. And +herein, also, is the root of the scorn, otherwise apparently most +strange and cruel, with which Homer, Dante, and Shakspeare always speak +of the populace; for it is entirely true that, in great states, the +lower orders are low by nature as well as by task, being precisely that +part of the commonwealth which has been thrust down for its coarseness +or unworthiness (by coarseness I mean especially insensibility and +irreverence--the "profane" of Horace); and when this ceases to be so, +and the corruption and profanity are in the higher instead of the lower +orders, there arises, first, helpless confusion, then, if the lower +classes deserve power, ensues swift revolution, and they get it; but if +neither the populace nor their rulers deserve it, there follows mere +darkness and dissolution, till, out of the putrid elements, some new +capacity of order rises, like grass on a grave; if not, there is no more +hope, nor shadow of turning, for that nation. Atropos has her way with +it. + +So that the law of national health is like that of a great lake or sea, +in perfect but slow circulation, letting the dregs fall continually to +the lowest place, and the clear water rise; yet so as that there shall +be no neglect of the lower orders, but perfect supervision and sympathy, +so that if one member suffer, all members shall suffer with it. + +[57] "[Greek: oligês, kai allôs gignomenês]." (Little, and that little +born in vain.) The bitter sentence never was so true as at this day. + +[58] [This following note is a mere cluster of memoranda, but I keep it +for reference.] Thetic, or Thesmic, would perhaps be a better term than +archic; but liable to be confused with some which we shall want relating +to Theoria. The administrators of the three great divisions of law are +severally Archons, Merists, and Dicasts. The Archons are the true +princes, or beginners of things; or leaders (as of an orchestra). The +Merists are properly the Domini, or Lords of houses and nations. The +Dicasts, properly, the judges, and that with Olympian justice, which +reaches to heaven and hell. The violation of archic law is [Greek: +hamartia] (error), [Greek: ponêria] (failure), or [Greek: plêmmeleia] +(discord). The violation of meristic law is [Greek: anomia] (iniquity). +The violation of critic law is [Greek: adikia] (injury). Iniquity is the +central generic term; for all law is _fatal_; it is the division to men +of their fate; as the fold of their pasture, it is [Greek: nomos]; as +the assigning of their portion, [Greek: moira]. + +[59] [This is the only sentence which, in revising these essays, I am +now inclined to question; but the point is one of extreme difficulty. +There might be a law, for instance, of curfew, that candles should be +put out, unless for necessary service, at such and such an hour, the +idea of "necessary service" being quite indefinable, and no penalty +possible; yet there would be a distinct consciousness of illegal conduct +in young ladies' minds who danced by candlelight till dawn.] + +[60] [Read this and the next paragraph with attention; they contain +clear statements, which I cannot mend, of things most necessary.] + +[61] [Mainly; not altogether. Conclusive reward of high virtue is loving +and crowning, not helping; and conclusive punishment of deep vice is +hating and crushing, not merely hindering.] + +[62] Compare Chaucer's "villany" (clownishness). + + Full foul and chorlishe seemed she, + And eke villanous for to be, + And little coulde of norture + To worship any creature. + +[63] [I leave this paragraph, in every syllable, as it was written, +during the rage of the American war; it was meant to refer, however, +chiefly to the Northerns: what modifications its hot and partial terms +require I will give in another place: let it stand now as it stood.] + +[64] Supply and demand! Alas! for what noble work was there ever any +audible "demand" in that poor sense (Past and Present)? Nay, the demand +is not loud, even for ignoble work. _See_ "Average Earnings of Betty +Taylor," in _Times_ of 4th February of this year [1863]: "Worked from +Monday morning at 8 A.M. to Friday night at 5.30 P.M. for 1_s._ +5-1/2_d._"--_Laissez faire._ [This kind of slavery finds no +Abolitionists that I hear of.] + +[65] ["That the sacred grove is nothing but logs."] + +[66] Ames, by report of Waldo Emerson, says "that a monarchy is a +merchantman, which sails well, but will sometimes strike on a rock, and +go to the bottom; whilst a republic is a raft, which would never sink, +but then your feet are always in the water." Yes, that is comfortable; +and though your raft cannot sink (being too worthless for that), it may +go to pieces, I suppose, when the four winds (your only pilots) steer +competitively from its four corners, and carry it, [Greek: ôs opôrinos +Boreês phoreêsin akanthas], and then more than your feet will be in the +water. + +[67] ["Not with water, but with ruin." The worst ruin being that which +the Americans chiefly boast of. They sent all their best and honestest +youths, Harvard University men and the like, to that accursed war; got +them nearly all shot; wrote pretty biographies (to the ages of 17, 18, +19) and epitaphs for them; and so, having washed all the salt out of the +nation in blood, left themselves to putrefaction, and the morality of +New York.] + +[68] [This paragraph contains the gist of all that precede.] + +[69] [Whenever you are puzzled by any apparently mistaken use of words +in these essays, take your dictionary, remembering I had to fix terms, +as well as principles. A Duke is a "dux" or "leader;" the flying wedge +of cranes is under a "ducal monarch"--a very different personage from a +queen bee. The Venetians, with a beautiful instinct, gave the name to +their King of the Sea.] + +[70] [This is a perfect picture of the French under the tyrannies of +their Pelican Kings, before the Revolution. But they must find other +than Pelican Kings--or rather, Pelican Kings of the Divine brood, that +feed their children, and with their best blood.] + +[71] [Read carefully, from this point; because here begins the statement +of things requiring to be done, which I am now re-trying to make +definite in _Fors Clavigera_.] + +[72] ["Evil on the top of Evil." Delphic oracle, meaning iron on the +anvil.] + +[73] [Permit me to enforce and reinforce this statement, with all +earnestness. It is the sum of what needs most to be understood in the +matter of education.] + +[74] [A pregnant paragraph, meant against English and Scotch landlords +who drive their people off the land.] + +[75] [In Lucian's dialogue, "The sale of lives."] + +[76] [I raise this analysis of the _Tempest_ into my text; but it is +nothing but a hurried note, which I may never have time to expand. I +have retouched it here and there a little, however.] + +[77] Of Shakspeare's names I will afterwards speak at more length; they +are curiously--often barbarously--much by Providence,--but assuredly not +without Shakspeare's cunning purpose--mixed out of the various +traditions he confusedly adopted, and languages which he imperfectly +knew. Three of the clearest in meaning have been already noticed. +Desdemona, "[Greek: dysdaimonia]," "miserable fortune," is also plain +enough. Othello is, I believe, "the careful;" all the calamity of the +tragedy arising from the single flaw and error in his magnificently +collected strength. Ophelia, "serviceableness," the true lost wife of +Hamlet, is marked as having a Greek name by that of her brother, +Laertes; and its signification is once exquisitely alluded to in that +brother's last word of her, where her gentle preciousness is opposed to +the uselessness of the churlish clergy--"A _ministering_ angel shall my +sister be, when thou liest howling." Hamlet is, I believe, connected in +some way with "homely" the entire event of the tragedy turning on +betrayal of home duty. Hermione ([Greek: erma]), "pillar-like," ([Greek: +hê eidos eche chrysês 'Aphroditês]). Titania ([Greek: titênê]), "the +queen;" Benedict and Beatrice, "blessed and blessing;" Valentine and +Proteus, enduring (or strong), (valens), and changeful. Iago and Iachimo +have evidently the same root--probably the Spanish Iago, Jacob, "the +supplanter," Leonatus, and other such names, are interpreted, or played +with, in the plays themselves. For the interpretation of Sycorax, and +reference to her raven's feather, I am indebted to Mr. John R. Wise. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MASTERSHIP. + + +136. As in all previous discussions of our subject, we must study the +relation of the commanding rich to the obeying poor in its simplest +elements, in order to reach its first principles. + +The simplest state of it, then, is this:[78] a wise and provident person +works much, consumes little, and lays by a store; an improvident person +works little, consumes all his produce, and lays by no store. Accident +interrupts the daily work, or renders it less productive; the idle +person must then starve, or be supported by the provident one, who, +having him thus at his mercy, may either refuse to maintain him +altogether, or, which will evidently be more to his own interest, say to +him, "I will maintain you, indeed, but you shall now work hard, instead +of indolently, and instead of being allowed to lay by what you save, as +you might have done, had you remained independent, _I_ will take all the +surplus. You would not lay it up for yourself; it is wholly your own +fault that has thrown you into my power, and I will force you to work, +or starve; yet you shall have no profit of your work, only your daily +bread for it; [and competition shall determine how much of that[79]]." +This mode of treatment has now become so universal that it is supposed +to be the only natural--nay, the only possible one; and the market wages +are calmly defined by economists as "the sum which will maintain the +labourer." + +137. The power of the provident person to do this is only checked by the +correlative power of some neighbour of similarly frugal habits, who says +to the labourer--"I will give you a little more than this other +provident person: come and work for me." + +The power of the provident over the improvident depends thus, primarily, +on their relative numbers; secondarily, on the modes of agreement of the +adverse parties with each other. The accidental level of wages is a +variable function of the number of provident and idle persons in the +world, of the enmity between them as classes, and of the agreement +between those of the same class. _It depends, from beginning to end, on +moral conditions._ + +138. Supposing the rich to be entirely selfish, _it is always for their +interest that the poor should be as numerous as they can employ, and +restrain_. For, granting that the entire population is no larger than +the ground can easily maintain--that the classes are stringently +divided--and that there is sense or strength of hand enough with the +rich to secure obedience; then, if nine-tenths of a nation are poor, the +remaining tenth have the service of nine persons each;[80] but, if +eight-tenths are poor, only of four each; if seven-tenths are poor, of +two and a third each; if six-tenths are poor, of one and a half each; +and if five-tenths are poor, of only one each. But, practically, if the +rich strive always to obtain more power over the poor, instead of to +raise them--and if, on the other hand, the poor become continually more +vicious and numerous, through neglect and oppression,--though the +_range_ of the power of the rich increases, its _tenure_ becomes less +secure; until, at last the measure of iniquity being full, revolution, +civil war, or the subjection of the state to a healthier or stronger +one, closes the moral corruption, and industrial disease.[81] + +139. It is rarely, however, that things come to this extremity. Kind +persons among the rich, and wise among the poor, modify the connexion of +the classes: the efforts made to raise and relieve on the one side, and +the success of honest toil on the other, bind and blend the orders of +society into the confused tissue of half-felt obligation, +sullenly-rendered obedience, and variously-directed, or mis-directed +toil, which form the warp of daily life. But this great law rules all +the wild design: that success (while society is guided by laws of +competition) _signifies always so much victory over your neighbour_ as +to obtain the direction of his work, and to take the profits of it. +_This is the real source of all great riches._ No man can become largely +rich by his personal toil.[82] The work of his own hands, wisely +directed, will indeed always maintain himself and his family, and make +fitting provision for his age. _But it is only by the discovery of some +method of taxing the labour of others that he can become opulent._ Every +increase of his capital enables him to extend this taxation more widely; +that is, to invest larger funds in the maintenance of labourers,--to +direct, accordingly, vaster and yet vaster masses of labour, and to +appropriate its profits. + +140. There is much confusion of idea on the subject of this +appropriation. It is, of course, the interest of the employer to +disguise it from the persons employed; and, for his own comfort and +complacency, he often desires no less to disguise it from himself. And +it is matter of much doubt with me, how far the foul and foolish +arguments used habitually on this subject are indeed the honest +expression of foul and foolish convictions;--or rather (as I am +sometimes forced to conclude from the irritation with which they are +advanced) are resolutely dishonest, wilful, and malicious sophisms, +arranged so as to mask, to the last moment, the real laws of economy, +and future duties of men. By taking a simple example, and working it +thoroughly out, the subject may be rescued from all but such determined +misrepresentation. + +141. Let us imagine a society of peasants, living on a rivershore, +exposed to destructive inundation at somewhat extended intervals; and +that each peasant possesses of this good, but imperilled, ground, more +than he needs to cultivate for immediate subsistence. We will assume +farther (and with too great probability of justice), that the greater +part of them indolently keep in tillage just as much land as supplies +them with daily food;--that they leave their children idle, and take no +precautions against the rise of the stream. But one of them, (we will +say but one, for the sake of greater clearness) cultivates carefully +_all_ the ground of his estate; makes his children work hard and +healthily; uses his spare time and theirs in building a rampart against +the river; and, at the end of some years, has in his storehouses large +reserves of food and clothing,--in his stables a well-tended breed of +cattle, and around his fields a wedge of wall against flood. + +The torrent rises at last--sweeps away the harvests, and half the +cottages of the careless peasants, and leaves them destitute. They +naturally come for help to the provident one, whose fields are unwasted, +and whose granaries are full. He has the right to refuse it to them: no +one disputes this right.[83] But he will probably _not_ refuse it; it is +not his interest to do so, even were he entirely selfish and cruel. The +only question with him will be on what terms his aid is to be granted. + +142. Clearly, not on terms of mere charity. To maintain his neighbours +in idleness would be not only his ruin, but theirs. He will require work +from them, in exchange for their maintenance; and, whether in kindness +or cruelty, all the work they can give. Not now the three or four hours +they were wont to spend on their own land, but the eight or ten hours +they ought to have spent.[84] But how will he apply this labour? The men +are now his slaves;--nothing less, and nothing more. On pain of +starvation, he can force them to work in the manner, and to the end, he +chooses. And it is by his wisdom in this choice that the worthiness of +his mastership is proved, or its unworthiness. Evidently, he must first +set them to bank out the water in some temporary way, and to get their +ground cleansed and resown; else, in any case, their continued +maintenance will be impossible. That done, and while he has still to +feed them, suppose he makes them raise a secure rampart for their own +ground against all future flood, and rebuild their houses in safer +places, with the best material they can find; being allowed time out of +their working hours to fetch such material from a distance. And for the +food and clothing advanced, he takes security in land that as much shall +be returned at a convenient period. + +143. We may conceive this security to be redeemed, and the debt paid at +the end of a few years. The prudent peasant has sustained no loss; _but +is no richer than he was, and has had all his trouble for nothing_. But +he has enriched his neighbours materially; bettered their houses, +secured their land, and rendered them, in worldly matters, equal to +himself. In all rational and final sense, he has been throughout their +true Lord and King. + +144. We will next trace his probable line of conduct, presuming his +object to be exclusively the increase of his own fortune. After roughly +recovering and cleansing the ground, he allows the ruined peasantry only +to build huts upon it, such as he thinks protective enough from the +weather to keep them in working health. The rest of their time he +occupies, first in pulling down, and rebuilding on a magnificent scale, +his own house, and in adding large dependencies to it. This done, in +exchange for his continued supply of corn, he buys as much of his +neighbours' land as he thinks he can superintend the management of; and +makes the former owners securely embank and protect the ceded portion. +By this arrangement, he leaves to a certain number of the peasantry only +as much ground as will just maintain them in their existing numbers; as +the population increases, he takes the extra hands, who cannot be +maintained on the narrowed estates, for his own servants; employs some +to cultivate the ground he has bought, giving them of its produce merely +enough for subsistence; with the surplus, which, under his energetic and +careful superintendence, will be large, he maintains a train of servants +for state, and a body of workmen, whom he educates in ornamental arts. +He now can splendidly decorate his house, lay out its grounds +magnificently, and richly supply his table, and that of his household +and retinue. And thus, without any abuse of right, we should find +established all the phenomena of poverty and riches, which (it is +supposed necessarily) accompany modern civilization. In one part of the +district, we should have unhealthy land, miserable dwellings, and +half-starved poor; in another, a well-ordered estate, well-fed servants, +and refined conditions of highly educated and luxurious life. + +145. I have put the two cases in simplicity, and to some extremity. But +though in more complex and qualified operation, all the relations of +society are but the expansion of these two typical sequences of conduct +and result. I do not say, observe, that the first procedure is entirely +recommendable; or even entirely right; still less, that the second is +wholly wrong. Servants, and artists, and splendour of habitation and +retinue, have all their use, propriety, and office. But I am determined +that the reader shall understand clearly what they cost; and see that +the condition of having them is the subjection to us of a certain number +of imprudent or unfortunate persons (or, it may be, more fortunate than +their masters), over whose destinies we exercise a boundless control. +"Riches" mean eternally and essentially this; and God send at last a +time when those words of our best-reputed economist shall be true, and +we _shall_ indeed "all know what it is to be rich;"[85] that it is to +be slave-master over farthest earth, and over all ways and thoughts of +men. Every operative you employ is your true servant: distant or near, +subject to your immediate orders, or ministering to your +widely-communicated caprice,--for the pay he stipulates, or the price he +tempts,--all are alike under this great dominion of the gold. The +milliner who makes the dress is as much a servant (more so, in that she +uses more intelligence in the service) as the maid who puts it on; the +carpenter who smooths the door, as the footman who opens it; the +tradesmen who supply the table, as the labourers and sailors who supply +the tradesmen. Why speak of these lower services? Painters and singers +(whether of note or rhyme,) jesters and storytellers, moralists, +historians, priests,--so far as these, in any degree, paint, or sing, or +tell their tale, or charm their charm, or "perform" their rite, _for +pay_,--in so far, they are all slaves; abject utterly, if the service be +for pay only; abject less and less in proportion to the degrees of love +and of wisdom which enter into their duty, or _can_ enter into it, +according as their function is to do the bidding and the work of a manly +people;--or to amuse, tempt, and deceive, a childish one. + +146. There is always, in such amusement and temptation, to a certain +extent, a government of the rich by the poor, as of the poor by the +rich; but the latter is the prevailing and necessary one, and it +consists, when it is honourable, in the collection of the profits of +labour from those who would have misused them, and the administration of +those profits for the service either of the same persons in future, or +of others; and when it is dishonourable, as is more frequently the case +in modern times, it consists in the collection of the profits of labour +from those who would have rightly used them, and their appropriation to +the service of the collector himself. + +147. The examination of these various modes of collection and use of +riches will form the third branch of our future inquiries; but the key +to the whole subject lies in the clear understanding of the difference +between selfish and unselfish expenditure. It is not easy, by any +course of reasoning, to enforce this on the generally unwilling hearer; +yet the definition of unselfish expenditure is brief and simple. It is +expenditure which, if you are a capitalist, does not pay _you_, but pays +somebody else; and if you are a consumer, does not please _you_, but +pleases somebody else. Take one special instance, in further +illustration of the general type given above. I did not invent that +type, but spoke of a real river, and of real peasantry, the languid and +sickly race which inhabits, or haunts--for they are often more like +spectres than living men--the thorny desolation of the banks of the Arve +in Savoy. Some years ago, a society, formed at Geneva, offered to embank +the river for the ground which would have been recovered by the +operation; but the offer was refused by the (then Sardinian) government. +The capitalists saw that this expenditure would have "paid" if the +ground saved from the river was to be theirs. But if, when the offer +that had this aspect of profit was refused, they had nevertheless +persisted in the plan, and merely taking security for the return of +their outlay, lent the funds for the work, and thus saved a whole race +of human souls from perishing in a pestiferous fen (as, I presume, some +among them would, at personal risk, have dragged any one drowning +creature out of the current of the stream, and not expected payment +therefor), such expenditure would have precisely corresponded to the use +of his power made, in the first instance, by our supposed richer +peasant--it would have been the king's, of grace, instead of the +usurer's, for gain. + +148. "Impossible, absurd, Utopian!" exclaim nine-tenths of the few +readers whom these words may find. + +No, good reader, _this_ is not Utopian: but I will tell you what would +have seemed, if we had not seen it, Utopian on the side of evil instead +of good; that ever men should have come to value their money so much +more than their lives, that if you call upon them to become soldiers, +and take chance of a bullet through their heart, and of wife and +children being left desolate, for their pride's sake, they will do it +gaily, without thinking twice; but if you ask them, for their country's +sake, to spend a hundred pounds without security of getting back a +hundred-and-five,[86] they will laugh in your face. + +149. Not but that also this game of life-giving and taking is, in the +end, somewhat more costly than other forms of play might be. Rifle +practice is, indeed, a not unhealthy pastime, and a feather on the top +of the head is a pleasing appendage; but while learning the stops and +fingering of the sweet instrument, does no one ever calculate the cost +of an overture? What melody does Tityrus meditate on his tenderly spiral +pipe? The leaden seed of it, broadcast, true conical "Dents de Lion" +seed--needing less allowance for the wind than is usual with that kind +of herb--what crop are you likely to have of it? Suppose, instead of +this volunteer marching and countermarching, you were to do a little +volunteer ploughing and counter-ploughing? It is more difficult to do it +straight: the dust of the earth, so disturbed, is more grateful than for +merely rhythmic footsteps. Golden cups, also, given for good ploughing, +would be more suitable in colour: (ruby glass, for the wine which +"giveth his colour" on the ground, might be fitter for the rifle prize +in ladies' hands). Or, conceive a little volunteer exercise with the +spade, other than such as is needed for moat and breastwork, or even +for the burial of the fruit of the leaden avena-seed, subject to the +shrill Lemures' criticism-- + + Wer hat das Haus so schlecht gebauet? + +If you were to embank Lincolnshire more stoutly against the sea? or +strip the peat of Solway, or plant Plinlimmon moors with larch--then, in +due season, some amateur reaping and threshing? + + "Nay, we reap and thresh by steam, in these advanced days." + +I know it, my wise and economical friends. The stout arms God gave you +to win your bread by, you would fain shoot your neighbours, and God's +sweet singers with;[87] then you invoke the fiends to your farm-service; +and-- + + When young and old come forth to play + On a sulphurous holiday, + Tell how the darkling goblin sweat + (His feast of cinders duly set), + And, belching night, where breathed the morn, + His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn + That ten day-labourers could not end. + +150. Going back to the matter in hand, we will press the example closer. +On a green knoll above that plain of the Arve, between Cluse and +Bonneville, there was, in the year 1860, a cottage, inhabited by a +well-doing family--man and wife, three children, and the grandmother. I +call it a cottage, but in truth, it was a large chimney on the ground, +wide at the bottom, so that the family might live round the fire; +lighted by one small broken window, and entered by an unclosing door. +The family, I say, was "well-doing;" at least it was hopeful and +cheerful; the wife healthy, the children, for Savoyards, pretty and +active, but the husband threatened with decline, from exposure under the +cliffs of the Mont Vergi by day, and to draughts between every plank of +his chimney in the frosty nights. + +"Why could he not plaster the chinks?" asks the practical reader. For +the same reason that your child cannot wash its face and hands till you +have washed them many a day for it, and will not wash them when it can, +till you force it. + +151. I passed this cottage often in my walks, had its window and door +mended; sometimes mended also a little the meal of sour bread and broth, +and generally got kind greeting and smile from the face of young or old; +which greeting this year, narrowed itself into the half-recognizing +stare of the elder child, and the old woman's tears; for the father and +mother were both dead,--one of sickness, the other of sorrow. It +happened that I passed not alone, but with a companion, a practised +English joiner, who, while these people were dying of cold, had been +employed from six in the morning to six in the evening, for two months, +in fitting, without nails, the panels of a single door in a large house +in London. Three days of his work taken, at the right time from +fastening the oak panels with useless precision, and applied to fasten +the larch timbers with decent strength, would have saved these +Savoyards' lives. _He_ would have been maintained equally; (I suppose +him equally paid for his work by the owner of the greater house, only +the work not consumed selfishly on his own walls;) and the two peasants, +and eventually, probably their children, saved. + +152. There are, therefore,--let me finally enforce, and leave with the +reader, this broad conclusion,--three things to be considered in +employing any poor person. It is not enough to give him employment. You +must employ him first to produce useful things; secondly, of the several +(suppose equally useful) things he can equally well produce, you must +set him to make that which will cause him to lead the healthiest life; +lastly, of the things produced, it remains a question of wisdom and +conscience how much you are to take yourself, and how much to leave to +others. A large quantity, remember, unless you destroy it, _must_ always +be so left at one time or another; the only questions you have to decide +are, not _what_ you will give, but _when_, and _how_, and _to whom_, you +will give. The natural law of human life is, of course, that in youth a +man shall labour and lay by store for his old age, and when age comes, +shall use what he has laid by, gradually slackening his toil, and +allowing himself more frank use of his store; taking care always to +leave himself as much as will surely suffice for him beyond any possible +length of life. What he has gained, or by tranquil and unanxious toil +continues to gain, more than is enough for his own need, he ought so to +administer, while he yet lives, as to see the good of it again +beginning, in other hands; for thus he has himself the greatest sum of +pleasure from it, and faithfully uses his sagacity in its control. +Whereas most men, it appears, dislike the sight of their fortunes going +out into service again, and say to themselves,--"I can indeed nowise +prevent this money from falling at last into the hands of others, nor +hinder the good of it from becoming theirs, not mine; but at least let a +merciful death save me from being a witness of their satisfaction; and +may God so far be gracious to me as to let no good come of any of this +money of mine before my eyes." + +153. Supposing this feeling unconquerable, the safest way of rationally +indulging it would be for the capitalist at once to spend all his +fortune on himself, which might actually, in many cases, be quite the +rightest as well as the pleasantest thing to do, if he had just tastes +and worthy passions. But, whether for himself only, or through the +hands, and for the sake, of others also, the law of wise life is, that +the maker of the money shall also be the spender of it, and spend it, +approximately, all, before he dies; so that his true ambition as an +economist should be, to die, not as rich, but as poor, as possible,[88] +calculating the ebb tide of possession in true and calm proportion to +the ebb tide of life. Which law, checking the wing of accumulative +desire in the mid-volley,[89] and leading to peace of possession and +fulness of fruition in old age, is also wholesome, in that by the +freedom of gift, together with present help and counsel, it at once +endears and dignifies age in the sight of youth, which then no longer +strips the bodies of the dead, but receives the grace of the living. Its +chief use would (or will be, for men are indeed capable of attaining to +this much use of their reason), that some temperance and measure will be +put to the acquisitiveness of commerce.[90] For as things stand, a man +holds it his duty to be temperate in his food, and of his body, but for +no duty to be temperate in his riches, and of his mind. He sees that he +ought not to waste his youth and his flesh for luxury; but he will waste +his age, and his soul, for money, and think he does no wrong, nor know +the _delirium tremens_ of the intellect for disease. But the law of life +is, that a man should fix the sum he desires to make annually, as the +food he desires to eat daily; and stay when he has reached the limit, +refusing increase of business, and leaving it to others, so obtaining +due freedom of time for better thoughts.[91] How the gluttony of +business is punished, a bill of health for the principals of the richest +city houses, issued annually, would show in a sufficiently impressive +manner. + +154. I know, of course, that these statements will be received by the +modern merchant as an active border rider of the sixteenth century would +have heard of its being proper for men of the Marches to get their +living by the spade, instead of the spur. But my business is only to +state veracities and necessities; I neither look for the acceptance of +the one, nor hope for the nearness of the other. Near or distant, the +day _will_ assuredly come when the merchants of a state shall be its +true ministers of exchange, its porters, in the double sense of carriers +and gate-keepers, bringing all lands into frank and faithful +communication, and knowing for their master of guild, Hermes the herald, +instead of Mercury the gain-guarder. + +155. And now, finally, for immediate rule to all who will accept it. + +The distress of any population means that they need food, house-room, +clothes, and fuel. You can never, therefore, be wrong in employing any +labourer to produce food, house-room, clothes, or fuel; but you are +_always_ wrong if you employ him to produce nothing, (for then some +other labourer must be worked double time to feed him); and you are +generally wrong, at present, if you employ him (unless he can do nothing +else) to produce works of art or luxuries; because modern art is mostly +on a false basis, and modern luxury is criminally great.[92] + +156. The way to produce more food is mainly to bring in fresh ground, +and increase facilities of carriage;--to break rock, exchange earth, +drain the moist, and water the dry, to mend roads, and build harbours of +refuge. Taxation thus spent will annihilate taxation, but spent in war, +it annihilates revenue. + +157. The way to produce house-room is to apply your force first to the +humblest dwellings. When your brick-layers are out of employ, do not +build splendid new streets, but better the old ones; send your paviours +and slaters to the poorest villages, and see that your poor are +healthily lodged, before you try your hand on stately architecture. You +will find its stateliness rise better under the trowel afterwards; and +we do do not yet build so well that we need hasten to display our skill +to future ages. Had the labour which has decorated the Houses of +Parliament filled, instead, rents in walls and roofs throughout the +county of Middlesex; and our deputies met to talk within massive walls +that would have needed no stucco for five hundred years,--the decoration +might have been afterwards, and the talk now. And touching even our +highly conscientious church building, it may be well to remember that in +the best days of church plans, their masons called themselves "logeurs +du bon Dieu;" and that since, according to the most trusted reports, God +spends a good deal of His time in cottages as well as in churches, He +might perhaps like to be a little better lodged there also. + +158. The way to get more clothes is--not, necessarily, to get more +cotton. There were words written twenty years ago[93] which would have +saved many of us some shivering, had they been minded in time. Shall we +read them again? + +"The Continental people, it would seem, are importing our machinery, +beginning to spin cotton, and manufacture for themselves; to cut us out +of this market, and then out of that! Sad news, indeed; but +irremediable. By no means the saddest news--the saddest news, is that we +should find our national existence, as I sometimes hear it said, depend +on selling manufactured cotton at a farthing an ell cheaper than any +other people. A most narrow stand for a great nation to base itself on! +A stand which, with all the Corn-law abrogations conceivable, I do not +think will be capable of enduring. + +"My friends, suppose we quitted that stand; suppose we came honestly +down from it and said--'This is our minimum of cotton prices; we care +not, for the present, to make cotton any cheaper. Do you, if it seem so +blessed to you, make cotton cheaper. Fill your lungs with cotton fur, +your heart with copperas fumes, with rage and mutiny; become ye the +general gnomes of Europe, slaves of the lamp!' I admire a nation which +fancies it will die if it do not undersell all other nations to the end +of the world. Brothers, we will cease to undersell them; we will be +content to equal-sell them; to be happy selling equally with them! I do +not see the use of underselling them: cotton-cloth is already twopence a +yard, or lower; and yet bare backs were never more numerous among us. +Let inventive men cease to spend their existence incessantly contriving +how cotton can be made cheaper; and try to invent a little how cotton at +its present cheapness could be somewhat justlier divided among us. + +"Let inventive men consider--whether the secret of this universe does +after all consist in making money. With a hell which means--'failing to +make money,' I do not think there is any heaven possible that would suit +one well. In brief, all this Mammon gospel of supply-and-demand, +competition _laissez faire_, and devil take the hindmost (foremost, is +it not, rather, Mr. Carlyle?), 'begins to be one of the shabbiest +gospels ever preached.'" + +159. The way to produce more fuel[94] is first to make your coal mines +safer, by sinking more shafts; then set all your convicts to work in +them, and if, as is to be hoped, you succeed in diminishing the supply +of that sort of labourer, consider what means there may be, first, of +growing forest where its growth will improve climate; secondly, of +splintering the forests which now make continents of fruitful land +pathless and poisonous, into fagots for fire;--so gaining at once +dominion icewards and sunwards. Your steam power has been given (you +will find eventually) for work such as that: and not for excursion +trains, to give the labourer a moment's breath, at the peril of his +breath for ever, from amidst the cities which it has crushed into masses +of corruption. When you know how to build cities, and how to rule them, +you will be able to breathe in their streets, and the "excursion" will +be the afternoon's walk or game in the fields round them. + +160. "But nothing of this work will pay?" + +No; no more than it pays to dust your rooms, or wash your doorsteps. It +will pay; not at first in currency, but in that which is the end and the +source of currency,--in life; (and in currency richly afterwards). It +will pay in that which is more than life,--in light, whose true price +has not yet been reckoned in any currency, and yet into the image of +which, all wealth, one way or other, must be cast. For your riches must +either be as the lightning, which, + + Begot but in a cloud, + Though shining bright, and speaking loud, + Whilst it begins, concludes its violent race; + And, where it gilds, it wounds the place;-- + +or else, as the lightning of the sacred sign, which shines from one part +of the heaven to the other. There is no other choice; you must either +take dust for deity, spectre for possession, fettered dream for life, +and for epitaph, this reversed verse of the great Hebrew hymn of economy +(Psalm cxii.):--"He hath gathered together, he hath stripped the poor, +his iniquity remaineth for ever:"--or else, having the sun of justice to +shine on you, and the sincere substance of good in your possession, and +the pure law and liberty of life within you, leave men to write this +better legend over your grave:-- + +"He hath dispersed abroad. He hath given to the poor. His righteousness +remaineth for ever." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[78] In the present general examination, I concede so much to ordinary +economists as to ignore all _innocent_ poverty. I adapt my reasoning, +for once, to the modern English practical mind, by assuming poverty to +be always criminal; the conceivable exceptions we will examine +afterwards. + +[79] [I have no terms of English, and can find none in Greek nor Latin, +nor in any other strong language known to me, contemptuous enough to +attach to the bestial idiotism of the modern theory that wages are to be +measured by competition.] + +[80] I say nothing yet of the quality of the servants, which, +nevertheless, is the gist of the business. Will you have Paul Veronese +to paint your ceiling, or the plumber from over the way? Both will work +for the same money; Paul, if anything, a little the cheaper of the two, +if you keep him in good humour; only you have to discern him first, +which will need eyes. + +[81] [I have not altered a syllable in these three paragraphs, 137, 138, +139, on revision; but have much italicised: the principles stated being +as vital, as they are little known.] + +[82] By his art he may; but only when its produce, or the sight or +hearing of it, becomes a subject of dispute, so as to enable the artist +to tax the labour of multitudes highly, in exchange for his own. + +[83] [Observe this; the legal right to keep what you have worked for, +and use it as you please, is the corner-stone of all economy: compare +the end of Chap. II.] + +[84] [I should now put the time of necessary labour rather under than +over the third of the day.] + +[85] [See Preface to _Unto this Last_.] + +[86] I have not hitherto touched on the subject of interest of money; it +is too complex, and must be reserved for its proper place in the body of +the work. The definition of interest (apart from compensation for risk) +is, "the exponent of the comfort of accomplished labour, separated from +its power;" the power being what is lent: and the French economists who +have maintained the entire illegality of interest are wrong; yet by no +means so curiously or wildly wrong as the English and French ones +opposed to them, whose opinions have been collected by Dr. Whewell at +page 41 of his _Lectures_; it never seeming to occur to the mind of the +compiler, any more than to the writers whom he quotes, that it is quite +possible, and even (according to Jewish proverb) prudent, for men to +hoard as ants and mice do, for use, not usury; and lay by something for +winter nights, in the expectation of rather sharing than lending the +scrapings. My Savoyard squirrels would pass a pleasant time of it under +the snow-laden pine branches, if they always declined to economize +because no one would pay them interest on nuts. + +[I leave this note as it stood: but, as I have above stated, should now +side wholly with the French economists spoken of, in asserting the +absolute illegality of interest.] + +[87] Compare Chaucer's feeling respecting birds (from Canace's falcon, +to the nightingale, singing, "Domine, labia--" to the Lord of Love), +with the usual modern British sentiments on this subject. Or even +Cowley's:-- + + "What prince's choir of music can excel + That which within this shade does dwell, + To which we nothing pay, or give, + They, like all other poets, live + Without reward, or thanks for their obliging pains! + 'Tis well if they become not prey." + +Yes; it Is better than well; particularly since the seed sown by the +wayside has been protected by the peculiar appropriation of part of the +church-rates in our country parishes. See the remonstrance from a +"Country parson," in _The Times_ of June 4th (or 5th; the letter is +dated June 3rd,) 1862:--"I have heard at a vestry meeting a good deal of +higgling over a few shillings' outlay in cleaning the church; but I have +never heard any dissatisfaction expressed on account of that part of the +rate which is invested in 50 or 100 dozens of birds' heads." + +[If we could trace the innermost of all causes of modern war, I believe +it would be found, not in the avarice nor ambition of nations, but in +the mere idleness of the upper classes. They have nothing to do but to +teach the peasantry to kill each other.] + +[88] [See the _Life of Fenelon_. "The labouring peasantry were at all +times the objects of his tenderest care; his palace at Cambray, with all +his books and writings, being consumed by fire, he bore the misfortune +with unruffled calmness, and said it was better his palace should be +burnt than the cottage of a poor peasant." (These thoroughly good men +always go too far, and lose their power over the mass.) He died +exemplifying the mean he had always observed between prodigality and +avarice, leaving neither debts nor money.] + +[89] [Greek: kai penian hêgoumenous einai mê to tên ousian elattô poiein +alla to têi aplêstian pleiô]. "And thinking (wisely) that poverty +consists not in making one's possessions less, but one's avarice +more."--_Laws_, v. 8. Read the context, and compare. "He who spends for +all that is noble, and gains by nothing but what is just, will hardly be +notably wealthy, or distressfully poor."--_Laws_, v. 42. + +[90] The fury of modern trade arises chiefly out of the possibility of +making sudden fortunes by largeness of transaction, and accident of +discovery or contrivance. I have no doubt that the final interest of +every nation is to check the action of these commercial lotteries; and +that all great accidental gains or losses should be national,--not +individual. But speculation absolute, unconnected with commercial +effort, is an unmitigated evil in a state, and the root of countless +evils beside. + +[91] [I desire in the strongest terms to reinforce all that is contained +in this paragraph.] + +[92] It is especially necessary that the reader should keep his mind +fixed on the methods of consumption and destruction, as the true sources +of national poverty. Men are apt to call every exchange "expenditure," +but it is only consumption which is expenditure. A large number of the +purchases made by the richer classes are mere forms of interchange of +unused property, wholly without effect on national prosperity. It +matters nothing to the state whether, if a china pipkin be rated as +worth a hundred pounds, A has the pipkin and B the pounds, or A the +pounds and B the pipkin. But if the pipkin is pretty, and A or B breaks +it, there is national loss, not otherwise. So again, when the loss has +really taken place, no shifting of the shoulders that bear it will do +away with the reality of it. There is an intensely ludicrous notion in +the public mind respecting the abolishment of debt by denying it. When a +debt is denied, the lender loses instead of the borrower, that is all; +the loss is precisely, accurately, everlastingly the same. The Americans +borrow money to spend in blowing up their own houses. They deny their +debt, by one-third already [1863], gold being at fifty premium; and they +will probably deny it wholly. That merely means that the holders of the +notes are to be the losers instead of the issuers. The quantity of loss +is precisely equal, and irrevocable; it is the quantity of human +industry spent in effecting the explosion, plus the quantity of goods +exploded. Honour only decides _who_ shall pay the sum lost not whether +it is to be paid or not. Paid it must be, and to the uttermost farthing. + +[93] [(_Past and Present._ Chap. IX. of Third Section.) To think that +for these twenty--now twenty-six--years, this one voice of Carlyle's has +been the only faithful and useful utterance in all England, and has +sounded through all these years in vain! See _Fors Clavigera_, Letter +X.] + +[94] [We don't want to produce more fuel just now, but much less; and to +use what we get for cooking and warming ourselves, instead of for +running from place to place.] + + + + +APPENDICES. + + +I have brought together in these last pages a few notes, which were not +properly to be incorporated with the text, and which, at the bottom of +pages, checked the reader's attention to the main argument. They +contain, however, several statements to which I wish to be able to +refer, or have already referred, in other of my books, so that I think +right to preserve them. + + +APPENDIX I.--(p. 22.) + +The greatest of all economists are those most opposed to the doctrine of +"laissez faire," namely, the fortifying virtues, which the wisest men of +all time have arranged under the general heads of Prudence, or +Discretion (the spirit which discerns and adopts rightly); Justice (the +spirit which rules and divides rightly); Fortitude (the spirit which +persists and endures rightly); and Temperance (the spirit which stops +and refuses rightly). These cardinal and sentinel virtues are not only +the means of protecting and prolonging life itself, but they are the +chief guards, or sources, of the material means of life, and the +governing powers and princes of economy. Thus, precisely according to +the number of just men in a nation, is their power of avoiding either +intestine or foreign war. All disputes may be peaceably settled, if a +sufficient number of persons have been trained to submit to the +principles of justice, while the necessity for war is in direct ratio to +the number of unjust persons who are incapable of determining a quarrel +but by violence. Whether the injustice take the form of the desire of +dominion, or of refusal to submit to it, or of lust of territory, or +lust of money, or of mere irregular passion and wanton will, the result +is economically the same;--loss of the quantity of power and life +consumed in repressing the injustice, added to the material and moral +destruction caused by the fact of war. The early civil wars of England, +and the existing[95] war in America, are curious examples--these under +monarchical, this under republican, institutions--of the results on +large masses of nations of the want of education in principles of +justice. But the mere dread or distrust resulting from the want of the +inner virtues of Faith and Charity prove often no less costly than war +itself. The fear which France and England have of each other costs each +nation about fifteen millions sterling annually, besides various +paralyses of commerce; that sum being spent in the manufacture of means +of destruction instead of means of production. There is no more reason +in the nature of things that France and England should be hostile to +each other than that England and Scotland should be, or Lancashire and +Yorkshire; and the reciprocal terrors of the opposite sides of the +English Channel are neither more necessary, more economical, nor more +virtuous, than the old riding and reiving on the opposite flanks of the +Cheviots, or than England's own weaving for herself of crowns of thorn, +from the stems of her Red and White roses. + + +APPENDIX II.--(p. 34.) + +Few passages of the book which at least some part of the nations at +present most advanced in civilization accept as an expression of final +truth, have been more distorted than those bearing on Idolatry. For the +idolatry there denounced is neither sculpture, nor veneration of +sculpture. It is simply the substitution of an "Eidolon," phantasm, or +imagination of Good, for that which is real and enduring; from the +Highest Living Good, which gives life, to the lowest material good +which ministers to it. The Creator, and the things created, which He is +said to have "seen good" in creating, are in this their eternal goodness +appointed always to be "worshipped,"--_i. e._, to have goodness and +worth ascribed to them from the heart; and the sweep and range of +idolatry extend to the rejection of any or all of these, "calling evil +good, and good evil,--putting bitter for sweet, and sweet for +bitter."[96] For in that rejection and substitution we betray the first +of all Loyalties, to the fixed Law of life, and with resolute opposite +loyalty serve our own imagination of good, which is the law, not of the +House, but of the Grave, (otherwise called the law of "mark missing," +which we translate "law of Sin"); these "two masters," between whose +services we have to choose, being otherwise distinguished as God and +Mammon, which Mammon, though we narrowly take it as the power of +money only, is in truth the great evil Spirit of false and +fond desire, or "Covetousness, which is Idolatry." So that +Iconoclasm--_image_-breaking--is easy; but an Idol cannot be broken--it +must be forsaken; and this is not so easy, either to do, or persuade to +doing. For men may readily be convinced of the weakness of an image; but +not of the emptiness of an imagination. + + +APPENDIX III.--(p. 36.) + +I have not attempted to support, by the authority of other writers, any +of the statements made in these papers; indeed, if such authorities were +rightly collected, there would be no occasion for my writing at all. +Even in the scattered passages referring to this subject in three books +of Carlyle's--Sartor Resartus, Past and Present, and the Latter Day +Pamphlets,--all has been said that needs to be said, and far better than +I shall ever say it again. But the habit of the public mind at present +is to require everything to be uttered diffusely, loudly, and a hundred +times over, before it will listen; and it has revolted against these +papers of mine as if they contained things daring and new, when there +is not one assertion in them of which the truth has not been for ages +known to the wisest, and proclaimed by the most eloquent of men. It +would be [I had written _will_ be; but have now reached a time of life +for which there is but one mood--the conditional,] a far greater +pleasure to me hereafter, to collect their words than to add to mine; +Horace's clear rendering of the substance of the passages in the text +may be found room for at once, + + Si quis emat citharas, emptas comportet in unum + Nec studio citharae, nec Musae deditus ulli; + Si scalpra et formas non sutor, nautica vela + Aversus mercaturis, delirus et amens + Undique dicatur merito. Qui discrepat istis + Qui nummos aurumque recondit, nescius uti + Compositis; metuensque velut contingere sacrum? + +[Which may be roughly thus translated:-- + + "Were anybody to buy fiddles, and collect a number, being in + no wise given to fiddling, nor fond of music: or if, being + no cobbler, he collected awls and lasts, or, having no mind + for sea-adventure, bought sails, every one would call him a + madman, and deservedly. But what difference is there between + such a man and one who lays by coins and gold, and does not + know how to use, when he has got them?"] + +With which it is perhaps desirable also to give Xenophon's statement, it +being clearer than any English one can be, owing to the power of the +general Greek term for wealth, "useable things." + +[I have cut out the Greek because I can't be troubled to correct the +accents, and am always nervous about them; here it is in English, as +well as I can do it:-- + +"This being so, it follows that things are only property to the man who +knows how to use them; as flutes, for instance, are property to the man +who can pipe upon them respectably; but to one who knows not how to +pipe, they are no property, unless he can get rid of them +advantageously.... For if they are not sold, the flutes are no property +(being serviceable for nothing); but, sold, they become property. To +which Socrates made answer,--'and only then if he knows how to sell +them, for if he sell them to another man who cannot play on them, still +they are no property.'"] + + +APPENDIX IV.--(p. 39.) + +The reader is to include here in the idea of "Government," any branch of +the Executive, or even any body of private persons, entrusted with the +practical management of public interests unconnected directly with their +own personal ones. In theoretical discussions of legislative +interference with political economy, it is usually, and of course +unnecessarily, assumed that Government must be always of that form and +force in which we have been accustomed to see it;--that its abuses can +never be less, nor its wisdom greater, nor its powers more numerous. +But, practically, the custom in most civilized countries is, for every +man to deprecate the interference of Government as long as things tell +for his personal advantage, and to call for it when they cease to do so. +The request of the Manchester Economists to be supplied with cotton by +Government (the system of supply and demand having, for the time, fallen +sorrowfully short of the expectations of scientific persons from it), is +an interesting case in point. It were to be wished that less wide and +bitter suffering, suffering, too, of the innocent, had been needed to +force the nation, or some part of it, to ask itself why a body of men, +already confessedly capable of managing matters both military and +divine, should not be permitted, or even requested, at need, to provide +in some wise for sustenance as well as for defence; and secure, if it +might be,--(and it might, I think, even the _rather_ be),--purity of +bodily, as well as of spiritual, aliment? Why, having made many roads +for the passage of armies, may they not make a few for the conveyance of +food; and after organizing, with applause, various schemes of +theological instruction for the Public, organize, moreover, some +methods of bodily nourishment for them? Or is the soul so much less +trustworthy in its instincts than the stomach, that legislation is +necessary for the one, but inapplicable to the other. + + +APPENDIX V.--(p. 70.) + +I debated with myself whether to make the note on Homer longer by +examining the typical meaning of the shipwreck of Ulysses, and his +escape from Charybdis by help of her fig-tree; but as I should have had +to go on to the lovely myth of Leucothea's veil, and did not care to +spoil this by a hurried account of it, I left it for future examination; +and, three days after the paper was published, observed that the +reviewers, with their customary helpfulness, were endeavouring to throw +the whole subject back into confusion by dwelling on this single (as +they imagined) oversight. I omitted also a note on the sense of the word +[Greek: lygron], with respect to the pharmacy of Circe, and herb-fields +of Helen, (compare its use in Odyssey, xvii., 473, &c.), which would +farther have illustrated the nature of the Circean power. But, not to be +led too far into the subtleties of these myths, observe respecting them +all, that even in very simple parables, it is not always easy to attach +indisputable meaning to every part of them. I recollect some years ago, +throwing an assembly of learned persons who had met to delight +themselves with interpretations of the parable of the prodigal son, +(interpretations which had up to that moment gone very smoothly,) into +mute indignation, by inadvertently asking who the _un_prodigal son was, +and what was to be learned by _his_ example. The leading divine of the +company, Mr. Molyneux, at last explained to me that the unprodigal son +was a lay figure, put in for dramatic effect, to make the story +prettier, and that no note was to be taken of him. Without, however, +admitting that Homer put in the last escape of Ulysses merely to make +his story prettier, this is nevertheless true of all Greek myths, that +they have many opposite lights and shades; they are as changeful as +opal, and like opal, usually have one colour by reflected, and another +by transmitted light. But they are true jewels for all that, and full of +noble enchantment for those who can use them; for those who cannot, I am +content to repeat the words I wrote four years ago, in the appendix to +the _Two Paths_-- + +"The entire purpose of a great thinker may be difficult to fathom, and +we may be over and over again more or less mistaken in guessing at his +meaning; but the real, profound, nay, quite bottomless and unredeemable +mistake, is the fool's thought, that he had _no_ meaning." + + +APPENDIX VI.--(p. 84) + +The derivation of words is like that of rivers: there is one real +source, usually small, unlikely, and difficult to find, far up among the +hills; then, as the word flows on and comes into service, it takes in +the force of other words from other sources, and becomes quite another +word--often much more than one word, after the junction--a word as it +were of many waters, sometimes both sweet and bitter. Thus the whole +force of our English "charity" depends on the guttural in "charis" +getting confused with the c of the Latin "carus;" thenceforward +throughout the middle ages, the two ideas ran on together, and both got +confused with St. Paul's [Greek: agapê], which expresses a different +idea in all sorts of ways; our "charity" having not only brought in the +entirely foreign sense of alms-giving, but lost the essential sense of +contentment, and lost much more in getting too far away from the +"charis" of the final Gospel benedictions. For truly it is fine +Christianity we have come to, which, professing to expect the perpetual +grace or charity of its Founder, has not itself grace or charity enough +to hinder it from overreaching its friends in sixpenny bargains; and +which, supplicating evening and morning the forgiveness of its own +debts, goes forth at noon to take its fellow-servants by the throat, +saying,--not merely "Pay me that thou owest," but "Pay me that thou +owest me _not_." + +It is true that we sometimes wear Ophelia's rue with a difference, and +call it "Herb o' grace o' Sundays," taking consolation out of the +offertory with--"Look, what he layeth out; it shall be paid him again." +Comfortable words indeed, and good to set against the old royalty of +Largesse-- + + Whose moste joie was, I wis, + When that she gave, and said, "Have this." + +[I am glad to end, for this time, with these lovely words of Chaucer. We +have heard only too much lately of "Indiscriminate charity," with +implied reproval, not of the Indiscrimination merely, but of the Charity +also. We have partly succeeded in enforcing on the minds of the poor the +idea that it is disgraceful to receive; and are likely, without much +difficulty, to succeed in persuading not a few of the rich that it is +disgraceful to give. But the political economy of a great state makes +both giving and receiving graceful; and the political economy of true +religion interprets the saying that "it is more blessed to give than to +receive," not as the promise of reward in another life for mortified +selfishness in this, but as pledge of bestowal upon us of that sweet and +better nature, which does not mortify itself in giving.] + + _Brantwood, Coniston,_ + _5th October, 1871._ + + +THE END + +FOOTNOTES: + +[95] [Written in 1862. I little thought that when I next corrected my +type, the "existing" war best illustrative of the sentence would be +between Frenchmen in the Elysian Fields of Paris.] + +[96] Compare the close of the Fourth Lecture in _Aratra Pentelici_. + + + + +PRE-RAPHAELITISM + + To + FRANCIS HAWKSWORTH FAWKES, ESQ + OF FARNLEY + + THESE PAGES + WHICH OWE THEIR PRESENT FORM TO ADVANTAGES GRANTED + BY HIS KINDNESS + ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED + BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND + JOHN RUSKIN + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Eight years ago, in the close of the first volume of "Modern Painters," +I ventured to give the following advice to the young artists of +England:-- + +"They should go to nature in all singleness of heart, and walk with her +laboriously and trustingly, having no other thought but how best to +penetrate her meaning; rejecting nothing, selecting nothing, and +scorning nothing." Advice which, whether bad or good, involved infinite +labor and humiliation in the following it; and was therefore, for the +most part, rejected. + +It has, however, at last been carried out, to the very letter, by a +group of men who, for their reward, have been assailed with the most +scurrilous abuse which I ever recollect seeing issue from the public +press. I have, therefore, thought it due to them to contradict the +directly false statements which have been made respecting their works; +and to point out the kind of merit which, however deficient in some +respects, those works possess beyond the possibility of dispute. + + Denmark Hill, + + Aug. 1851. + + + + +PRE-RAPHAELITISM. + + +It may be proved, with much certainty, that God intends no man to live +in this world without working: but it seems to me no less evident that +He intends every man to be happy in his work. It is written, "in the +sweat of thy brow," but it was never written, "in the breaking of thine +heart," thou shalt eat bread; and I find that, as on the one hand, +infinite misery is caused by idle people, who both fail in doing what +was appointed for them to do, and set in motion various springs of +mischief in matters in which they should have had no concern, so on the +other hand, no small misery is caused by over-worked and unhappy people, +in the dark views which they necessarily take up themselves, and force +upon others, of work itself. Were it not so, I believe the fact of their +being unhappy is in itself a violation of divine law, and a sign of some +kind of folly or sin in their way of life. Now in order that people may +be happy in their work, these three things are needed: They must be fit +for it: They must not do too much of it: and they must have a sense of +success in it--not a doubtful sense, such as needs some testimony of +other people for its confirmation, but a sure sense, or rather +knowledge, that so much work has been done well, and fruitfully done, +whatever the world may say or think about it. So that in order that a +man may be happy, it is necessary that he should not only be capable of +his work, but a good judge of his work. + +The first thing then that he has to do, if unhappily his parents or +masters have not done it for him, is to find out what he is fit for. In +which inquiry a man may be very safely guided by his likings, if he be +not also guided by his pride. People usually reason in some such +fashion as this: "I don't seem quite fit for a head-manager in the firm +of ---- & Co., therefore, in all probability, I am fit to be Chancellor +of the Exchequer." Whereas, they ought rather to reason thus: "I don't +seem quite fit to be head-manager in the firm of ---- & Co., but I +daresay I might do something in a small green-grocery business; I used +to be a good judge of peas;" that is to say, always trying lower instead +of trying higher, until they find bottom: once well set on the ground, a +man may build up by degrees, safely, instead of disturbing every one in +his neighborhood by perpetual catastrophes. But this kind of humility is +rendered especially difficult in these days, by the contumely thrown on +men in humble employments. The very removal of the massy bars which once +separated one class of society from another, has rendered it tenfold +more shameful in foolish people's, i. e. in most people's eyes, to +remain in the lower grades of it, than ever it was before. When a man +born of an artisan was looked upon as an entirely different species of +animal from a man born of a noble, it made him no more uncomfortable or +ashamed to remain that different species of animal, than it makes a +horse ashamed to remain a horse, and not to become a giraffe. But now +that a man may make money, and rise in the world, and associate himself, +unreproached, with people once far above him, not only is the natural +discontentedness of humanity developed to an unheard-of extent, whatever +a man's position, but it becomes a veritable shame to him to remain in +the state he was born in, and everybody thinks it his _duty_ to try to +be a "gentleman." Persons who have any influence in the management of +public institutions for charitable education know how common this +feeling has become. Hardly a day passes but they receive letters from +mothers who want all their six or eight sons to go to college, and make +the grand tour in the long vacation, and who think there is something +wrong in the foundations of society, because this is not possible. Out +of every ten letters of this kind, nine will allege, as the reason of +the writers' importunity, their desire to keep their families in such +and such a "station of life." There is no real desire for the safety, +the discipline, or the moral good of the children, only a panic horror +of the inexpressibly pitiable calamity of their living a ledge or two +lower on the molehill of the world--a calamity to be averted at any cost +whatever, of struggle, anxiety, and shortening of life itself. I do not +believe that any greater good could be achieved for the country, than +the change in public feeling on this head, which might be brought about +by a few benevolent men, undeniably in the class of "gentlemen," who +would, on principle, enter into some of our commonest trades, and make +them honorable; showing that it was possible for a man to retain his +dignity, and remain, in the best sense, a gentleman, though part of his +time was every day occupied in manual labor, or even in serving +customers over a counter. I do not in the least see why courtesy, and +gravity, and sympathy with the feelings of others, and courage, and +truth, and piety, and what else goes to make up a gentleman's character, +should not be found behind a counter as well as elsewhere, if they were +demanded, or even hoped for, there. + +Let us suppose, then, that the man's way of life and manner of work have +been discreetly chosen; then the next thing to be required is, that he +do not over-work himself therein. I am not going to say anything here +about the various errors in our systems of society and commerce, which +appear (I am not sure if they ever do more than appear) to force us to +over-work ourselves merely that we may live; nor about the still more +fruitful cause of unhealthy toil--the incapability, in many men, of +being content with the little that is indeed necessary to their +happiness. I have only a word or two to say about one special cause of +over-work--the ambitious desire of doing great or clever things, and the +hope of accomplishing them by immense efforts: hope as vain as it is +pernicious; not only making men over-work themselves, but rendering all +the work they do unwholesome to them. I say it is a vain hope, and let +the reader be assured of this (it is a truth all-important to the best +interests of humanity). _No great intellectual thing was ever done by +great effort_; a great thing can only be done by a great man, and he +does it _without_ effort. Nothing is, at present, less understood by us +than this--nothing is more necessary to be understood. Let me try to say +it as clearly, and explain it as fully as I may. + +I have said no great _intellectual_ thing: for I do not mean the +assertion to extend to things moral. On the contrary, it seems to me +that just because we are intended, as long as we live, to be in a state +of intense moral effort, we are _not_ intended to be in intense physical +or intellectual effort. Our full energies are to be given to the soul's +work--to the great fight with the Dragon--the taking the kingdom of +heaven by force. But the body's work and head's work are to be done +quietly, and comparatively without effort. Neither limbs nor brain are +ever to be strained to their utmost; that is not the way in which the +greatest quantity of work is to be got out of them: they are never to be +worked furiously, but with tranquillity and constancy. We are to follow +the plough from sunrise to sunset, but not to pull in race-boats at the +twilight: we shall get no fruit of that kind of work, only disease of +the heart. + +How many pangs would be spared to thousands, if this great truth and law +were but once sincerely, humbly understood,--that if a great thing can +be done at all, it can be done easily; that, when it is needed to be +done, there is perhaps only one man in the world who can do it; but _he_ +can do it without any trouble--without more trouble, that is, than it +costs small people to do small things; nay, perhaps, with less. And yet +what truth lies more openly on the surface of all human phenomena? Is +not the evidence of Ease on the very front of all the greatest works in +existence? Do they not say plainly to us, not, "there has been a great +_effort_ here," but, "there has been a great _power_ here"? It is not +the weariness of mortality, but the strength of divinity, which we have +to recognise in all mighty things; and that is just what we now _never_ +recognise, but think that we are to do great things, by help of iron +bars and perspiration:--alas! we shall do nothing that way but lose some +pounds of our own weight. + +Yet, let me not be misunderstood, nor this great truth be supposed +anywise resolvable into the favorite dogma of young men, that they need +not work if they have genius. The fact is, that a man of genius is +always far more ready to work than other people, and gets so much more +good from the work that he does, and is often so little conscious of the +inherent divinity in himself, that he is very apt to ascribe all his +capacity to his work, and to tell those who ask how he came to be what +he is: "If I _am_ anything, which I much doubt, I made myself so merely +by labor." This was Newton's way of talking, and I suppose it would be +the general tone of men whose genius had been devoted to the physical +sciences. Genius in the Arts must commonly be more self-conscious, but +in whatever field, it will always be distinguished by its perpetual, +steady, well-directed, happy, and faithful labor in accumulating and +disciplining its powers, as well as by its gigantic, incommunicable +facility in exercising them. Therefore, literally, it is no man's +business whether he has genius or not: work he must, whatever he is, but +quietly and steadily; and the natural and unforced results of such work +will be always the things that God meant him to do, and will be his +best. No agonies nor heart-rendings will enable him to do any better. If +he be a great man, they will be great things; if a small man, small +things; but always, if thus peacefully done, good and right; always, if +restlessly and ambitiously done, false, hollow, and despicable. + +Then the third thing needed was, I said, that a man should be a good +judge of his work; and this chiefly that he may not be dependent upon +popular opinion for the manner of doing it, but also that he may have +the just encouragement of the sense of progress, and an honest +consciousness of victory: how else can he become + + "That awful independent on to-morrow, + Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile." + +I am persuaded that the real nourishment and help of such a feeling as +this is nearly unknown to half the workmen of the present day. For +whatever appearance of self-complacency there may be in their outward +bearing, it is visible enough, by their feverish jealousy of each +other, how little confidence they have in the sterling value of their +several doings. Conceit may puff a man up, but never prop him up; and +there is too visible distress and hopelessness in men's aspects to admit +of the supposition that they have any stable support of faith in +themselves. + +I have stated these principles generally, because there is no branch of +labor to which they do not apply: But there is one in which our +ignorance or forgetfulness of them has caused an incalculable amount of +suffering: and I would endeavor now to reconsider them with especial +reference to it,--the branch of the Arts. + +In general, the men who are employed in the Arts have freely chosen +their profession, and suppose themselves to have special faculty for it; +yet, as a body, they are not happy men. For which this seems to me the +reason, that they are expected, and themselves expect, to make their +bread _by being clever_--not by steady or quiet work; and are, +therefore, for the most part, trying to be clever, and so living in an +utterly false state of mind and action. + +This is the case, to the same extent, in no other profession or +employment. A lawyer may indeed suspect that, unless he has more wit +than those around him, he is not likely to advance in his profession; +but he will not be always thinking how he is to display his wit. He will +generally understand, early in his career, that wit must be left to take +care of itself, and that it is hard knowledge of law and vigorous +examination and collation of the facts of every case entrusted to him, +which his clients will mainly demand; this it is which he has to be paid +for; and this is healthy and measurable labor, payable by the hour. If +he happen to have keen natural perception and quick wit, these will come +into play in their due time and place, but he will not think of them as +his chief power; and if he have them not, he may still hope that +industry and conscientiousness may enable him to rise in his profession +without them. Again in the case of clergymen: that they are sorely +tempted to display their eloquence or wit, none who know their own +hearts will deny, but then they _know_ this to _be_ a temptation: they +never would suppose that cleverness was all that was to be expected from +them, or would sit down deliberately to write a clever sermon: even the +dullest or vainest of them would throw some veil over their vanity, and +pretend to some profitableness of purpose in what they did. They would +not openly ask of their hearers--Did you think my sermon ingenious, or +my language poetical? They would early understand that they were not +paid for being ingenious, nor called to be so, but to preach truth; that +if they happened to possess wit, eloquence, or originality, these would +appear and be of service in due time, but were not to be continually +sought after or exhibited: and if it should happen that they had them +not, they might still be serviceable pastors without them. + +Not so with the unhappy artist. No one expects any honest or useful work +of him; but every one expects him to be ingenious. Originality, +dexterity, invention, imagination, every thing is asked of him except +what alone is to be had for asking--honesty and sound work, and the due +discharge of his function as a painter. What function? asks the reader +in some surprise. He may well ask; for I suppose few painters have any +idea what their function is, or even that they have any at all. + +And yet surely it is not so difficult to discover. The faculties, which +when a man finds in himself, he resolves to be a painter, are, I +suppose, intenseness of observation and facility of imitation. The man +is created an observer and an imitator; and his function is to convey +knowledge to his fellow-men, of such things as cannot be taught +otherwise than ocularly. For a long time this function remained a +religious one: it was to impress upon the popular mind the reality of +the objects of faith, and the truth of the histories of Scripture, by +giving visible form to both. That function has now passed away, and none +has as yet taken its place. The painter has no profession, no purpose. +He is an idler on the earth, chasing the shadows of his own fancies. + +But he was never meant to be this. The sudden and universal Naturalism, +or inclination to copy ordinary natural objects, which manifested +itself among the painters of Europe, at the moment when the invention of +printing superseded their legendary labors, was no false instinct. It +was misunderstood and misapplied, but it came at the right time, and has +maintained itself through all kinds of abuse; presenting in the recent +schools of landscape, perhaps only the first fruits of its power. That +instinct was urging every painter in Europe at the same moment to his +true duty--_the faithful representation of all objects of historical +interest, or of natural beauty existent at the period_; representations +such as might at once aid the advance of the sciences, and keep faithful +record of every monument of past ages which was likely to be swept away +in the approaching eras of revolutionary change. + +The instinct came, as I said, exactly at the right moment; and let the +reader consider what amount and kind of general knowledge might by this +time have been possessed by the nations of Europe, had their painters +understood and obeyed it. Suppose that, after disciplining themselves so +as to be able to draw, with unerring precision, each the particular kind +of subject in which he most delighted, they had separated into two great +armies of historians and naturalists;--that the first had painted with +absolute faithfulness every edifice, every city, every battle-field, +every scene of the slightest historical interest, precisely and +completely rendering their aspect at the time; and that their +companions, according to their several powers, had painted with like +fidelity the plants and animals, the natural scenery, and the +atmospheric phenomena of every country on the earth--suppose that a +faithful and complete record were now in our museums of every building +destroyed by war, or time, or innovation, during these last 200 +years--suppose that each recess of every mountain chain of Europe had +been penetrated, and its rocks drawn with such accuracy that the +geologist's diagram was no longer necessary--suppose that every tree of +the forest had been drawn in its noblest aspect, every beast of the +field in its savage life--that all these gatherings were already in our +national galleries, and that the painters of the present day were +laboring, happily and earnestly, to multiply them, and put such means of +knowledge more and more within reach of the common people--would not +that be a more honorable life for them, than gaining precarious bread by +"bright effects?" They think not, perhaps. They think it easy, and +therefore contemptible, to be truthful; they have been taught so all +their lives. But it is not so, whoever taught it them. It is most +difficult, and worthy of the greatest men's greatest effort, to render, +as it should be rendered, the simplest of the natural features of the +earth; but also be it remembered, no man is confined to the simplest; +each may look out work for himself where he chooses, and it will be +strange if he cannot find something hard enough for him. The excuse is, +however, one of the lips only; for every painter knows that when he +draws back from the attempt to render nature as she is, it is oftener in +cowardice than in disdain. + +I must leave the reader to pursue this subject for himself; I have not +space to suggest to him the tenth part of the advantages which would +follow, both to the painter from such an understanding of his mission, +and to the whole people, in the results of his labor. Consider how the +man himself would be elevated: how content he would become, how earnest, +how full of all accurate and noble knowledge, how free from +envy--knowing creation to be infinite, feeling at once the value of what +he did, and yet the nothingness. Consider the advantage to the people; +the immeasurably larger interest given to art itself; the easy, +pleasurable, and perfect knowledge conveyed by it, in every subject; the +far greater number of men who might be healthily and profitably occupied +with it as a means of livelihood; the useful direction of myriads of +inferior talents, now left fading away in misery. Conceive all this, and +then look around at our exhibitions, and behold the "cattle pieces," and +"sea pieces," and "fruit pieces," and "family pieces;" the eternal brown +cows in ditches, and white sails in squalls, and sliced lemons in +saucers, and foolish faces in simpers;--and try to feel what we are, and +what we might have been. + +Take a single instance in one branch of archæology. Let those who are +interested in the history of religion consider what a treasure we should +now have possessed, if, instead of painting pots, and vegetables, and +drunken peasantry, the most accurate painters of the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries had been set to copy, line for line, the religious +and domestic sculpture on the German, Flemish, and French cathedrals and +castles; and if every building destroyed in the French or in any other +subsequent revolution, had thus been drawn in all its parts with the +same precision with which Gerard Douw or Mieris paint bas-reliefs of +Cupids. Consider, even now, what incalculable treasure is still left in +ancient bas-reliefs, full of every kind of legendary interest, of subtle +expression, of priceless evidence as to the character, feelings habits, +histories, of past generations, in neglected and shattered churches and +domestic buildings, rapidly disappearing over the whole of +Europe--treasure which, once lost, the labor of all men living cannot +bring back again; and then look at the myriads of men, with skill +enough, if they had but the commonest schooling, to record all this +faithfully, who are making their bread by drawing dances of naked women +from academy models, or idealities of chivalry fitted out with Wardour +Street armor, or eternal scenes from Gil Blas, Don Quixote, and the +Vicar of Wakefield, or mountain sceneries with young idiots of Londoners +wearing Highland bonnets and brandishing rifles in the foregrounds. Do +but think of these things in the breadth of their inexpressible +imbecility, and then go and stand before that broken bas-relief in the +southern gate of Lincoln Cathedral, and see if there is no fibre of the +heart in you that will break too. + +But is there to be no place left, it will be indignantly asked, for +imagination and invention, for poetical power, or love of ideal beauty? +Yes; the highest, the noblest place--that which these only can attain +when they are all used in the cause, and with the aid of truth. Wherever +imagination and sentiment are, they will either show themselves without +forcing, or, if capable of artificial development, the kind of training +which such a school of art would give them would be the best they could +receive. The infinite absurdity and failure of our present training +consists mainly in this, that we do not rank imagination and invention +high enough, and suppose that they _can_ be taught. Throughout every +sentence that I ever have written, the reader will find the same rank +attributed to these powers,--the rank of a purely divine gift, not to be +attained, increased, or in any wise modified by teaching, only in +various ways capable of being concealed or quenched. Understand this +thoroughly; know once for all, that a poet on canvas is exactly the same +species of creature as a poet in song, and nearly every error in our +methods of teaching will be done away with. For who among us now thinks +of bringing men up to be poets?--of producing poets by any kind of +general recipe or method of cultivation? Suppose even that we see in +youth that which we hope may, in its development, become a power of this +kind, should we instantly, supposing that we wanted to make a poet of +him, and nothing else, forbid him all quiet, steady, rational labor? +Should we force him to perpetual spinning of new crudities out of his +boyish brain, and set before him, as the only objects of his study, the +laws of versification which criticism has supposed itself to discover in +the works of previous writers? Whatever gifts the boy had, would much be +likely to come of them so treated? unless, indeed, they were so great as +to break through all such snares of falsehood and vanity, and build +their own foundation in spite of us; whereas if, as in cases numbering +millions against units, the natural gifts were too weak to do this, +could any thing come of such training but utter inanity and spuriousness +of the whole man? But if we had sense, should we not rather restrain and +bridle the first flame of invention in early youth, heaping material on +it as one would on the first sparks and tongues of a fire which we +desired to feed into greatness? Should we not educate the whole +intellect into general strength, and all the affections into warmth and +honesty, and look to heaven for the rest? This, I say, we should have +sense enough to do, in order to produce a poet in words: but, it being +required to produce a poet on canvas, what is our way of setting to +work? We begin, in all probability, by telling the youth of fifteen or +sixteen, that Nature is full of faults, and that he is to improve her; +but that Raphael is perfection, and that the more he copies Raphael the +better; that after much copying of Raphael, he is to try what he can do +himself in a Raphaelesque, but yet original, manner: that is to say, he +is to try to do something very clever, all out of his own head, but yet +this clever something is to be properly subjected to Raphaelesque rules, +is to have a principal light occupying one-seventh of its space, and a +principle shadow occupying one-third of the same; that no two people's +heads in the picture are to be turned the same way, and that all the +personages represented are to possess ideal beauty of the highest order, +which ideal beauty consists partly in a Greek outline of nose, partly in +proportions expressible in decimal fractions between the lips and chin; +but partly also in that degree of improvement which the youth of sixteen +is to bestow upon God's work in general. This I say is the kind of +teaching which through various channels, Royal Academy lecturings, press +criticisms, public enthusiasm, and not least by solid weight of gold, we +give to our young men. And we wonder we have no painters! + +But we do worse than this. Within the last few years some sense +of the real tendency of such teaching has appeared in some of +our younger painters. It only _could_ appear in the younger ones, +our older men having become familiarised with the false system, +or else having passed through it and forgotten it, not well knowing +the degree of harm they had sustained. This sense appeared, among our +youths,--increased,--matured into resolute action. Necessarily, to exist +at all, it needed the support both of strong instincts and of +considerable self-confidence, otherwise it must at once have been borne +down by the weight of general authority and received canon law. Strong +instincts are apt to make men strange, and rude; self-confidence, +however well founded, to give much of what they do or say the appearance +of impertinence. Look at the self-confidence of Wordsworth, stiffening +every other sentence of his prefaces into defiance; there is no more of +it than was needed to enable him to do his work, yet it is not a little +ungraceful here and there. Suppose this stubbornness and self-trust in +a youth, laboring in an art of which the executive part is confessedly +to be best learnt from masters, and we shall hardly wonder that much of +his work has a certain awkwardness and stiffness in it, or that he +should be regarded with disfavor by many, even the most temperate, of +the judges trained in the system he was breaking through, and with utter +contempt and reprobation by the envious and the dull. Consider, farther, +that the particular system to be overthrown was, in the present case, +one of which the main characteristic was the pursuit of beauty at the +expense of manliness and truth; and it will seem likely, _à priori_, +that the men intended successfully to resist the influence of such a +system should be endowed with little natural sense of beauty, and thus +rendered dead to the temptation it presented. Summing up these +conditions, there is surely little cause for surprise that pictures +painted, in a temper of resistance, by exceedingly young men, of +stubborn instincts and positive self-trust, and with little natural +perception of beauty, should not be calculated, at the first glance, to +win us from works enriched by plagiarism, polished by convention, +invested with all the attractiveness of artificial grace, and +recommended to our respect by established authority. + +We should, however, on the other hand, have anticipated, that in +proportion to the strength of character required for the effort, and to +the absence of distracting sentiments, whether respect for precedent, or +affection for ideal beauty, would be the energy exhibited in the pursuit +of the special objects which the youths proposed to themselves, and +their success in attaining them. + +All this has actually been the case, but in a degree which it would have +been impossible to anticipate. That two youths, of the respective ages +of eighteen and twenty, should have conceived for themselves a totally +independent and sincere method of study, and enthusiastically persevered +in it against every kind of dissuasion and opposition, is strange +enough; that in the third or fourth year of their efforts they should +have produced works in many parts not inferior to the best of Albert +Durer, this is perhaps not less strange. But the loudness and +universality of the howl which the common critics of the press have +raised against them, the utter absence of all generous help or +encouragement from those who can both measure their toil and appreciate +their success, and the shrill, shallow laughter of those who can do +neither the one nor the other,--these are strangest of all--unimaginable +unless they had been experienced. + +And as if these were not enough, private malice is at work against them, +in its own small, slimy way. The very day after I had written my second +letter to the Times in the defence of the Pre-Raphaelites, I received an +anonymous letter respecting one of them, from some person apparently +hardly capable of spelling, and about as vile a specimen of petty +malignity as ever blotted paper. I think it well that the public should +know this, and so get some insight into the sources of the spirit which +is at work against these men--how first roused it is difficult to say, +for one would hardly have thought that mere eccentricity in young +artists could have excited an hostility so determined and so +cruel;--hostility which hesitated at no assertion, however impudent. +That of the "absence of perspective" was one of the most curious pieces +of the hue and cry which began with the Times, and died away in feeble +maundering in the Art Union; I contradicted it in the Times--I here +contradict it directly for the second time. There was not a single error +in perspective in three out of the four pictures in question. But if +otherwise, would it have been anything remarkable in them? I doubt, if +with the exception of the pictures of David Roberts, there were one +architectural drawing in perspective on the walls of the Academy; I +never met but with two men in my life who knew enough of perspective to +draw a Gothic arch in a retiring plane, so that its lateral dimensions +and curvatures might be calculated to scale from the drawing. Our +architects certainly do not, and it was but the other day that, talking +to one of the most distinguished among them, the author of several most +valuable works, I found he actually did not know how to draw a circle in +perspective. And in this state of general science our writers for the +press take it upon them to tell us, that the forest trees in Mr. Hunt's +_Sylvia_, and the bunches of lilies in Mr. Collins's _Convent Thoughts_, +are out of perspective.[97] + +It might not, I think, in such circumstances, have been ungraceful or +unwise in the Academicians themselves to have defended their young +pupils, at least by the contradiction of statements directly false +respecting them,[98] and the direction of the mind and sight of the +public to such real merit as they possess. If Sir Charles Eastlake, +Mulready, Edwin and Charles Landseer, Cope, and Dyce would each of them +simply state their own private opinion respecting their paintings, sign +it and publish it, I believe the act would be of more service to English +art than any thing the Academy has done since it was founded. But as I +cannot hope for this, I can only ask the public to give their pictures +careful examination, and look at them at once with the indulgence and +the respect which I have endeavored to show they deserve. + +Yet let me not be misunderstood. I have adduced them only as examples of +the kind of study which I would desire to see substituted for that of +our modern schools, and of singular success in certain characters, +finish of detail, and brilliancy of color. What faculties, higher than +imitative, may be in these men, I do not yet venture to say; but I do +say that if they exist, such faculties will manifest themselves in due +time all the more forcibly because they have received training so +severe. + +For it is always to be remembered that no one mind is like another, +either in its powers or perceptions; and while the main principles of +training must be the same for all, the result in each will be as various +as the kinds of truth which each will apprehend; therefore, also, the +modes of effort, even in men whose inner principles and final aims are +exactly the same. Suppose, for instance, two men, equally honest, +equally industrious, equally impressed with a humble desire to render +some part of what they saw in nature faithfully; and, otherwise trained +in convictions such as I have above endeavored to induce. But one of +them is quiet in temperament, has a feeble memory, no invention, and +excessively keen sight. The other is impatient in temperament, has a +memory which nothing escapes, an invention which never rests, and is +comparatively near-sighted. + +Set them both free in the same field in a mountain valley. One sees +everything, small and large, with almost the same clearness; mountains +and grasshoppers alike; the leaves on the branches, the veins in the +pebbles, the bubbles in the stream: but he can remember nothing, and +invent nothing. Patiently he sets himself to his mighty task; abandoning +at once all thoughts of seizing transient effects, or giving general +impressions of that which his eyes present to him in microscopical +dissection, he chooses some small portion out of the infinite scene, and +calculates with courage the number of weeks which must elapse before he +can do justice to the intensity of his perceptions, or the fulness of +matter in his subject. + +Meantime, the other has been watching the change of the clouds, and the +march of the light along the mountain sides; he beholds the entire scene +in broad, soft masses of true gradation, and the very feebleness of his +sight is in some sort an advantage to him, in making him more sensible +of the aërial mystery of distance, and hiding from him the multitudes of +circumstances which it would have been impossible for him to represent. +But there is not one change in the casting of the jagged shadows along +the hollows of the hills, but it is fixed on his mind for ever; not a +flake of spray has broken from the sea of cloud about their bases, but +he has watched it as it melts away, and could recall it to its lost +place in heaven by the slightest effort of his thoughts. Not only so, +but thousands and thousands of such images, of older scenes, remain +congregated in his mind, each mingling in new associations with those +now visibly passing before him, and these again confused with other +images of his own ceaseless, sleepless imagination, flashing by in +sudden troops. Fancy how his paper will be covered with stray symbols +and blots, and undecipherable shorthand:--as for his sitting down to +"draw from Nature," there was not one of the things which he wished to +represent that stayed for so much as five seconds together: but none of +them escaped, for all that: they are sealed up in that strange +storehouse of his; he may take one of them out, perhaps, this day twenty +years, and paint it in his dark room, far away. Now, observe, you may +tell both of these men, when they are young, that they are to be honest, +that they have an important function, and that they are not to care what +Raphael did. This you may wholesomely impress on them both. But fancy +the exquisite absurdity of expecting either of them to possess any of +the qualities of the other. + +I have supposed the feebleness of sight in the last, and of invention in +the first painter, that the contrast between them might be more +striking; but, with very slight modification, both the characters are +real. Grant to the first considerable inventive power, with exquisite +sense of color; and give to the second, in addition to all his other +faculties, the eye of an eagle; and the first is John Everett Millais, +the second Joseph Mallard William Turner. + +They are among the few men who have defied all false teaching, and have, +therefore, in great measure, done justice to the gifts with which they +were entrusted. They stand at opposite poles, marking culminating points +of art in both directions; between them, or in various relations to +them, we may class five or six more living artists who, in like manner, +have done justice to their powers. I trust that I may be pardoned for +naming them, in order that the reader may know how the strong innate +genius in each has been invariably accompanied with the same humility, +earnestness, and industry in study. + +It is hardly necessary to point out the earnestness or humility in the +works of William Hunt; but it may be so to suggest the high value they +possess as records of English rural life, and _still_ life. Who is there +who for a moment could contend with him in the unaffected, yet humorous +truth with which he has painted our peasant children? Who is there who +does not sympathize with him in the simple love with which he dwells on +the brightness and bloom of our summer fruit and flowers? And yet there +is something to be regretted concerning him: why should he be allowed +continually to paint the same bunches of hot-house grapes, and supply +to the Water Color Society a succession of pineapples with the +regularity of a Covent Garden fruiterer? He has of late discovered that +primrose banks are lovely; but there are other things grow wild besides +primroses: what undreamt-of loveliness might he not bring back to us, if +he would lose himself for a summer in Highland foregrounds; if he would +paint the heather as it grows, and the foxglove and the harebell as they +nestle in the clefts of the rocks, and the mosses and bright lichens of +the rocks themselves. And then, cross to the Jura, and bring back a +piece of Jura pasture in spring; with the gentians in their earliest +blue, and the soldanelle beside the fading snow! And return again, and +paint a gray wall of Alpine crag, with budding roses crowning it like a +wreath of rubies. That is what he was meant to do in this world; not to +paint bouquets in china vases. + +I have in various other places expressed my sincere respect for the +works of Samuel Prout: his shortness of sight has necessarily prevented +their possessing delicacy of finish or fulness of minor detail; but I +think that those of no other living artist furnish an example so +striking of innate and special instinct, sent to do a particular work at +the exact and only period when it was possible. At the instant when +peace had been established all over Europe, but when neither national +character nor national architecture had as yet been seriously changed by +promiscuous intercourse or modern "improvement;" when, however, nearly +every ancient and beautiful building had been long left in a state of +comparative neglect, so that its aspect of partial ruinousness, and of +separation from recent active life, gave to every edifice a peculiar +interest--half sorrowful, half sublime;--at that moment Prout was +trained among the rough rocks and simple cottages of Cornwall, until his +eye was accustomed to follow with delight the rents and breaks, and +irregularities which, to another man, would have been offensive; and +then, gifted with infinite readiness in composition, but also with +infinite affection for the kind of subjects he had to portray, he was +sent to preserve, in an almost innumerable series of drawings, _every +one made on the spot_, the aspect borne, at the beginning of the +nineteenth century, by cities which, in a few years more, rekindled +wars, or unexpected prosperities, were to ravage, or renovate, into +nothingness. + +It seems strange to pass from Prout to John Lewis; but there is this +fellowship between them, that both seem to have been intended to +appreciate the characters of foreign countries more than of their +own--nay, to have been born in England chiefly that the excitement of +strangeness might enhance to them the interest of the scenes they had to +represent. I believe John Lewis to have done more entire justice to all +his powers (and they are magnificent ones) than any other man amongst +us. His mission was evidently to portray the comparatively animal life +of the southern and eastern families of mankind. For this he was +prepared in a somewhat singular way--by being led to study, and endowed +with altogether peculiar apprehension of, the most sublime characters of +animals themselves. Rubens, Rembrandt, Snyders, Tintoret, and Titian, +have all, in various ways, drawn wild beasts magnificently; but they +have in some sort humanized or demonized them, making them either +ravenous fiends or educated beasts, that would draw cars, and had +respect for hermits. The sullen isolation of the brutal nature; the +dignity and quietness of the mighty limbs; the shaggy mountainous power, +mingled with grace, as of a flowing stream; the stealthy restraint of +strength and wrath in every soundless motion of the gigantic frame; all +this seems never to have been seen, much less drawn, until Lewis drew +and himself engraved a series of animal subjects, now many years ago. +Since then, he has devoted himself to the portraiture of those European +and Asiatic races, among whom the refinements of civilization exist +without its laws or its energies, and in whom the fierceness, indolence, +and subtlety of animal nature are associated with brilliant imagination +and strong affections. To this task he has brought not only intense +perception of the kind of character, but powers of artistical +composition like those of the great Venetians, displaying, at the same +time, a refinement of drawing almost miraculous, and appreciable only, +as the minutiæ of nature itself are appreciable, by the help of the +microscope. The value, therefore, of his works, as records of the aspect +of the scenery and inhabitants of the south of Spain and of the East, in +the earlier part of the nineteenth century, is quite above all estimate. + +I hardly know how to speak of Mulready: in delicacy and completion of +drawing, and splendor of color, he takes place beside John Lewis and the +pre-Raphaelites; but he has, throughout his career, displayed no +definiteness in choice of subject. He must be named among the painters +who have studied with industry, and have made themselves great by doing +so; but having obtained a consummate method of execution, he has thrown +it away on subjects either altogether uninteresting, or above his +powers, or unfit for pictorial representation. "The Cherry Woman," +exhibited in 1850, may be named as an example of the first kind; the +"Burchell and Sophia" of the second (the character of Sir William +Thornhill being utterly missed); the "Seven Ages" of the third; for this +subject cannot be painted. In the written passage, the thoughts are +progressive and connected; in the picture they must be co-existent, and +yet separate; nor can all the characters of the ages be rendered in +painting at all. One may represent the soldier at the cannon's mouth, +but one cannot paint the "bubble reputation" which he seeks. Mulready, +therefore, while he has always produced exquisite pieces of painting, +has failed in doing anything which can be of true or extensive use. He +has, indeed, understood how to discipline his genius, but never how to +direct it. + +Edwin Landseer is the last painter but one whom I shall name: I need not +point out to any one acquainted with his earlier works, the labor, or +watchfulness of nature which they involve, nor need I do more than +allude to the peculiar faculties of his mind. It will at once be granted +that the highest merits of his pictures are throughout found in those +parts of them which are least like what had before been accomplished; +and that it was not by the study of Raphael that he attained his eminent +success, but by a healthy love of Scotch terriers. + +None of these painters, however, it will be answered, afford examples +of the rise of the highest imaginative power out of close study of +matters of fact. Be it remembered, however, that the imaginative power, +in its magnificence, is not to be found every day. Lewis has it in no +mean degree; but we cannot hope to find it at its highest more than once +in an age. We _have_ had it once, and must be content. + +Towards the close of the last century, among the various drawings +executed, according to the quiet manner of the time, in greyish blue, +with brown foregrounds, some began to be noticed as exhibiting rather +more than ordinary diligence and delicacy, signed W. Turner.[99] There +was nothing, however, in them at all indicative of genius, or even of +more than ordinary talent, unless in some of the subjects a large +perception of space, and excessive clearness and decision in the +arrangement of masses. Gradually and cautiously the blues became mingled +with delicate green, and then with gold; the browns in the foreground +became first more positive, and then were slightly mingled with other +local colors; while the touch, which had at first been heavy and broken, +like that of the ordinary drawing masters of the time, grew more and +more refined and expressive, until it lost itself in a method of +execution often too delicate for the eye to follow, rendering, with a +precision before unexampled, both the texture and the form of every +object. The style may be considered as perfectly formed about the year +1800, and it remained unchanged for twenty years. + +During that period the painter had attempted, and with more or less +success had rendered, every order of landscape subject, but always on +the same principle, subduing the colors of nature into a harmony of +which the key-notes are greyish green and brown; pure blues and delicate +golden yellows being admitted in small quantity, as the lowest and +highest limits of shade and light: and bright local colors in extremely +small quantity in figures or other minor accessories. + +Pictures executed on such a system are not, properly speaking, works in +_color_ at all; they are studies of light and shade, in which both the +shade and the distance are rendered in the general hue which best +expresses their attributes of coolness and transparency; and the lights +and the foreground are executed in that which best expresses their +warmth and solidity. This advantage may just as well be taken as not, in +studies of light and shadow to be executed with the hand: but the use of +two, three, or four colors, always in the same relations and places, +does not in the least constitute the work a study of color, any more +than the brown engravings of the Liber Studiorum; nor would the idea of +color be in general more present to the artist's mind, when he was at +work on one of these drawings, than when he was using pure brown in the +mezzotint engraving. But the idea of space, warmth, and freshness being +not successfully expressible in a single tint, and perfectly expressible +by the admission of three or four, he allows himself this advantage when +it is possible, without in the least embarrassing himself with the +actual color of the objects to be represented. A stone in the fore +ground might in nature have been cold grey, but it will be drawn +nevertheless of a rich brown, because it is in the foreground; a hill in +the distance might in nature be purple with heath, or golden with furze; +but it will be drawn nevertheless of a cool grey, because it is in the +distance. + +This at least was the general theory,--carried out with great severity +in many, both of the drawings and pictures executed by him during the +period: in others more or less modified by the cautious introduction of +color, as the painter felt his liberty increasing; for the system was +evidently never considered as final, or as anything more than a means of +progress: the conventional, easily manageable color, was visibly +adopted, only that his mind might be at perfect liberty to address +itself to the acquirement of the first and most necessary knowledge in +all art--that of form. But as form, in landscape, implies vast bulk and +space, the use of the tints which enabled him best to express them, was +actually auxiliary to the mere drawing; and, therefore, not only +permissible, but even necessary, while more brilliant or varied tints +were never indulged in, except when they might be introduced without +the slightest danger of diverting his mind for an instant from his +principal object. And, therefore, it will be generally found in the +works of this period, that exactly in proportion to the importance and +general toil of the composition, is the severity of the tint; and that +the play of color begins to show itself first in slight and small +drawings, where he felt that he could easily secure all that he wanted +in form. + +Thus the "Crossing the Brook," and such other elaborate and large +compositions, are actually painted in nothing but grey, brown, and blue, +with a point or two of severe local color in the figures; but in the +minor drawings, tender passages of complicated color occur not +unfrequently in easy places; and even before the year 1800 he begins to +introduce it with evident joyfulness and longing in his rude and simple +studies, just as a child, if it could be supposed to govern itself by a +fully developed intellect, would cautiously, but with infinite pleasure, +add now and then a tiny dish of fruit or other dangerous luxury to the +simple order of its daily fare. Thus, in the foregrounds of his most +severe drawings, we not unfrequently find him indulging in the luxury of +a peacock; and it is impossible to express the joyfulness with which he +seems to design its graceful form, and deepen with soft pencilling the +bloom of its blue, after he has worked through the stern detail of his +almost colorless drawing. A rainbow is another of his most frequently +permitted indulgences; and we find him very early allowing the edges of +his evening clouds to be touched with soft rose-color or gold; while, +whenever the hues of nature in anywise fall into his system, and can be +caught without a dangerous departure from it, he instantly throws his +whole soul into the faithful rendering of them. Thus the usual brown +tones of his foreground become warmed into sudden vigor, and are varied +and enhanced with indescribable delight, when he finds himself by the +shore of a moorland stream, where they truly express the stain of its +golden rocks, and the darkness of its clear, Cairngorm-like pools, and +the usual serenity of his aërial blue is enriched into the softness and +depth of the sapphire, when it can deepen the distant slumber of some +Highland lake, or temper the gloomy shadows of the evening upon its +hills. + +The system of his color being thus simplified, he could address all the +strength of his mind to the accumulation of facts of form; his choice of +subject, and his methods of treatment, are therefore as various as his +color is simple; and it is not a little difficult to give the reader who +is unacquainted with his works, an idea either of their infinitude of +aims, on the one hand, or of the kind of feeling which prevades them +all, on the other. No subject was too low or too high for him; we find +him one day hard at work on a cock and hen, with their family of +chickens in a farm-yard; and bringing all the refinement of his +execution into play to express the texture of the plumage; next day, he +is drawing the Dragon of Colchis. One hour he is much interested in a +gust of wind blowing away an old woman's cap; the next he is painting +the fifth plague of Egypt. Every landscape painter before him had +acquired distinction by confining his efforts to one class of subject. +Hobbima painted oaks; Ruysdael, waterfalls and copses; Cuyp, river or +meadow scenes in quiet afternoons; Salvator and Poussin, such kind of +mountain scenery as people could conceive, who lived in towns in the +seventeenth century. But I am well persuaded that if all the works of +Turner, up to the year 1820, were divided into classes (as he has +himself divided them in the Liber Studiorum), no preponderance could be +assigned to one class over another. There is architecture, including a +large number of formal "gentlemen's seats," I suppose drawings +commissioned by the owners; then lowland pastoral scenery of every kind, +including nearly all farming operations,--ploughing, harrowing, hedging +and ditching, felling trees, sheep-washing, and I know not what else; +then all kinds of town life--court-yards of inns, starting of mail +coaches, interiors of shops, house-buildings, fairs, elections, &c.; +then all kinds of inner domestic life--interiors of rooms, studies of +costumes, of still life, and heraldry, including multitudes of +symbolical vignettes; then marine scenery of every kind, full of local +incident; every kind of boat and method of fishing for particular fish, +being specifically drawn, round the whole coast of England;--pilchard +fishing at St. Ives, whiting fishing at Margate, herring at Loch Fyne; +and all kinds of shipping, including studies of every separate part of +the vessels, and many marine battle-pieces, two in particular of +Trafalgar, both of high importance,--one of the Victory after the +battle, now in Greenwich Hospital; another of the Death of Nelson, in +his own gallery; then all kinds of mountain scenery, some idealised into +compositions, others of definite localities; together with classical +compositions, Romes and Carthages and such others, by the myriad, with +mythological, historical, or allegorical figures,--nymphs, monsters, and +spectres; heroes and divinities.[100] + +What general feeling, it may be asked incredulously, can possibly +pervade all this? This, the greatest of all feelings--an utter +forgetfulness of self. Throughout the whole period with which we are at +present concerned, Turner appears as a man of sympathy absolutely +infinite--a sympathy so all-embracing, that I know nothing but that of +Shakespeare comparable with it. A soldier's wife resting by the roadside +is not beneath it; Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, watching the dead +bodies of her sons, not above it. Nothing can possibly be so mean as +that it will not interest his whole mind, and carry away his whole +heart; nothing so great or solemn but that he can raise himself into +harmony with it; and it is impossible to prophesy of him at any moment, +whether, the next, he will be in laughter or in tears. + +This is the root of the man's greatness; and it follows as a matter of +course that this sympathy must give him a subtle power of expression, +even of the characters of mere material things, such as no other painter +ever possessed. The man who can best feel the difference between +rudeness and tenderness in humanity, perceives also more difference +between the branches of an oak and a willow than any one else would; and +therefore, necessarily the most striking character of the drawings +themselves is the speciality of whatever they represent--the thorough +stiffness of what is stiff, and grace of what is graceful, and vastness +of what is vast; but through and beyond all this, the condition of the +mind of the painter himself is easily enough discoverable by comparison +of a large number of the drawings. It is singularly serene and peaceful: +in itself quite passionless, though entering with ease into the external +passion which it contemplates. By the effort of its will it sympathises +with tumult or distress, even in their extremes, but there is no tumult, +no sorrow in itself, only a chastened and exquisitely peaceful +cheerfulness, deeply meditative; touched without loss of its own perfect +balance, by sadness on the one side, and stooping to playfulness upon +the other. I shall never cease to regret the destruction, by fire, now +several years ago, of a drawing which always seemed to me to be the +perfect image of the painter's mind at this period,--the drawing of +Brignal Church near Rokeby, of which a feeble idea may still be gathered +from the engraving (in the Yorkshire series). The spectator stands on +the "Brignal banks," looking down into the glen at twilight; the sky is +still full of soft rays, though the sun is gone; and the Greta glances +brightly in the valley, singing its evening-song; two white clouds, +following each other, move without wind through the hollows of the +ravine, and others lie couched on the far away moorlands; every leaf of +the woods is still in the delicate air; a boy's kite, incapable of +rising, has become entangled in their branches, he is climbing to +recover it; and just behind it in the picture, almost indicated by it, +the lowly church is seen in its secluded field between the rocks and the +stream; and around it the low churchyard wall, and the few white stones +which mark the resting places of those who can climb the rocks no more, +nor hear the river sing as it passes. + +There are many other existing drawings which indicate the same character +of mind, though I think none so touching or so beautiful; yet they are +not, as I said above, more numerous than those which express his +sympathy with sublimer or more active scenes; but they are almost always +marked by a tenderness of execution, and have a look of being beloved in +every part of them, which shows them to be the truest expression of his +own feelings. + +One other characteristic of his mind at this period remains to be +noticed--its reverence for talent in others. Not the reverence which +acts upon the practices of men as if they were the laws of nature, but +that which is ready to appreciate the power, and receive the assistance, +of every mind which has been previously employed in the same direction, +so far as its teaching seems to be consistent with the great text-book +of nature itself. Turner thus studied almost every preceding landscape +painter, chiefly Claude, Poussin, Vandevelde, Loutherbourg, and Wilson. +It was probably by the Sir George Beaumonts and other feeble +conventionalists of the period, that he was persuaded to devote his +attention to the works of these men; and his having done so will be +thought, a few scores of years hence, evidence of perhaps the greatest +modesty ever shown by a man of original power. Modesty at once admirable +and unfortunate, for the study of the works of Vandevelde and Claude was +productive of unmixed mischief to him; he spoiled many of his marine +pictures, as for instance Lord Ellesmere's, by imitation of the former; +and from the latter learned a false ideal, which confirmed by the +notions of Greek art prevalent in London in the beginning of this +century, has manifested itself in many vulgarities in his composition +pictures, vulgarities which may perhaps be best expressed by the general +term "Twickenham Classicism," as consisting principally in conceptions +of ancient or of rural life such as have influenced the erection of most +of our suburban villas. From Nicolo Poussin and Loutherbourg he seems to +have derived advantage; perhaps also from Wilson; and much in his +subsequent travels from far higher men, especially Tintoret and Paul +Veronese. I have myself heard him speaking with singular delight of the +putting in of the beech leaves in the upper right-hand corner of +Titian's Peter Martyr. I cannot in any of his works trace the slightest +influence of Salvator; and I am not surprised at it, for though Salvator +was a man of far higher powers than either Vandevelde or Claude, he was +a wilful and gross caricaturist. Turner would condescend to be helped by +feeble men, but could not be corrupted by false men. Besides, he had +never himself seen classical life, and Claude was represented to him as +competent authority for it. But he _had_ seen mountains and torrents, +and knew therefore that Salvator could not paint them. + +One of the most characteristic drawings of this period fortunately bears +a date, 1818, and brings us within two years of another dated drawing, +no less characteristic of what I shall henceforward call Turner's Second +period. It is in the possession of Mr. Hawkesworth Fawkes of Farnley, +one of Turner's earliest and truest friends; and bears the inscription, +unusually conspicuous, heaving itself up and down over the eminences of +the foreground--"PASSAGE OF MONT CENIS. J. M. W. TURNER, January 15th, +1820." + +The scene is on the summit of the pass close to the hospice, or what +seems to have been a hospice at that time,--I do not remember such at +present,--a small square-built house, built as if partly for a fortress, +with a detached flight of stone steps in front of it, and a kind of +drawbridge to the door. This building, about 400 or 500 yards off, is +seen in a dim, ashy grey against the light, which by help of a violent +blast of mountain wind has broken through the depth of clouds which +hangs upon the crags. There is no sky, properly so called, nothing but +this roof of drifting cloud; but neither is there any weight of +darkness--the high air is too thin for it,--all savage, howling, and +luminous with cold, the massy bases of the granite hills jutting out +here and there grimly through the snow wreaths. There is a +desolate-looking refuge on the left, with its number 16, marked on it in +long ghastly figures, and the wind is drifting the snow off the roof and +through its window in a frantic whirl; the near ground is all wan with +half-thawed, half-trampled snow; a diligence in front, whose horses, +unable to face the wind, have turned right round with fright, its +passengers struggling to escape, jammed in the window; a little farther +on is another carriage off the road, some figures pushing at its wheels, +and its driver at the horses' heads, pulling and lashing with all his +strength, his lifted arm stretched out against the light of the +distance, though too far off for the whip to be seen. + +Now I am perfectly certain that any one thoroughly accustomed to the +earlier works of the painter, and shown this picture for the first time, +would be struck by two altogether new characters in it. + +The first, a seeming enjoyment of the excitement of the scene, totally +different from the contemplative philosophy with which it would formerly +have been regarded. Every incident of motion and of energy is seized +upon with indescribable delight, and every line of the composition +animated with a force and fury which are now no longer the mere +expression of a contemplated external truth, but have origin in some +inherent feeling in the painter's mind. + +The second, that although the subject is one in itself almost incapable +of color, and although, in order to increase the wildness of the +impression, all brilliant local color has been refused even where it +might easily have been introduced, as in the figures; yet in the low +minor key which has been chosen, the melodies of color have been +elaborated to the utmost possible pitch, so as to become a leading, +instead of a subordinate, element in the composition; the subdued warm +hues of the granite promontories, the dull stone color of the walls of +the buildings, clearly opposed, even in shade, to the grey of the snow +wreaths heaped against them, and the faint greens and ghastly blues of +the glacier ice, being all expressed with delicacies of transition +utterly unexampled in any previous drawings. + +These, accordingly, are the chief characteristics of the works of +Turner's second period, as distinguished from the first,--a new energy +inherent in the mind of the painter, diminishing the repose and exalting +the force and fire of his conceptions, and the presence of Color, as at +least an essential, and often a principal, element of design. + +Not that it is impossible, or even unusual, to find drawings of serene +subject, and perfectly quiet feeling, among the compositions of this +period; but the repose is in them, just as the energy and tumult were in +the earlier period, an external quality, which the painter images by an +effort of the will: it is no longer a character inherent in himself. The +"Ulleswater," in the England series, is one of those which are in most +perfect peace: in the "Cowes," the silence is only broken by the dash +of the boat's oars, and in the "Alnwick" by a stag drinking; but in at +least nine drawings out of ten, either sky, water, or figures are in +rapid motion, and the grandest drawings are almost always those which +have even violent action in one or other, or in all: e. g. high force of +Tees, Coventry, Llanthony, Salisbury, Llanberis, and such others. + +The color is, however, a more absolute distinction; and we must return +to Mr. Fawkes's collection in order to see how the change in it was +effected. That such a change would take place at one time or other was +of course to be securely anticipated, the conventional system of the +first period being, as above stated, merely a means of Study. But the +immediate cause was the journey of the year 1820. As might be guessed +from the legend on the drawing above described, "Passage of Mont Cenis, +January 15th, 1820," that drawing represents what happened on the day in +question to the painter himself. He passed the Alps then in the winter +of 1820; and either in the previous or subsequent summer, but on the +same journey, he made a series of sketches on the Rhine, in body color, +now in Mr. Fawkes's collection. Every one of those sketches is the +almost instantaneous record of an _effect_ of color or atmosphere, taken +strictly from nature, the drawing and the details of every subject being +comparatively subordinate, and the color nearly as principal as the +light and shade had been before,--certainly the leading feature, though +the light and shade are always exquisitely harmonized with it. And +naturally, as the color becomes the leading object, those times of day +are chosen in which it is most lovely; and whereas before, at least five +out of six of Turner's drawings represented ordinary daylight, we now +find his attention directed constantly to the evening: and, for the +first time, we have those rosy lights upon the hills, those gorgeous +falls of sun through flaming heavens, those solemn twilights, with the +blue moon rising as the western sky grows dim, which have ever since +been the themes of his mightiest thoughts. + +I have no doubt, that the _immediate_ reason of this change was the +impression made upon him by the colors of the continental skies. When +he first travelled on the Continent (1800), he was comparatively a young +student; not yet able to draw form as he wanted, he was forced to give +all his thoughts and strength to this primary object. But now he was +free to receive other impressions; the time was come for perfecting his +art, and the first sunset which he saw on the Rhine taught him that all +previous landscape art was vain and valueless, that in comparison with +natural color, the things that had been called paintings were mere ink +and charcoal, and that all precedent and all authority must be cast away +at once, and trodden under foot. He cast them away: the memories of +Vandevelde and Claude were at once weeded out of the great mind they had +encumbered; they and all the rubbish of the schools together with them; +the waves of the Rhine swept them away for ever; and a new dawn rose +over the rocks of the Siebengebirge. + +There was another motive at work, which rendered the change still more +complete. His fellow artists were already conscious enough of his +superior power in drawing, and their best hope was, that he might not be +able to color. They had begun to express this hope loudly enough for it +to reach his ears. The engraver of one of his most important marine +pictures told me, not long ago, that one day about the period in +question, Turner came into his room to examine the progress of the +plate, not having seen his own picture for several months. It was one of +his dark early pictures, but in the foreground was a little piece of +luxury, a pearly fish wrought into hues like those of an opal. He stood +before the picture for some moments; then laughed, and pointed joyously +to the fish;--"They say that Turner can't color!" and turned away. + +Under the force of these various impulses the change was total. _Every +subject thenceforth was primarily conceived in color_; and no engraving +ever gave the slightest idea of any drawing of this period. + +The artists who had any perception of the truth were in despair; the +Beaumontites, classicalists, and "owl species" in general, in as much +indignation as their dulness was capable of. They had deliberately +closed their eyes to all nature, and had gone on inquiring, "Where do +you put your brown tree?" A vast revelation was made to them at once, +enough to have dazzled any one; but to _them_, light unendurable as +incomprehensible. They "did to the moon complain," in one vociferous, +unanimous, continuous "Tu whoo." Shrieking rose from all dark places at +the same instant, just the same kind of shrieking that is now raised +against the Pre-Raphaelites. Those glorious old Arabian Nights, how true +they are! Mocking and whispering, and abuse loud and low by turns, from +all the black stones beside the road, when one living soul is toiling up +the hill to get the golden water. Mocking and whispering, that he may +look back, and become a black stone like themselves. + +Turner looked not back, but he went on in such a temper as a strong man +must be in, when he is forced to walk with his fingers in his ears. He +retired into himself; he could look no longer for help, or counsel, or +sympathy from any one; and the spirit of defiance in which he was forced +to labor led him sometimes into violences, from which the slightest +expression of sympathy would have saved him. The new energy that was +upon him, and the utter isolation into which he was driven, were both +alike dangerous, and many drawings of the time show the evil effects of +both; some of them being hasty, wild, or experimental, and others little +more than magnificent expressions of defiance of public opinion. + +But all have this noble virtue--they are in everything his own: there +are no more reminiscences of dead masters, no more trials of skill in +the manner of Claude or Poussin; every faculty of his soul is fixed upon +nature only, as he saw her, or as he remembered her. + +I have spoken above of his gigantic memory: it is especially necessary +to notice this, in order that we may understand the kind of grasp which +a man of real imagination takes of all things that are once brought +within his reach--grasp thenceforth not to be relaxed for ever. + +On looking over any catalogues of his works, or of particular series of +them, we shall notice the recurrence of the same subject two, three, or +even many times. In any other artist this would be nothing remarkable. +Probably most modern landscape painters multiply a favorite subject +twenty, thirty, or sixty fold, putting the shadows and the clouds in +different places, and "inventing," as they are pleased to call it, a new +"effect" every time. But if we examine the successions of Turner's +subjects, we shall find them either the records of a succession of +impressions actually perceived by him at some favorite locality, or else +repetitions of one impression received in early youth, and again and +again realised as his increasing powers enabled him to do better justice +to it. In either case we shall find them records of _seen facts_; +_never_ compositions in his room to fill up a favorite outline. + +For instance, every traveller, at least every traveller of thirty years' +standing, must love Calais, the place where he first felt himself in a +strange world. Turner evidently loved it excessively. I have never +catalogued his studies of Calais, but I remember, at this moment, five: +there is first the "Pas de Calais," a very large oil painting, which is +what he saw in broad daylight as he crossed over, when he got near the +French side. It is a careful study of French fishing boats running for +the shore before the wind, with the picturesque old city in the +distance. Then there is the "Calais Harbor" in the Liber Studiorum: that +is what he saw just as he was going into the harbor,--a heavy brig +warping out, and very likely to get in his way, or run against the pier, +and bad weather coming on. Then there is the "Calais Pier," a large +painting, engraved some years ago by Mr. Lupton:[101] that is what he +saw when he had landed, and ran back directly to the pier to see what +had become of the brig. The weather had got still worse, the fishwomen +were being blown about in a distressful manner on the pier head, and +some more fishing boats were running in with all speed. Then there is +the "Fortrouge," Calais: that is what he saw after he had been home to +Dessein's, and dined, and went out again in the evening to walk on the +sands, the tide being down. He had never seen such a waste of sands +before, and it made an impression on him. The shrimp girls were all +scattered over them too, and moved about in white spots on the wild +shore; and the storm had lulled a little, and there was a sunset--such a +sunset,--and the bars of Fortrouge seen against it, skeleton-wise. + +He did not paint that directly; thought over it,--painted it a long +while afterwards. + +Then there is the vignette in the illustrations to Scott. That is what +he saw as he was going home, meditatively; and the revolving lighthouse +came blazing out upon him suddenly, and disturbed him. He did not like +that so much; made a vignette of it, however, when he was asked to do a +bit of Calais, twenty or thirty years afterwards, having already done +all the rest. + +Turner never told me all this, but any one may see it if he will compare +the pictures. They might, possibly, not be impressions of a single day, +but of two days or three; though in all human probability they were seen +just as I have stated them;[102] but they _are_ records of successive +impressions, as plainly written as ever traveller's diary. All of them +pure veracities. Therefore immortal. + +I could multiply these series almost indefinitely from the rest of his +works. What is curious, some of them have a kind of private mark running +through all the subjects. Thus I know three drawings of Scarborough, and +all of them have a starfish in the foreground: I do not remember any +others of his marine subjects which have a starfish. + +The other kind of repetition--the recurrence to one early impression--is +however still more remarkable. In the collection of F. H. Bale, Esq., +there is a small drawing of Llanthony Abbey. It is in his boyish manner, +its date probably about 1795; evidently a sketch from nature, finished +at home. It had been a showery day; the hills were partially concealed +by the rain, and gleams of sunshine breaking out at intervals. A man was +fishing in the mountain stream. The young Turner sought a place of some +shelter under the bushes; made his sketch, took great pains when he got +home to imitate the rain, as he best could; added his child's luxury of +a rainbow; put in the very bush under which he had taken shelter, and +the fisherman, a somewhat ill-jointed and long-legged fisherman, in the +courtly short breeches which were the fashion of the time. + +Some thirty years afterwards, with all his powers in their strongest +training, and after the total change in his feelings and principles +which I have endeavored to describe, he undertook the series of "England +and Wales," and in that series introduced the subject of Llanthony +Abbey. And behold, he went back to his boy's sketch, and boy's thought. +He kept the very bushes in their places, but brought the fisherman to +the other side of the river, and put him, in somewhat less courtly +dress, under their shelter, instead of himself. And then he set all his +gained strength and new knowledge at work on the well-remembered shower +of rain, that had fallen thirty years before, to do it better. The +resultant drawing[103] is one of the very noblest of his second period. + +Another of the drawings of the England series, Ulleswater, is the +repetition of one in Mr. Fawkes's collection, which, by the method of +its execution, I should conjecture to have been executed about the year +1808, or 1810: at all events, it is a very quiet drawing of the first +period. The lake is quite calm; the western hills in grey shadow, the +eastern massed in light. Helvellyn rising like a mist between them, all +being mirrored in the calm water. Some thin and slightly evanescent cows +are standing in the shallow water in front; a boat floats motionless +about a hundred yards from the shore: the foreground is of broken rocks, +with lovely pieces of copse on the right and left. + +This was evidently Turner's record of a quiet evening by the shore of +Ulleswater, but it was a feeble one. He could not at that time render +the sunset colors: he went back to it therefore in the England series, +and painted it again with his new power. The same hills are there, the +same shadows, the same cows,--they had stood in his mind, on the same +spot, for twenty years,--the same boat, the same rocks, only the copse +is cut away--it interfered with the masses of his color: some figures +are introduced bathing, and what was grey, and feeble gold in the first +drawing, becomes purple, and burning rose-color in the last. + +But perhaps one of the most curious examples is in the series of +subjects from Winchelsea. That in the Liber Studiorum, "Winchelsea, +Sussex," bears date 1812, and its figures consist of a soldier speaking +to a woman, who is resting on the bank beside the road. There is another +small subject, with Winchelsea in the distance, of which the engraving +bears date 1817. It has _two_ women with bundles, and _two_ soldiers +toiling along the embankment in the plain, and a baggage waggon in the +distance. Neither of these seems to have satisfied him, and at last he +did another for the England series, of which the engraving bears date +1830. There is now a regiment on the march; the baggage waggon is there, +having got no further on in the thirteen years, but one of the women is +tired, and has fainted on the bank; another is supporting her against +her bundle, and giving her drink; a third sympathetic woman is added, +and the two soldiers have stopped, and one is drinking from his canteen. + +Nor is it merely of entire scenes, or of particular incidents, that +Turner's memory is thus tenacious. The slightest passages of color or +arrangement that have pleased him--the fork of a bough, the casting of a +shadow, the fracture of a stone--will be taken up again and again, and +strangely worked into new relations with other thoughts. There is a +single sketch from nature in one of the portfolios at Farnley, of a +common wood-walk on the estate, which has furnished passages to no fewer +than three of the most elaborate compositions in the Liber Studiorum. + +I am thus tedious in dwelling on Turner's powers of memory, because I +wish it to be thoroughly seen how all his greatness, all his infinite +luxuriance of invention, depends on his taking possession of everything +that he sees,--on his grasping all, and losing hold of nothing,--on his +forgetting himself, and forgetting nothing else. I wish it to be +understood how every great man paints what he sees or did see, his +greatness being indeed little else than his intense sense of fact. And +thus Pre-Raphaelitism and Raphaelitism, and Turnerism, are all one and +the same, so far as education can influence them. They are different in +their choice, different in their faculties, but all the same in this, +that Raphael himself, so far as he was great, and all who preceded or +followed him who ever were great, became so by painting the truths +around them as they appeared to each man's own mind, not as he had been +taught to see them, except by the God who made both him and them. + +There is, however, one more characteristic of Turner's second period, on +which I have still to dwell, especially with reference to what has been +above advanced respecting the fallacy of overtoil; namely, the +magnificent ease with which all is done when it is _successfully_ done. +For there are one or two drawings of this time which are _not_ done +easily. Turner had in these set himself to do a fine thing to exhibit +his powers; in the common phrase, to excel himself; so sure as he does +this, the work is a failure. The worst drawings that have ever come from +his hands are some of this second period, on which he has spent much +time and laborious thought; drawings filled with incident from one side +to the other, with skies stippled into morbid blue, and warm lights set +against them in violent contrast; one of Bamborough Castle, a large +water-color, may be named as an example. But the truly noble works are +those in which, without effort, he has expressed his thoughts as they +came, and forgotten himself; and in these the outpouring of invention is +not less miraculous than the swiftness and obedience of the mighty hand +that expresses it. Any one who examines the drawings may see the +evidence of this facility, in the strange freshness and sharpness of +every touch of color; but when the multitude of delicate touches, with +which all the aërial tones are worked, is taken into consideration, it +would still appear impossible that the drawing could have been completed +with _ease_, unless we had direct evidence in the matter: fortunately, +it is not wanting. There is a drawing in Mr. Fawkes's collection of a +man-of-war taking in stores: it is of the usual size of those of the +England series, about sixteen inches by eleven: it does not appear one +of the most highly finished, but is still farther removed from +slightness. The hull of a first-rate occupies nearly one-half of the +picture on the right, her bows towards the spectator, seen in sharp +perspective from stem to stern, with all her portholes, guns, anchors, +and lower rigging elaborately detailed; there are two other ships of the +line in the middle distance, drawn with equal precision; a noble breezy +sea dancing against their broad bows, full of delicate drawing in its +waves; a store-ship beneath the hull of the larger vessel, and several +other boats, and a complicated cloudy sky. It might appear no small +exertion of mind to draw the detail of all this shipping down to the +smallest ropes, from memory, in the drawing-room of a mansion in the +middle of Yorkshire, even if considerable time had been given for the +effort. But Mr. Fawkes sat beside the painter from the first stroke to +the last. Turner took a piece of blank paper one morning after +breakfast, outlined his ships, finished the drawing in three hours, and +went out to shoot. + +Let this single fact be quietly meditated upon by our ordinary painters, +and they will see the truth of what was above asserted,--that if a great +thing can be done at all, it can be done easily; and let them not +torment themselves with twisting of compositions this way and that, and +repeating, and experimenting, and scene-shifting. If a man can compose +at all, he can compose at once, or rather he must compose in spite of +himself. And this is the reason of that silence which I have kept in +most of my works, on the subject of Composition. Many critics, +especially the architects, have found fault with me for not "teaching +people how to arrange masses;" for not "attributing sufficient +importance to composition." Alas! I attribute far more importance to it +than they do;--so much importance, that I should just as soon think of +sitting down to teach a man how to write a Divina Commedia, or King +Lear, as how to "compose," in the true sense, a single building or +picture. The marvellous stupidity of this age of lecturers is, that +they do not see that what they call "principles of composition," are +mere principles of common sense in everything, as well as in pictures +and buildings;--A picture is to have a principal light? Yes; and so a +dinner is to have a principal dish, and an oration a principal point, +and an air of music a principal note, and every man a principal object. +A picture is to have harmony of relation among its parts? Yes; and so is +a speech well uttered, and an action well ordered, and a company well +chosen, and a ragout well mixed. Composition! As if a man were not +composing every moment of his life, well or ill, and would not do it +instinctively in his picture as well as elsewhere, if he could. +Composition of this lower or common kind is of exactly the same +importance in a picture that it is in any thing else,--no more. It is +well that a man should say what he has to say in good order and +sequence, but the main thing is to say it truly. And yet we go on +preaching to our pupils as if to have a principal light was every thing, +and so cover our academy walls with Shacabac feasts, wherein the courses +are indeed well ordered, but the dishes empty. + +It is not, however, only in invention that men over-work themselves, but +in execution also; and here I have a word to say to the Pre-Raphaelites +specially. They are working too hard. There is evidence in failing +portions of their pictures, showing that they have wrought so long upon +them that their very sight has failed for weariness, and that the hand +refused any more to obey the heart. And, besides this, there are certain +qualities of drawing which they miss from over-carefulness. For, let +them be assured, there is a great truth lurking in that common desire of +men to see things done in what they call a "masterly," or "bold," or +"broad," manner: a truth oppressed and abused, like almost every other +in this world, but an eternal one nevertheless; and whatever mischief +may have followed from men's looking for nothing else but this facility +of execution, and supposing that a picture was assuredly all right if +only it were done with broad dashes of the brush, still the truth +remains the same:--that because it is not intended that men shall +torment or weary themselves with any earthly labor, it is appointed +that the noblest results should only be attainable by a certain ease and +decision of manipulation. I only wish people understood this much of +sculpture, as well as of painting, and could see that the finely +finished statue is, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, a far more +vulgar work than that which shows rough signs of the right hand laid to +the workman's hammer: but at all events, in painting it is felt by all +men, and justly felt. The freedom of the lines of nature can only be +represented by a similar freedom in the hand that follows them; there +are curves in the flow of the hair, and in the form of the features, and +in the muscular outline of the body, which can in no wise be caught but +by a sympathetic freedom in the stroke of the pencil. I do not care what +example is taken, be it the most subtle and careful work of Leonardo +himself, there will be found a play and power and ease in the outlines, +which no _slow_ effort could ever imitate. And if the Pre-Raphaelites do +not understand how this kind of power, in its highest perfection, may be +united with the most severe rendering of all other orders of truth, and +especially of those with which they themselves have most sympathy, let +them look at the drawings of John Lewis. + +These then are the principal lessons which we have to learn from Turner, +in his second or central period of labor. There is one more, however, to +be received; and that is a warning; for towards the close of it, what +with doing small conventional vignettes for publishers, making showy +drawings from sketches taken by other people of places he had never +seen, and touching up the bad engravings from his works submitted to him +almost every day,--engravings utterly destitute of animation, and which +had to be raised into a specious brilliancy by scratching them over with +white, spotty lights, he gradually got inured to many conventionalities, +and even falsities; and, having trusted for ten or twelve years almost +entirely to his memory and invention, living I believe mostly in London, +and receiving a new sensation only from the burning of the Houses of +Parliament, he painted many pictures between 1830 and 1840 altogether +unworthy of him. But he was not thus to close his career. + +In the summer either of 1840 or 1841, he undertook another journey into +Switzerland. It was then at least forty years since he had first seen +the Alps; (the source of the Arveron, in Mr. Fawkes's collection, which +could not have been painted till he had seen the thing itself, bears +date 1800,) and the direction of his journey in 1840 marks his fond +memory of that earliest one; for, if we look over the Swiss studies and +drawings executed in his first period, we shall be struck with his +fondness for the pass of the St. Gothard; the most elaborate drawing in +the Farnley collection is one of the Lake of Lucerne from Fluelen; and, +counting the Liber Studiorum subjects, there are, to my knowledge, six +compositions taken at the same period from the pass of St. Gothard, and, +probably, several others are in existence. The valleys of Sallenche, and +Chamouni, and Lake of Geneva, are the only other Swiss scenes which seem +to have made very profound impressions on him. + +He returned in 1841 to Lucerne; walked up Mont Pilate on foot, crossed +the St. Gothard, and returned by Lausanne and Geneva. He made a large +number of colored sketches on this journey, and realised several of them +on his return. The drawings thus produced are different from all that +had preceded them, and are the first which belong definitely to what I +shall henceforth call his Third period. + +The perfect repose of his youth had returned to his mind, while the +faculties of imagination and execution appeared in renewed strength; all +conventionality being done away with by the force of the impression +which he had received from the Alps, after his long separation from +them. The drawings are marked by a peculiar largeness and simplicity of +thought: most of them by deep serenity, passing into melancholy; all by +a richness of color, such as he had never before conceived. They, and +the works done in following years, bear the same relation to those of +the rest of his life that the colors of sunset do to those of the day; +and will be recognised, in a few years more, as the noblest landscapes +ever yet conceived by human intellect. + +Such has been the career of the greatest painter of this century. Many +a century may pass away before there rises such another; but what +greatness any among us may be capable of, will, at least, be best +attained by following in his path; by beginning in all quietness and +hopefulness to use whatever powers we may possess to represent the +things around us as we see and feel them; trusting to the close of life +to give the perfect crown to the course of its labors, and knowing +assuredly that the determination of the degree in which watchfulness is +to be exalted into invention, rests with a higher will than our own. +And, if not greatness, at least a certain good, is thus to be achieved; +for though I have above spoken of the mission of the more humble artist, +as if it were merely to be subservient to that of the antiquarian or the +man of science, there is an ulterior aspect in which it is not +subservient, but superior. Every archæologist, every natural +philosopher, knows that there is a peculiar rigidity of mind brought on +by long devotion to logical and analytical inquiries. Weak men, giving +themselves to such studies, are utterly hardened by them, and become +incapable of understanding anything nobler, or even of feeling the value +of the results to which they lead. But even the best men are in a sort +injured by them, and pay a definite price, as in most other matters, for +definite advantages. They gain a peculiar strength, but lose in +tenderness, elasticity, and impressibility. The man who has gone, hammer +in hand, over the surface of a romantic country, feels no longer, in the +mountain ranges he has so laboriously explored, the sublimity or mystery +with which they were veiled when he first beheld them, and with which +they are adorned in the mind of the passing traveller. In his more +informed conception, they arrange themselves like a dissected model: +where another man would be awe-struck by the magnificence of the +precipice, he sees nothing but the emergence of a fossiliferous rock, +familiarised already to his imagination as extending in a shallow +stratum, over a perhaps uninteresting district; where the unlearned +spectator would be touched with strong emotion by the aspect of the +snowy summits which rise in the distance, he sees only the culminating +points of a metamorphic formation, with an uncomfortable web of +fan-like fissures radiating, in his imagination, through their +centres[104]. That in the grasp he has obtained of the inner relations +of all these things to the universe, and to man, that in the views which +have been opened to him of natural energies such as no human mind would +have ventured to conceive, and of past states of being, each in some new +way bearing witness to the unity of purpose and everlastingly consistent +providence of the Maker of all things, he has received reward well +worthy the sacrifice, I would not for an instant deny; but the sense of +the loss is not less painful to him if his mind be rightly constituted; +and it would be with infinite gratitude that he would regard the man, +who, retaining in his delineation of natural scenery a fidelity to the +facts of science so rigid as to make his work at once acceptable and +credible to the most sternly critical intellect, should yet invest its +features again with the sweet veil of their daily aspect; should make +them dazzling with the splendor of wandering light, and involve them in +the unsearchableness of stormy obscurity; should restore to the divided +anatomy its visible vitality of operation, clothe naked crags with soft +forests, enrich the mountain ruins with bright pastures, and lead the +thoughts from the monotonous recurrence of the phenomena of the physical +world, to the sweet interests and sorrows of human life and death. + + +THE END. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[97] It was not a little curious, that in the very number of the Art +Union which repeated this direct falsehood about the Pre-Raphaelite +rejection of "linear perspective" (by-the-bye, the next time J. B. takes +upon him to speak of any one connected with the Universities, he may as +well first ascertain the difference between a Graduate and an +Under-Graduate), the second plate given should have been of a picture of +Bonington's,--a professional landscape painter, observe,--for the want +of _aërial_ perspective in which the Art Union itself was obliged to +apologise, and in which the artist has committed nearly as many blunders +in _linear_ perspective as there are lines in the picture. + +[98] These false statements may be reduced to three principal heads, and +directly contradicted in succession. + +The first, the current fallacy of society as well as of the press, was, +that the Pre-Raphaelites imitated the _errors_ of early painters. + +A falsehood of this kind could not have obtained credence anywhere but +in England, few English people, comparatively, having ever seen a +picture of early Italian Masters. If they had, they would have known +that the Pre-Raphaelite pictures are just as superior to the early +Italian in skill of manipulation, power of drawing, and knowledge of +effect, as inferior to them in grace of design; and that in a word, +there is not a shadow of resemblance between the two styles. The +Pre-Raphaelites imitate no pictures: they paint from nature only. But +they have opposed themselves as a body to that kind of teaching above +described, which only began after Raphael's time: and they have opposed +themselves as sternly to the entire feeling of the Renaissance schools; +a feeling compounded of indolence, infidelity, sensuality, and shallow +pride. Therefore they have called themselves Pre-Raphaelites. If they +adhere to their principles, and paint nature as it is around them, with +the help of modern science, with the earnestness of the men of the +thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, they will, as I said, found a new +and noble school in England. If their sympathies with the early artists +lead them into mediævalism or Romanism, they will of course come to +nothing. But I believe there is no danger of this, at least for the +strongest among them. There may be some weak ones, whom the Tractarian +heresies may touch; but if so, they will drop off like decayed branches +from a strong stem. I hope all things from the school. + +The second falsehood was, that the Pre-Raphaelites did not draw well. +This was asserted, and could have been asserted only by persons who had +never looked at the pictures. + +The third falsehood was, that they had no system of light and shade. To +which it may be simply replied that their system of light and shade is +exactly the same as the Sun's; which is, I believe, likely to outlast +that of the Renaissance, however brilliant. + +[99] He did not use his full signature, J. M. W., until about the year +1800. + +[100] I shall give a _catalogue raisonnée_ of all this in the third +volume of "Modern Painters." + +[101] The plate was, however, never published. + +[102] And the more probably because Turner was never fond of staying +long at any place, and was least of all likely to make a pause of two or +three days at the beginning of his journey. + +[103] Vide Modern Painters, Part II. Sect. III. Chap. IV. § 14. + +[104] This state of mind appears to have been the only one which +Wordsworth had been able to discern in men of science; and in disdain of +which, he wrote that short-sighted passage in the Excursion, Book III. +l. 165-190, which is, I think, the only one in the whole range of his +works which his true friends would have desired to see blotted out. What +else has been found fault with as feeble or superfluous, is not so in +the intense distinctive relief which it gives to his character. But +these lines are written in mere ignorance of the matter they treat; in +mere want of sympathy with the men they describe; for, observe, though +the passage is put into the mouth of the Solitary, it is fully +confirmed, and even rendered more scornful, by the speech which follows. + + + + +ARATRA PENTELICI + +SIX LECTURES + +ON THE ELEMENTS OF + +SCULPTURE + +GIVEN BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD IN MICHAELMAS TERM, 1870 + + + + +PREFACE. + + +I must pray the readers of the following Lectures to remember that the +duty at present laid on me at Oxford is of an exceptionally complex +character. Directly, it is to awaken the interest of my pupils in a +study which they have hitherto found unattractive, and imagined to be +useless; but more imperatively, it is to define the principles by which +the study itself should be guided; and to vindicate their security +against the doubts with which frequent discussion has lately encumbered +a subject which all think themselves competent to discuss. The +possibility of such vindication is, of course, implied in the original +consent of the universities to the establishment of Art Professorships. +Nothing can be made an element of education of which it is impossible to +determine whether it is ill done or well; and the clear assertion that +there is a canon law in formative Art is, at this time, a more important +function of each University than the instruction of its younger members +in any branch of practical skill. It matters comparatively little +whether few or many of our students learn to draw; but it matters much +that all who learn should be taught with accuracy. And the number who +may be justifiably advised to give any part of the time they spend at +college to the study of painting or sculpture ought to depend, and +finally _must_ depend, on their being certified that painting and +sculpture, no less than language or than reasoning, have grammar and +method,--that they permit a recognizable distinction between scholarship +and ignorance, and enforce a constant distinction between Right and +Wrong. + +This opening course of Lectures on Sculpture is therefore restricted to +the statement, not only of first principles, but of those which were +illustrated by the practice of one school, and by that practice in its +simplest branch, the analysis of which could be certified by easily +accessible examples, and aided by the indisputable evidence of +photography.[105] + +The exclusion of the terminal Lecture of the course from the series now +published, is in order to mark more definitely this limitation of my +subject; but in other respects the Lectures have been amplified in +arranging them for the press, and the portions of them trusted at the +time to extempore delivery, (not through indolence, but because +explanations of detail are always most intelligible when most familiar,) +have been in substance to the best of my power set down, and in what I +said too imperfectly, completed. + +In one essential particular I have felt it necessary to write what I +would not have spoken. I had intended to make no reference, in my +University Lectures, to existing schools of Art, except in cases where +it might be necessary to point out some undervalued excellence. The +objects specified in the eleventh paragraph of my inaugural Lecture, +might, I hoped, have been accomplished without reference to any works +deserving of blame; but the Exhibition of the Royal Academy in the +present year showed me a necessity of departing from my original +intention. The task of impartial criticism[106] is now, unhappily, no +longer to rescue modest skill from neglect; but to withstand the errors +of insolent genius, and abate the influence of plausible mediocrity. + +The Exhibition of 1871 was very notable in this important particular, +that it embraced some representation of the modern schools of nearly +every country in Europe; and I am well assured that looking back upon it +after the excitement of that singular interest has passed away, every +thoughtful judge of Art will confirm my assertion, that it contained not +a single picture of accomplished merit; while it contained many that +were disgraceful to Art, and some that were disgraceful to humanity. + +It becomes, under such circumstances, my inevitable duty to speak of the +existing conditions of Art with plainness enough to guard the youths +whose judgments I am entrusted to form, from being misled, either by +their own naturally vivid interest in what represents, however +unworthily, the scenes and persons of their own day, or by the cunningly +devised, and, without doubt, powerful allurements of Art which has long +since confessed itself to have no other object than to allure. I have, +therefore, added to the second of these Lectures such illustration of +the motives and course of modern industry as naturally arose out of its +subject, and shall continue in future to make similar applications; +rarely, indeed, permitting myself, in the Lectures actually read before +the University, to introduce subjects of instant, and therefore too +exciting, interest; but completing the addresses which I prepare for +publication in these, and in any other particulars which may render them +more widely serviceable. + +The present course of Lectures will be followed, if I am able to fulfil +the design of them, by one of a like elementary character on +Architecture; and that by a third series on Christian Sculpture: but, in +the meantime, my effort is to direct the attention of the resident +students to Natural History, and to the higher branches of ideal +Landscape: and it will be, I trust, accepted as sufficient reason for +the delay which has occurred in preparing the following sheets for the +press, that I have not only been interrupted by a dangerous illness, but +engaged, in what remained to me of the summer, in an endeavour to +deduce, from the overwhelming complexity of modern classification in the +Natural Sciences, some forms capable of easier reference by Art +students, to whom the anatomy of brutal and floral nature is often no +less important than that of the human body. + +The preparation of examples for manual practice, and the arrangement of +standards for reference, both in Painting and Sculpture, had to be +carried on meanwhile, as I was able. For what has already been done, the +reader is referred to the _Catalogue of the Educational Series_, +published at the end of the Spring Term; of what remains to be done I +will make no anticipatory statement, being content to have ascribed to +me rather the fault of narrowness in design, than of extravagance in +expectation. + + DENMARK HILL, + + _25th November, 1871._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[105] Photography cannot exhibit the character of large and finished +sculpture; but its audacity of shadow is in perfect harmony with the +more roughly picturesque treatment necessary in coins. For the rendering +of all such frank relief, and for the better explanation of forms +disturbed by the lustre of metal or polished stone, the method employed +in the plates of this volume will be found, I believe, satisfactory. +Casts are first taken from the coins, in white plaster; these are +photographed, and the photograph printed by the heliotype process of +Messrs. Edwards and Kidd. Plate XII. is exceptional, being a pure +mezzotint engraving of the old school, excellently carried through by my +assistant, Mr. Allen, who was taught, as a personal favour to myself, by +my friend, and Turner's fellow-worker, Thomas Lupton. Plate IV. was +intended to be a photograph from the superb vase in the British Museum, +No. 564 in Mr. Newton's Catalogue; but its variety of colour defied +photography, and after the sheets had gone to press I was compelled to +reduce Le Normand's plate of it, which is unsatisfactory, but answers my +immediate purpose. + +The enlarged photographs for use in the Lecture Room were made for me +with most successful skill by Sergeant Spackman, of South Kensington; +and the help throughout rendered to me by Mr. Burgess is acknowledged in +the course of the Lectures; though with thanks which must remain +inadequate lest they should become tedious; for Mr. Burgess drew the +subjects of Plates III., X., and XIII.; drew and engraved every woodcut +in the book; and printed all the plates with his own hand. + +[106] A pamphlet by the Earl of Southesk, "_Britain's Art Paradise_," +(Edmonston and Douglas, Edinburgh) contains an entirely admirable +criticism of the most faultful pictures of the 1871 Exhibition. It is to +be regretted that Lord Southesk speaks only to condemn; but indeed, in +my own three days' review of the rooms, I found nothing deserving of +notice otherwise, except Mr. Hook's always pleasant sketches from fisher +life, and Mr. Pettie's graceful and powerful, though too slightly +painted, study from _Henry VI_. + + + + +ARATRA PENTELICI. + + + + +LECTURE I. + +OF THE DIVISION OF ARTS. + +_November, 1870._ + + +1. If, as is commonly believed, the subject of study which it is my +special function to bring before you had no relation to the great +interests of mankind, I should have less courage in asking for your +attention to-day, than when I first addressed you; though, even then, I +did not do so without painful diffidence. For at this moment, even +supposing that in other places it were possible for men to pursue their +ordinary avocations undisturbed by indignation or pity; here, at least, +in the midst of the deliberative and religious influences of England, +only one subject, I am well assured, can seriously occupy your +thoughts--the necessity, namely, of determining how it has come to pass, +that in these recent days, iniquity the most reckless and monstrous can +be committed unanimously, by men more generous than ever yet in the +world's history were deceived into deeds of cruelty; and that prolonged +agony of body and spirit, such as we should shrink from inflicting +wilfully on a single criminal, has become the appointed and accepted +portion of unnumbered multitudes of innocent persons, inhabiting the +districts of the world which, of all others, as it seemed, were best +instructed in the laws of civilization, and most richly invested with +the honour, and indulged in the felicity, of peace. + +Believe me, however, the subject of Art--instead of being foreign to +these deep questions of social duty and peril,--is so vitally connected +with them, that it would be impossible for me now to pursue the line of +thought in which I began these lectures, because so ghastly an emphasis +would be given to every sentence by the force of passing events. It is +well, then, that in the plan I have laid down for your study, we shall +now be led into the examination of technical details, or abstract +conditions of sentiment; so that the hours you spend with me may be +times of repose from heavier thoughts. But it chances strangely that, in +this course of minutely detailed study, I have first to set before you +the most essential piece of human workmanship, the plough, at the very +moment when--(you may see the announcement in the journals either of +yesterday or the day before)--the swords of your soldiers have been sent +for _to be sharpened_, and not at all to be beaten into ploughshares. I +permit myself, therefore, to remind you of the watchword of all my +earnest writings--"Soldiers of the Ploughshare, instead of Soldiers of +the Sword"--and I know it my duty to assert to you that the work we +enter upon to-day is no trivial one, but full of solemn hope; the hope, +namely, that among you there may be found men wise enough to lead the +national passions towards the arts of peace, instead of the arts of war. + +I say the work "we enter upon," because the first four lectures I gave +in the spring were wholly prefatory; and the following three only +defined for you methods of practice. To-day we begin the systematic +analysis and progressive study of our subject. + +2. In general, the three great, or fine, Arts of Painting, Sculpture, +and Architecture, are thought of as distinct from the lower and more +mechanical formative arts, such as carpentry or pottery. But we cannot, +either verbally, or with any practical advantage, admit such +classification. How are we to distinguish painting on canvas from +painting on china?--or painting on china from painting on glass?--or +painting on glass from infusion of colour into any vitreous substance, +such as enamel?--or the infusion of colour into glass and enamel from +the infusion of colour into wool or silk, and weaving of pictures in +tapestry, or patterns in dress? You will find that although, in +ultimately accurate use of the word, painting must be held to mean only +the laying of a pigment on a surface with a soft instrument; yet, in +broad comparison of the functions of Art, we must conceive of one and +the same great artistic faculty, as governing _every mode of disposing +colours in a permanent relation on, or in, a solid substance_; whether +it be by tinting canvas, or dyeing stuffs; inlaying metals with fused +flint, or coating walls with coloured stone. + +3. Similarly the word "Sculpture,"--though in ultimate accuracy it is to +be limited to the development of form in hard substances by cutting away +portions of their mass--in broad definition, must be held to signify +_the reduction of any shapeless mass of solid matter into an intended +shape_, whatever the consistence of the substance, or nature of the +instrument employed; whether we carve a granite mountain, or a piece of +box-wood, and whether we use, for our forming instrument axe, or hammer, +or chisel, or our own hands, or water to soften, or fire to +fuse;--whenever and however we bring a shapeless thing into shape, we do +so under the laws of the one great Art of Sculpture. + +4. Having thus broadly defined painting and sculpture, we shall see that +there is, in the third place, a class of work separated from both, in a +specific manner, and including a great group of arts which neither, of +necessity, _tint_, nor for the sake of form merely, _shape_, the +substances they deal with; but construct or arrange them with a view to +the resistance of some external force. We construct, for instance, a +table with a flat top, and some support of prop, or leg, proportioned in +strength to such weights as the table is intended to carry. We construct +a ship out of planks, or plates of iron, with reference to certain +forces of impact to be sustained, and of inertia to be overcome; or we +construct a wall or roof with distinct reference to forces of pressure +and oscillation, to be sustained or guarded against; and therefore, in +every case, with especial consideration of the strength of our +materials, and the nature of that strength, elastic, tenacious, brittle, +and the like. + +Now although this group of arts nearly always involves the putting of +two or more separate pieces together, we must not define it by that +accident. The blade of an oar is not less formed with reference to +external force than if it were made of many pieces; and the frame of a +boat, whether hollowed out of a tree-trunk, or constructed of planks +nailed together, is essentially the same piece of art; to be judged by +its buoyancy and capacity of progression. Still, from the most wonderful +piece of all architecture, the human skeleton, to this simple one,[107] +the ploughshare, on which it depends for its subsistence, _the putting +of two or more pieces together_ is curiously necessary to the +perfectness of every fine instrument; and the peculiar mechanical work +of Dædalus,--inlaying,--becomes all the more delightful to us in +external aspect, because, as in the jawbone of a Saurian, or the wood of +a bow, it is essential to the finest capacities of tension and +resistance. + +5. And observe how unbroken the ascent from this, the simplest +architecture, to the loftiest. The placing of the timbers in a ship's +stem, and the laying of the stones in a bridge buttress, are similar in +art to the construction of the ploughshare, differing in no essential +point, either in that they deal with other materials, or because, of the +three things produced, one has to divide earth by advancing through it, +another to divide water by advancing through it, and the third to divide +water which advances against it. And again, the buttress of a bridge +differs only from that of a cathedral in having less weight to sustain, +and more to resist. We can find no term in the gradation, from the +ploughshare to the cathedral buttress, at which we can set a logical +distinction. + +6. Thus then we have simply three divisions of Art--one, that of giving +colours to substance; another, that of giving form to it without +question of resistance to force; and the third, that of giving form or +position which will make it capable of such resistance. All the fine +arts are embraced under these three divisions. Do not think that it is +only a logical or scientific affectation to mass them together in this +manner; it is, on the contrary, of the first practical importance to +understand that the painter's faculty, or masterhood over colour, being +as subtle as a musician's over sound, must be looked to for the +government of every operation in which colour is employed; and that, in +the same manner, the appliance of any art whatsoever to minor objects +cannot be right, unless under the direction of a true master of that +art. Under the present system, you keep your Academician occupied only +in producing tinted pieces of canvas to be shown in frames, and smooth +pieces of marble to be placed in niches; while you expect your builder +or constructor to design coloured patterns in stone and brick, and your +china-ware merchant to keep a separate body of workwomen who can paint +china, but nothing else. By this division of labour, you ruin all the +arts at once. The work of the Academician becomes mean and effeminate, +because he is not used to treat colour on a grand scale and in rough +materials; and your manufactures become base because no well educated +person sets hand to them. And therefore it is necessary to understand, +not merely as a logical statement, but as a practical necessity, that +wherever beautiful colour is to be arranged, you need a Master of +Painting; and wherever noble form is to be given, a Master of Sculpture; +and wherever complex mechanical force is to be resisted, a Master of +Architecture. + +7. But over this triple division there must rule another yet more +important. Any of these three arts may be either imitative of natural +objects or limited to useful appliance. You may either paint a picture +that represents a scene, or your street door, to keep it from rotting; +you may mould a statue, or a plate; build the resemblance of a cluster +of lotus stalks, or only a square pier. Generally speaking, Painting and +Sculpture will be imitative, and Architecture merely useful; but there +is a great deal of Sculpture--as this crystal ball[108] for instance, +which is not imitative, and a great deal of Architecture which, to some +extent is so, as the so called foils of Gothic apertures; and for many +other reasons you will find it necessary to keep distinction clear in +your minds between the arts--of whatever kind--which are imitative, and +produce a resemblance or image of something which is not present; and +those which are limited to the production of some useful reality, as the +blade of a knife, or the wall of a house. You will perceive also, as we +advance, that sculpture and painting are indeed in this respect only one +art; and that we shall have constantly to speak and think of them as +simply _graphic_, whether with chisel or colour, their principal +function being to make us, in the words of Aristotle, "[Greek: +theôrêtikoi tou peri ta sômata kallous]" (Polit. 8, 3.), "having +capacity and habit of contemplation of the beauty that is in material +things;" while Architecture, and its co-relative arts, are to be +practised under quite other conditions of sentiment. + +8. Now it is obvious that so far as the fine arts consist either in +imitation or mechanical construction, the right judgment of them must +depend on our knowledge of the things they imitate, and forces they +resist: and my function of teaching here would (for instance) so far +resolve itself, either into demonstration that this painting of a +peach,[109] does resemble a peach, or explanation of the way in which +this ploughshare (for instance) is shaped so as to throw the earth aside +with least force of thrust. And in both of these methods of study, +though of course your own diligence must be your chief master, to a +certain extent your Professor of Art can always guide you securely, and +can show you, either that the image does truly resemble what it attempts +to resemble, or that the structure is rightly prepared for the service +it has to perform. But there is yet another virtue of fine art which is, +perhaps, exactly that about which you will expect your Professor to +teach you most, and which, on the contrary, is exactly that about which +you must teach yourselves all that it is essential to learn. + +9. I have here in my hand one of the simplest possible examples of the +union of the graphic and constructive powers,--one of my breakfast +plates. Since all the finely architectural arts, we said, began in the +shaping of the cup and the platter, we will begin, ourselves, with the +platter. + +Why has it been made round? For two structural reasons: first, that the +greatest holding surface may be gathered into the smallest space; and +secondly, that in being pushed past other things on the table, it may +come into least contact with them. + +[Illustration: FIG. 1.] + +Next, why has it a rim? For two other structural reasons; first, that it +is convenient to put salt or mustard upon; but secondly and chiefly, +that the plate may be easily laid hold of. The rim is the simplest form +of continuous handle. + +Farther, to keep it from soiling the cloth, it will be wise to put this +ridge beneath, round the bottom; for as the rim is the simplest possible +form of continuous handle, so this is the simplest form of continuous +leg. And we get the section given beneath the figure for the essential +one of a rightly made platter. + +10. Thus far our art has been strictly utilitarian having respect to +conditions of collision, of carriage, and of support. But now, on the +surface of our piece of pottery, here are various bands and spots of +colour which are presumably set there to make it pleasanter to the eye. +Six of the spots, seen closely, you discover are intended to represent +flowers. These then have as distinctly a graphic purpose as the other +properties of the plate have an architectural one, and the first +critical question we have to ask about them is, whether they are like +roses or not. I will anticipate what I have to say in subsequent +lectures so far as to assure you that, if they are to be like roses at +all, the liker they can be, the better. Do not suppose, as many people +will tell you, that because this is a common manufactured article, your +roses on it are the better for being ill-painted, or half-painted. If +they had been painted by the same hand that did this peach, the plate +would have been all the better for it; but, as it chanced, there was no +hand such as William Hunt's to paint them, and their graphic power is +not distinguished. In any case, however, that graphic power must have +been subordinate to their effect as pink spots, while the band of +green-blue round the plate's edge, and the spots of gold, pretend to no +graphic power at all, but are meaningless spaces of colour or metal. +Still less have they any mechanical office: they add nowise to the +serviceableness of the plate; and their agreeableness, if they possess +any, depends, therefore, neither on any imitative, nor any structural, +character; but on some inherent pleasantness in themselves, either of +mere colours to the eye (as of taste to the tongue), or in the placing +of those colours in relations which obey some mental principle of order, +or physical principle of harmony. + +11. These abstract relations and inherent pleasantnesses, whether in +space, number, or time, and whether of colours or sounds, form what we +may properly term the musical or harmonic element in every art; and the +study of them is an entirely separate science. It is the branch of +art-philosophy to which the word "æsthetics" should be strictly limited, +being the inquiry into the nature of things that in themselves are +pleasant to the human senses or instincts, though they represent +nothing, and serve for nothing, their only service _being_ their +pleasantness. Thus it is the province of æsthetics to tell you, (if you +did not know it before,) that the taste and colour of a peach are +pleasant, and to ascertain, if it be ascertainable, (and you have any +curiosity to know,) why they are so. + +12. The information would, I presume, to most of you, be gratuitous. If +it were not, and you chanced to be in a sick state of body in which you +disliked peaches, it would be, for the time, to you false information, +and, so far as it was true of other people, to you useless. Nearly the +whole study of æsthetics is in like manner either gratuitous or useless. +Either you like the right things without being recommended to do so, or +if you dislike them, your mind cannot be changed by lectures on the laws +of taste. You recollect the story of Thackeray, provoked, as he was +helping himself to strawberries, by a young coxcomb's telling him that +"he never took fruit or sweets." "That" replied, or is said to have +replied, Thackeray, "is because you are a sot, and a glutton." And the +whole science of æsthetics is, in the depth of it, expressed by one +passage of Goethe's in the end of the 2nd part of Faust;--the notable +one that follows the song of the Lemures, when the angels enter to +dispute with the fiends for the soul of Faust. They enter +singing--"Pardon to sinners and life to the dust." Mephistopheles hears +them first, and exclaims to his troop, "Discord I hear, and filthy +jingling"--"Mistöne höre ich; garstiges Geklimper." This, you see, is +the extreme of bad taste in music. Presently the angelic host begin +strewing roses, which discomfits the diabolic crowd altogether. +Mephistopheles in vain calls to them--"What do you duck and shrink +for--is that proper hellish behaviour? Stand fast, and let them +strew"--"Was duckt und zuckt ihr; ist das Hellen-brauch? So haltet +stand, und lasst sie streuen." There you have, also, the extreme of bad +taste in sight and smell. And in the whole passage is a brief embodiment +for you of the ultimate fact that all æsthetics depend on the health of +soul and body, and the proper exercise of both, not only through years, +but generations. Only by harmony of both collateral and successive +lives can the great doctrine of the Muses be received which enables men +"[Greek: chairein orthôs]," "to have pleasures rightly;" and there is no +other definition of the beautiful, nor of any subject of delight to the +æsthetic faculty, than that it is what one noble spirit has created, +seen and felt by another of similar or equal nobility. So much as there +is in you of ox, or of swine, perceives no beauty, and creates none: +what is human in you, in exact proportion to the perfectness of its +humanity, can create it, and receive. + +13. Returning now to the very elementary form in which the appeal to our +æsthetic virtue is made in our breakfast-plate, you notice that there +are two distinct kinds of pleasantness attempted. One by hues of colour; +the other by proportions of space. I have called these the musical +elements of the arts relating to sight; and there are indeed two +complete sciences, one of the combinations of colour, and the other of +the combinations of line and form, which might each of them separately +engage us in as intricate study as that of the science of music. But of +the two, the science of colour is, in the Greek sense, the more musical, +being one of the divisions of the Apolline power; and it is so +practically educational, that if we are not using the faculty for colour +to discipline nations, they will infallibly use it themselves as a means +of corruption. Both music and colour are naturally influences of peace; +but in the war trumpet, and the war shield, in the battle song and +battle standard, they have concentrated by beautiful imagination the +cruel passions of men; and there is nothing in all the Divina Commedia +of history more grotesque, yet more frightful, than the fact that, from +the almost fabulous period when the insanity and impiety of war wrote +themselves in the symbols of the shields of the Seven against Thebes, +colours have been the sign and stimulus of the most furious and fatal +passions that have rent the nations: blue against green, in the decline +of the Roman Empire; black against white, in that of Florence; red +against white, in the wars of the Royal houses in England; and at this +moment, red against white, in the contest of anarchy and loyalty, in all +the world. + +14. On the other hand, the directly ethical influence of colour in the +sky, the trees, flowers, and coloured creatures round us, and in our own +various arts massed under the one name of painting, is so essential and +constant that we cease to recognize it, because we are never long enough +altogether deprived of it to feel our need; and the mental diseases +induced by the influence of corrupt colour are as little suspected, or +traced to their true source, as the bodily weaknesses resulting from +atmospheric miasmata. + +15. The second musical science which belongs peculiarly to sculpture +(and to painting, so far as it represents form), consists in the +disposition of beautiful masses. That is to say, beautiful surfaces +limited by beautiful lines. Beautiful _surfaces_, observe; and remember +what is noted in my fourth lecture of the difference between a space and +a mass. If you have at any time examined carefully, or practised from, +the drawings of shells placed in your copying series, you cannot but +have felt the difference in the grace between the aspects of the same +line, when enclosing a rounded or unrounded space. The exact science of +sculpture is that of the relations between outline and the solid form it +limits; and it does not matter whether that relation be indicated by +drawing or carving, so long as the expression of solid form is the +mental purpose; it is the science always of the beauty of relation in +three dimensions. To take the simplest possible line of continuous +limit--the circle: the flat disc enclosed by it may indeed be made an +element of decoration, though a very meagre one but its relative mass, +the ball, being gradated in three dimensions, is always delightful. +Here[110] is at once the simplest, and in mere patient mechanism, the +most skilful, piece of sculpture I can possibly show you,--a piece of +the purest rock-crystal, chiselled, (I believe, by mere toil of hand,) +into a perfect sphere. Imitating nothing, constructing nothing; +sculpture for sculpture's sake, of purest natural substance into +simplest primary form. + +16. Again. Out of the nacre of any mussel or oyster-shell you might cut, +at your pleasure, any quantity of small flat circular discs of the +prettiest colour and lustre. To some extent, such tinsel or foil of +shell _is_ used pleasantly for decoration. But the mussel or oyster +becoming itself an unwilling modeller, agglutinates its juice into three +dimensions, and the fact of the surface being now geometrically +gradated, together with the savage instinct of attributing value to what +is difficult to obtain, make the little boss so precious in men's sight +that wise eagerness of search for the kingdom of heaven can be likened +to their eagerness of search for _it_; and the gates of Paradise can be +no otherwise rendered so fair to their poor intelligence, as by telling +them that every several gate was of "one pearl." + +17. But take note here. We have just seen that the sum of the perceptive +faculty is expressed in those words of Aristotle's "to take pleasure +rightly" or straightly--[Greek: chairein orthôs]. Now, it is not +possible to do the direct opposite of that,--to take pleasure +iniquitously or obliquely--[Greek: chairein adikôs] or [Greek: +skoliôs]--more than you do in enjoying a thing because your neighbour +cannot get it. You may enjoy a thing legitimately because it is rare, +and cannot be seen often, (as you do a fine aurora, or a sunset, or an +unusually lovely flower); that is Nature's way of stimulating your +attention. But if you enjoy it because your neighbour cannot have +it--and, remember, all value attached to pearls more than glass beads, +is merely and purely for that cause,--then you rejoice through the worst +of idolatries, covetousness; and neither arithmetic, nor writing, nor +any other so-called essential of education, is now so vitally necessary +to the population of Europe, as such acquaintance with the principles of +intrinsic value, as may result in the iconoclasm of jewellery; and in +the clear understanding that we are not in that instinct, civilized, but +yet remain wholly savage, so far as we care for display of this selfish +kind. + +You think, perhaps, I am quitting my subject, and proceeding, as it is +too often with appearance of justice alleged against me, into irrelevant +matter. Pardon me; the end, not only of these lectures, but of my whole +professorship, would be accomplished,--and far more than that,--if only +the English nation could be made to understand that the beauty which is +indeed to be a joy for ever, must be a joy for all; and that though the +idolatry may not have been wholly divine which sculptured gods, the +idolatry is wholly diabolic, which, for vulgar display, sculptures +diamonds. + +18. To go back to the point under discussion. A pearl, or a glass bead, +may owe its pleasantness in some degree to its lustre as well as to its +roundness. But a mere and simple ball of unpolished stone is enough for +sculpturesque value. You may have noticed that the quatrefoil used in +the Ducal Palace of Venice owes its complete loveliness in distant +effect to the finishing of its cusps. The extremity of the cusp is a +mere ball of Istrian marble; and consider how subtle the faculty of +sight must be, since it recognizes at any distance, and is gratified by, +the mystery of the termination of cusp obtained by the gradated light on +the ball. + +In that Venetian tracery this simplest element of sculptured form is +used sparingly, as the most precious that can be employed to finish the +façade. But alike in our own, and the French, central Gothic, the +ball-flower is lavished on every line--and in your St. Mary's spire, and +the Salisbury spire, and the towers of Notre Dame of Paris, the rich +pleasantness of decoration,--indeed, their so-called "decorated +style,"--consists only in being daintily beset with stone balls. It is +true the balls are modified into dim likeness of flowers; but do you +trace the resemblance to the rose in their distant, which is their +intended effect? + +19. But farther, let the ball have motion; then the form it generates +will be that of a cylinder. You have, perhaps, thought that pure Early +English Architecture depended for its charm on visibility of +construction. It depends for its charm altogether on the abstract +harmony of groups of cylinders,[111] arbitrarily bent into mouldings, +and arbitrarily associated as shafts, having no _real_ relation to +construction whatsoever, and a theoretical relation so subtle that none +of us had seen it, till Professor Willis worked it out for us. + +20. And now, proceeding to analysis of higher sculpture, you may have +observed the importance I have attached to the porch of San Zenone, at +Verona, by making it, among your standards, the first of the group which +is to illustrate the system of sculpture and architecture founded on +faith in a future life. That porch, fortunately represented in the +photograph, from which Plate I. has been engraved, under a clear and +pleasant light, furnishes you with examples of sculpture of every kind +from the flattest incised bas-relief to solid statues, both in marble +and bronze. And the two points I have been pressing upon you are +conclusively exhibited here, namely,--(1). That sculpture is essentially +the production of a pleasant bossiness or roundness of surface; (2) that +the pleasantness of that bossy condition to the eye is irrespective of +imitation on one side, and of structure on the other. + +21. (1.) Sculpture is essentially the production of a pleasant bossiness +or roundness of surface. + +If you look from some distance at these two engravings of Greek coins, +(place the book open so that you can see the opposite plate three or +four yards off,) you will find the relief on each of them simplifies +itself into a pearl-like portion of a sphere, with exquisitely gradated +light on its surface. When you look at them nearer, you will see that +each smaller portion into which they are divided--cheek, or brow, or +leaf, or tress of hair--resolves itself also into a rounded or +undulated surface, pleasant by gradation of light. Every several surface +is delightful in itself, as a shell, or a tuft of rounded moss, or the +bossy masses of distant forest would be. That these intricately +modulated masses present some resemblance to a girl's face, such as the +Syracusans imagined that of the water-goddess Arethusa, is entirely a +secondary matter; the primary condition is that the masses shall be +beautifully rounded, and disposed with due discretion and order. + +[Illustration: PLATE I.--PORCH OF SAN ZENONE. VERONA.] + +22. (2.) It is difficult for you, at first, to feel this order and +beauty of surface, apart from the imitation. But you can see there is a +pretty disposition of, and relation between, the projections of a +fir-cone, though the studded spiral imitates nothing. Order exactly the +same in kind, only much more complex; and an abstract beauty of surface +rendered definite by increase and decline of light--(for every curve of +surface has its own luminous law, and the light and shade on a parabolic +solid differs, specifically, from that on an elliptical or spherical +one)--it is the essential business of the sculptor to obtain; as it is +the essential business of a painter to get good colour, whether he +imitates anything or not. At a distance from the picture, or carving, +where the things represented become absolutely unintelligible, we must +yet be able to say, at a glance, "That is good painting, or good +carving." + +And you will be surprised to find, when you try the experiment, how much +the eye must instinctively judge in this manner. Take the front of San +Zenone for instance, Plate I. You will find it impossible without a +lens, to distinguish in the bronze gates, and in great part of the wall, +anything that their bosses represent. You cannot tell whether the +sculpture is of men, animals, or trees; only you feel it to be composed +of pleasant projecting masses; you acknowledge that both gates and wall +are, somehow, delightfully roughened; and only afterwards, by slow +degrees, can you make out what this roughness means; nay, though here +(Plate III.) I magnify[112] one of the bronze plates of the gate to a +scale, which gives you the same advantage as if you saw it quite close, +in the reality,--you may still be obliged to me for the information, +that _this_ boss represents the Madonna asleep in her little bed, and +this smaller boss, the Infant Christ in His; and this at the top, a +cloud with an angel coming out of it, and these jagged bosses, two of +the Three Kings, with their crowns on, looking up to the star, (which is +intelligible enough I admit); but what this straggling, three-legged +boss beneath signifies, I suppose neither you nor I can tell, unless it +be the shepherd's dog, who has come suddenly upon the Kings with their +crowns on, and is greatly startled at them. + +23. Farther, and much more definitely, the pleasantness of the surface +decoration is independent of structure; that is to say, of any +architectural requirement of stability. The greater part of the +sculpture here is exclusively ornamentation of a flat wall, or of door +panelling; only a small portion of the church front is thus treated, and +the sculpture has no more to do with the form of the building than a +piece of a lace veil would have, suspended beside its gates on a festal +day; the proportions of shaft and arch might be altered in a hundred +different ways, without diminishing their stability; and the pillars +would stand more safely on the ground than on the backs of these carved +animals. + +24. I wish you especially to notice these points, because the false +theory that ornamentation should be merely decorated structure is so +pretty and plausible, that it is likely to take away your attention from +the far more important abstract conditions of design. Structure should +never be contradicted, and in the best buildings it is pleasantly +exhibited and enforced; in this very porch the joints of every stone are +visible, and you will find me in the Fifth Lecture insisting on this +clearness of its anatomy as a merit; yet so independent is the +mechanical structure of the true design, that when I begin my Lectures +on Architecture, the first building I shall give you as a standard will +be one in which the structure is wholly concealed. It will be the +Baptistry of Florence, which is, in reality, as much a buttressed chapel +with a vaulted roof, as the Chapter House of York--but round it, in +order to conceal that buttressed structure, (not to decorate, observe, +but to _conceal_) a flat external wall is raised; simplifying the whole +to a mere hexagonal box, like a wooden piece of Tunbridge ware, on the +surface of which the eye and intellect are to be interested by the +relations of dimension and curve between pieces of encrusting marble of +different colours, which have no more to do with the real make of the +building than the diaper of a Harlequin's jacket has to do with his +bones. + +[Illustration: PLATE II.--THE ARETHUSA OF SYRACUSE.] + +[Illustration: PLATE III.--THE WARNING TO THE KINGS. + +San Zenone. Verona.] + +25. The sense of abstract proportion, on which the enjoyment of such a +piece of art entirely depends, is one of the æsthetic faculties which +nothing can develop but time and education. It belongs only to +highly-trained nations; and, among them, to their most strictly refined +classes, though the germs of it are found, as part of their innate +power, in every people capable of art. It has for the most part vanished +at present from the English mind, in consequence of our eager desire for +excitement, and for the kind of splendour that exhibits wealth, careless +of dignity; so that, I suppose, there are very few now even of our +best-trained Londoners who know the difference between the design of +Whitehall and that of any modern club-house in Pall-mall. The order and +harmony which, in his enthusiastic account of the Theatre of Epidaurus, +Pausanias insists on before beauty, can only be recognized by stern +order and harmony in our daily lives; and the perception of them is as +little to be compelled, or taught suddenly, as the laws of still finer +choice in the conception of dramatic incident which regulate poetic +sculpture. + +26. And now, at last, I think, we can sketch out the subject before us +in a clear light. We have a structural art, divine, and human, of which +the investigation comes under the general term, Anatomy; whether the +junctions or joints be in mountains, or in branches of trees, or in +buildings, or in bones of animals. We have next a musical art, falling +into two distinct divisions--one using colours, the other masses, for +its elements of composition; lastly, we have an imitative art, concerned +with the representation of the outward appearances of things. And, for +many reasons, I think it best to begin with imitative Sculpture; that +being defined as _the art which, by the musical disposition of masses, +imitates anything of which the imitation is justly pleasant to us; and +does so in accordance with structural laws having due reference to the +materials employed_. + +So that you see our task will involve the immediate inquiry what the +things are of which the imitation is justly pleasant to us: what, in few +words,--if we are to be occupied in the making of graven images--we +ought to like to make images _of_. Secondly, after having determined its +subject, what degree of imitation or likeness we ought to desire in our +graven image; and lastly, under what limitations demanded by structure +and material, such likeness may be obtained. + +These inquiries I shall endeavour to pursue with you to some practical +conclusion, in my next four lectures, and in the sixth, I will briefly +sketch the actual facts that have taken place in the development of +sculpture by the two greatest schools of it that hitherto have existed +in the world. + +27. The tenor of our next lecture then must be an inquiry into the real +nature of Idolatry; that is to say, the invention and service of Idols: +and, in the interval, may I commend to your own thoughts this question, +not wholly irrelevant, yet which I cannot pursue; namely, whether the +God to whom we have so habitually prayed for deliverance "from battle, +murder, and sudden death," _is_ indeed, seeing that the present state of +Christendom is the result of a thousand years' praying to that effect, +"as the gods of the heathen who were but idols;" or whether--(and +observe, one or other of these things _must_ be true)--whether our +prayers to Him have been, by this much, worse than Idolatry;--that +heathen prayer was true prayer to false gods; and our prayers have been +false prayers to the True One. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[107] I had a real ploughshare on my lecture table; but it would +interrupt the drift of the statements in the text too long if I +attempted here to illustrate by figures the relation of the coulter to +the share, and of the hard to the soft pieces of metal in the share +itself. + +[108] A sphere of rock crystal, cut in Japan, enough imaginable by the +reader, without a figure. + +[109] One of William Hunt's peaches; not, I am afraid, imaginable +altogether, but still less representable by figure. + +[110] The crystal ball above mentioned. + +[111] All grandest effects in mouldings may be, and for the most part +have been, obtained by rolls and cavettos of circular (segmental) +section. More refined sections, as that of the fluting of a Doric shaft, +are only of use near the eye and in beautiful stone; and the pursuit of +them was one of the many errors of later Gothic. The statement in the +text that the mouldings, even of best time, "have no real relation to +construction," is scarcely strong enough: they in fact contend with, and +deny the construction, their principal purpose seeming to be the +concealment of the joints of the voussoirs. + +[112] Some of the most precious work done for me by my assistant Mr. +Burgess, during the course of these lectures, consisted in making +enlarged drawings from portions of photographs. Plate III. is engraved +from a drawing of his, enlarged from the original photograph of which +Plate I. is a reduction. + + + + +LECTURE II. + +IDOLATRY. + +_November, 1870._ + + +28. Beginning with the simple conception of sculpture as the art of +fiction in solid substance, we are now to consider what its subjects +should be. What--having the gift of imagery--should we by preference +endeavour to image? A question which is, indeed, subordinate to the +deeper one--why we should wish to image anything at all. + +29. Some years ago, having been always desirous that the education of +women should begin in learning how to cook, I got leave, one day, for a +little girl of eleven years old to exchange, much to her satisfaction, +her schoolroom for the kitchen. But as ill fortune would have it, there +was some pastry toward, and she was left unadvisedly in command of some +delicately rolled paste; whereof she made no pies, but an unlimited +quantity of cats and mice. + +Now you may read the works of the gravest critics of art from end to +end; but you will find, at last, they can give you no other true account +of the spirit of sculpture than that it is an irresistible human +instinct for the making of cats and mice, and other imitable living +creatures, in such permanent form that one may play with the images at +leisure. + +Play with them, or love them, or fear them, or worship them. The cat may +become the goddess Pasht, and the mouse, in the hand of the sculptured +king, enforce his enduring words "[Greek: es eme tis oreôn eusebês +estô];" but the great mimetic instinct underlies all such purpose; and +is zooplastic,--life-shaping,--alike in the reverent and the impious. + +30. Is, I say, and has been, hitherto; none of us dare say that it will +be. I shall have to show you hereafter that the greater part of the +technic energy of men, as yet, has indicated a kind of childhood; and +that the race becomes, if not more wise, at least more manly,[113] with +every gained century. I can fancy that all this sculpturing and painting +of ours may be looked back upon, in some distant time, as a kind of +doll-making, and that the words of Sir Isaac Newton may be smiled at no +more: only it will not be for stars that we desert our stone dolls, but +for men. When the day comes, as come it must, in which we no more deface +and defile God's image in living clay, I am not sure that we shall any +of us care so much for the images made of Him, in burnt clay. + +31. But, hitherto, the energy of growth in any people may be almost +directly measured by their passion for imitative art; namely, for +sculpture, or for the drama, which is living and speaking sculpture, or, +as in Greece, for both; and in national as in actual childhood, it is +not merely the _making_, but the _making-believe_; not merely the acting +for the sake of the scene, but acting for the sake of acting, that is +delightful. And, of the two mimetic arts, the drama, being more +passionate, and involving conditions of greater excitement and luxury, +is usually in its excellence the sign of culminating strength in the +people; while fine sculpture, requiring always submission to severe law, +is an unfailing proof of their being in early and active progress. +_There is no instance of fine sculpture being produced by a nation +either torpid, weak, or in decadence._ Their drama may gain in grace and +wit; but their sculpture, in days of decline, is _always_ base. + +32. If my little lady in the kitchen had been put in command of colours, +as well as of dough, and if the paste would have taken the colours, we +may be sure her mice would have been painted brown, and her cats +tortoise-shell; and this, partly indeed for the added delight and +prettiness of colour itself, but more for the sake of absolute +realization to her eyes and mind. Now all the early sculpture of the +most accomplished nations has been thus coloured, rudely or finely; and, +therefore, you see at once how necessary it is that we should keep the +term "graphic" for imitative art generally; since no separation can at +first be made between carving and painting, with reference to the mental +powers exerted in, or addressed by, them. In the earliest known art of +the world, a reindeer hunt may be scratched in outline on the flat side +of a clean-picked bone, and a reindeer's head carved out of the end of +it; both these are flint-knife work, and, strictly speaking, sculpture: +but the scratched outline is the beginning of drawing, and the carved +head of sculpture proper. When the spaces enclosed by the scratched +outline are filled with colour, the colouring soon becomes a principal +means of effect; so that, in the engraving of an Egyptian-colour +bas-relief (S. 101), Rosellini has been content to miss the outlining +incisions altogether, and represent it as a painting only. Its proper +definition is, "painting accented by sculpture;" on the other hand, in +solid coloured statues,--Dresden china figures, for example,--we have +pretty sculpture accented by painting; the mental purpose in both kinds +of art being to obtain the utmost degree of realization possible, and +the ocular impression being the same, whether the delineation is +obtained by engraving or painting. For, as I pointed out to you in my +fifth lecture, everything is seen by the eye as patches of colour, and +of colour only; a fact which the Greeks knew well; so that when it +becomes a question in the dialogue of Minos, "[Greek: tini onti tê opsei +horatai ta hoômena]," the answer is "[Greek: aisthêsei tautê tê dia tôn +ophthalmôn dêloisê hêmin ta chrômata]."--"What kind of power is the +sight with which we see things? It is that sense which, through the +eyes, can reveal _colours_ to us." + +33. And now observe that while the graphic arts begin in the mere +mimetic effort, they proceed, as they obtain more perfect realization, +to act under the influence of a stronger and higher instinct. They begin +by scratching the reindeer, the most interesting object of sight. But +presently, as the human creature rises in scale of intellect, it +proceeds to scratch, not the most interesting object of sight only, but +the most interesting object of imagination; not the reindeer, but the +Maker and Giver of the reindeer. And the second great condition for the +advance of the art of sculpture is that the race should possess, in +addition to the mimetic instinct, the realistic or idolizing instinct; +the desire to see as substantial the powers that are unseen, and bring +near those that are far off, and to possess and cherish those that are +strange. To make in some way tangible and visible the nature of the +gods--to illustrate and explain it by symbols; to bring the immortals +out of the recesses of the clouds, and make them Penates; to bring back +the dead from darkness, and make them Lares. + +34. Our conception of this tremendous and universal human passion has +been altogether narrowed by the current idea that Pagan religious art +consisted only, or chiefly, in giving personality to the gods. The +personality was never doubted; it was visibility, interpretation, and +possession that the hearts of men sought. Possession, first of all--the +getting hold of some hewn log of wild olive-wood that would fall on its +knees if it was pulled from its pedestal--and, afterwards, slowly +clearing manifestation; the exactly right expression is used in Lucian's +dream,--[Greek: Pheidias edeixe ton Dia]; "Showed[114] Zeus;" manifested +him, nay, in a certain sense, brought forth, or created, as you have it, +in Anacreon's ode to the Rose, of the birth of Athena herself-- + + [Greek: polemoklonon t' Athênên + koruphês edeiknye Zeus.] + +But I will translate the passage from Lucian to you at length--it is in +every way profitable. + +35. "There came to me, in the healing[115] night, a divine dream, so +clear that it missed nothing of the truth itself; yes, and still after +all this time, the shapes of what I saw remain in my sight, and the +sound of what I heard dwells in my ears"--note the lovely sense of +[Greek: enaulos]--the sound being as of a stream passing always by in +the same channel,--"so distinct was everything to me. Two women laid +hold of my hands and pulled me, each towards herself, so violently, that +I had like to have been pulled asunder; and they cried out against one +another,--the one, that she was resolved to have me to herself, being +indeed her own, and the other that it was vain for her to claim what +belonged to others;--and the one who first claimed me for her own was +like a hard worker, and had strength as a man's; and her hair was dusty, +and her hand full of horny places, and her dress fastened tight about +her, and the folds of it loaded with white marble-dust, so that she +looked just as my uncle used to look when he was filing stones: but the +other was pleasant in features, and delicate in form, and orderly in her +dress; and so in the end, they left it to me to decide, after hearing +what they had to say, with which of them I would go; and first the hard +featured and masculine one spoke:-- + +[Illustration: IV + +THE NATIVITY OF ATHENA.] + +36. "'Dear child, I am the Art of Image-sculpture, which yesterday you +began to learn; and I am as one of your own people, and of your house, +for your grandfather,' (and she named my mother's father) 'was a +stone-cutter; and both your uncles had good name through me: and if you +will keep yourself well clear of the sillinesses and fluent follies that +come from this creature,' (and she pointed to the other woman) 'and will +follow me, and live with me, first of all, you shall be brought up as a +man should be, and have strong shoulders; and, besides that, you shall +be kept well quit of all restless desires, and you shall never be +obliged to go away into any foreign places, leaving your own country and +the people of your house; _neither shall all men praise you for your +talk_.[116] And you must not despise this rude serviceableness of my +body, neither this meanness of my dusty dress; for, pushing on in their +strength from such things as these, that great Phidias revealed Zeus, +and Polyclitus wrought out Hera, and Myron was praised, and Praxiteles +marvelled at: therefore are these men worshipped with the gods.'" + +37. There is a beautiful ambiguity in the use of the preposition with +the genitive in this last sentence. "Pushing on from these things" means +indeed, justly, that the sculptors rose from a mean state to a noble +one; but not as _leaving_ the mean state;--not as, from a hard life, +attaining to a soft one,--but as being helped and strengthened by the +rough life to do what was greatest. Again, "worshipped with the gods" +does not mean that they are thought of as in any sense equal to, or like +to, the gods, but as being on the side of the gods against what is base +and ungodly; and that the kind of worth which is in them is therefore +indeed worshipful, as having its source with the gods. Finally, observe +that every one of the expressions, used of the four sculptors, is +definitely the best that Lucian could have chosen. Phidias carved like +one who had seen Zeus, and had only to _reveal_ him; Polyclitus, in +labour of intellect, completed his sculpture by just law, and _wrought_ +out Hera; Myron was of all most _praised_, because he did best what +pleased the vulgar; and Praxiteles, the most _wondered at_ or admired, +because he bestowed utmost exquisiteness of beauty. + +38. I am sorry not to go on with the dream; the more refined lady, as +you may remember, is liberal or gentlemanly Education, and prevails at +last; so that Lucian becomes an author instead of a sculptor, I think to +his own regret, though to our present benefit. One more passage of his I +must refer you to, as illustrative of the point before us; the +description of the temple of the Syrian Hieropolis, where he explains +the absence of the images of the sun and moon. "In the temple itself," +he says, "on the left hand as one goes in, there is set first the throne +of the sun; but no form of him is thereon, for of these two powers +alone, the sun and the moon, they show no carved images. And I also +learned why this is their law, for they say that it is permissible, +indeed, to make of the other gods, graven images, since the forms of +them are not visible to all men. But Helios and Selenaia are everywhere +clear-bright, and all men behold them; what need is there therefore for +sculptured work of these, who appear in the air?" + +39. This, then, is the second instinct necessary to sculpture; the +desire for the manifestation, description, and companionship of unknown +powers; and for possession of a bodily substance--the "bronze +Strasbourg," which you can embrace, and hang immortelles on the head +of--instead of an abstract idea. But if you get nothing more in the +depth of the national mind than these two feelings, the mimetic and +idolizing instincts, there may be still no progress possible for the +arts except in delicacy of manipulation and accumulative caprice of +design. You must have not only the idolizing instinct, but an [Greek: +êthos] which chooses the right thing to idolize! Else, you will get +states of art like those in China or India, non-progressive, and in +great part diseased and frightful, being wrought under the influence of +foolish terror, or foolish admiration. So that a third condition, +completing and confirming both the others, must exist in order to the +development of the creative power. + +40. This third condition is that the heart of the nation shall be set on +the discovery of just or equal law, and shall be from day to day +developing that law more perfectly. The Greek school of sculpture is +formed during, and in consequence of, the national effort to discover +the nature of justice; the Tuscan, during, and in consequence of, the +national effort to discover the nature of justification. I assert to you +at present briefly, what will, I hope, be the subject of prolonged +illustration hereafter. + +41. Now when a nation with mimetic instinct and imaginative longing is +also thus occupied earnestly in the discovery of Ethic law, that effort +gradually brings precision and truth into all its manual acts; and the +physical progress of sculpture as in the Greek, so in the Tuscan, +school, consists in gradually _limiting_ what was before indefinite, in +_verifying_ what was inaccurate, and in _humanizing_ what was monstrous. +I might perhaps content you by showing these external phenomena, and by +dwelling simply on the increasing desire of naturalness, which compels, +in every successive decade of years, literally, in the sculptured +images, the mimicked bones to come together, bone to his bone; and the +flesh to come up upon them, until from a flattened and pinched handful +of clay, respecting which you may gravely question whether it was +intended for a human form at all;--by slow degrees, and added touch to +touch, in increasing consciousness of the bodily truth,--at last the +Aphrodite of Melos stands before you, a perfect woman. But all that +search for physical accuracy is merely the external operation, in the +arts, of the seeking for truth in the inner soul; it is impossible +without that higher effort, and the demonstration of it would be worse +than useless to you, unless I made you aware at the same time of its +spiritual cause. + +42. Observe farther; the increasing truth in representation is +co-relative with increasing beauty in the thing to be represented. The +pursuit of justice which regulates the imitative effort, regulates also +the development of the race into dignity of person, as of mind; and +their culminating art-skill attains the grasp of entire truth at the +moment when the truth becomes most lovely. And then, ideal sculpture may +go on safely into portraiture. But I shall not touch on the subject of +portrait sculpture to-day; it introduces many questions of detail, and +must be a matter for subsequent consideration. + +43. These then are the three great passions which are concerned in true +sculpture. I cannot find better, or, at least, more easily remembered, +names for them than "the Instincts of Mimicry, Idolatry, and +Discipline;" meaning, by the last, the desire of equity and wholesome +restraint, in all acts and works of life. Now of these, there is no +question but that the love of Mimicry is natural and right, and the love +of Discipline is natural and right. But it looks a grave question +whether the yearning for Idolatry, (the desire of companionship with +images,) is right. Whether, indeed, if such an instinct be essential to +good sculpture, the art founded on it can possibly be "fine" art. + +44. I must now beg for your close attention, because I have to point out +distinctions in modes of conception which will appear trivial to you, +unless accurately understood; but of an importance in the history of art +which cannot be overrated. + +When the populace of Paris adorned the statue of Strasbourg with +immortelles, none, even the simplest of the pious decorators, would +suppose that the city of Strasbourg itself, or any spirit or ghost of +the city, was actually there, sitting in the Place de la Concorde. The +figure was delightful to them as a visible nucleus for their fond +thoughts about Strasbourg; but never for a moment supposed to _be_ +Strasbourg. + +Similarly, they might have taken delight in a statue purporting to +represent a river instead of a city,--the Rhine, or Garonne, +suppose,--and have been touched with strong emotion in looking at it, if +the real river were dear to them, and yet never think for an instant +that the statue _was_ the river. + +And yet again, similarly, but much more distinctly, they might take +delight in the beautiful image of a god, because it gathered and +perpetuated their thoughts about that god; and yet never suppose, nor be +capable of being deceived by any arguments into supposing, that the +statue _was_ the god. + +On the other hand, if a meteoric stone fell from the sky in the sight of +a savage, and he picked it up hot, he would most probably lay it aside +in some, to him, sacred place, and believe _the stone itself_ to be a +kind of god, and offer prayer and sacrifice to it. + +In like manner, any other strange or terrifying object, such, for +instance, as a powerfully noxious animal or plant, he would be apt to +regard in the same way; and very possibly also construct for himself +frightful idols of some kind, calculated to produce upon him a vague +impression of their being alive; whose imaginary anger he might +deprecate or avert with sacrifice, although incapable of conceiving in +them any one attribute of exalted intellectual or moral nature. + +45. If you will now refer to § 52-59 of my Introductory Lectures, you +will find this distinction between a resolute conception, recognized for +such, and an involuntary apprehension of spiritual existence, already +insisted on at some length. And you will see more and more clearly as we +proceed, that the deliberate and intellectually commanded conception is +not idolatrous in any evil sense whatever, but is one of the grandest +and wholesomest functions of the human soul; and that the essence of +evil idolatry begins only in the idea or belief of a real presence of +any kind, in a thing in which there is no such presence. + +46. I need not say that the harm of the idolatry must depend on the +certainty of the negative. If there be a real presence in a pillar of +cloud, in an unconsuming flame, or in a still small voice, it is no sin +to bow down before these. + +But, as matter of historical fact, the idea of such presence has +generally been both ignoble and false, and confined to nations of +inferior race, who are often condemned to remain for ages in conditions +of vile terror, destitute of thought. Nearly all Indian architecture and +Chinese design arise out of such a state: so also, though in a less +gross degree, Ninevite and Phoenician art, early Irish, and +Scandinavian; the latter, however, with vital elements of high intellect +mingled in it from the first. + +But the greatest races are never grossly subject to such terror, even in +their childhood, and the course of their minds is broadly divisible into +three distinct stages. + +47. (I.) In their infancy they begin to imitate the real animals about +them, as my little girl made the cats and mice, but with an undercurrent +of partial superstition--a sense that there must be more in the +creatures than they can see; also they catch up vividly any of the +fancies of the baser nations round them, and repeat these more or less +apishly, yet rapidly naturalizing and beautifying them. They then +connect all kinds of shapes together, compounding meanings out of the +old chimeras, and inventing new ones with the speed of a running +wild-fire; but always getting more of man into their images, and +admitting less of monster or brute; their own characters, meanwhile, +expanding and purging themselves, and shaking off the feverish fancy, as +springing flowers shake the earth off their stalks. + +48. (II.) In the second stage, being now themselves perfect men and +women, they reach the conception of true and great gods as existent in +the universe; and absolutely cease to think of them as in any wise +present in statues or images; but they have now learned to make these +statues beautifully human, and to surround them with attributes that may +concentrate their thoughts of the gods. This is, in Greece, accurately +the Pindaric time, just a little preceding the Phidian; the Phidian is +already dimmed with a faint shadow of infidelity; still, the Olympic +Zeus may be taken as a sufficiently central type of a statue which was +no more supposed to _be_ Zeus, than the gold or elephants' tusks it was +made of; but in which the most splendid powers of human art were +exhausted in representing a believed and honoured God to the happy and +holy imagination of a sincerely religious people. + +49. (III.) The third stage of national existence follows, in which, the +imagination having now done its utmost, and being partly restrained by +the sanctities of tradition, which permit no farther change in the +conceptions previously created, begins to be superseded by logical +deduction and scientific investigation. At the same moment, the elder +artists having done all that is possible in realizing the national +conceptions of the Gods, the younger ones, forbidden to change the +scheme of existing representations, and incapable of doing anything +better in that kind, betake themselves to refine and decorate the old +ideas with more attractive skill. Their aims are thus more and more +limited to manual dexterity, and their fancy paralyzed. Also, in the +course of centuries, the methods of every art continually improving, and +being made subjects of popular inquiry, praise is now to be got, for +eminence in these, from the whole mob of the nation; whereas +intellectual design can never be discerned but by the few. So that in +this third æra, we find every kind of imitative and vulgar dexterity +more and more cultivated; while design and imagination are every day +less cared for, and less possible. + +50. Meanwhile, as I have just said, the leading minds in literature and +science become continually more logical and investigative; and, once +that they are established in the habit of testing facts accurately, a +very few years are enough to convince all the strongest thinkers that +the old imaginative religion is untenable, and cannot any longer be +honestly taught in its fixed traditional form, except by ignorant +persons. And at this point the fate of the people absolutely depends on +the degree of moral strength into which their hearts have been already +trained. If it be a strong, industrious, chaste, and honest race, the +taking its old gods, or at least the old forms of them, away from it, +will indeed make it deeply sorrowful and amazed; but will in no whit +shake its will, nor alter its practice. Exceptional persons, naturally +disposed to become drunkards, harlots, and cheats, but who had been +previously restrained from indulging these dispositions by their fear of +God, will, of course, break out into open vice, when that fear is +removed. But the heads of the families of the people, instructed in the +pure habits and perfect delights of an honest life, and to whom the +thought of a Father in heaven had been a comfort, not a restraint, will +assuredly not seek relief from the discomfort of their orphanage by +becoming uncharitable and vile. Also the high leaders of their thought +gather their whole strength together in the gloom; and at the first +entrance of this valley of the Shadow of Death, look their new enemy +full in the eyeless face of him, and subdue him, and his terror, under +their feet. "Metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum,... strepitumque +Acherontis avari." This is the condition of national soul expressed by +the art, and the words, of Holbein, Durer, Shakspeare, Pope, and Goethe. + +51. But if the people, at the moment when the trial of darkness +approaches, be not confirmed in moral character, but are only +maintaining a superficial virtue by the aid of a spectral religion; the +moment the staff of their faith is broken, the character of the race +falls like a climbing plant cut from its hold: then all the earthliest +vices attack it as it lies in the dust; every form of sensual and insane +sin is developed, and half a century is sometimes enough to close, in +hopeless shame, the career of the nation in literature, art, and war. + +52. Notably, within the last hundred years, all religion has perished +from the practically active national mind of France and England. No +statesman in the senate of either country would dare to use a sentence +out of their acceptedly divine Revelation, as having now a literal +authority over them for their guidance, or even a suggestive wisdom for +their contemplation. England, especially, has cast her Bible full in the +face of her former God; and proclaimed, with open challenge to Him, her +resolved worship of His declared enemy, Mammon. All the arts, therefore, +founded on religion, and sculpture chiefly, are here in England effete +and corrupt, to a degree which arts never were hitherto in the history +of mankind: and it is possible to show you the condition of sculpture +living, and sculpture dead, in accurate opposition, by simply comparing +the nascent Pisan school in Italy with the existing school in England. + +53. You were perhaps surprised at my placing in your educational +series, as a type of original Italian sculpture, the pulpit by Niccola +Pisano in the Duomo of Siena. I would rather, had it been possible, have +given the pulpit by Giovanni Pisano in the Duomo of Pisa; but that +pulpit is dispersed in fragments through the upper galleries of the +Duomo, and the cloister of the Campo Santo; and the casts of its +fragments now put together at Kensington are too coarse to be of use to +you. You may partly judge, however, of the method of their execution by +the eagle's head, which I have sketched from the marble in the Campo +Santo (Edu., No. 113), and the lioness with her cubs, (Edu., No. 103, +more carefully studied at Siena); and I will get you other illustrations +in due time. Meanwhile, I want you to compare the main purpose of the +Cathedral of Pisa, and its associated Bell Tower, Baptistery, and Holy +Field, with the main purpose of the principal building lately raised for +the people of London. In these days, we indeed desire no cathedrals; but +we have constructed an enormous and costly edifice, which, in claiming +educational influence over the whole London populace, and middle class, +is verily the Metropolitan cathedral of this century,--the Crystal +Palace. + +54. It was proclaimed, at its erection, an example of a newly discovered +style of architecture, greater than any hitherto known,--our best +popular writers, in their enthusiasm, describing it as an edifice of +Fairyland. You are nevertheless to observe that this novel production of +fairy enchantment is destitute of every kind of sculpture, except the +bosses produced by the heads of nails and rivets; while the Duomo of +Pisa, in the wreathen work of its doors, in the foliage of its capitals, +inlaid colour designs of its façade, embossed panels of its baptistery +font, and figure sculpture of its two pulpits, contained the germ of a +school of sculpture which was to maintain, through a subsequent period +of four hundred years, the greatest power yet reached by the arts of the +world in description of Form, and expression of Thought. + +55. Now it is easy to show you the essential cause of the vast +discrepancy in the character of these two buildings. + +In the vault of the apse of the Duomo of Pisa, was a colossal image of +Christ, in coloured mosaic, bearing to the temple, as nearly as +possible, the relation which the statue of Athena bore to the Parthenon; +and in the same manner, concentrating the imagination of the Pisan on +the attributes of the God in whom he believed. + +In precisely the same position with respect to the nave of the building, +but of larger size, as proportioned to the three or four times greater +scale of the whole, a colossal piece of sculpture was placed by English +designers, at the extremity of the Crystal Palace, in preparation for +their solemnities in honour of the birthday of Christ, in December, 1867 +or 1868. + +That piece of sculpture was the face of the clown in a pantomime, some +twelve feet high from brow to chin, which face, being moved by the +mechanism which is our pride, every half minute opened its mouth from +ear to ear, showed its teeth, and revolved its eyes, the force of these +periodical seasons of expression being increased and explained by the +illuminated inscription underneath "Here we are again." + +56. When it is assumed, and with too good reason, that the mind of the +English populace is to be addressed, in the principal Sacred Festival of +its year, by sculpture such as this, I need scarcely point out to you +that the hope is absolutely futile of advancing their intelligence by +collecting within this building, (itself devoid absolutely of every kind +of art, and so vilely constructed that those who traverse it are +continually in danger of falling over the cross-bars that bind it +together) examples of sculpture filched indiscriminately from the past +work, bad and good, of Turks, Greeks, Romans, Moors, and Christians, +miscoloured, misplaced, and misinterpreted;[117] here thrust into +unseemly corners, and there mortised together into mere confusion of +heterogeneous obstacle; pronouncing itself hourly more intolerable in +weariness, until any kind of relief is sought from it in steam +wheelbarrows or cheap toy-shops; and most of all in beer and meat, the +corks and the bones being dropped through the chinks in the damp deal +flooring of the English Fairy Palace. + +57. But you will probably think me unjust in assuming that a building +prepared only for the amusement of the people can typically represent +the architecture or sculpture of modern England. You may urge, that I +ought rather to describe the qualities of the refined sculpture which is +executed in large quantities for private persons belonging to the upper +classes, and for sepulchral and memorial purposes. But I could not now +criticise that sculpture with any power of conviction to you, because I +have not yet stated to you the principles of good sculpture in general. +I will, however, in some points, tell you the facts by anticipation. + +58. We have much excellent portrait sculpture; but portrait sculpture, +which is nothing more, is always third-rate work, even when produced by +men of genius;--nor does it in the least require men of genius to +produce it. To paint a portrait, indeed, implies the very highest gifts +of painting; but any man, of ordinary patience and artistic feeling, can +carve a satisfactory bust. + +59. Of our powers in historical sculpture, I am, without question, just, +in taking for sufficient evidence the monuments we have erected to our +two greatest heroes by sea and land; namely, the Nelson Column, and the +statue of the Duke of Wellington opposite Apsley House. Nor will you, I +hope, think me severe,--certainly, whatever you may think me, I am using +only the most temperate language, in saying of both these monuments, +that they are absolutely devoid of high sculptural merit. But, consider +how much is involved in the fact thus dispassionately stated, respecting +the two monuments in the principal places of our capital, to our two +greatest heroes. + +60. Remember that we have before our eyes, as subjects of perpetual +study and thought, the art of all the world for three thousand years +past: especially, we have the best sculpture of Greece, for example of +bodily perfection; the best of Rome, for example of character in +portraiture; the best of Florence, for example of romantic passion: we +have unlimited access to books and other sources of instruction; we have +the most perfect scientific illustrations of anatomy, both human and +comparative; and, we have bribes for the reward of success, large, in +the proportion of at least twenty to one, as compared with those offered +to the artists of any other period. And with all these advantages, and +the stimulus also of fame carried instantly by the press to the remotest +corners of Europe, the best efforts we can make, on the grandest of +occasions, result in work which it is impossible in any one particular +to praise. + +Now consider for yourselves what an intensity of the negation of the +faculty of sculpture this implies in the national mind! What measures +can be assigned to the gulf of incapacity, which can deliberately +swallow up in the gorge of it the teaching and example of three thousand +years, and produce as the result of that instruction, what it is +courteous to call "nothing?" + +61. That is the conclusion at which we arrive, on the evidence presented +by our historical sculpture. To complete the measure of ourselves, we +must endeavour to estimate the rank of the two opposite schools of +sculpture employed by us in the nominal service of religion, and in the +actual service of vice. + +I am aware of no statue of Christ, nor of any apostle of Christ, nor of +any scene related in the New Testament, produced by us within the last +three hundred years, which has possessed even superficial merit enough +to attract public attention. + +Whereas the steadily immoral effect of the formative art which we learn, +more or less apishly, from the French schools, and employ, but too +gladly, in manufacturing articles for the amusement of the luxurious +classes, must be ranked as one of the chief instruments used by joyful +fiends and angry fates, for the ruin of our civilization. + +If, after I have set before you the nature and principles of true +sculpture, in Athens, Pisa, and Florence, you reconsider these +facts,--(which you will then at once recognize as such),--you will find +that they absolutely justify my assertion that the state of sculpture in +modern England, as compared with that of the great Ancients, is +literally one of corrupt and dishonourable death, as opposed to bright +and fameful life. + +62. And now, will you bear with me, while I tell you finally why this is +so? + +The cause with which you are personally concerned is your own frivolity; +though essentially this is not your fault, but that of the system of +your early training. But the fact remains the same, that here, in +Oxford, you, a chosen body of English youth, in no wise care for the +history of your country, for its present dangers, or its present duties. +You still, like children of seven or eight years old, are interested +only in bats, balls, and oars: nay, including with you the students of +Germany and France, it is certain that the general body of modern +European youth have their minds occupied more seriously by the sculpture +and painting of the bowls of their tobacco-pipes, than by all the +divinest workmanship and passionate imagination of Greece, Rome, and +Mediæval Christendom. + +63. But the elementary causes, both of this frivolity in you, and of +worse than frivolity in older persons, are the two forms of deadly +Idolatry which are now all but universal in England. + +The first of these is the worship of the Eidolon, or Phantasm of Wealth; +worship of which you will find the nature partly examined in the 37th +paragraph of my _Munera Pulveris_; but which is briefly to be defined as +the servile apprehension of an active power in Money, and the submission +to it as the God of our life. + +64. The second elementary cause of the loss of our nobly imaginative +faculty, is the worship of the Letter, instead of the Spirit, in what we +chiefly accept as the ordinance and teaching of Deity; and the +apprehension of a healing sacredness in the act of reading the Book +whose primal commands we refuse to obey. + +No feather idol of Polynesia was ever a sign of a more shameful +idolatry, than the modern notion in the minds of certainly the majority +of English religious persons, that the Word of God, by which the heavens +were of old, and the earth, standing out of the water and in the +water,--the Word of God which came to the prophets, and comes still for +ever to all who will hear it, (and to many who will forbear); and which, +called Faithful and True, is to lead forth, in the judgment, the armies +of heaven,--that this "Word of God" may yet be bound at our pleasure in +morocco, and carried about in a young lady's pocket, with tasselled +ribands to mark the passages she most approves of. + +65. Gentlemen, there has hitherto been seen no instance, and England is +little likely to give the unexampled spectacle, of a country successful +in the noble arts, yet in which the youths were frivolous, the maidens +falsely religious, the men, slaves of money, and the matrons, of vanity. +Not from all the marble of the hills of Luni will such a people ever +shape one statue that may stand nobly against the sky; not from all the +treasures bequeathed to them by the great dead, will they gather, for +their own descendants, any inheritance but shame. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[113] Glance forward at once to § 75, read it, and return to this. + +[114] There is a primary and vulgar sense of "exhibited" in Lucian's +mind; but the higher meaning is involved in it. + +[115] In the Greek, "ambrosial." Recollect always that ambrosia, as food +of gods, is the continual restorer of strength; that all food is +ambrosial when it nourishes, and that the night is called "ambrosial" +because it restores strength to the soul through its peace, as, in the +23rd Psalm, the stillness of waters. + +[116] I have italicised this final promise of blessedness, given by the +noble Spirit of Workmanship. Compare Carlyle's 5th Latter-day pamphlet, +throughout; but especially pp. 12-14, in the first edition. + +[117] "Falsely represented," would be the better expression. In the cast +of the tomb of Queen Eleanor, for a single instance, the Gothic foliage +of which one essential virtue is its change over every shield, is +represented by a repetition of casts from one mould, of which the design +itself is entirely conjectural. + + + + +LECTURE III. + +IMAGINATION. + +_November, 1870._ + + +66. The principal object of the preceding lecture (and I choose rather +to incur your blame for tediousness in repeating, than for obscurity in +defining it), was to enforce the distinction between the ignoble and +false phase of Idolatry, which consists in the attribution of a +spiritual power to a material thing; and the noble and truth-seeking +phase of it, to which I shall in these lectures[118] give the general +term of Imagination;--that is to say, the invention of material symbols +which may lead us to contemplate the character and nature of gods, +spirits, or abstract virtues and powers, without in the least implying +the actual presence of such Beings among us, or even their possession, +in reality, of the forms we attribute to them. + +[Illustration: FIG. 2.] + +67. For instance, in the ordinarily received Greek type of Athena, on +vases of the Phidian time (sufficiently represented in the opposite +woodcut), no Greek would have supposed the vase on which this was +painted to be itself Athena, nor to contain Athena inside of it, as the +Arabian fisherman's casket contained the genie; neither did he think +that this rude black painting, done at speed as the potter's fancy urged +his hand, represented anything like the form or aspect of the Goddess +herself. Nor would he have thought so, even had the image been ever so +beautifully wrought. The goddess might, indeed, visibly appear under the +form of an armed virgin, as she might under that of a hawk or a swallow, +when it pleased her to give such manifestation of her presence; but it +did not, therefore, follow that she was constantly invested with any of +these forms, or that the best which human skill could, even by her own +aid, picture of her, was, indeed, a likeness of her. The real use, at +all events, of this rude image, was only to signify to the eye and heart +the facts of the existence, in some manner, of a Spirit of wisdom, +perfect in gentleness, irresistible in anger; having also physical +dominion over the air which is the life and breadth of all creatures, +and clothed, to human eyes, with ægis of fiery cloud, and raiment of +falling dew. + +68. In the yet more abstract conception of the Spirit of agriculture, in +which the wings of the chariot represent the winds of spring, and its +crested dragons are originally a mere type of the seed with its twisted +root piercing the ground, and sharp-edged leaves rising above it; we are +in still less danger of mistaking the symbol for the presumed form of an +actual Person. But I must, with persistence, beg of you to observe that +in all the noble actions of imagination in this kind, the distinction +from idolatry consists, not in the denial of the being, or presence of +the Spirit, but only in the due recognition of our human incapacity to +conceive the one, or compel the other. + +[Illustration: FIG. 3.] + +69. Farther--and for this statement I claim your attention still more +earnestly. As no nation has ever attained real greatness during periods +in which it was subject to any condition of Idolatry, so no nation has +ever attained or persevered in greatness, except in reaching and +maintaining a passionate Imagination of a spiritual estate higher than +that of men; and of spiritual creatures nobler than men, having a quite +real and personal existence, however imperfectly apprehended by us. + +And all the arts of the present age deserving to be included under the +name of sculpture have been degraded by us, and all principles of just +policy have vanished from us,--and that totally,--for this double +reason; that we are on one side, given up to idolatries of the most +servile kind, as I showed you in the close of the last lecture,--while, +on the other hand, we have absolutely ceased from the exercise of +faithful imagination; and the only remnants of the desire of truth which +remain in us have been corrupted into a prurient itch to discover the +origin of life in the nature of the dust, and prove that the source of +the order of the universe is the accidental concurrence of its atoms. + +70. Under these two calamities of our time, the art of sculpture has +perished more totally than any other, because the object of that art is +exclusively the representation of form as the exponent of life. It is +essentially concerned only with the human form, which is the exponent of +the highest life we know; and with all subordinate forms only as they +exhibit conditions of vital power which have some certain relation to +humanity. It deals with the "particula undique desecta" of the animal +nature, and itself contemplates, and brings forward for its disciples' +contemplation, all the energies of creation which transform the [Greek: +pêlos], or lower still, the [Greek: borboros] of the _trivia_, by +Athena's help, into forms of power;--([Greek: to men holon architektôn +autos ên. syneirgazeto de toi kai ê 'Athêna empneousa ton pêlon kai +empsycha poiousa einai ta plasmata];)[119]--but it has nothing whatever +to do with the representation of forms not living, however beautiful, +(as of clouds or waves); nor may it condescend to use its perfect skill, +except in expressing the noblest conditions of life. + +These laws of sculpture, being wholly contrary to the practice of our +day, I cannot expect you to accept on my assertion, nor do I wish you to +do so. By placing definitely good and bad sculpture before you, I do not +doubt but that I shall gradually prove to you the nature of all +excelling and enduring qualities; but to-day I will only confirm my +assertions by laying before you the statement of the Greeks themselves +on the subject; given in their own noblest time, and assuredly +authoritative, in every point which it embraces, for all time to come. + +71. If any of you have looked at the explanation I have given of the +myth of Athena in my _Queen of the Air_, you cannot but have been +surprised that I took scarcely any note of the story of her birth. I did +not, because that story is connected intimately with the Apolline myths; +and is told of Athena, not essentially as the goddess of the air, but as +the goddess of Art-Wisdom. + +You have probably often smiled at the legend itself, or avoided thinking +of it, as revolting. It is indeed, one of the most painful and childish +of sacred myths; yet remember, ludicrous and ugly as it seems to us, +this story satisfied the fancy of the Athenian people in their highest +state; and if it did not satisfy--yet it was accepted by, all later +mythologists: you may also remember I told you to be prepared to find +that, given a certain degree of national intellect, the ruder the +symbol, the deeper would be its purpose. And this legend of the birth of +Athena is the central myth of all that the Greeks have left us +respecting the power of their arts; and in it they have expressed, as it +seemed good to them, the most important things they had to tell us on +these matters. We may read them wrongly; but we must read them here, if +anywhere. + +72. There are so many threads to be gathered up in the legend, that I +cannot hope to put it before you in total clearness, but I will take +main points. Athena is born in the island of Rhodes; and that island is +raised out of the sea by Apollo, after he had been left without +inheritance among the gods. Zeus[120] would have cast the lot again, but +Apollo orders the golden-girdled Lachesis to stretch out her hands; and +not now by chance or lot, but by noble enchantment, the island rises out +of the sea. + +Physically, this represents the action of heat and light on chaos, +especially on the deep sea. It is the "Fiat lux" of Genesis, the first +process in the conquest of Fate by Harmony. The island is dedicated to +the Nymph Rhodos, by whom Apollo has the seven sons who teach [Greek: +sophôtata noêmata]; because the rose is the most beautiful organism +existing in matter not vital, expressive of the direct action of light +on the earth, giving lovely form and colour at once; (compare the use of +it by Dante as the form of the sainted crowd in highest heaven) and +remember that, therefore, the rose is in the Greek mind, essentially a +Doric flower, expressing the worship of Light, as the Iris or Ion is an +Ionic one, expressing the worship of the Winds and Dew. + +73. To understand the agency of Hephæstus at the birth of Athena, we +must again return to the founding of the arts on agriculture by the +hand. Before you can cultivate land you must clear it; and the +characteristic weapon of Hephæstus,--which is as much his attribute as +the trident is of Poseidon, and the rhabdos of Hermes, is not, as you +would have expected, the hammer, but the clearing-axe--the doubled-edged +[Greek: pélekys], the same that Calypso gives Ulysses with which to cut +down the trees for his home voyage; so that both the naval and +agricultural strength of the Athenians are expressed by this weapon, +with which they had to hew out their fortune. And you must keep in mind +this agriculturally laborious character of Hephæstus, even when he is +most distinctly the god of serviceable fire; thus Horace's perfect +epithet for him "avidus" expresses at once the devouring eagerness of +fire, and the zeal of progressive labour, for Horace gives it to him +when he is fighting against the giants. And this rude symbol of his +cleaving the forehead of Zeus with the axe, and giving birth to Athena +signifies, indeed, physically the thrilling power of heat in the +heavens, rending the clouds, and giving birth to the blue air; but far +more deeply it signifies the subduing of adverse Fate by true labour; +until, out of the chasm, cleft by resolute and industrious fortitude, +springs the Spirit of Wisdom. + +74. Here (Fig. 4) is an early drawing of the myth, to which I shall have +to refer afterwards in illustration of the childishness of the Greek +mind at the time when its art-symbols were first fixed; but it is of +peculiar value, because the physical character of Vulcan, as fire, is +indicated by his wearing the [Greek: endromides] of Hermes, while the +antagonism of Zeus, as the adverse chaos, either of cloud or of fate, is +shown by his striking at Hephæstus with his thunderbolt. But Plate IV. +gives you (as far as the light on the rounded vase will allow it to be +deciphered) a characteristic representation of the scene, as conceived +in later art. + +[Illustration: FIG. 4.] + +75. I told you in a former lecture of this course that the entire Greek +intellect was in a childish phase as compared to that of modern times. +Observe, however, childishness does not necessarily imply universal +inferiority: there may be a vigorous, acute, pure, and solemn childhood, +and there may be a weak, foul, and ridiculous condition of advanced +life; but the one is still essentially the childish, and the other the +adult phase of existence. + +76. You will find, then, that the Greeks were the first people that were +born into complete humanity. All nations before them had been, and all +around them still were, partly savage, bestial, clay-encumbered, +inhuman; still semi-goat, or semi-ant, or semi-stone, or semi-cloud. But +the power of a new spirit came upon the Greeks, and the stones were +filled with breath, and the clouds clothed with flesh; and then came the +great spiritual battle between the Centaurs and Lapithæ; and the living +creatures became "Children of Men." Taught, yet, by the Centaur--sown, +as they knew, in the fang--from the dappled skin of the brute, from the +leprous scale of the serpent, their flesh came again as the flesh of a +little child, and they were clean. + +Fix your mind on this as the very central character of the Greek +race--the being born pure and human out of the brutal misery of the +past, and looking abroad, for the first time, with their children's +eyes, wonderingly open, on the strange and divine world. + +77. Make some effort to remember, so far as may be possible to you, +either what you felt in yourselves when you were young, or what you have +observed in other children, of the action of thought and fancy. Children +are continually represented as living in an ideal world of their own. So +far as I have myself observed, the distinctive character of a child is +to live always in the tangible present, having little pleasure in +memory, and being utterly impatient and tormented by anticipation: weak +alike in reflection and forethought, but having an intense possession of +the actual present, down to the shortest moments and least objects of +it; possessing it, indeed, so intensely that the sweet childish days are +as long as twenty days will be; and setting all the faculties of heart +and imagination on little things, so as to be able to make anything out +of them he chooses. Confined to a little garden, he does not imagine +himself somewhere else, but makes a great garden out of that; possessed +of an acorn-cup, he will not despise it and throw it away, and covet a +golden one in its stead: it is the adult who does so. The child keeps +his acorn-cup as a treasure, and makes a golden one out of it in his +mind; so that the wondering grown-up person standing beside him is +always tempted to ask concerning his treasures, not, "What would you +have more than these?" but "What possibly can you see _in_ these?" for, +to the bystander, there is a ludicrous and incomprehensible +inconsistency between the child's words and the reality. The little +thing tells him gravely, holding up the acorn-cup, that "this is a +queen's crown, or a fairy's boat," and, with beautiful effrontery, +expects him to believe the same. But observe--the acorn-cup must be +_there_, and in his own hand. "Give it me;" then I will make more of it +for myself. That is the child's one word, always. + +[Illustration: FIG. 5.] + +78. It is also the one word of the Greek--"Give it me." Give me _any_ +thing definite here in my sight, then I will make more of it. + +[Illustration: PLATE V.--TOMB OF THE DOGES JACOPO AND LORENZO TIEPOLO.] + +I cannot easily express to you how strange it seems to me that I am +obliged, here in Oxford, to take the position of an apologist for Greek +art; that I find, in spite of all the devotion of the admirable scholars +who have so long maintained in our public schools the authority of Greek +literature, our younger students take no interest in the manual work of +the people upon whose thoughts the tone of their early intellectual life +has exclusively depended. But I am not surprised that the interest, if +awakened, should not at first take the form of admiration. The +inconsistency between an Homeric description of a piece of furniture or +armour, and the actual rudeness of any piece of art approximating within +even three or four centuries, to the Homeric period, is so great, that +we at first cannot recognize the art as elucidatory of, or in any way +related to, the poetic language. + +79. You will find, however, exactly the same kind of discrepancy between +early sculpture, and the languages of deed and thought, in the second +birth, and childhood, of the world, under Christianity. The same fair +thoughts and bright imaginations arise again; and similarly, the fancy +is content with the rudest symbols by which they can be formalized to +the eyes. You cannot understand that the rigid figure (2) with chequers +or spots on its breast, and sharp lines of drapery to its feet, could +represent, to the Greek, the healing majesty of heaven: but can you any +better understand how a symbol so haggard as this (Fig. 5) could +represent to the noblest hearts of the Christian ages the power and +ministration of angels? Yet it not only did so, but retained in the rude +undulatory and linear ornamentation of its dress, record of the thoughts +intended to be conveyed by the spotted ægis and falling chiton of +Athena, eighteen hundred years before. Greek and Venetian alike, in +their noble childhood, knew with the same terror the coiling wind and +congealed hail in heaven--saw with the same thankfulness the dew shed +softly on the earth, and on its flowers; and both recognized, ruling +these, and symbolized by them, the great helpful spirit of Wisdom, which +leads the children of men to all knowledge, all courage, and all art. + +80. Read the inscription written on the sarcophagus (Plate V.), at the +extremity of which this angel is sculptured. It stands in an open recess +in the rude brick wall of the west front of the church of St. John and +Paul at Venice, being the tomb of the two doges, father and son, Jacopo +and Lorenzo Tiepolo. This is the inscription:-- + + "Quos natura pares studiis, virtutibus, arte + Edidit, illustres genitor natusque, sepulti + Hác sub rupe Duces. Venetum charissima proles + Theupula collatis dedit hos celebranda triumphis. + Omnia presentis donavit predia templi + Dux Jacobus: valido fixit moderamine leges + Urbis, et ingratam redimens certamine Jadram + Dalmatiosque dedit patrie, post, Marte subactas + Graiorum pelago maculavit sanguine classes. + Suscipit oblatos princeps Laurentius Istros, + Et domuit rigidos, ingenti strage cadentes, + Bononie populos. Hinc subdita Cervia cessit. + Fundavere vias pacis; fortique relictá + Re, superos sacris petierunt mentibus ambo. + + "Dominus Jachobus hobiit[121] M.CCLI. + Dominus Laurentius hobiit M.CCLXXVIII." + +You see, therefore, this tomb is an invaluable example of thirteenth +century sculpture in Venice. In Plate VI., you have an example of the +(coin) sculpture of the date accurately corresponding in Greece to the +thirteenth century in Venice, when the meaning of symbols was everything +and the workmanship comparatively nothing. The upper head is an Athena, +of Athenian work in the seventh or sixth century--(the coin itself may +have been struck later, but the archaic type was retained). The two +smaller impressions below are the front and obverse of a coin of the +same age from Corinth, the head of Athena on one side, and Pegasus, with +the archaic Koppa, on the other. The smaller head is bare, the hair +being looped up at the back and closely bound with an olive branch. You +are to note this general outline of the head, already given in a more +finished type in Plate II., as a most important elementary form in the +finest sculpture, not of Greece only, but of all Christendom. In the +upper head the hair is restrained still more closely by a round helmet, +for the most part smooth, but embossed with a single flower tendril, +having one bud, one flower, and above it, two olive leaves. You have +thus the most absolutely restricted symbol possible to human thought of +the power of Athena over the flowers and trees of the earth. An olive +leaf by itself could not have stood for the sign of a tree, but the two +can, when set in position of growth. + +[Illustration: PLATE VI.--ARCHAIC ATHENA OF ATHENS AND CORINTH.] + +I would not give you the reverse of the coin on the same plate, because +you would have looked at it only, laughed at it, and not examined the +rest; but here it is, wonderfully engraved for you (Fig. 6): of it we +shall have more to say afterwards. + +[Illustration: FIG. 6.] + +81. And now as you look at these rude vestiges of the religion of +Greece, and at the vestiges, still ruder, on the Ducal tomb, of the +religion of Christendom, take warning against two opposite errors. + +There is a school of teachers who will tell you that nothing but Greek +art is deserving of study, and that all our work at this day should be +an imitation of it. + +Whenever you feel tempted to believe them, think of these portraits of +Athena and her owl, and be assured that Greek art is not in all respects +perfect, nor exclusively deserving of imitation. + +There is another school of teachers who will tell you that Greek art is +good for nothing; that the soul of the Greek was outcast, and that +Christianity entirely superseded its faith, and excelled its works. + +Whenever you feel tempted to believe _them_, think of this angel on the +tomb of Jacopo Tiepolo; and remember, that Christianity, after it had +been twelve hundred years existent as an imaginative power on the earth, +could do no better work than this, though with all the former power of +Greece to help it; nor was able to engrave its triumph in having stained +its fleets in the seas of Greece with the blood of her people, but +between barbarous imitations of the pillars which that people had +invented. + +82. Receiving these two warnings, receive also this lesson; In both +examples, childish though it be, this Heathen and Christian art is alike +sincere, and alike vividly imaginative: the actual work is that of +infancy; the thoughts, in their visionary simplicity, are also the +thoughts of infancy, but in their solemn virtue, they are the thoughts +of men. + +We, on the contrary, are now, in all that we do, absolutely without +sincerity;--absolutely, therefore, without imagination, and without +virtue. Our hands are dexterous with the vile and deadly dexterity of +machines; our minds filled with incoherent fragments of faith, which we +cling to in cowardice, without believing, and make pictures of in +vanity, without loving. False and base alike, whether we admire or +imitate, we cannot learn from the Heathen's art, but only pilfer it; we +cannot revive the Christian's art, but only galvanize it; we are, in the +sum of us, not human artists at all, but mechanisms of conceited clay, +masked in the furs and feathers of living creatures, and convulsed with +voltaic spasms, in mockery of animation. + +83. You think, perhaps, that I am using terms unjustifiable in violence. +They would, indeed, be unjustifiable, if, spoken from this chair, they +were violent at all. They are, unhappily, temperate and +accurate,--except in shortcoming of blame. For we are not only impotent +to restore, but strong to defile, the work of past ages. Of the +impotence, take but this one, utterly humiliatory, and, in the full +meaning of it, ghastly, example. We have lately been busy embanking, in +the capital of the country, the river which, of all its waters, the +imagination of our ancestors had made most sacred, and the bounty of +nature most useful. Of all architectural features of the metropolis, +that embankment will be, in future, the most conspicuous; and in its +position and purpose it was the most capable of noble adornment. + +For that adornment, nevertheless, the utmost which our modern poetical +imagination has been able to invent, is a row of gas-lamps. It has, +indeed, farther suggested itself to our minds as appropriate to +gas-lamps set beside a river, that the gas should come out of fishes' +tails; but we have not ingenuity enough to cast so much as a smelt or a +sprat for ourselves; so we borrow the shape of a Neapolitan marble, +which has been the refuse of the plate and candlestick shops in every +capital of Europe for the last fifty years. We cast _that_ badly, and +give lustre to the ill-cast fish with lacquer in imitation of bronze. On +the base of their pedestals, towards the road, we put for +advertisement's sake, the initials of the casting firm; and, for farther +originality and Christianity's sake, the caduceus of Mercury; and to +adorn the front of the pedestals towards the river, being now wholly at +our wit's end, we can think of nothing better than to borrow the +door-knocker which--again for the last fifty years--has disturbed and +decorated two or three millions of London street-doors; and magnifying +the marvellous device of it, a lion's head with a ring in its mouth +(still borrowed from the Greek), we complete the embankment with a row +of heads and rings, on a scale which enables them to produce, at the +distance at which only they can be seen, the exact effect of a row of +sentry boxes. + +84. Farther. In the very centre of the city, and at the point where the +Embankment commands a view of Westminster Abbey on one side and of St. +Paul's on the other--that is to say, at precisely the most important and +stately moment of its whole course--it has to pass under one of the +arches of Waterloo Bridge, which, in the sweep of its curve, is as +vast--it alone--as the Rialto at Venice, and scarcely less seemly in +proportions. But over the Rialto, though of late and debased Venetian +work, there still reigns some power of human imagination: on the two +flanks of it are carved the Virgin and the Angel of the Annunciation; on +the keystone the descending Dove. It is not, indeed, the fault of living +designers that the Waterloo arch is nothing more than a gloomy and +hollow heap of wedged blocks of blind granite. But just beyond the damp +shadow of it, the new Embankment is reached by a flight of stairs, which +are, in point of fact, the principal approach to it, a-foot, from +central London; the descent from the very midst of the metropolis of +England to the banks of the chief river of England; and for this +approach, living designers _are_ answerable. + +85. The principal decoration of the descent is again a gas-lamp, but a +shattered one, with a brass crown on the top of it or, rather, +half-crown, and that turned the wrong way, the back of it to the river +and causeway, its flame supplied by a visible pipe far wandering along +the wall; the whole apparatus being supported by a rough cross-beam. +Fastened to the centre of the arch above is a large placard, stating +that the Royal Humane Society's drags are in constant readiness, and +that their office is at 4, Trafalgar Square. On each side of the arch +are temporary, but dismally old and battered boardings, across two +angles capable of unseemly use by the British public. Above one of these +is another placard, stating that this is the Victoria Embankment. The +steps themselves--some forty of them--descend under a tunnel, which the +shattered gas-lamp lights by night, and nothing by day. They are covered +with filthy dust, shaken off from infinitude of filthy feet; mixed up +with shreds of paper, orange-peel, foul straw, rags, and cigar ends, and +ashes; the whole agglutinated, more or less, by dry saliva into slippery +blotches and patches; or, when not so fastened, blown dismally by the +sooty wind hither and thither, or into the faces of those who ascend and +descend. The place is worth your visit, for you are not likely to find +elsewhere a spot which, either in costly and ponderous brutality of +building, or in the squalid and indecent accompaniment of it, is so far +separated from the peace and grace of nature, and so accurately +indicative of the methods of our national resistance to the Grace, +Mercy, and Peace of Heaven. + +86. I am obliged always to use the English word "Grace" in two senses, +but remember that the Greek [Greek: charis] includes them both (the +bestowing, that is to say of Beauty and Mercy); and especially it +includes these in the passage of Pindar's first ode, which gives us the +key to the right interpretation of the power of sculpture in Greece. You +remember that I told you, in my Sixth Introductory Lecture (§ 151), that +the mythic accounts of Greek sculpture begin in the legends of the +family of Tantalus; and especially in the most grotesque legend of them +all, the inlaying of the ivory shoulder of Pelops. At that story Pindar +pauses--not, indeed, without admiration, nor alleging any impossibility +in the circumstances themselves, but doubting the careless hunger of +Demeter--and gives his own reading of the event, instead of the ancient +one. He justifies this to himself, and to his hearers, by the plea that +myths have, in some sort, or degree, ([Greek: pou ti]), led the mind of +mortals beyond the truth: and then he goes on:-- + +"Grace, which creates everything that is kindly and soothing for +mortals, adding honour, has often made things at first untrustworthy, +become trustworthy through Love." + +87. I cannot, except in these lengthened terms, give you the complete +force of the passage; especially of the [Greek: apiston emêsato +pioton]--"made it trustworthy by passionate desire that it should be +so"--which exactly describes the temper of religious persons at the +present day, who are kindly and sincere, in clinging to the forms of +faith which either have long been precious to themselves, or which they +feel to have been without question instrumental in advancing the dignity +of mankind. And it is part of the constitution of humanity--a part +which, above others, you are in danger of unwisely contemning under the +existing conditions of our knowledge, that the things thus sought for +belief with eager passion, do, indeed, become trustworthy to us; that, +to each of us, they verily become what we would have them; the force of +the [Greek: mênis] and [Greek: mnêmê] with which we seek after them, +does, indeed, make them powerful to us for actual good or evil; and it +is thus granted to us to create not only with our hands things that +exalt or degrade our sight, but with our hearts also, things that exalt +or degrade our souls; giving true substance to all that we hoped for; +evidence to things that we have not seen, but have desired to see; and +calling, in the sense of creating, things that are not, as though they +were. + +88. You remember that in distinguishing Imagination from Idolatry, I +referred you to the forms of passionate affection with which a noble +people commonly regards the rivers and springs of its native land. Some +conception of personality or of spiritual power in the stream, is almost +necessarily involved in such emotion; and prolonged [Greek: charis] in +the form of gratitude, the return of Love for benefits continually +bestowed, at last alike in all the highest and the simplest minds, when +they are honourable and pure, makes this untrue thing trustworthy; +[Greek: apiston emêsato piston], until it becomes to them the safe basis +of some of the happiest impulses of their moral nature. Next to the +marbles of Verona, given you as a primal type of the sculpture of +Christianity, moved to its best energy in adorning the entrance of its +temples, I have not unwillingly placed, as your introduction to the best +sculpture of the religion of Greece, the forms under which it +represented the personality of the fountain Arethusa. But, without +restriction to those days of absolute devotion, let me simply point out +to you how this untrue thing, made true by Love, has intimate and +heavenly authority even over the minds of men of the most practical +sense, the most shrewd wit, and the most severe precision of moral +temper. The fair vision of Sabrina in _Comus_, the endearing and tender +promise, "Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium," and the joyful and proud +affection of the great Lombard's address to the lakes of his enchanted +land,-- + + Te, Lari maxume, teque + Fluctibus et fremitu assurgens, Benace, marino, + +may surely be remembered by you with regretful piety, when you stand by +the blank stones which at once restrain and disgrace your native river, +as the final worship rendered to it by modern philosophy. But a little +incident which I saw last summer on its bridge at Wallingford, may put +the contrast of ancient and modern feeling before you still more +forcibly. + +89. Those of you who have read with attention (none of us can read with +too much attention), Molière's most perfect work, the _Misanthrope_, +must remember Celiméne's description of her lovers, and her excellent +reason for being unable to regard with any favour, "notre grand flandrin +de vicomte,--depuis que je l'ai vu, trois quarts d'heure durant, cracher +dans un puits pour faire des ronds." That sentence is worth noting, both +in contrast to the reverence paid by the ancients to wells and springs, +and as one of the most interesting traces of the extension of the +loathsome habit among the upper classes of Europe and America, which now +renders all external grace, dignity, and decency, impossible in the +thoroughfares of their principal cities. In connection with that +sentence of Molière's you may advisably also remember this fact, which I +chanced to notice on the bridge of Wallingford. I was walking from end +to end of it, and back again, one Sunday afternoon of last May, trying +to conjecture what had made this especial bend and ford of the Thames so +important in all the Anglo-Saxon wars. It was one of the few sunny +afternoons of the bitter spring, and I was very thankful for its light, +and happy in watching beneath it the flow and the glittering of the +classical river, when I noticed a well-dressed boy, apparently just out +of some orderly Sunday-school, leaning far over the parapet; watching, +as I conjectured, some bird or insect on the bridge-buttress. I went up +to him to see what he was looking at; but just as I got close to him, he +started over to the opposite parapet, and put himself there into the +same position, his object being, as I then perceived, to spit from both +sides upon the heads of a pleasure party who were passing in a boat +below. + +90. The incident may seem to you too trivial to be noticed in this +place. To me, gentlemen, it was by no means trivial. It meant, in the +depth of it, such absence of all true [Greek: charis], reverence, and +intellect, as it is very dreadful to trace in the mind of any human +creature, much more in that of a child educated with apparently every +advantage of circumstance in a beautiful English country town, within +ten miles of our University. Most of all, is it terrific when we regard +it as the exponent (and this, in truth, it is), of the temper which, as +distinguished from former methods, either of discipline or recreation, +the present tenor of our general teaching fosters in the mind of +youth;--teaching which asserts liberty to be a right, and obedience a +degradation; and which, regardless alike of the fairness of nature and +the grace of behaviour, leaves the insolent spirit and degraded senses +to find their only occupation in malice, and their only satisfaction in +shame. + +91. You will, I hope, proceed with me, not scornfully any more, to +trace, in the early art of a noble heathen nation, the feeling of what +was at least a better childishness than this of ours; and the efforts to +express, though with hands yet failing, and minds oppressed by ignorant +phantasy, the first truth by which they knew that they lived; the birth +of wisdom and of all her powers of help to man, as the reward of his +resolute labour. + +92. "[Greek: Aphaistou technaisi]." Note that word of Pindar in the +Seventh Olympic. This axe-blow of Vulcan's was to the Greek mind truly +what Clytemnestra falsely asserts hers to have been "[Greek: tês de +dexias cheros ergon dikaias tektonos]"; physically, it meant the opening +of the blue through the rent clouds of heaven, by the action of local +terrestrial heat of Hephæstus as opposed to Apollo, who shines on the +surface of the upper clouds, but cannot pierce them; and, spiritually, +it meant the first birth of prudent thought out of rude labour, the +clearing-axe in the hand of the woodman being the practical elementary +sign of his difference from the wild animals of the wood. Then he goes +on, "From the high head of her Father, Athenaia rushing forth, cried +with her great and exceeding cry; and the Heaven trembled at her, and +the Earth Mother." The cry of Athena, I have before pointed out, +physically distinguishes her, as the spirit of the air, from silent +elemental powers; but in this grand passage of Pindar it is again the +mythic cry of which he thinks; that is to say, the giving articulate +words, by intelligence, to the silence of Fate. "Wisdom crieth aloud, +she uttereth her voice in the streets," and Heaven and Earth tremble at +her reproof. + +93. Uttereth her voice in "the streets." For all men, that is to say; +but to what work did the Greeks think that her voice was to call them? +What was to be the impulse communicated by her prevailing presence; what +the sign of the people's obedience to her? + +This was to be the sign--"But she, the goddess herself, gave to them to +prevail over the dwellers upon earth, _with best-labouring hands in +every art. And by their paths there were the likenesses of living and of +creeping things_; and the glory was deep. For to the cunning workman, +greater knowledge comes, undeceitful." + +94. An infinitely pregnant passage, this, of which to-day you are to +note mainly these three things: First, that Athena is the goddess of +Doing, not at all of sentimental inaction. She is begotten, as it were, +of the woodman's axe; her purpose is never in a word only, but in a word +and a blow. She guides the hands that labour best, in every art. + +95. Secondly. The victory given by Wisdom, the worker, to the hands that +labour best, is that the streets and ways, [Greek: keleuthoi], shall be +filled by likenesses of living and creeping things? + +Things living, and creeping! Are the Reptile things not alive then? You +think Pindar wrote that carelessly? or that, if he had only known a +little modern anatomy, instead of "reptile" things, he would have said +"monochondylous" things? Be patient, and let us attend to the main +points first. + +Sculpture, it thus appears, is the only work of wisdom that the Greeks +care to speak of; they think it involves and crowns every other. +Image-making art; _this_ is Athena's, as queenliest of the arts. +Literature, the order and the strength of word, of course belongs to +Apollo and the Muses; under Athena are the Substances and the Forms of +things. + +96, Thirdly. By this forming of Images there is to be gained a +"deep"--that is to say--a weighty, and prevailing, glory; not a floating +nor fugitive one. For to the cunning workman, greater knowledge comes, +"undeceitful." + +"[Greek: Daenti]" I am forced to use two English words to translate that +single Greek one. The "cunning" workman, thoughtful in experience, +touch, and vision of the thing to be done; no machine, witless, and of +necessary motion; yet not cunning only, but having perfect habitual +skill of hand also; the confirmed reward of truthful doing. Recollect, +in connection with this passage of Pindar, Homer's three verses about +getting the lines of ship-timber true, (_Il._ xv. 410) + + [Greek: + "All' ôste stathmê dory nêion exithynei + tektonos en palamêsi daêmonos, hos ra te pasês + ed eidê sophiês, upothêmosynêsin Athênês,"] + +and the beautiful epithet of Persephone, "[Greek: daeira]," as the Tryer +and Knower of good work; and remembering these, trust Pindar for the +truth of his saying, that to the cunning workman--(and let me solemnly +enforce the words by adding--that to him _only_,) knowledge comes +undeceitful. + +97. You may have noticed, perhaps, and with a smile, as one of the +paradoxes you often hear me blamed for too fondly stating, what I told +you in the close of my Third Introductory Lecture, that "so far from +art's being immoral, little else except art is moral." I have now +farther to tell you, that little else, except art, is wise; that all +knowledge, unaccompanied by a habit of useful action, is too likely to +become deceitful, and that every habit of useful action must resolve +itself into some elementary practice of manual labour. And I would, in +all sober and direct earnestness advise you, whatever may be the aim, +predilection, or necessity of your lives, to resolve upon this one thing +at least, that you will enable yourselves daily to do actually with your +hands, something that is useful to mankind. To do anything well with +your hands, useful or not;--to be, even in trifling, [Greek: palamêsi +daêmôn] is already much;--when we come to examine the art of the middle +ages I shall be able to show you that the strongest of all influences of +right then brought to bear upon character was the necessity for +exquisite manual dexterity in the management of the spear and bridle; +and in your own experience most of you will be able to recognize the +wholesome effect, alike on body and mind, of striving, within proper +limits of time, to become either good batsmen, or good oarsmen. But the +bat and the racer's oar are children's toys. Resolve that you will be +men in usefulness, as well as in strength; and you will find that then +also, but not till then, you can become men in understanding; and that +every fine vision and subtle theorem will present itself to you +thenceforward undeceitfully, [Greek: hypothêmosynêsin Athênês]. + +98. But there is more to be gathered yet from the words of Pindar. He is +thinking, in his brief, intense way, at once of Athena's work on the +soul, and of her literal power on the dust of the Earth. His "[Greek: +keleuthoi]" is a wide word meaning all the paths of sea and land. +Consider, therefore, what Athena's own work _actually is_--in the +literal fact of it. The blue, clear air _is_ the sculpturing power upon +the earth and sea. Where the surface of the earth is reached by that, +and its matter and substance inspired with, and filled by that, organic +form becomes possible. You must indeed have the sun, also, and moisture; +the kingdom of Apollo risen out of the sea: but the sculpturing of +living things, shape by shape, is Athena's, so that under the brooding +spirit of the air, what was without form, and void brings forth the +moving creature that hath life. + +99. That is her work then--the giving of Form; then the separately +Apolline work is the giving of Light; or, more strictly, Sight: giving +that faculty to the retina to which we owe not merely the idea of light, +but the existence of it; for light is to be defined only as the +sensation produced in the eye of an animal, under given conditions; +those same conditions being, to a stone, only warmth or chemical +influence, but not light. And that power of seeing, and the other +various personalities and authorities of the animal body, in pleasure +and pain, have never, hitherto, been, I do not say, explained, but in +any wise touched or approached by scientific discovery. Some of the +conditions of mere external animal form and of muscular vitality have +been shown; but for the most part that is true, even of external form, +which I wrote six years ago. "You may always stand by Form against +Force. To a painter, the essential character of anything is the form of +it, and the philosophers cannot touch that. They come and tell you, for +instance, that there is as much heat, or motion, or calorific energy (or +whatever else they like to call it), in a tea-kettle, as in a +gier-eagle. Very good: that is so; and it is very interesting. It +requires just as much heat as will boil the kettle, to take the +gier-eagle up to his nest, and as much more to bring him down again on a +hare or a partridge. But we painters, acknowledging the equality and +similarity of the kettle and the bird in all scientific respects, +attach, for our part, our principal interest to the difference in their +forms. For us, the primarily cognisable facts, in the two things, are, +that the kettle has a spout, and the eagle a beak; the one a lid on its +back, the other a pair of wings; not to speak of the distinction also of +volition, which the philosophers may properly call merely a form or mode +of force--but, then to an artist, the form or mode is the gist of the +business." + +100. As you will find that it is, not to the artist only, but to all of +us. The laws under which matter is collected and constructed are the +same throughout the universe: the substance so collected, whether for +the making of the eagle, or the worm, may be analyzed into gaseous +identity; a diffusive vital force, apparently so closely related to +mechanically measurable heat as to admit the conception of its being +itself mechanically measurable, and unchanging in total quantity, ebbs +and flows alike through the limbs of men, and the fibres of insects. +But, above all this, and ruling every grotesque or degraded accident of +this, are two laws of beauty in form, and of nobility in character, +which stand in the chaos of creation between the Living and the Dead, to +separate the things that have in them a sacred and helpful, from those +that have in them an accursed and destroying, nature; and the power of +Athena, first physically put forth in the sculpturing of these [Greek: +zôa and erpeta], these living and reptile things, is put forth, finally, +in enabling the hearts of men to discern the one from the other; to know +the unquenchable fires of the Spirit from the unquenchable fires of +Death; and to choose, not unaided, between submission to the Love that +cannot end, or to the Worm that cannot die. + +101. The unconsciousness of their antagonism is the most notable +characteristic of the modern scientific mind; and I believe no credulity +or fallacy admitted by the weakness (or it may sometimes rather have +been the strength) of early imagination, indicates so strange a +depression beneath the due scale of human intellect, as the failure of +the sense of beauty in form, and loss of faith in heroism of conduct, +which have become the curses of recent science,[122] art, and policy. + +102. That depression of intellect has been alike exhibited in the mean +consternation confessedly felt on one side, and the mean triumph +apparently felt on the other, during the course of the dispute now +pending as to the origin of man. Dispute for the present, not to be +decided, and of which the decision is to persons in the modern temper of +mind, wholly without significance: and I earnestly desire that you, my +pupils, may have firmness enough to disengage your energies from +investigation so premature and so fruitless, and sense enough to +perceive that it does not matter how you have been made, so long as you +are satisfied with being what you are. If you are dissatisfied with +yourselves, it ought not to console, but humiliate you, to imagine that +you were once seraphs; and if you are pleased with yourselves, it is not +any ground of reasonable shame to you if, by no fault of your own, you +have passed through the elementary condition of apes. + +103. Remember, therefore, that it is of the very highest importance that +you should know what you _are_, and determine to be the best that you +may be; but it is of no importance whatever, except as it may contribute +to that end, to know what you have been. Whether your Creator shaped you +with fingers, or tools, as a sculptor would a lump of clay, or gradually +raised you to manhood through a series of inferior forms, is only of +moment to you in this respect--that in the one case you cannot expect +your children to be nobler creatures than you are yourselves--in the +other, every act and thought of your present life may be hastening the +advent of a race which will look back to you, their fathers (and you +ought at least to have attained the dignity of desiring that it may be +so), with incredulous disdain. + +104. But that you _are_ yourselves capable of that disdain and dismay; +that you are ashamed of having been apes, if you ever were so; that you +acknowledge instinctively, a relation of better and worse, and a law +respecting what is noble and base, which makes it no question to you +that the man is worthier than the baboon--_this_ is a fact of infinite +significance. This law of preference in your hearts is the true essence +of your being, and the consciousness of that law is a more positive +existence than any dependent on the coherence or forms of matter. + +105. Now, but a few words more of mythology, and I have done. Remember +that Athena holds the weaver's shuttle, not merely as an instrument of +_texture_, but as an instrument of _picture_; the ideas of clothing, and +of the warmth of life, being thus inseparably connected with those of +graphic beauty and the brightness of life. I have told you that no art +could be recovered among us without perfectness in dress, nor without +the elementary graphic art of women, in divers colours of needlework. +There has been no nation of any art-energy, but has strenuously occupied +and interested itself in this household picturing, from the web of +Penelope to the tapestry of Queen Matilda, and the meshes of Arras and +Gobelins. + +106. We should then naturally ask what kind of embroidery Athena put on +her own robe; "[Greek: peplon heanon, poikilon hou r autê poiêsato kai +kame chersin]." + +The subject of that [Greek: poikilia] of hers, as you know, was the war +of the giants and gods. Now the real name of these giants, remember, is +that used by Hesiod, "[Greek: pêlochonoi]," "mud-begotten," and the +meaning of the contest between these and Zeus, [Greek: pêlogonôn +elatêr], is, again, the inspiration of life into the clay, by the +goddess of breath; and the actual confusion going on visibly before you, +daily, of the earth, heaping itself into cumbrous war with the powers +above it. + +107. Thus briefly, the entire material of Art, under Athena's hand, is +the contest of life with clay; and all my task in explaining to you the +early thought of both the Athenian and Tuscan schools will only be the +tracing of this battle of the giants into its full heroic form, when, +not in tapestry only--but in sculpture--and on the portal of the Temple +of Delphi itself, you have the "[Greek: klonos en teichesi lainoisi +gigantôn]," and their defeat hailed by the passionate cry of delight +from the Athenian maids, beholding Pallas in her full power, "[Greek: +leussô Pallad' eman theon]," my own goddess. All our work, I repeat, +will be nothing but the inquiry into the development of this the +subject, and the pressing fully home the question of Plato about that +embroidery--"And think you that there is verily war with each other +among the Gods? and dreadful enmities and battle, such as the poets have +told, and such as our painters set forth in graven scripture, to adorn +all our sacred rites and holy places; yes, and in the great Panathenaea +themselves, the Peplus, full of such wild picturing, is carried up into +the Acropolis--shall we say that these things are true, oh Euthuphron, +right-minded friend?" + +108. Yes, we say, and know, that these things are true; and true for +ever: battles of the gods, not among themselves, but against the +earth-giants. Battle prevailing age by age, in nobler life and lovelier +imagery; creation, which no theory of mechanism, no definition of force, +can explain, the adoption and completing of individual form by +individual animation, breathed out of the lips of the Father of Spirits. +And to recognize the presence in every knitted shape of dust, by which +it lives and moves and has its being--to recognize it, revere, and show +it forth, is to be our eternal Idolatry. + +"Thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them." + +"Assuredly no," we answered once, in our pride; and through porch and +aisle, broke down the carved work thereof, with axes and hammers. + +Who would have thought the day so near when we should bow down to +worship, not the creatures, but their atoms,--not the forces that form, +but those that dissolve them? Trust me, gentlemen, the command which is +stringent against adoration of brutality, is stringent no less against +adoration of chaos, nor is faith in an image fallen from heaven to be +reformed by a faith only in the phenomenon of decadence. We have ceased +from the making of monsters to be appeased by sacrifice;--it is +well,--if indeed we have also ceased from making them in our thoughts. +We have learned to distrust the adorning of fair phantasms, to which we +once sought for succour;--it is well, if we learn to distrust also the +adorning of those to which we seek, for temptation; but the verity of +gains like these can only be known by our confession of the divine seal +of strength and beauty upon the tempered frame, and honour in the +fervent heart, by which, increasing visibly, may yet be manifested to +us the holy presence, and the approving love, of the Loving God, who +visits the iniquities of the Fathers upon the Children, unto the third +and fourth generation of them that hate Him, and shows mercy unto +thousands in them that love Him, and keep His Commandments. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[118] I shall be obliged in future lectures, as hitherto in my other +writings, to use the terms, Idolatry and Imagination in a more +comprehensive sense; but here I use them for convenience sake, +limitedly, to avoid the continual occurrence of the terms, noble and +ignoble, or false and true, with reference to modes of conception. + +[119] "And in sum, he himself (Prometheus) was the master-maker, and +Athena worked together with him, breathing into the clay, and caused the +moulded things to have soul (psyche) in them."--LUCIAN, PROMETHEUS. + +[120] His relations with the two great Titans, Themis and Mnemosyne, +belong to another group of myths. The father of Athena is the lower and +nearer physical Zeus, from whom Metis, the mother of Athena, long +withdraws and disguises herself. + +[121] The Latin verses are of later date; the contemporary plain prose +retains the Venetian gutturals and aspirates. + +[122] The best modern illustrated scientific works show perfect faculty +of representing monkeys, lizards, and insects; absolute incapability of +representing either a man, a horse, or a lion. + + + + +LECTURE IV. + +LIKENESS. + +_November, 1870._ + + +109. You were probably vexed, and tired, towards the close of my last +lecture, by the time it took us to arrive at the apparently simple +conclusion, that sculpture must only represent organic form, and the +strength of life in its contest with matter. But it is no small thing to +have that "[Greek: leussô Pallada]" fixed in your minds, as the one +necessary sign by which you are to recognize right sculpture, and +believe me you will find it the best of all things, if you can take for +yourselves the saying from the lips of the Athenian maids, in its +entirety, and say also--[Greek: leussô Pallad' eman theon]. I proceed +to-day into the practical appliance of this apparently speculative, but +in reality imperative, law. + +110. You observe, I have hitherto spoken of the power of Athena, as over +painting no less than sculpture. But her rule over both arts is only so +far as they are zoographic;--representative, that is to say, of animal +life, or of such order and discipline among other elements, as may +invigorate and purify it. Now there is a speciality of the art of +painting beyond this, namely, the representation of phenomena of colour +and shadow, as such, without question of the nature of the things that +receive them. I am now accordingly obliged to speak of sculpture and +painting as distinct arts, but the laws which bind sculpture, bind no +less the painting of the higher schools which has, for its main purpose, +the showing beauty in human or animal form; and which is therefore +placed by the Greeks equally under the rule of Athena, as the Spirit, +first, of Life, and then of Wisdom in conduct. + +111. First, I say, you are to "see Pallas" in all such work, as the +Queen of Life; and the practical law which follows from this, is one of +enormous range and importance, namely, that nothing must be represented +by sculpture, external to any living form, which does not help to +enforce or illustrate the conception of life. Both dress and armour may +be made to do this, by great sculptors, and are continually so used by +the greatest. One of the essential distinctions between the Athenian and +Florentine schools is dependent on their treatment of drapery in this +respect; an Athenian always sets it to exhibit the action of the body, +by flowing with it, or over it, or from it, so as to illustrate both its +form and gesture; a Florentine, on the contrary, always uses his drapery +to conceal or disguise the forms of the body, and exhibit mental +emotion: but both use it to enhance the life, either of the body or +soul; Donatello and Michael Angelo, no less than the sculptors of Gothic +chivalry, ennoble armour in the same way; but base sculptors carve +drapery and armour for the sake of their folds and picturesqueness only, +and forget the body beneath. The rule is so stern that all delight in +mere incidental beauty, which painting often triumphs in, is wholly +forbidden to sculpture;--for instance, in _painting_ the branch of a +tree, you may rightly represent and enjoy the lichens and moss on it, +but a sculptor must not touch one of them: they are inessential to the +tree's life,--he must give the flow and bending of the branch only, else +he does not enough "see Pallas" in it. + +Or to take a higher instance, here is an exquisite little painted poem, +by Edward Frere; a cottage interior, one of the thousands which within +the last two months[123] have been laid desolate in unhappy France. +Every accessory in the painting is of value--the fireside, the tiled +floor, the vegetables lying upon it, and the basket hanging from the +roof. But not one of these accessories would have been admissible in +sculpture. You must carve nothing but what has life. "Why"? you probably +feel instantly inclined to ask me.--You see the principle we have got, +instead of being blunt or useless, is such an edged tool that you are +startled the moment I apply it. "Must we refuse every pleasant accessory +and picturesque detail, and petrify nothing but living creatures"?--Even +so: I would not assert it on my own authority. It is the Greeks who say +it, but whatever they say of sculpture, be assured, is true. + +112. That then is the first law--you must see Pallas as the Lady of +Life--the second is, you must see her as the Lady of Wisdom; or [Greek: +sophia]--and this is the chief matter of all. I cannot but think, that +after the considerations into which we have now entered, you will find +more interest than hitherto in comparing the statements of Aristotle, in +the Ethics, with those of Plato in the Polity, which are authoritative +as Greek definitions of goodness in art, and which you may safely hold +authoritative as constant definitions of it. You remember, doubtless, +that the [Greek: sophia] or [Greek: aretê technês], for the sake of +which Phidias is called [Greek: sophos] as a sculptor, and Polyclitus as +an image-maker, Eth. 6. 7. (the opposition is both between ideal and +portrait sculpture, and between working in stone and bronze) consists in +the "[Greek: nous tôn timiôtatôn tê physei]" "the mental apprehension of +the things that are most honourable in their nature." Therefore what is, +indeed, most lovely, the true image-maker will most love; and what is +most hateful, he will most hate, and in all things discern the best and +strongest part of them, and represent that essentially, or, if the +opposite of that, then with manifest detestation and horror. That is his +art wisdom; the knowledge of good and evil, and the love of good, so +that you may discern, even in his representation of the vilest thing, +his acknowledgment of what redemption is possible for it, or latent +power exists in it; and, contrariwise, his sense of its present misery. +But for the most part, he will idolize, and force us also to idolize, +whatever is living, and virtuous, and victoriously right; opposing to it +in some definite mode the image of the conquered [Greek: herpeton]. + +113. This is generally true of both the great arts; but in severity and +precision, true of sculpture. To return to our illustration: this poor +little girl was more interesting to Edward Frere, he being a painter, +because she was poorly dressed, and wore these clumsy shoes, and old red +cap, and patched gown. May we sculpture her so? No. We may sculpture her +naked, if we like; but not in rags. + +But if we may not put her into marble in rags, may we give her a pretty +frock with ribands and flounces to it, and put her into marble in that? +No. We may put her simplest peasant's dress, so it be perfect and +orderly, into marble; anything finer than that would be more +dishonourable in the eyes of Athena than rags. If she were a French +princess, you might carve her embroidered robe and diadem; if she were +Joan of Arc you might carve her armour--for then these also would be +"[Greek: tôn timiôtatôn]," not otherwise. + +114. Is not this an edge-tool we have got hold of, unawares? and a +subtle one too; so delicate and scimitar-like in decision. For note, +that even Joan of Arc's armour must be only sculptured, _if she has it +on_; it is not the honourableness or beauty of it that are enough, but +the direct bearing of it by her body. You might be deeply, even +pathetically, interested by looking at a good knight's dinted coat of +mail, left in his desolate hall. May you sculpture it where it hangs? +No; the helmet for his pillow, if you will--no more. + +You see we did not do our dull work for nothing in last lecture. I +define what we have gained once more, and then we will enter on our new +ground. + +115. The proper subject of sculpture, we have determined, is the +spiritual power seen in the form of any living thing, and so represented +as to give evidence that the sculptor has loved the good of it and hated +the evil. + +"_So_ represented," we say; but how is that to be done? Why should it +not be represented, if possible, just as it is seen? What mode or limit +of representation may we adopt? We are to carve things that have +life;--shall we try so to imitate them that they may indeed seem +living,--or only half living, and like stone instead of flesh? + +It will simplify this question if I show you three examples of what the +Greeks actually did: three typical pieces of their sculpture, in order +of perfection. + +116. And now, observe that in all our historical work, I will endeavour +to do, myself, what I have asked you to do in your drawing exercises; +namely, to outline firmly in the beginning, and then fill in the detail +more minutely. I will give you first, therefore, in a symmetrical form, +absolutely simple and easily remembered, the large chronology of the +Greek school; within that unforgettable scheme we will place, as we +discover them, the minor relations of arts and times. + +I number the nine centuries before Christ thus, upwards, and divide them +into three groups of three each. + + { 9 + A. ARCHAIC. { 8 + { 7 + ---- + { 6 + B. BEST. { 5 + { 4 + ---- + { 3 + C. CORRUPT. { 2 + { 1 + +Then the ninth, eighth, and seventh centuries are the period of Archaic +Greek Art, steadily progressive wherever it existed. + +The sixth, fifth, and fourth are the period of central Greek Art; the +fifth, or central century producing the finest. That is easily +recollected by the battle of Marathon. And the third, second, and first +centuries are the period of steady decline. + +[Illustration: PLATE VII.--ARCHAIC, CENTRAL AND DECLINING ART OF +GREECE.] + +Learn this A B C thoroughly, and mark, for yourselves, what you, at +present, think the vital events in each century. As you know more, you +will think other events the vital ones; but the best historical +knowledge only approximates to true thought in that matter; only be sure +that what is truly vital in the character which governs events, is +always expressed by the art of the century; so that if you could +interpret that art rightly, the better part of your task in reading +history would be done to your hand. + +117. It is generally impossible to date with precision art of the +archaic period--often difficult to date even that of the central three +hundred years. I will not weary you with futile minor divisions of time; +here are three coins (Plate VII.) roughly, but decisively, +characteristic of the three ages. The first is an early coin of +Tarentum. The city was founded as you know, by the Spartan Phalanthus, +late in the eighth century. I believe the head is meant for that of +Apollo Archegetes, it may however be Taras, the son of Poseidon; it is +no matter to us at present whom it is meant for, but the fact that we +cannot know, is itself of the greatest import. We cannot say, with any +certainty, unless by discovery of some collateral evidence, whether this +head is intended for that of a god, or demi-god, or a mortal warrior. +Ought not that to disturb some of your thoughts respecting Greek +idealism? Farther, if by investigation we discover that the head is +meant for that of Phalanthus, we shall know nothing of the character of +Phalanthus from the face; for there is no portraiture at this early +time. + +118. The second coin is of Ænus in Macedonia; probably of the fifth or +early fourth century, and entirely characteristic of the central period. +This we know to represent the face of a god--Hermes. The third coin is a +king's, not a city's. I will not tell you, at this moment, what king's; +but only that it is a late coin of the third period, and that it is as +distinct in purpose as the coin of Tarentum is obscure. We know of this +coin, that it represents no god nor demi-god, but a mere mortal; and we +know precisely, from the portrait, what that mortal's face was like. + +119. A glance at the three coins, as they are set side by side, will now +show you the main differences in the three great Greek styles. The +archaic coin is sharp and hard; every line decisive and numbered, set +unhesitatingly in its place; nothing is wrong, though everything +incomplete, and, to us who have seen finer art, ugly. The central coin +is as decisive and clear in arrangement of masses, but its contours are +completely rounded and finished. There is no character in its execution +so prominent that you can give an epithet to the style. It is not hard, +it is not soft, it is not delicate, it is not coarse, it is not +grotesque, it is not beautiful; and I am convinced, unless you had been +told that this is fine central Greek art, you would have seen nothing at +all in it to interest you. Do not let yourselves be anywise forced into +admiring it; there is, indeed, nothing more here, than an approximately +true rendering of a healthy youthful face, without the slightest attempt +to give an expression of activity, cunning, nobility, or any other +attribute of the Mercurial mind. Extreme simplicity, unpretending vigour +of work, which claims no admiration either for minuteness or dexterity, +and suggests no idea of effort at all; refusal of extraneous ornament, +and perfectly arranged disposition of counted masses in a sequent order, +whether in the beads, or the ringlets of hair; this is all you have to +be pleased with; neither will you ever find, in the best Greek Art, +more. You might at first suppose that the chain of beads round the cap +was an extraneous ornament; but I have little doubt that it is as +definitely the proper fillet for the head of Hermes, as the olive for +Zeus, or corn for Triptolemus. The cap or petasus cannot have expanded +edges, there is no room for them on the coin; these must be understood, +therefore; but the nature of the cloud-petasus is explained by edging it +with beads, representing either dew or hail. The shield of Athena often +bears white pellets for hail, in like manner. + +120. The third coin will, I think, at once strike you by what we moderns +should call its "vigour of character." You may observe also that the +features are finished with great care and subtlety, but at the cost of +simplicity and breadth. But the _essential_ difference between it and +the central art, is its disorder in design--you see the locks of hair +cannot be counted any longer--they are entirely dishevelled and +irregular. Now the individual character may, or may not be, a sign of +decline; but the licentiousness, the casting loose of the masses in the +design, is an infallible one. The effort at portraiture is good for art +if the men to be portrayed are good men, not otherwise. In the instance +before you, the head is that of Mithridates VI. of Pontus, who had, +indeed, the good qualities of being a linguist and a patron of the arts; +but as you will remember, murdered, according to report, his mother, +certainly his brother, certainly his wives and sisters, I have not +counted how many of his children, and from a hundred to a hundred and +fifty thousand persons besides; these last in a single day's massacre. +The effort to represent this kind of person is not by any means a method +of study from life ultimately beneficial to art. + +121. This however is not the point I have to urge to-day. What I want +you to observe is that, though the master of the great time does not +attempt portraiture, he _does_ attempt animation. And as far as his +means will admit, he succeeds in making the face--you might almost +think--vulgarly animated; as like a real face, literally, "as it can +stare." Yes: and its sculptor meant it to be so; and that was what +Phidias meant his Jupiter to be, if he could manage it. Not, indeed, to +be taken for Zeus himself; and yet, to be as like a living Zeus as art +could make it. Perhaps you think he tried to make it look living only +for the sake of the mob, and would not have tried to do so for +connoisseurs. Pardon me; for real connoisseurs, he would, and did; and +herein consists a truth which belongs to all the arts, and which I will +at once drive home in your minds, as firmly as I can. + +122. All second-rate artists--(and remember, the second-rate ones are a +loquacious multitude, while the great come only one or two in a century; +and then, silently)--all second-rate artists will tell you that the +object of fine art is not resemblance, but some kind of abstraction more +refined than reality. Put that out of your heads at once. The object of +the great Resemblant Arts is, and always has been, to resemble; and to +resemble as closely as possible. It is the function of a good portrait +to set the man before you in habit as he lived, and I would we had a few +more that did so. It is the function of a good landscape to set the +scene before you in its reality, to make you, if it may be, think the +clouds are flying, and the streams foaming. It is the function of the +best sculptor--the true Dædalus--to make stillness look like breathing, +and marble look like flesh. + +123. And in all great times of art, this purpose is as naïvely expressed +as it is steadily held. All the talk about abstraction belongs to +periods of decadence. In living times, people see something living that +pleases them; and they try to make it live for ever, or to make it +something as like it as possible, that will last for ever. They paint +their statues, and inlay the eyes with jewels, and set real crowns on +their heads; they finish, in their pictures, every thread of embroidery, +and would fain, if they could, draw every leaf upon the trees. And their +only verbal expression of conscious success is, that they have made +their work "look real." + +124. You think all that very wrong. So did I, once; but it was I that +was wrong. A long time ago, before ever I had seen Oxford, I painted a +picture of the Lake of Como, for my father. It was not at all like the +Lake of Como; but I thought it rather the better for that. My father +differed with me; and objected particularly to a boat with a red and +yellow awning, which I had put into the most conspicuous corner of my +drawing. I declared this boat to be "necessary to the composition." My +father not the less objected, that he had never seen such a boat, either +at Como or elsewhere; and suggested that if I would make the lake look a +little more like water, I should be under no necessity of explaining its +nature by the presence of floating objects. I thought him at the time a +very simple person for his pains; but have since learned, and it is the +very gist of all practical matters, which, as professor of fine art, I +have now to tell you, that the great point in painting a lake is--to get +it to look like water. + +125. So far, so good. We lay it down for a first principle, that our +graphic art, whether painting or sculpture, is to produce something +which shall look as like Nature as possible. But now we must go one step +farther, and say that it is to produce what shall look like Nature to +people who know what Nature is like! You see this is at once a great +restriction, as well as a great exaltation of our aim. Our business is +not to deceive the simple; but to deceive the wise! Here, for instance, +is a modern Italian print, representing, to the best of its power, St. +Cecilia, in a brilliantly realistic manner. And the fault of the work is +not in its earnest endeavour to show St. Cecilia in habit as she lived, +but in that the effort could only be successful with persons unaware of +the habit St. Cecilia lived in. And this condition of appeal only to the +wise increases the difficulty of imitative resemblance so greatly, that, +with only average skill or materials, we must surrender all hope of it, +and be content with an imperfect representation, true as far as it +reaches, and such as to excite the imagination of a wise beholder to +complete it; though falling very far short of what either he or we +should otherwise have desired. For instance, here is a suggestion, by +Sir Joshua Reynolds, of the general appearance of a British +Judge--requiring the imagination of a very wise beholder indeed, to fill +it up, or even at first to discover what it is meant for. Nevertheless, +it is better art than the Italian St. Cecilia, because the artist, +however little he may have done to represent his knowledge, does, +indeed, know altogether what a Judge is like, and appeals only to the +criticism of those who know also. + +126. There must be, therefore, two degrees of truth to be looked for in +the good graphic arts; one, the commonest, which, by any partial or +imperfect sign conveys to you an idea which you must complete for +yourself; and the other, the finest, a representation so perfect as to +leave you nothing to be farther accomplished by this independent +exertion; but to give you the same feeling of possession and presence +which you would experience from the natural object itself. For instance +of the first, in this representation of a rainbow,[124] the artist has +no hope that, by the black lines of engraving, he can deceive you into +any belief of the rainbow's being there, but he gives indication enough +of what he intends, to enable you to supply the rest of the idea +yourself, providing always you know beforehand what a rainbow is like. +But in this drawing of the falls of Terni,[125] the painter has +strained his skill to the utmost to give an actually deceptive +resemblance of the iris, dawning and fading among the foam. So far as he +has not actually deceived you, it is not because he would not have done +so if he could; but only because his colours and science have fallen +short of his desire. They have fallen so little short that, in a good +light, you may all but believe the foam and the sunshine are drifting +and changing among the rocks. + +127. And after looking a little while, you will begin to regret that +they are not so: you will feel that, lovely as the drawing is, you would +like far better to see the real place, and the goats skipping among the +rocks, and the spray floating above the fall. And this is the true sign +of the greatest art--to part voluntarily with its greatness;--to make +_itself_ poor and unnoticed; but so to exalt and set forth its theme +that you may be fain to see the theme instead of it. So that you have +never enough admired a great workman's doing till you have begun to +despise it. The best homage that could be paid to the Athena of Phidias +would be to desire rather to see the living goddess; and the loveliest +Madonnas of Christian art fall short of their due power, if they do not +make their beholders sick at heart to see the living Virgin. + +128. We have then, for our requirement of the finest art (sculpture, or +anything else), that it shall be so like the thing it represents as to +please those who best know or can conceive the original; and, if +possible, please them deceptively--its final triumph being to deceive +even the wise; and (the Greeks thought) to please even the Immortals, +who were so wise as to be undeceivable. So that you get the Greek, thus +far entirely true, idea of perfectness in sculpture, expressed to you by +what Phalaris says, at first sight of the bull of Perilaus, "It only +wanted motion and bellowing to seem alive; and as soon as I saw it, I +cried out, it ought to be sent to the god." To Apollo, for only he, the +undeceivable, could thoroughly understand such sculpture, and perfectly +delight in it. + +129. And with this expression of the Greek ideal of sculpture, I wish +you to join the early Italian, summed in a single line by Dante--"non +vide me' di me, chi vide 'l vero." Read the 12th canto of the +"Purgatory," and learn that whole passage by heart; and if ever you +chance to go to Pistoja, look at La Robbia's coloured porcelain +bas-reliefs of the seven works of Mercy on the front of the hospital +there; and note especially the faces of the two sick men--one at the +point of death, and the other in the first peace and long-drawn +breathing of health after fever--and you will know what Dante meant by +the preceding line, "Morti li morti, e i vivi parèn vivi." + +130. But now, may we not ask farther,--is it impossible for art such as +this, prepared for the wise, to please the simple also? Without entering +on the awkward questions of degree, how many the wise can be, or how +much men should know, in order to be rightly called wise, may we not +conceive an art to be possible, which would deceive _every_body, or +everybody worth deceiving? I showed you at my first lecture, a little +ringlet of Japan ivory, as a type of elementary bas-relief touched with +colour; and in your rudimentary series you have a drawing by Mr. +Burgess, of one of the little fishes enlarged, with every touch of the +chisel facsimiled on the more visible scale; and showing the little +black bead inlaid for the eye, which in the original is hardly to be +seen without a lens. You may, perhaps be surprised, when I tell you, +that (putting the question of _subject_ aside for the moment, and +speaking only of the mode of execution and aim at resemblance), you have +there a perfect example of the Greek ideal of method in sculpture. And +you will admit that, to the simplest person whom we could introduce as a +critic, that fish would be a satisfactory, nay, almost a deceptive fish; +while to any one caring for subtleties of art, I need not point out that +every touch of the chisel is applied with consummate knowledge, and that +it would be impossible to convey more truth and life with the given +quantity of workmanship. + +[Illustration: FIG. 7.] + +131. Here is, indeed, a drawing by Turner, (Edu. 131), in which with +some fifty times the quantity of labour, and far more highly educated +faculty of sight, the artist has expressed some qualities of lustre and +colour which only very wise persons indeed could perceive in a John +Dory; and this piece of paper contains, therefore, much more, and more +subtle, art, than the Japan ivory; but are we sure that it is therefore +_greater_ art? or that the painter was better employed in producing this +drawing, which only one person can possess, and only one in a hundred +enjoy, than he would have been in producing two or three pieces on a +larger scale, which should have been at once accessible to, and +enjoyable by, a number of simpler persons? Suppose for instance, that +Turner, instead of faintly touching this outline, on white paper, with +his camel's hair pencil, had struck the main forms of his fish into +marble, thus (Fig. 7): and instead of colouring the white paper so +delicately that, perhaps, only a few of the most keenly observant +artists in England can see it at all, had, with his strong hand, tinted +the marble with a few colours, deceptive to the people, and harmonious +to the initiated; suppose that he had even conceded so much to the +spirit of popular applause as to allow of a bright glass bead being +inlaid for the eye, in the Japanese manner; and that the enlarged, +deceptive, and popularly pleasing work had been carved on the outside of +a great building,--say Fishmongers' Hall,--where everybody commercially +connected with Billingsgate could have seen it, and ratified it with the +wisdom of the market;--might not the art have been greater, worthier, +and kinder in such use? + +132. Perhaps the idea does not once approve itself to you of having your +public buildings covered with ornaments like this; but pray, remember +that the choice of _subject_ is an ethical question, not now before us. +All I ask you to decide is whether the method is right, and would be +pleasant in giving the distinctiveness to pretty things, which it has +here given to what, I suppose it may be assumed, you feel to be an ugly +thing. Of course, I must note parenthetically, such realistic work is +impossible in a country where the buildings are to be discoloured by +coal-smoke; but so is all fine sculpture, whatsoever; and the whiter, +the worse its chance. For that which is prepared for private persons, to +be kept under cover, will, of necessity, degenerate into the copyism of +past work, or merely sensational and sensual forms of present life, +unless there be a governing school addressing the populace, for their +instruction, on the outside of buildings. So that, as I partly warned +you in my third lecture, you can simply have _no_ sculpture in a coal +country. Whether you like coals or carvings best, is no business of +mine. I merely have to assure you of the fact that they are +incompatible. + +But, assuming that we are again, some day, to become a civilized and +governing race, deputing ironmongery, coal-digging, and lucre-digging, +to our slaves in other countries, it is quite conceivable that, with an +increasing knowledge of natural history, and desire for such knowledge, +what is now done by careful, but inefficient, woodcuts, and in +ill-coloured engravings, might be put in quite permanent sculptures, +with inlay of variegated precious stones, on the outside of buildings, +where such pictures would be little costly to the people; and in a more +popular manner still, by Robbia ware and Palissy ware, and inlaid +majolica, which would differ from the housewives' present favourite +decoration of plates above her kitchen dresser, by being every piece of +it various, instructive, and universally visible. + +133. You hardly know, I suppose, whether I am speaking in jest or +earnest. In the most solemn earnest, I assure you; though such is the +strange course of our popular life that all the irrational arts of +destruction are at once felt to be earnest; while any plan for those of +instruction on a grand scale, sounds like a dream or jest. Still, I do +not absolutely propose to decorate our public buildings with sculpture +wholly of this character; though beast, and fowl, and creeping things, +and fishes, might all find room on such a building as the Solomon's +House of a New Atlantis; and some of them might even become symbolic of +much to us again. Passing through the Strand, only the other day, for +instance, I saw four highly finished and delicately coloured pictures of +cock-fighting, which, for imitative quality, were nearly all that could +be desired, going far beyond the Greek cock of Himera; and they would +have delighted a Greek's soul, if they had meant as much as a Greek +cock-fight; but they were only types of the "[Greek: endomachas +alektôr]," and of the spirit of home contest, which has been so fatal +lately to the Bird of France; and not of the defence of one's own +barnyard, in thought of which the Olympians set the cock on the pillars +of their chariot course; and gave it goodly alliance in its battle, as +you may see here, in what is left of the angle of mouldering marble in +the chair of the priest of Dionusos. The cast of it, from the centre of +the theatre under the Acropolis, is in the British Museum; and I wanted +its spiral for you, and this kneeling Angel of Victory;--it is late +Greek art, but nobly systematic flat bas-relief. So I set Mr. Burgess to +draw it; but neither he nor I for a little while, could make out what +the Angel of Victory was kneeling for. His attitude is an ancient and +grandly conventional one among the Egyptians; and I was tracing it back +to a kneeling goddess of the greatest dynasty of the Pharaohs--a goddess +of Evening, or Death, laying down the sun out of her right hand;--when, +one bright day, the shadows came out clear on the Athenian throne, and I +saw that my Angel of Victory was only backing a cock at a cock-fight. + +134. Still, as I have said, there is no reason why sculpture, even for +simplest persons, should confine itself to imagery of fish, or fowl, or +four-footed things. + +We go back to our first principle: we ought to carve nothing but what is +honourable. And you are offended, at this moment, with my fish, (as I +believe, when the first sculptures appeared on the windows of this +museum, offence was taken at the unnecessary introduction of cats), +these dissatisfactions being properly felt by your "[Greek: nous tôn +timiôtatôn]." For indeed, in all cases, our right judgment must depend +on our wish to give honour only to things and creatures that deserve it. + +135. And now I must state to you another principle of veracity, both in +sculpture, and all following arts, of wider scope than any hitherto +examined. We have seen that sculpture is to be a true representation of +true external form. Much more is it to be a representation of true +internal emotion. You must carve only what you yourself see as you see +it; but, much more, you must carve only what you yourself feel, as you +feel it. You may no more endeavour to feel through other men's souls, +than to see with other men's eyes. Whereas generally now in Europe and +America, every man's energy is bent upon acquiring some false emotion, +not his own, but belonging to the past, or to other persons, because he +has been taught that such and such a result of it will be fine. Every +attempted sentiment in relation to art is hypocritical; our notions of +sublimity, of grace, or pious serenity, are all second hand; and we are +practically incapable of designing so much as a bell-handle or a +door-knocker without borrowing the first notion of it from those who are +gone--where we shall not wake them with our knocking. I would we could. + +136. In the midst of this desolation we have nothing to count on for +real growth, but what we can find of honest liking and longing, in +ourselves and in others. We must discover, if we would healthily +advance, what things are verily [Greek: timiôtata] among us; and if we +delight to honour the dishonourable, consider how, in future, we may +better bestow our likings. Now it appears to me from all our popular +declarations, that we, at present, honour nothing so much as liberty and +independence; and no person so much as the Free man and Self-made man, +who will be ruled by no one, and has been taught, or helped, by no one. +And the reason I chose a fish for you as the first subject of sculpture, +was that in men who are free and self-made, you have the nearest +approach, humanly possible, to the state of the fish, and finely +organized [Greek: herpeton]. You get the exact phrase in Habakkuk, if +you take the Septuagint text.--"[Greek: poiêseis tous anthrôpous hôs +tous ichthyas tês thalassês, kai hôs ta herpeta ta ouk echonta +hêgoumenon."] "Thou wilt make men as the fishes of the sea, and as the +reptile things, _that have no ruler over them_." And it chanced that as +I was preparing this lecture, one of our most able and popular prints +gave me a woodcut of the "self-made man," specified as such, so +vigorously drawn, and with so few touches, that Phidias or Turner +himself could scarcely have done it better; so that I had only to ask my +assistant to enlarge it with accuracy, and it became comparable with my +fish at once. Of course it is not given by the caricaturist as an +admirable face; only, I am enabled by his skill to set before you, +without any suspicion of unfairness on _my_ part, the expression to +which the life we profess to think most honourable, naturally leads. If +we were to take the hat off, you see how nearly the profile corresponds +with that of the typical fish. + +[Illustration: PLATE VIII.--THE APOLLO OF SYRACUSE AND THE SELF-MADE +MAN.] + +137. Such, then, being the definition by your best popular art, of the +ideal of feature at which we are gradually arriving by self-manufacture; +when I place opposite to it (in Plate VIII.) the profile of a man not in +any wise self-made, neither by the law of his own will, nor by the love +of his own interest--nor capable, for a moment, of any kind of +"Independence," or of the idea of independence; but wholly dependent +upon, and subjected to, external influence of just law, wise teaching, +and trusted love and truth, in his fellow-spirits;--setting before you, +I say, this profile of a God-made instead of a self-made, man, I know +that you will feel, on the instant, that you are brought into contact +with the vital elements of human art; and that this, the sculpture of +the good, is indeed the only permissible sculpture. + +138. A God-made _man_, I say. The face, indeed, stands as a symbol of +more than man in its sculptor's mind. For as I gave you, to lead your +first effort in the form of leaves, the sceptre of Apollo, so this, +which I give you as the first type of rightness in the form of flesh, is +the countenance of the holder of that sceptre, the Sun-God of Syracuse. +But there is nothing in the face (nor did the Greek suppose there was) +more perfect than might be seen in the daily beauty of the creatures the +Sun-God shone upon, and whom his strength and honour animated. This is +not an ideal, but a quite literally true, face of a Greek youth; nay, I +will undertake to show you that it is not supremely beautiful, and even +to surpass it altogether with the literal portrait of an Italian one. It +is in verity no more than the form habitually taken by the features of a +well educated young Athenian or Sicilian citizen; and the one +requirement for the sculptors of to-day is not, as it has been thought, +to invent the same ideal, but merely to see the same reality. + +Now, you know I told you in my fourth lecture, that the beginning of art +was in getting our country clean and our people beautiful, and you +supposed that to be a statement irrelevant to my subject; just as, at +this moment, you perhaps think, I am quitting the great subject of this +present lecture--the method of likeness-making--and letting myself +branch into the discussion of what things we are to make likeness of. +But you shall see hereafter that the method of imitating a beautiful +thing must be different from the method of imitating an ugly one; and +that, with the change in subject from what is dishonourable to what is +honourable, there will be involved a parallel change in the management +of tools, of lines, and of colours. So that before I can determine for +you _how_ you are to imitate, you must tell me what kind of face you +wish to imitate. The best draughtsmen in the world could not draw this +Apollo in ten scratches, though he can draw the self-made man. Still +less this nobler Apollo of Ionian Greece, (Plate IX.) in which the +incisions are softened into a harmony like that of Correggio's painting. +So that you see the method itself,--the choice between black incision or +fine sculpture, and perhaps, presently, the choice between colour or no +colour, will depend on what you have to represent. Colour may be +expedient for a glistening dolphin or a spotted fawn;--perhaps +inexpedient for white Poseidon, and gleaming Dian. So that, before +defining the laws of sculpture, I am compelled to ask you, _what you +mean to carve_; and that, little as you think it, is asking you how you +mean to live, and what the laws of your State are to be, for _they_ +determine those of your statue. You can only have this kind of face to +study from, in the sort of state that produced it. And you will find +that sort of state described in the beginning of the fourth book of the +laws of Plato; as founded, for one thing, on the conviction that of all +the evils that can happen to a state, quantity of money is the greatest! +[Greek: meizon kakon, ôs epos eipein, polei ouden an gignoito, eis +gennaiôn kai dikaiôn êthôn ktêsin], "for, to speak shortly, no greater +evil, matching each against each, can possibly happen to a city, as +adverse to its forming just or generous character," than its being full +of silver and gold. + +139. Of course, the Greek notion may be wrong, and ours right, +only--[Greek: ôs epos eipein]--you can have Greek sculpture only on that +Greek theory: shortly expressed by the words put into the mouth of +Poverty herself, in the Plutus of Aristophanes "[Greek: Tou ploutou +parechô beltionas andras, kai tên gnômên, kai tên idean]," "I deliver to +you better men than the God of Money can, both in imagination and +feature." So on the other hand, this ichthyoid, reptilian, or +mono-chondyloid ideal of the self-made man can only be reached, +universally, by a nation which holds that poverty, either of purse or +spirit,--but especially the spiritual character of being [Greek: ptôchoi +tô pneumati], is the lowest of degradations; and which believes that the +desire of wealth is the first of manly and moral sentiments. As I have +been able to get the popular ideal represented by its own living art, so +I can give you this popular faith in its own living words; but in words +meant seriously and not at all as caricature, from one of our leading +journals, professedly æsthetic also in its very name, the _Spectator_, +of August 6th, 1870. + +[Illustration: PLATE IX.--APOLLO CHRYSOCOMES OF CLAZOMENÆ.] + +"Mr. Ruskin's plan," it says, "would make England poor, in order that +she might be cultivated, and refined and artistic. A wilder proposal was +never broached by a man of ability; and it might be regarded as a proof +that the assiduous study of art emasculates the intellect, _and even the +moral sense_. Such a theory almost warrants the contempt with which art +is often regarded by essentially intellectual natures, like Proudhon" +(sic). "Art is noble as the flower of life, and the creations of a +Titian are a great heritage of the race; but if England could secure +high art and Venetian glory of colour only by the sacrifice of her +manufacturing supremacy, and _by the acceptance of national poverty_, +then the pursuit of such artistic achievements would imply that we had +ceased to possess natures of manly strength, _or to know the meaning of +moral aims_. If we must choose between a Titian and a Lancashire cotton +mill, then, in the name of manhood and of morality, give us the cotton +mill. Only the dilettantism of the studio; that dilettantism which +loosens the moral no less than the intellectual fibre, and which is as +fatal to rectitude of action as to correctness of reasoning power, would +make a different choice." + +You see also, by this interesting and most memorable passage, how +completely the question is admitted to be one of ethics--the only real +point at issue being, whether this face or that is developed on the +truer moral principle. + +140. I assume, however, for the present, that this Apolline type is the +kind of form you wish to reach and to represent. And now observe, +instantly, the whole question of manner of imitation is altered for us. +The fins of the fish, the plumes of the swan, and the flowing of the +Sun-God's hair are all represented by incisions--but the incisions do +sufficiently represent the fin and feather,--they _in_sufficiently +represent the hair. If I chose, with a little more care and labor, I +could absolutely get the surface of the scales and spines of the fish, +and the expression of its mouth; but no quantity of labor would obtain +the real surface of a tress of Apollo's hair, and the full expression of +his mouth. So that we are compelled at once to call the imagination to +help us, and say to it, _You_ know what the Apollo Chrysocomes must be +like; finish all this for yourself. Now, the law under which imagination +works, is just that of other good workers. "You must give me clear +orders; show me what I have to do, and where I am to begin, and let me +alone." And the orders can be given, quite clearly, up to a certain +point, in form; but they cannot be given clearly in color, now that the +subject is subtle. All beauty of this high kind depends on harmony; let +but the slightest discord come into it, and the finer the thing is, the +more fatal will be the flaw. Now, on a flat surface, I can command my +color to be precisely what and where I mean it to be; on a round one I +cannot. For all harmony depends, first, on the fixed proportion of the +color of the light to that of the relative shadow; and therefore if I +fasten my color, I must fasten my shade. But on a round surface the +shadow changes at every hour of the day; and therefore all coloring +which is expressive of form, is impossible; and if the form is fine, +(and here there is nothing but what is fine,) you may bid farewell to +color. + +141. Farewell to color; that is to say, if the thing is to be seen +distinctly, and you have only wise people to show it to; but if it is to +be seen indistinctly, at a distance, color may become explanatory; and +if you have simple people to show it to, color may be necessary to +excite _their_ imaginations, though not to excite yours. And the art is +great always by meeting its conditions in the straightest way; and if it +is to please a multitude of innocent and bluntly-minded persons, must +express itself in the terms that will touch them; else it is not good. +And I have to trace for you through the history of the past, and +possibilities of the future, the expedients used by great sculptors to +obtain clearness, impressiveness, or splendor; and the manner of their +appeal to the people, under various light and shadow, and with reference +to different degrees of public intelligence: such investigation +resolving itself again and again, as we proceed, into questions +absolutely ethical; as, for instance, whether color is to be bright or +dull,--that is to say, for a populace cheerful or heartless;--whether it +is to be delicate or strong,--that is to say, for a populace attentive +or careless; whether it is to be a background like the sky, for a +procession of young men and maidens, because your populace revere +life--or the shadow of the vault behind a corpse stained with drops of +blackened blood, for a populace taught to worship Death. Every critical +determination of rightness depends on the obedience to some ethic law, +by the most rational and, therefore, simplest means. And you see how it +depends most, of all things, on whether you are working for chosen +persons, or for the mob; for the joy of the boudoir, or of the Borgo. +And if for the mob, whether the mob of Olympia, or of St. Antoine. +Phidias, showing his Jupiter for the first time, hides behind the temple +door to listen, resolved afterwards "[Greek: rhythmizein to agalma pros +to tois pleistois dokoun, ou gar hêgeito mikran einai symboulên dêmou +tosoutou]," and truly, as your people is, in judgment, and in multitude, +so must your sculpture be, in glory. An elementary principle which has +been too long out of mind. + +142. I leave you to consider it, since, for some time, we shall not +again be able to take up the inquiries to which it leads. But, +ultimately, I do not doubt that you will rest satisfied in these +following conclusions: + +1. Not only sculpture, but all the other fine arts, must be for the +people. + +2. They must be didactic to the people, and that as their chief end. The +structural arts, didactic in their manner; the graphic arts, in their +matter also. + +3. And chiefly the great representative and imaginative arts--that is to +say, the drama and sculpture--are to teach what is noble in past +history, and lovely in existing human and organic life. + +4. And the test of right manner of execution in these arts, is that +they strike, in the most emphatic manner, the rank of popular minds +to which they are addressed. + +5. And the test of utmost fineness in execution in these arts, is that +they make themselves be forgotten in what they represent; and so fulfil +the words of their greatest Master, + + "THE BEST, IN THIS KIND, ARE BUT SHADOWS." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[123] See date of delivery of Lecture. The picture was of a peasant girl +of eleven or twelve years old, peeling carrots by a cottage fire. + +[124] In Durer's "Melencholia." + +[125] Turner's, in the Hakewill series. + + + + +LECTURE V. + +STRUCTURE. + +_December, 1870._ + + +143. On previous occasions of addressing you, I have endeavoured to show +you, first, how sculpture is distinguished from other arts; then its +proper subjects, then its proper method in the realization of these +subjects. To-day, we must, in the fourth place, consider the means at +its command for the accomplishment of these ends; the nature of its +materials; and the mechanical or other difficulties of their treatment. + +And however doubtful we may have remained, as to the justice of Greek +ideals, or propriety of Greek methods of representing them, we may be +certain that the example of the Greeks will be instructive in all +practical matters relating to this great art, peculiarly their own. I +think even the evidence I have already laid before you is enough to +convince you, that it was by rightness and reality, not by idealism or +delightfulness only, that their minds were finally guided; and I am sure +that, before closing the present course, I shall be able so far to +complete that evidence, as to prove to you that the commonly received +notions of classic art are, not only unfounded, but even in many +respects, directly contrary to the truth. You are constantly told that +Greece idealized whatever she contemplated. She did the exact contrary: +she realized and verified it. You are constantly told she sought only +the beautiful. She sought, indeed, with all her heart; but she found, +because she never doubted that the search was to be consistent with +propriety and common sense. And the first thing you will always discern +in Greek work is the first which you _ought_ to discern in all work; +namely, that the object of it has been rational, and has been obtained +by simple and unostentatious means. + +144. "That the object of the work has been rational!" Consider how much +that implies. That it should be by all means seen to have been +determined upon, and carried through, with sense and discretion; these +being gifts of intellect far more precious than any knowledge of +mathematics, or of the mechanical resources of art. Therefore, also, +that it should be a modest and temperate work, a structure fitted to the +actual state of men; proportioned to their actual size, as animals,--to +their average strength,--to their true necessities,--and to the degree +of easy command they have over the forces and substances of nature. + +145. You see how much this law excludes! All that is fondly magnificent, +insolently ambitious, or vainly difficult. There is, indeed, such a +thing as Magnanimity in design, but never unless it be joined also with +modesty and _Equ_animity. Nothing extravagant, monstrous, strained, or +singular, can be structurally beautiful. No towers of Babel envious of +the skies; no pyramids in mimicry of the mountains of the earth; no +streets that are a weariness to traverse, nor temples that make pigmies +of the worshippers. + +It is one of the primal merits and decencies of Greek work that it was, +on the whole, singularly small in scale, and wholly within reach of +sight, to its finest details. And, indeed, the best buildings that I +know are thus modest; and some of the best are minute jewel cases for +sweet sculpture. The Parthenon would hardly attract notice, if it were +set by the Charing Cross Railway Station: the Church of the Miracoli, at +Venice, the Chapel of the Rose, at Lucca, and the Chapel of the Thorn, +at Pisa, would not, I suppose, all three together, fill the tenth part, +cube, of a transept of the Crystal Palace. And they are better so. + +146. In the chapter on Power in the "Seven Lamps of Architecture," I +have stated what seems, at first, the reverse of what I am saying now; +namely, that it is better to have one grand building than any number of +mean ones. And that is true, but you cannot command grandeur by size +till you can command grace in minuteness; and least of all, remember, +will you so command it to-day, when magnitude has become the chief +exponent of folly and misery, co-ordinate in the fraternal enormities of +the Factory and Poorhouse,--the Barracks and Hospital. And the final law +in this matter is, that if you require edifices only for the grace and +health of mankind, and build them without pretence and without +chicanery, they will be sublime on a modest scale, and lovely with +little decoration. + +147. From these principles of simplicity and temperance, two very +severely fixed laws of construction follow; namely, first, that our +structure, to be beautiful, must be produced with tools of men; and +secondly, that it must be composed of natural substances. First, I say, +produced with tools of men. All fine art requires the application of the +whole strength and subtlety of the body, so that such art is not +possible to any sickly person, but involves the action and force of a +strong man's arm from the shoulder, as well as the delicatest touch of +his finger: and it is the evidence that this full and fine strength has +been spent on it which makes the art executively noble; so that no +instrument must be used, habitually, which is either too heavy to be +delicately restrained, or too small and weak to transmit a vigorous +impulse; much less any mechanical aid, such as would render the +sensibility of the fingers ineffectual.[126] + +148. Of course, any kind of work in glass, or in metal, on a large +scale, involves some painful endurance of heat; and working in clay, +some habitual endurance of cold; but the point beyond which the effort +must not be carried is marked by loss of power of manipulation. As long +as the eyes and fingers have complete command of the material (as a +glass blower has, for instance, in doing fine ornamental work)--the law +is not violated; but all our great engine and furnace work, in +gun-making and the like, is degrading to the intellect; and no nation +can long persist in it without losing many of its human faculties. Nay, +even the use of machinery, other than the common rope and pully, for the +lifting of weights, is degrading to architecture; the invention of +expedients for the raising of enormous stones has always been a +characteristic of partly savage or corrupted races. A block of marble +not larger than a cart with a couple of oxen could carry, and a +cross-beam, with a couple of pulleys, raise, is as large as should +generally be used in any building. The employment of large masses is +sure to lead to vulgar exhibitions of geometrical arrangement,[127] and +to draw away the attention from the sculpture. In general, rocks +naturally break into such pieces as the human beings that have to build +with them can easily lift, and no larger should be sought for. + +149. In this respect, and in many other subtle ways, the law that the +work is to be with tools of men is connected with the farther condition +of its modesty, that it is to be wrought in substance provided by +Nature, and to have a faithful respect to all the essential qualities of +such substance. + +And here I must ask your attention to the idea, and, more than +idea,--the fact, involved in that infinitely misused term, +"Providentia," when applied to the Divine Power. In its truest sense and +scholarly use, it is a human virtue, [Greek: Promêtheia]; the personal +type of it is in Prometheus, and all the first power of [Greek: technê], +is from him, as compared to the weakness of days when men without +foresight "[Greek: ephyron eikê panta]." But, so far as we use the word +"Providence" as an attribute of the Maker and Giver of all things, it +does not mean that in a shipwreck He takes care of the passengers who +are to be saved and takes none of those who are to be drowned; but it +_does_ mean that every race of creatures is born into the world under +circumstances of approximate adaptation to its necessities; and, beyond +all others, the ingenious and observant race of man is surrounded with +elements naturally good for his food, pleasant to his sight, and +suitable for the subjects of his ingenuity;--the stone, metal, and clay +of the earth he walks upon lending themselves at once to his hand, for +all manner of workmanship. + +150. Thus, his truest respect for the law of the entire creation is +shown by his making the most of what he can get most easily; and there +is no virtue of art, nor application of common sense, more sacredly +necessary than this respect to the beauty of natural substance, and the +ease of local use; neither are there any other precepts of construction +so vital as these--that you show all the strength of your material, +tempt none of its weaknesses, and do with it only what can be simply and +permanently done. + +151. Thus, all good building will be with rocks, or pebbles, or burnt +clay, but with no artificial compound; all good painting, with common +oils and pigments on common canvas, paper, plaster, or wood,--admitting, +sometimes for precious work, precious things, but all applied in a +simple and visible way. The highest imitative art should not, indeed, at +first sight, call attention to the means of it; but even that, at +length, should do so distinctly, and provoke the observer to take +pleasure in seeing how completely the workman is master of the +particular material he has used, and how beautiful and desirable a +substance it was, for work of that kind. In oil painting its unctious +quality is to be delighted in; in fresco, its chalky quality; in glass, +its transparency; in wood, its grain; in marble, its softness; in +porphyry, its hardness; in iron, its toughness. In a flint country, one +should feel the delightfulness of having flints to pick up, and fasten +together into rugged walls. In a marble country one should be always +more and more astonished at the exquisite colour and structure of +marble; in a slate country one should feel as if every rock cleft itself +only for the sake of being built with conveniently. + +[Illustration: PLATE X.--MARBLE MASONRY IN THE DUOMO OF VERONA.] + +152. Now, for sculpture, there are, briefly, two materials--Clay, and +Stone; for glass is only a clay that gets clear and brittle as it cools, +and metal a clay that gets opaque and tough as it cools. Indeed, the +true use of gold in this world is only as a very pretty and very ductile +clay, which you can spread as flat as you like, spin as fine as you +like, and which will neither crack, nor tarnish. + +All the arts of sculpture in clay may be summed up under the word +"Plastic," and all of those in stone, under the word "Glyptic." + +153. Sculpture in clay will accordingly include all cast brick-work, +pottery, and tile-work[128]--a somewhat important branch of human skill. +Next to the potter's work, you have all the arts in porcelain, glass, +enamel, and metal; everything, that is to say, playful and familiar in +design, much of what is most felicitously inventive, and, in bronze or +gold, most precious and permanent. + +154. Sculpture in stone, whether granite, gem, or marble, while we +accurately use the general term "glyptic" for it, may be thought of +with, perhaps, the most clear force under the English word "engraving." +For, from the mere angular incision which the Greek consecrated in the +triglyphs of his greatest order of architecture, grow forth all the arts +of bas-relief, and methods of localized groups of sculpture connected +with each other and with architecture: as, in another direction, the +arts of engraving and wood-cutting themselves. + +155. Over all this vast field of human skill the laws which I have +enunciated to you rule with inevitable authority, embracing the +greatest, and consenting to the humblest, exertion; strong to repress +the ambition of nations, if fantastic and vain, but gentle to approve +the efforts of children, made in accordance with the visible intention +of the Maker of all flesh, and the Giver of all Intelligence. These +laws, therefore, I now repeat, and beg of you to observe them as +irrefragable. + +1. That the work is to be with tools of men. + +2. That it is to be in natural materials. + +3. That it is to exhibit the virtues of those materials, and aim at no +quality inconsistent with them. + +4. That its temper is to be quiet and gentle, in harmony with common +needs, and in consent to common intelligence. + +We will now observe the bearing of these laws on the elementary +conditions of the art at present under discussion. + +156. There is, first, work in baked clay, which contracts as it dries, +and is very easily frangible. Then you must put no work into it +requiring niceness in dimension, nor any so elaborate that it would be a +great loss if it were broken, but as the clay yields at once to the +hand, and the sculptor can do anything with it he likes, it is a +material for him to sketch with and play with,--to record his fancies +in, before they escape him--and to express roughly, for people who can +enjoy such sketches, what he has not time to complete in marble. The +clay, being ductile, lends itself to all softness of line; being easily +frangible, it would be ridiculous to give it sharp edges, so that a +blunt and massive rendering of graceful gesture will be its natural +function; but as it can be pinched, or pulled, or thrust in a moment +into projection which it would take hours of chiselling to get in stone, +it will also properly be used for all fantastic and grotesque form, not +involving sharp edges. Therefore, what is true of chalk and charcoal, +for painters, is equally true of clay, for sculptors; they are all most +precious materials for true masters, but tempt the false ones into fatal +license; and to judge rightly of terra-cotta work is a far higher reach +of skill in sculpture-criticism than to distinguish the merits of a +finished statue. + +157. We have, secondly, work in bronze, iron, gold, and other metals; in +which the laws of structure are still more definite. + +All kinds of twisted and wreathen work on every scale become delightful +when wrought in ductile or tenacious metal, but metal which is to be +_hammered_ into form separates itself into two great divisions--solid, +and flat. + +[Illustration: PLATE XI.--THE FIRST ELEMENTS OF SCULPTURE. + +Incised Outline and Opened Space.] + +(A.) In solid metal work, _i. e._, metal cast thick enough to resist +bending, whether it be hollow or not, violent and various projection may +be admitted, which would be offensive in marble; but no sharp edges, +because it is difficult to produce them with the hammer. But since the +permanence of the material justifies exquisiteness of workmanship, +whatever delicate ornamentation can be wrought with rounded surfaces may +be advisedly introduced; and since the colour of bronze or any other +metal is not so pleasantly representative of flesh as that of marble, a +wise sculptor will depend less on flesh contour, and more on picturesque +accessories, which, though they would be vulgar if attempted in stone, +are rightly entertaining in bronze or silver. Verrochio's statue of +Colleone at Venice, Cellini's Perseus at Florence, and Ghiberti's gates +at Florence, are models of bronze treatment. + +(B.) When metal is beaten thin, it becomes what is technically called +"plate," (the _flattened_ thing) and may be treated advisably in two +ways; one, by beating it out into bosses, the other by cutting it into +strips and ramifications. The vast schools of goldsmith's work and of +iron decoration, founded on these two principles, have had the most +powerful influences over general taste in all ages and countries. One of +the simplest and most interesting elementary examples of the treatment +of flat metal by cutting is the common branched iron bar, Fig. 8, used +to close small apertures in countries possessing any good primitive +style of iron-work, formed by alternate cuts on its sides, and the +bending down of the several portions. The ordinary domestic window +balcony of Verona is formed by mere ribands of iron, bent into curves as +studiously refined as those of a Greek vase, and decorated merely by +their own terminations in spiral volutes. + +[Illustration: FIG. 8.] + +All cast work in metal, unfinished by hand, is inadmissible in any +school of living art, since it cannot possess the perfection of form due +to a permanent substance; and the continual sight of it is destructive +of the faculty of taste: but metal stamped with precision, as in coins, +is to sculpture what engraving is to painting. + +158. Thirdly. Stone-sculpture divides itself into three schools: one in +very hard material; one in very soft, and one in that of centrally +useful consistence. + +A. The virtue of work in hard material is the expression of form in +shallow relief, or in broad contours; deep cutting in hard material is +inadmissible, and the art, at once pompous and trivial, of gem +engraving, has been in the last degree destructive of the honour and +service of sculpture. + +B. The virtue of work in soft material is deep cutting, with studiously +graceful disposition of the masses of light and shade. The greater +number of flamboyant churches of France are cut out of an adhesive +chalk; and the fantasy of their latest decoration was, in great part, +induced by the facility of obtaining contrast of black space, undercut, +with white tracery easily left in sweeping and interwoven rods--the +lavish use of wood in domestic architecture materially increasing the +habit of delight in branched complexity of line. These points, however, +I must reserve for illustration in my lectures on architecture. To-day, +I shall limit myself to the illustration of elementary sculptural +structure in the best material;--that is to say, in crystalline marble, +neither soft enough to encourage the caprice of the workman, nor hard +enough to resist his will. + +159. C. By the true "Providence" of Nature, the rock which is thus +submissive has been in some places stained with the fairest colours, and +in others blanched into the fairest absence of colour, that can be found +to give harmony to inlaying, or dignity to form. The possession by the +Greeks of their [Greek: leukos lithos] was indeed the first circumstance +regulating the development of their art; it enabled them at once to +express their passion for light by executing the faces, hands, and feet +of their dark wooden statues in white marble, so that what we look upon +only with pleasure for fineness of texture was to them an imitation of +the luminous body of the deity shining from behind its dark robes; and +ivory afterwards is employed in their best statues for its yet more soft +and flesh-like brightness, receptive also of the most delicate +colour--(therefore to this day the favourite ground of miniature +painters). In like manner, the existence of quarries of peach-coloured +marble within twelve miles of Verona, and of white marble and green +serpentine between Pisa and Genoa, defined the manner both of sculpture +and architecture for all the Gothic buildings of Italy. No subtlety of +education could have formed a high school of art without these +materials. + +160. Next to the colour, the fineness of substance which will take a +perfectly sharp edge, is essential; and this not merely to admit fine +delineation in the sculpture itself, but to secure a delightful +precision in placing the blocks of which it is composed. For the +possession of too fine marble, as far as regards the work itself, is a +temptation instead of an advantage to an inferior sculptor; and the +abuse of the facility of undercutting, especially of undercutting so as +to leave profiles defined by an edge against shadow, is one of the chief +causes of decline of style in such encrusted bas-reliefs as those of the +Certosa of Pavia and its contemporary monuments. But no undue temptation +ever exists as to the fineness of block fitting; nothing contributes to +give so pure and healthy a tone to sculpture as the attention of the +builder to the jointing of his stones; and his having both the power to +make them fit so perfectly as not to admit of the slightest portion of +cement showing externally, and the skill to insure, if needful, and to +suggest always, their stability in cementless construction. Plate X. +represents a piece of entirely fine Lombardic building, the central +portion of the arch in the Duomo of Verona, which corresponds to that of +the porch of San Zenone, represented in Plate I. In both these pieces of +building, the only line that traces the architrave round the arch, is +that of the masonry joint; yet this line is drawn with extremest +subtlety, with intention of delighting the eye by its relation of varied +curvature to the arch itself; and it is just as much considered as the +finest pen-line of a Raphael drawing. Every joint of the stone is used, +in like manner, as a thin black line, which the slightest sign of cement +would spoil like a blot. And so proud is the builder of his fine +jointing, and so fearless of any distortion or strain spoiling the +adjustment afterwards, that in one place he runs his joint quite +gratuitously through a bas-relief, and gives the keystone its only sign +of pre-eminence by the minute inlaying of the head of the Lamb, into the +stone of the course above. + +161. Proceeding from this fine jointing to fine draughtsmanship, you +have, in the very outset and earliest stage of sculpture, your flat +stone surface given you as a sheet of white paper, on which you are +required to produce the utmost effect you can with the simplest means, +cutting away as little of the stone as may be, to save both time and +trouble; and, above all, leaving the block itself, when shaped, as solid +as you can, that its surface may better resist weather, and the carved +parts be as much protected as possible by the masses left around them. + +162. The first thing to be done is clearly to trace the outline of +subject with an incision approximating in section to that of the furrow +of a plough, only more equal-sided. A fine sculptor strikes it, as his +chisel leans, freely, on marble; an Egyptian, in hard rock, cuts it +sharp, as in cuneiform inscriptions. In any case, you have a result +somewhat like the upper figure, Plate XI., in which I show you the most +elementary indication of form possible, by cutting the outline of the +typical archaic Greek head with an incision like that of a Greek +triglyph, only not so precise in edge or slope, as it is to be modified +afterwards. + +163. Now, the simplest thing we can do next, is to round off the flat +surface _within_ the incision, and put what form we can get into the +feebler projection of it thus obtained. The Egyptians do this, often +with exquisite skill, and then, as I showed you in a former lecture, +colour the whole--using the incision as an outline. Such a method of +treatment is capable of good service in representing, at little cost of +pains, subjects in distant effect, and common, or merely picturesque, +subjects even near. To show you what it is capable of, and what +coloured sculpture would be in its rudest type, I have prepared the +coloured relief of the John Dory[129] as a natural history drawing for +distant effect. You know, also, that I meant him to be ugly--as ugly as +any creature can well be. In time, I hope to show you prettier +things--peacocks and kingfishers,--butterflies and flowers, on grounds +of gold, and the like, as they were in Byzantine work. I shall expect +you, in right use of your æsthetic faculties, to like those better than +what I show you to-day. But it is now a question of method only; and if +you will look, after the lecture, first at the mere white relief, and +then see how much may be gained by a few dashes of colour, such as a +practised workman could lay in a quarter of an hour,--the whole forming, +if well done, almost a deceptive image--you will, at least, have the +range of power in Egyptian sculpture clearly expressed to you. + +164. But for fine sculpture, we must advance by far other methods. If we +carve the subject with real delicacy, the cast shadow of the incision +will interfere with its outline, so that, for representation of +beautiful things, you must clear away the ground about it, at all events +for a little distance. As the law of work is to use the least pains +possible, you clear it only just as far back as you need, and then for +the sake of order and finish, you give the space a geometrical outline. +By taking, in this case, the simplest I can,--a circle,--I can clear the +head with little labor in the removal of surface round it; (see the +lower figure in Plate XI.) + +165. Now, these are the first terms of all well-constructed bas-relief. +The mass you have to treat consists of a piece of stone, which, however +you afterwards carve it, can but, at its most projecting point, reach +the level of the external plane surface out of which it was mapped, and +defined by a depression round it; that depression being at first a mere +trench, then a moat of certain width, of which the outer sloping bank is +in contact, as a limiting geometrical line, with the laterally salient +portions of sculpture. This, I repeat, is the primal construction of +good bas-relief, implying, first, perfect protection to its surface from +any transverse blow, and a geometrically limited space to be occupied by +the design, into which it shall pleasantly (and as you shall ultimately +see, ingeniously,) contract itself: implying, secondly, a determined +depth of projection, which it shall rarely reach, and never exceed: and +implying, finally, the production of the whole piece with the least +possible labor of chisel and loss of stone. + +166. And these, which are the first, are very nearly the last +constructive laws of sculpture. You will be surprised to find how much +they include, and how much of minor propriety in treatment their +observance involves. + +In a very interesting essay on the architecture of the Parthenon, by the +professor of architecture of the Ecole Polytechnique, M. Emile Boutmy, +you will find it noticed that the Greeks do not usually weaken, by +carving, the constructive masses of their building; but put their chief +sculpture in the empty spaces between the triglyphs, or beneath the +roof. This is true; but in so doing, they merely build their panel +instead of carving it; they accept no less than the Goths, the laws of +recess and limitation, as being vital to the safety and dignity of their +design; and their noblest recumbent statues are, constructively, the +fillings of the acute extremity of a panel in the form of an obtusely +summitted triangle. + +167. In gradual descent from that severest type, you will find that an +immense quantity of sculpture of all times and styles may be generally +embraced under the notion of a mass hewn out of, or, at least, placed +in, a panel or recess, deepening, it may be, into a niche; the sculpture +being always designed with reference to its position in such recess; +and, therefore, to the effect of the building out of which the recess is +hewn. + +But, for the sake of simplifying our inquiry, I will at first suppose no +surrounding protective ledge to exist, and that the area of stone we +have to deal with is simply a flat slab, extant from a flat surface +depressed all round it. + +168. A _flat_ slab, observe. The flatness of surface is essential to the +problem of bas-relief. The lateral limit of the panel may, or may not, +be required; but the vertical limit of surface _must_ be expressed; and +the art of bas-relief is to give the effect of true form on that +condition. For observe, if nothing more were needed than to make first a +cast of a solid form, then cut it in half, and apply the half of it to +the flat surface;--if, for instance, to carve a bas-relief of an apple, +all I had to do was to cut my sculpture of the whole apple in half, and +pin it to the wall, any ordinary trained sculptor, or even a mechanical +workman, could produce bas-relief; but the business is to carve a +_round_ thing out of _flat_ thing; to carve an apple out of a +biscuit!--to conquer, as a subtle Florentine has here conquered,[130] +his marble, so as not only to get motion into what is most rigidly +fixed, but to get boundlessness into what is most narrowly bounded; and +carve Madonna and Child, rolling clouds, flying angels, and space of +heavenly air behind all, out of a film of stone not the third of an inch +thick where it is thickest. + +169. Carried, however, to such a degree of subtlety as this, and with so +ambitious and extravagant aim, bas-relief becomes a tour-de-force; and, +you know, I have just told you all tours-de-force are wrong. The true +law of bas-relief is to begin with a depth of incision proportioned +justly to the distance of the observer and the character of the subject, +and out of that rationally determined depth, neither increased for +ostentation of effect, nor diminished for ostentation of skill, to do +the utmost that will be easily visible to an observer, supposing him to +give an average human amount of attention, but not to peer into, or +critically scrutinize the work. + +170. I cannot arrest you to-day by the statement of any of the laws of +sight and distance which determine the proper depth of bas-relief. +Suppose that depth fixed; then observe what a pretty problem, or, +rather, continually varying cluster of problems, will be offered to us. +You might, at first, imagine that, given what we may call our scale of +solidity, or scale of depth, the diminution from nature would be in +regular proportion, as for instance, if the real depth of your subject +be, suppose a foot, and the depth of your bas-relief an inch, then the +parts of the real subject which were six inches round the side of it +would be carved, you might imagine, at the depth of half-an-inch, and so +the whole thing mechanically reduced to scale. But not a bit of it. Here +is a Greek bas-relief of a chariot with two horses (upper figure, Plate +XXI). Your whole subject has therefore the depth of two horses side by +side, say six or eight feet. Your bas-relief has, on the scale,[131] say +the depth of the third of an inch. Now, if you gave only the sixth of an +inch for the depth of the off horse, and, dividing him again, only the +twelfth of an inch for that of each foreleg, you would make him look a +mile away from the other, and his own forelegs a mile apart. Actually, +the Greek has made the _near leg of the off horse project much beyond +the off leg of the near horse_; and has put nearly the whole depth and +power of his relief into the breast of the off horse, while for the +whole distance from the head of the nearest to the neck of the other, he +has allowed himself only a shallow line; knowing that, if he deepened +that, he would give the nearest horse the look of having a thick nose; +whereas, by keeping that line down, he has not only made the head itself +more delicate, but detached it from the other by giving no cast shadow, +and left the shadow below to serve for thickness of breast, cutting it +as sharp down as he possibly can, to make it bolder. + +171. Here is a fine piece of business we have got into!--even supposing +that all this selection and adaptation were to be contrived under +constant laws, and related only to the expression of given forms. But +the Greek sculptor, all this while, is not only debating and deciding +how to show what he wants, but, much more, debating and deciding what, +as he can't show everything, he will choose to show at all. Thus, being +himself interested, and supposing that you will be, in the manner of +the driving, he takes great pains to carve the reins, to show you where +they are knotted, and how they are fastened round the driver's waist +(you recollect how Hippolytus was lost by doing that), but he does not +care the least bit about the chariot, and having rather more geometry +than he likes in the cross and circle of one wheel of it, entirely omits +the other! + +172. I think you must see by this time that the sculptor's is not quite +a trade which you can teach like brickmaking; nor its produce an article +of which you can supply any quantity "demanded" for the next railroad +waiting-room. It may perhaps, indeed, seem to you that, in the +difficulties thus presented by it, bas-relief involves more direct +exertion of intellect than finished solid sculpture. It is not so, +however. The questions involved by bas-relief are of a more curious and +amusing kind, requiring great variety of expedients; though none except +such as a true workmanly instinct delights in inventing and invents +easily; but design in solid sculpture involves considerations of weight +in mass, of balance, of perspective and opposition, in projecting forms, +and of restraint for those which must not project, such as none but the +greatest masters have ever completely solved; and they, not always; the +difficulty of arranging the composition so as to be agreeable from +points of view on all sides of it, being, itself, arduous enough. + +173. Thus far, I have been speaking only of the laws of structure +relating to the projection of the mass which becomes itself the +sculpture. Another most interesting group of constructive laws governs +its relation to the line that contains or defines it. + +In your Standard Series I have placed a photograph of the south transept +of Rouen Cathedral. Strictly speaking, all standards of Gothic are of +the thirteenth century; but, in the fourteenth, certain qualities of +richness are obtained by the diminution of restraint; out of which we +must choose what is best in their kinds. The pedestals of the statues +which once occupied the lateral recesses are, as you see, covered with +groups of figures, enclosed each in a quatrefoil panel; the spaces +between this panel and the enclosing square being filled with sculptures +of animals. + +You cannot anywhere find a more lovely piece of fancy, or more +illustrative of the quantity of result that may be obtained with low and +simple chiselling. The figures are all perfectly simple in drapery, the +story told by lines of action only in the main group, no accessories +being admitted. There is no undercutting anywhere, nor exhibition of +technical skill, but the fondest and tenderest appliance of it; and one +of the principal charms of the whole is the adaptation of every subject +to its quaint limit. The tale must be told within the four petals of the +quatrefoil, and the wildest and playfullest beasts must never come out +of their narrow corners. The attention with which spaces of this kind +are filled by the Gothic designers is not merely a beautiful compliance +with architectural requirements, but a definite assertion of their +delight in the restraint of law; for, in illuminating books, although, +if they chose it, they might have designed floral ornaments, as we now +usually do, rambling loosely over the leaves, and although, in later +works, such license is often taken by them, in all books of the fine +time the wandering tendrils are enclosed by limits approximately +rectilinear, and in gracefullest branching often detach themselves from +the right line only by curvature of extreme severity. + +174 Since the darkness and extent of shadow by which the sculpture is +relieved necessarily vary with the depth of the recess, there arise a +series of problems, in deciding which the wholesome desire for emphasis +by means of shadow is too often exaggerated by the ambition of the +sculptor to show his skill in undercutting. The extreme of vulgarity is +usually reached when the entire bas-relief is cut hollow underneath, as +in much Indian and Chinese work, so as to relieve its forms against an +absolute darkness; but no formal law can ever be given; for exactly the +same thing may be beautifully done for a wise purpose, by one person, +which is basely done, and to no purpose, or to a bad one, by another. +Thus, the desire for emphasis itself may be the craving of a deadened +imagination, or the passion of a vigorous one; and relief against +shadow may be sought by one man only for sensation, and by another for +intelligibility. John of Pisa undercuts fiercely, in order to bring out +the vigour of life which no level contour could render; the Lombardi of +Venice undercut delicately, in order to obtain beautiful lines, and +edges of faultless precision; but the base Indian craftsmen undercut +only that people may wonder how the chiselling was done through the +holes, or that they may see every monster white against black. + +175. Yet, here again we are met by another necessity for discrimination. +There may be a true delight in the inlaying of white on dark, as there +is a true delight in vigorous rounding. Nevertheless, the general law is +always, that, the lighter the incisions, and the broader the surface, +the grander, cæteris paribus, will be the work. Of the structural terms +of that work you now know enough to understand that the schools of good +sculpture, considered in relation to projection, divide themselves into +four entirely distinct groups:-- + + 1st. Flat Relief, in which the surface is, in many places, + absolutely flat; and the expression depends greatly on the + lines of its outer contour, and on fine incisions within + them. + + 2nd. Round Relief, in which, as in the best coins, the + sculptured mass projects so as to be capable of complete + modulation into form, but is not anywhere undercut. The + formation of a coin by the blow of a die necessitates, of + course, the severest obedience to this law. + + 3rd. Edged Relief. Undercutting admitted, so as to throw out + the forms against a background of shadow. + + 4th. Full Relief. The statue completely solid in form, and + unreduced in retreating depth of it, yet connected locally + with some definite part of the building, so as to be still + dependent on the shadow of its background and direction of + protective line. + +176. Let me recommend you at once to take what pains may be needful to +enable you to distinguish these four kinds of sculpture, for the +distinctions between them are not founded on mere differences in +gradation of depth. They are truly four species, or orders, of +sculpture, separated from each other by determined characters. I have +used, you may have noted, hitherto in my Lectures, the word "bas-relief" +almost indiscriminately for all, because the degree of lowness or +highness of relief is not the question, but the _method_ of relief. +Observe again, therefore-- + +A. If a portion of the surface is absolutely flat, you have the first +order--Flat Relief. + +B. If every portion of the surface is rounded, but none undercut, you +have Round Relief--essentially that of seals and coins. + +C. If any part of the edges be undercut, but the general projection of +solid form reduced, you have what I think you may conveniently call +Foliate Relief,--the parts of the design overlapping each other in +places, like edges of leaves. + +D. If the undercutting is bold and deep, and the projection of solid +form unreduced, you have full relief. + +Learn these four names at once by heart:-- + + Flat Relief. + Round Relief. + Foliate Relief. + Full Relief. + +And whenever you look at any piece of sculpture, determine first to +which of these classes it belongs; and then consider how the sculptor +has treated it with reference to the necessary structure--that +reference, remember, being partly to the mechanical conditions of the +material, partly to the means of light and shade at his command. + +[Illustration: PLATE XII.--BRANCH OF PHILLYREA. DARK PURPLE] + +177. To take a single instance. You know, for these many years, I have +been telling our architects with all the force of voice I had in me, +that they could design nothing until they could carve natural forms +rightly. Many imagine that work was easy; but judge for yourselves +whether it be or not. In Plate XII., I have drawn, with approximate +accuracy, a cluster of Phillyrea leaves as they grow. Now, if we wanted +to cut them in bas-relief, the first thing we should have to consider +would be the position of their outline on the marble;--here it is, as +far down as the spring of the leaves. But do you suppose that is what an +ordinary sculptor could either lay for his first sketch, or contemplate +as a limit to be worked down to? Then consider how the interlacing and +springing of the leaves can be expressed within this outline. It must be +done by leaving such projection in the marble as will take the light in +the same proportion as the drawing does;--and a Florentine workman could +do it, for close sight, without driving one incision deeper, or raising +a single surface higher, than the eighth of an inch. Indeed, no sculptor +of the finest time would design such a complex cluster of leaves as +this, except for bronze or iron work; they would take simpler contours +for marble; but the laws of treatment would, under these conditions, +remain just as strict: and you may, perhaps, believe me now when I tell +you that, in any piece of fine structural sculpture by the great +masters, there is more subtlety and noble obedience to lovely laws than +could be explained to you if I took twenty lectures to do it in, instead +of one. + +[Illustration: FIG. 9.] + +178. There remains yet a point of mechanical treatment, on which I have +not yet touched at all; nor that the least important,--namely, the +actual method and style of handling. A great sculptor uses his tools +exactly as a painter his pencil, and you may recognize the decision of +his thought, and glow of his temper, no less in the workmanship than the +design. The modern system of modelling the work in clay, getting it into +form by machinery, and by the hands of subordinates, and touching it at +last, if indeed the (so called) sculptor touch it at all, only to +correct their inefficiencies, renders the production of good work in +marble a physical impossibility. The first result of it is that the +sculptor thinks in clay instead of marble, and loses his instinctive +sense of the proper treatment of a brittle substance. The second is that +neither he nor the public recognize the touch of the chisel as +expressive of personal feeling or power, and that nothing is looked for +except mechanical polish. + +179. The perfectly simple piece of Greek relief represented in Plate +XIII., will enable you to understand at once,--examination of the +original, at your leisure, will prevent you, I trust, from ever +forgetting--what is meant by the virtue of handling in sculpture. + +[Illustration: PLATE XIII.--GREEK FLAT RELIEF AND SCULPTURE BY EDGED +INCISION.] + +The projection of the heads of the four horses, one behind the other, is +certainly not more, altogether, than three-quarters of an inch from the +flat ground, and the one in front does not in reality project more than +the one behind it, yet, by mere drawing,[132] you see the sculptor has +got them to appear to recede in due order, and by the soft rounding of +the flesh surfaces, and modulation of the veins, he has taken away all +look of flatness from the necks. He has drawn the eyes and nostrils with +dark incision, careful as the finest touches of a painter's pencil: and +then, at last, when he comes to the manes, he has let fly hand and +chisel with their full force, and where a base workman, (above all, if +he had modelled the thing in clay first,) would have lost himself in +laborious imitation of hair, the Greek has struck the tresses out with +angular incisions, deep driven, every one in appointed place and +deliberate curve, yet flowing so free under his noble hand that you +cannot alter, without harm, the bending of any single ridge, nor +contract, nor extend, a point of them. And if you will look back to +Plate IX. you will see the difference between this sharp incision, used +to express horse-hair, and the soft incision with intervening rounded +ridge, used to express the hair of Apollo Chrysocomes; and, beneath, the +obliquely ridged incision used to express the plumes of his swan; in +both these cases the handling being much more slow, because the +engraving is in metal; but the structural importance of incision, as the +means of effect, never lost sight of. Finally, here are two actual +examples of the work in marble of the two great schools of the world; +one, a little Fortune, standing tiptoe on the globe of the Earth, its +surface traced with lines in hexagons; not chaotic under Fortune's feet; +Greek, this, and by a trained workman;--dug up in the temple of Neptune +at Corfu;--and here, a Florentine portrait-marble, found in the recent +alterations, face downwards, under the pavement of St'a Maria +Novella;[133] both of them first-rate of their kind; and both of them, +while exquisitely finished at the telling points, showing, on all their +unregarded surfaces, the rough furrow of the fast-driven chisel, as +distinctly as the edge of a common paving-stone. + +180. Let me suggest to you, in conclusion, one most interesting point of +mental expression in these necessary aspects of finely executed +sculpture. I have already again and again pressed on your attention the +beginning of the arts of men in the make and use of the ploughshare. +Read more carefully--you might indeed do well to learn at once by +heart,--the twenty-seven lines of the Fourth Pythian, which describe the +ploughing of Jason. There is nothing grander extant in human fancy, nor +set down in human words: but this great mythical expression of the +conquest of the earth-clay, and brute-force, by vital human energy, will +become yet more interesting to you when you reflect what enchantment has +been cut, on whiter clay, by the tracing of finer furrows;--what the +delicate and consummate arts of man have done by the ploughing of +marble, and granite, and iron. You will learn daily more and more, as +you advance in actual practice, how the primary manual art of engraving, +in the steadiness, clearness, and irrevocableness of it, is the best +art-discipline that can be given either to mind or hand;[134] you will +recognize one law of right, pronouncing itself in the well-resolved work +of every age; you will see the firmly traced and irrevocable incision +determining not only the forms, but, in great part, the moral temper, of +all vitally progressive art; you will trace the same principle and power +in the furrows which the oblique sun shows on the granite of his own +Egyptian city,--in the white scratch of the stylus through the colour on +a Greek vase--in the first delineation, on the wet wall, of the groups +of an Italian fresco; in the unerring and unalterable touch of the great +engraver of Nüremberg,--and in the deep driven and deep bitten ravines +of metal by which Turner closed, in embossed limits, the shadows of the +Liber Studiorum. + +Learn, therefore, in its full extent, the force of the great Greek word, +[Greek: charassô];--and, give me pardon--if you think pardon needed, +that I ask you also to learn the full meaning of the English word +derived from it. Here, at the Ford of the Oxen of Jason, are other +furrows to be driven than these in the marble of Pentelicus. The +fruitfullest, or the fatallest of all ploughing is that by the thoughts +of your youth, on the white field of its imagination. For by these, +either down to the disturbed spirit, "[Greek: kekoptai kai charassetai +pedon];" or around the quiet spirit, and on all the laws of conduct that +hold it, as a fair vase its frankincense, are ordained the pure colours, +and engraved the just Characters, of Æonian life. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[126] Nothing is more wonderful, or more disgraceful among the forms of +ignorance engendered by modern vulgar occupations in pursuit of gain, +than the unconsciousness, now total, that fine art is essentially +Athletic. I received a letter from Birmingham, some little time since, +inviting me to see how much, in glass manufacture, "machinery excelled +rude hand work." The writer had not the remotest conception that he +might as well have asked me to come and see a mechanical boat-race rowed +by automata, and "how much machinery excelled rude arm-work." + +[127] Such as the sculptureless arch of Waterloo Bridge, for instance, +referred to in the Third Lecture, § 84. + +[128] It is strange, at this day, to think of the relation of the +Athenian Ceramicus to the French Tile-fields, Tileries, or Tuileries; +and how these last may yet become--have already partly become--"the +Potter's field," blood-bought (December, 1870.) + +[129] This relief is now among the other casts which I have placed in +the lower school in the University galleries. + +[130] The reference is to a cast from a small and low relief of +Florentine work in the Kensington Museum. + +[131] The actual bas-relief is on a coin, and the projection not above +the twentieth of an inch, but I magnified it in photograph, for this +Lecture, so as to represent a relief with about the third of an inch for +maximum projection. + +[132] This plate has been executed from a drawing by Mr. Burgess, in +which he has followed the curves of incision with exquisite care, and +preserved the effect of the surface of the stone, where a photograph +would have lost it by exaggerating accidental stains. + +[133] These two marbles will always, henceforward, be sufficiently +accessible for reference in my room at Corpus Christi College. + +[134] That it was also, in, some cases, the earliest that the Greeks +gave, is proved by Lucian's account of his first lesson at his uncle's; +the [Greek: enkopeus], literally "in-cutter"--being the first tool put +into his hand, and an earthenware tablet to cut upon, which the boy +pressing too hard, presently breaks;--gets beaten--goes home crying, and +becomes, after his dream above quoted, a philosopher instead of a +sculptor. + + + + +LECTURE VI. + +THE SCHOOL OF ATHENS. + +_December, 1870._ + + +181. It can scarcely be needful for me to tell even the younger members +of my present audience, that the conditions necessary for the production +of a perfect school of sculpture have only twice been met in the history +of the world, and then for a short time; nor for short time only, but +also in narrow districts, namely, in the valleys and islands of Ionian +Greece, and in the strip of land deposited by the Arno, between the +Apennine crests and the sea. + +All other schools, except these two, led severally by Athens in the +fifth century before Christ, and by Florence in the fifteenth of our own +era, are imperfect; and the best of them are derivative: these two are +consummate in themselves, and the origin of what is best in others. + +182. And observe, these Athenian and Florentine schools are both of +equal rank, as essentially original and independent. The Florentine, +being subsequent to the Greek, borrowed much from it; but it would have +existed just as strongly--and, perhaps, in some respects, more +nobly--had it been the first, instead of the latter of the two. The task +set to each of these mightiest of the nations was, indeed, practically +the same, and as hard to the one as to the other. The Greeks found +Phoenician and Etruscan art monstrous, and had to make them human. The +Italians found Byzantine and Norman art monstrous, and had to make them +human. The original power in the one case is easily traced; in the other +it has partly to be unmasked, because the change at Florence was, in +many points, suggested and stimulated by the former school. But we +mistake in supposing that Athens taught Florence the laws of design; she +taught her, in reality, only the duty of truth. + +183. You remember that I told you the highest art could do no more than +rightly represent the human form. This is the simple test, then, of a +perfect school,--that it has represented the human form, so that it is +impossible to conceive of its being better done. And that, I repeat, has +been accomplished twice only: once in Athens, once in Florence. And so +narrow is the excellence even of these two exclusive schools, that it +cannot be said of either of them that they represented the entire human +form. The Greeks perfectly drew, and perfectly moulded the body and +limbs; but there is, so far as I am aware, no instance of their +representing the face as well as any great Italian. On the other hand, +the Italian painted and carved the face insuperably; but I believe there +is no instance of his having perfectly represented the body, which, by +command of his religion, it became his pride to despise, and his safety +to mortify. + +184. The general course of your study here renders it desirable that you +should be accurately acquainted with the leading principles of Greek +sculpture; but I cannot lay these before you without giving undue +prominence to some of the special merits of that school, unless I +previously indicate the relation it holds to the more advanced, though +less disciplined, excellence of Christian art. + +In this and the last lecture of the present course,[135] I shall +endeavour, therefore, to mass for you, in such rude and diagram-like +outline as may be possible or intelligible, the main characteristics of +the two schools, completing and correcting the details of comparison +afterwards; and not answering, observe, at present, for any +generalization I give you, except as a ground for subsequent closer and +more qualified statements. + +And in carrying out this parallel, I shall speak indifferently of works +of sculpture, and of the modes of painting which propose to themselves +the same objects as sculpture. And this indeed Florentine, as opposed to +Venetian, painting, and that of Athens in the fifth century, nearly +always did. + +185. I begin, therefore, by comparing two designs of the simplest +kind--engravings, or, at least, linear drawings, both; one on clay, one +on copper, made in the central periods of each style, and representing +the same goddess--Aphrodite. They are now set beside each other in your +Rudimentary Series. The first is from a patera lately found at Camirus, +authoritatively assigned by Mr. Newton, in his recent catalogue, to the +best period of Greek art. The second is from one of the series of +engravings executed, probably, by Baccio Baldini, in 1485, out of which +I chose your first practical exercise--the Sceptre of Apollo. I cannot, +however, make the comparison accurate in all respects, for I am obliged +to set the restricted type of the Aphrodite Urania of the Greeks beside +the universal Deity conceived by the Italian as governing the air, +earth, and sea; nevertheless the restriction in the mind of the Greek, +and expatiation in that of the Florentine, are both characteristic. The +Greek Venus Urania is flying in heaven, her power over the waters +symbolized by her being borne by a swan, and her power over the earth by +a single flower in her right hand; but the Italian Aphrodite is rising +out of the actual sea, and only half risen: her limbs are still in the +sea, her merely animal strength filling the waters with their life; but +her body to the loins is in the sunshine, her face raised to the sky; +her hand is about to lay a garland of flowers on the earth. + +186. The Venus Urania of the Greeks, in her relation to men, has power +only over lawful and domestic love; therefore, she is fully dressed, and +not only quite dressed, but most daintily and trimly: her feet +delicately sandalled, her gown spotted with little stars, her hair +brushed exquisitely smooth at the top of her head, trickling in minute +waves down her forehead; and though, because there's such a quantity of +it, she can't possibly help having a chignon, look how tightly she has +fastened it in with her broad fillet. Of course she is married, so she +must wear a cap with pretty minute pendant jewels at the border; and a +very small necklace, all that her husband can properly afford, just +enough to go closely round the neck, and no more. On the contrary, the +Aphrodite of the Italian, being universal love, is pure-naked; and her +long hair is thrown wild to the wind and sea. + +These primal differences in the symbolism, observe, are only because the +artists are thinking of separate powers: they do not necessarily involve +any national distinction in feeling. But the differences I have next to +indicate are essential, and characterize the two opposed national modes +of mind. + +187. First, and chiefly. The Greek Aphrodite is a very pretty person, +and the Italian a decidedly plain one. That is because a Greek thought +no one could possibly love any but pretty people; but an Italian thought +that love could give dignity to the meanest form that it inhabited, and +light to the poorest that it looked upon. So his Aphrodite will not +condescend to be pretty. + +188. Secondly. In the Greek Venus the breasts are broad and full, though +perfectly severe in their almost conical profile;--(you are allowed on +purpose to see the outline of the right breast, under the chiton:)--also +the right arm is left bare, and you can just see the contour of the +front of the right limb and knee; both arm and limb pure and firm, but +lovely. The plant she holds in her hand is a branching and flowering +one, the seed vessel prominent. These signs all mean that her essential +function is child-bearing. + +On the contrary, in the Italian Venus the breasts are so small as to be +scarcely traceable; the body strong, and almost masculine in its angles; +the arms meagre and unattractive, and she lays a decorative garland of +flowers on the earth. These signs mean that the Italian thought of love +as the strength of an eternal spirit, for ever helpful; and for ever +crowned with flowers, that neither know seed-time nor harvest, and bloom +where there is neither death, nor birth. + +189. Thirdly. The Greek Aphrodite is entirely calm, and looks straight +forward. Not one feature of her face is disturbed, or seems ever to have +been subject to emotion. The Italian Aphrodite looks up, her face all +quivering and burning with passion and wasting anxiety. The Greek one +is quiet, self-possessed, and self-satisfied; the Italian incapable of +rest, she has had no thought nor care for herself; her hair has been +bound by a fillet like the Greeks; but it is now all fallen loose, and +clotted with the sea, or clinging to her body; only the front tress of +it is caught by the breeze from her raised forehead, and lifted, in the +place where the tongues of fire rest on the brows, in the early +Christian pictures of Pentecost, and the waving fires abide upon the +heads of Angelico's seraphim. + +190. There are almost endless points of interest, great and small, to be +noted in these differences of treatment. This binding of the hair by the +single fillet marks the straight course of one great system of art +method, from that Greek head which I showed you on the archaic coin of +the seventh century before Christ, to this of the fifteenth of our own +era--nay, when you look close, you will see the entire action of the +head depends on one lock of hair falling back from the ear, which it +does in compliance with the old Greek observance of its being bent there +by the pressure of the helmet. That rippling of it down her shoulders +comes from the Athena of Corinth; the raising of it on her forehead, +from the knot of the hair of Diana, changed into the vestal fire of the +angels. But chiefly, the calmness of the features in the one face, and +their anxiety in the other, indicate first, indeed, the characteristic +difference in every conception of the schools, the Greek never +representing expression, the Italian primarily seeking it; but far more, +mark for us here the utter change in the conception of love; from the +tranquil guide and queen of a happy terrestrial domestic life, accepting +its immediate pleasures and natural duties, to the agonizing hope of an +infinite good, and the ever mingled joy and terror of a love divine in +jealousy, crying, "Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon +thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave." + +The vast issues dependent on this change in the conception of the ruling +passion of the human soul, I will endeavour to show you, on a future +occasion: in my present lecture, I shall limit myself to the definition +of the temper of Greek sculpture, and of its distinctions from +Florentine in the treatment of any subject whatever, be it love or +hatred, hope or despair. + +These great differences are mainly the following. + +191. 1. A Greek never expresses momentary passion; a Florentine looks to +momentary passion as the ultimate object of his skill. + +When you are next in London, look carefully in the British Museum at the +casts from the statues in the pediment of the Temple of Minerva at +Ægina. You have there Greek work of definite date;--about 600 B.C., +certainly before 580--of the purest kind; and you have the +representation of a noble ideal subject, the combats of the Æacidæ at +Troy, with Athena herself looking on. But there is no attempt whatever +to represent expression in the features, none to give complexity of +action or gesture; there is no struggling, no anxiety, no visible +temporary exertion of muscles. There are fallen figures, one pulling a +lance out of his wound, and others in attitudes of attack and defence; +several kneeling to draw their bows. But all inflict and suffer, conquer +or expire, with the same smile. + +192. Plate XIV. gives you examples, from more advanced art, of true +Greek representation; the subjects being the two contests of leading +import to the Greek heart--that of Apollo with the Python, and of +Hercules with the Nemean Lion. You see that in neither case is there the +slightest effort to represent the [Greek: lyssa] or agony of contest. No +good Greek artist would have you behold the suffering, either of gods, +heroes, or men; nor allow you to be apprehensive of the issue of their +contest with evil beasts, or evil spirits. All such lower sources of +excitement are to be closed to you; your interest is to be in the +thoughts involved by the fact of the war; and in the beauty or rightness +of form, whether active or inactive. I have to work out this subject +with you afterwards, and to compare with the pure Greek method of +thought, that of modern dramatic passion, engrafted on it, as typically +in Turner's contest of Apollo and the Python: in the meantime, be +content with the statement of this first great principle--that a Greek, +as such, never expresses momentary passion. + +[Illustration: PLATE XIV.--APOLLO AND THE PYTHON. + +HERACLES AND THE NEMEAN LION.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XV.--HERA OF ARGOS. ZEUS OF SYRACUSE.] + +193. Secondly. The Greek, as such, never expresses personal character, +while a Florentine holds it to be the ultimate condition of beauty. You +are startled, I suppose, at my saying this, having had it often pointed +out to you, as a transcendent piece of subtlety in Greek art, that you +could distinguish Hercules from Apollo by his being stout, and Diana +from Juno by her being slender. That is very true; but those are general +distinctions of class, not special distinctions of personal character. +Even as general, they are bodily, not mental. They are the distinctions, +in fleshly aspect, between an athlete and a musician,--between a matron +and a huntress; but in no wise distinguish the simple-hearted hero from +the subtle Master of the Muses, nor the wilful and fitful girl-goddess +from the cruel and resolute matron-goddess. But judge for +yourselves;--In the successive plates, XV.--XVIII., I show you,[136] +typically represented as the protectresses of nations, the Argive, +Cretan, and Lacinian Hera, the Messenian Demeter, the Athena of Corinth, +the Artemis of Syracuse, the fountain Arethusa of Syracuse, and the +Sirem Ligeia of Terina. Now, of these heads, it is true that some are +more delicate in feature than the rest, and some softer in expression: +in other respects, can you trace any distinction between the Goddesses +of Earth and Heaven, or between the Goddess of Wisdom and the Water +Nymph of Syracuse? So little can you do so, that it would have remained +a disputed question--had not the name luckily been inscribed on some +Syracusan coins--whether the head upon them was meant for Arethusa at +all; and, continually, it becomes a question respecting finished +statues, if without attributes, "Is this Bacchus or Apollo--Zeus or +Poseidon?" There is a fact for you; noteworthy, I think! There is no +personal character in true Greek art:--abstract ideas of youth and age, +strength and swiftness, virtue and vice,--yes: but there is no +individuality; and the negative holds down to the revived +conventionalism of the Greek school by Leonardo, when he tells you how +you are to paint young women, and how old ones; though a Greek would +hardly have been so discourteous to age as the Italian is in his canon +of it,--"old women should be represented as passionate and hasty, after +the manner of Infernal Furies." + +194. "But at least, if the Greeks do not give character, they give ideal +beauty?" So it is said, without contradiction. But will you look again +at the series of coins of the best time of Greek art, which I have just +set before you? Are any of these goddesses or nymphs very beautiful? +Certainly the Junos are not. Certainly the Demeters are not. The Siren, +and Arethusa, have well-formed and regular features; but I am quite sure +that if you look at them without prejudice, you will think neither +reach even the average standard of pretty English girls. The Venus +Urania suggests at first, the idea of a very charming person, but you +will find there is no real depth nor sweetness in the contours, looked +at closely. And remember, these are chosen examples; the best I can find +of art current in Greece at the great time; and if even I were to take +the celebrated statues, of which only two or three are extant, not one +of them excels the Venus of Melos; and she, as I have already asserted, +in _The Queen of the Air_, has nothing notable in feature except dignity +and simplicity. Of Athena I do not know one authentic type of great +beauty; but the intense ugliness which the Greeks could tolerate in +their symbolism of her will be convincingly proved to you by the coin +represented in Plate VI. You need only look at two or three vases of the +best time, to assure yourselves that beauty of feature was, in popular +art, not only unattained, but unattempted; and finally,--and this you +may accept as a conclusive proof of the Greek insensitiveness to the +most subtle beauty--there is little evidence even in their literature, +and none in their art, of their having ever perceived any beauty in +infancy, or early childhood. + +[Illustration: PLATE XVI.--DEMETER OF MESSENE. HERA OF CROSSUS.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XVII.--ATHENA OF THURIUM. + +SEREIE LIGEIA OF TERINA] + +195. The Greeks, then, do not give passion, do not give character, do +not give refined or naïve beauty. But you may think that the absence of +these is intended to give dignity to the gods and nymphs; and that their +calm faces would be found, if you long observed them, instinct with some +expression of divine mystery or power. + +I will convince you of the narrow range of Greek thought in these +respects, by showing you, from the two sides of one and the same coin, +images of the most mysterious of their Deities, and the most +powerful,--Demeter and Zeus. + +Remember, that just as the west coasts of Ireland and England catch +first on their hills the rain of the Atlantic, so the western +Peloponnese arrests, in the clouds of the first mountain ranges of +Arcadia, the moisture of the Mediterranean; and over all the plains of +Elis, Pylos, and Messene, the strength and sustenance of men was +naturally felt to be granted by Zeus; as, on the east coast of Greece, +the greater clearness of the air by the power of Athena. If +you will recollect the prayer of Rhea, in the single line of +Callimachus--"[Greek: Gaia philê, teke kai su teai d' ôdines elaphrai]," +(compare Pausanias iv. 33, at the beginning,)--it will mark for you the +connection, in the Greek mind, of the birth of the mountain springs of +Arcadia with the birth of Zeus. And the centres of Greek thought on this +western coast are necessarily Elis, and, (after the time of +Epaminondas,) Messene. + +196. I show you the coin of Messene, because the splendid height and +form of Mount Ithome were more expressive of the physical power of Zeus +than the lower hills of Olympia; and also because it was struck just at +the time of the most finished and delicate Greek art--a little after the +main strength of Phidias, but before decadence had generally pronounced +itself. The coin is a silver didrachm, bearing on one side a head of +Demeter (Plate XVI., at the top); on the other a full figure of Zeus +Aietophoros (Plate XIX., at the top); the two together signifying the +sustaining strength of the earth and heaven. Look first at the head of +Demeter. It is merely meant to personify fulness of harvest; there is no +mystery in it, no sadness, no vestige of the expression which we should +have looked for in any effort to realize the Greek thoughts of the Earth +Mother, as we find them spoken by the poets. But take it merely as +personified abundance;--the goddess of black furrow and tawny grass--how +commonplace it is, and how poor! The hair is grand, and there is one +stalk of wheat set in it, which is enough to indicate the goddess who is +meant; but, in that very office, ignoble, for it shows that the artist +could only inform you that this was Demeter by such a symbol. How easy +it would have been for a great designer to have made the hair lovely +with fruitful flowers, and the features noble in mystery of gloom, or of +tenderness. But here you have nothing to interest you, except the common +Greek perfections of a straight nose and a full chin. + +197. We pass, on the reverse of the die, to the figure of Zeus +Aietophoros. Think of the invocation to Zeus in the Suppliants, (525), +"King of Kings, and Happiest of the Happy, Perfectest of the Perfect in +strength, abounding in all things, Jove--hear us and be with us;" and +then, consider what strange phase of mind it was, which, under the very +mountain-home of the god, was content with this symbol of him as a +well-fed athlete, holding a diminutive and crouching eagle on his fist. +The features and the right hand have been injured in this coin, but the +action of the arms shows that it held a thunderbolt, of which, I +believe, the twisted rays were triple. In the, presumably earlier, coin +engraved by Millingen, however,[137] it is singly pointed only; and the +added inscription "[Greek: ITHÔM]," in the field, renders the conjecture +of Millingen probable, that this is a rude representation of the statue +of Zeus Ithomates, made by Ageladas, the master of Phidias; and I think +it has, indeed, the aspect of the endeavour, by a workman of more +advanced knowledge, and more vulgar temper, to put the softer anatomy of +later schools into the simple action of an archaic figure. Be that as it +may, here is one of the most refined cities of Greece content with the +figure of an athlete as the representative of their own mountain god; +marked as a divine power merely by the attributes of the eagle and +thunderbolt. + +[Illustration: PLATE XVIII.--ARTEMIS OF SYRACUSE. + +HERA OF LACINIAN CAPE.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XIX.--ZEUS OF MESSENE. AJAX OF OPUS.] + +198. Lastly. The Greeks have not, it appears, in any supreme way, given +to their statues character, beauty, or divine strength. Can they give +divine sadness? Shall we find in their artwork any of that pensiveness +and yearning for the dead, which fills the chants of their tragedy? I +suppose if anything like nearness or firmness of faith in afterlife is +to be found in Greek legend, you might look for it in the stories about +the Island of Leuce, at the mouth of the Danube, inhabited by the ghosts +of Achilles, Patroclus, Ajax the son of Oïleus, and Helen; and in which +the pavement of the Temple of Achilles was washed daily by the sea-birds +with their wings, dipping them in the sea. + +Now it happens that we have actually on a coin of the Locrians the +representation of the ghost of the Lesser Ajax. There is nothing in the +history of human imagination more lovely, than their leaving always a +place for his spirit, vacant in their ranks of battle. But here is their +sculptural representation of the phantom; (lower figure, Plate XIX.), +and I think you will at once agree with me in feeling that it would be +impossible to conceive anything more completely unspiritual. You might +more than doubt that it could have been meant for the departed soul, +unless you were aware of the meaning of this little circlet between the +feet. On other coins you find his name inscribed there, but in this you +have his habitation, the haunted Island of Leuce itself, with the waves +flowing round it. + +199. Again and again, however, I have to remind you, with respect to +these apparently frank and simple failures, that the Greek always +intends you to think for yourself, and understand, more than he can +speak. Take this instance at our hands, the trim little circlet for the +Island of Leuce. The workman knows very well it is not like the island, +and that he could not make it so; that at its best, his sculpture can be +little more than a letter; and yet, in putting this circlet, and its +encompassing fretwork of minute waves, he does more than if he had +merely given you a letter L, or written "Leuce." If you know anything of +beaches and sea, this symbol will set your imagination at work in +recalling them; then you will think of the temple service of the +novitiate sea-birds, and of the ghosts of Achilles and Patroclus +appearing, like the Dioscuri, above the storm-clouds of the Euxine. And +the artist, throughout his work, never for an instant loses faith in +your sympathy and passion being ready to answer his;--if you have none +to give, he does not care to take you into his counsel; on the whole, +would rather that you should not look at his work. + +200. But if you have this sympathy to give, you may be sure that +whatever he does for you will be right, as far as he can render it so. +It may not be sublime, nor beautiful, nor amusing; but it will be full +of meaning, and faithful in guidance. He will give you clue to myriads +of things that he cannot literally teach; and, so far as he does teach, +you may trust him. Is not this saying much? + +And as he strove only to teach what was true, so, in his sculptured +symbol, he strove only to carve what was--Right. He rules over the arts +to this day, and will for ever, because he sought not first for beauty, +nor first for passion, or for invention, but for Rightness; striving to +display, neither himself nor his art, but the thing that he dealt with, +in its simplicity. That is his specific character as a Greek. Of course, +every nation's character is connected with that of others surrounding or +preceding it; and in the best Greek work you will find some things that +are still false, or fanciful; but whatever in it is false or fanciful, +is not the Greek part of it--it is the Phoenician, or Egyptian, or +Pelasgian part. The essential Hellenic stamp is veracity:--Eastern +nations drew their heroes with eight legs, but the Greeks drew them with +two;--Egyptians drew their deities with cats' heads, but the Greeks drew +them with men's; and out of all fallacy, disproportion, and +indefiniteness, they were, day by day, resolvedly withdrawing and +exalting themselves into restricted and demonstrable truth. + +201. And now, having cut away the misconceptions which encumbered our +thoughts, I shall be able to put the Greek school into some clearness of +its position for you, with respect to the art of the world. That +relation is strangely duplicate; for on one side, Greek art is the root +of all simplicity; and on the other, of all complexity. + +[Illustration: PLATE XX.--GREEK AND BARBARIAN SCULPTURE.] + +On one side I say, it is the root of all simplicity. If you were for +some prolonged period to study Greek sculpture exclusively in the Elgin +Room of the British Museum, and were then suddenly transported to the +Hôtel de Cluny, or any other museum of Gothic and barbarian workmanship, +you would imagine the Greeks were the masters of all that was grand, +simple, wise, and tenderly human, opposed to the pettiness of the toys +of the rest of mankind. + +202. On one side of their work they are so. From all vain and mean +decoration--all weak and monstrous error, the Greeks rescue the forms of +man and beast, and sculpture them in the nakedness of their true flesh, +and with the fire of their living soul. Distinctively from other races, +as I have now, perhaps to your weariness, told you, this is the work of +the Greek, to give health to what was diseased, and chastisement to what +was untrue. So far as this is found in any other school, hereafter, it +belongs to them by inheritance from the Greeks, or invests them with the +brotherhood of the Greek. And this is the deep meaning of the myth of +Dædalus as the giver of motion to statues. The literal change from the +binding together of the feet to their separation, and the other +modifications of action which took place, either in progressive skill, +or often, as the mere consequence of the transition from wood to stone, +(a figure carved out of one wooden log must have necessarily its feet +near each other, and hands at its sides), these literal changes are as +nothing, in the Greek fable, compared to the bestowing of apparent life. +The figures of monstrous gods on Indian temples have their legs separate +enough; but they are infinitely more dead than the rude figures at +Branchidæ sitting with their hands on their knees. And, briefly, the +work of Dædalus is the giving of deceptive life, as that of Prometheus +the giving of real life; and I can put the relation of Greek to all +other art, in this function, before you in easily compared and +remembered examples. + +203. Here, on the right, in Plate XX., is an Indian bull, colossal, and +elaborately carved, which you may take as a sufficient type of the bad +art of all the earth. False in form, dead in heart, and loaded with +wealth, externally. We will not ask the date of this; it may rest in the +eternal obscurity of evil art, everywhere and for ever. Now, besides +this colossal bull, here is a bit of Dædalus work, enlarged from a coin +not bigger than a shilling: look at the two together, and you ought to +know, henceforward, what Greek art means, to the end of your days. + +204. In this aspect of it then, I say, it is the simplest and nakedest +of lovely veracities. But it has another aspect, or rather another pole, +for the opposition is diametric. As the simplest, so also it is the most +complex of human art. I told you in my fifth Lecture, showing you the +spotty picture of Velasquez, that an essential Greek character is a +liking for things that are dappled. And you cannot but have noticed how +often and how prevalently the idea which gave its name to the Porch of +Polygnotus, "[Greek: stoa poikilê]," occurs to the Greeks as connected +with the finest art. Thus, when the luxurious city is opposed to the +simple and healthful one, in the second book of Plato's Polity, you find +that, next to perfumes, pretty ladies, and dice, you must have in it +"[Greek: poikilia]," which observe, both in that place and again in the +third book, is the separate art of joiners' work, or inlaying; but the +idea of exquisitely divided variegation or division, both in sight and +sound--the "ravishing division to the lute," as in Pindar's "[Greek: +poikiloi hymnoi]"--runs through the compass of all Greek +art-description; and if, instead of studying that art among marbles you +were to look at it only on vases of a fine time, (look back, for +instance, to Plate IV. here), your impression of it would be, instead of +breadth and simplicity, one of universal spottiness and chequeredness, +"[Greek: en angeôn Herkesin pampoikilois];" and of the artist's +delighting in nothing so much as in crossed or starred or spotted +things; which, in right places, he and his public both do unlimitedly. +Indeed they hold it complimentary even to a trout, to call him a +"spotty." Do you recollect the trout in the tributaries of the Ladon, +which Pausanias says were spotted, so that they were like thrushes and +which, the Arcadians told him, could speak? In this last [Greek: +poikilia], however, they disappointed him. "I, indeed, saw some of them +caught," he says, "but I did not hear any of them speak, though I waited +beside the river till sunset." + +[Illustration: PLATE XXI.--THE BEGINNINGS OF CHIVALRY.] + +205. I must sum roughly now, for I have detained you too long. + +The Greeks have been thus the origin not only of all broad, mighty, and +calm conception, but of all that is divided, delicate, and tremulous; +"variable as the shade, by the light quivering aspen made." To them, as +first leaders of ornamental design, belongs, of right, the praise of +glistenings in gold, piercings in ivory, stainings in purple, +burnishings in dark blue steel; of the fantasy of the Arabian +roof--quartering of the Christian shield,--rubric and arabesque of +Christian scripture; in fine, all enlargement, and all diminution of +adorning thought, from the temple to the toy, and from the mountainous +pillars of Agrigentum to the last fineness of fretwork in the Pisan +Chapel of the Thorn. + +And in their doing all this, they stand as masters of human order and +justice, subduing the animal nature guided by the spiritual one, as you +see the Sicilian Charioteer stands, holding his horse-reins, with the +wild lion racing beneath him, and the flying angel above, on the +beautiful coin of early Syracuse; (lowest in Plate XXI). + +And the beginnings of Christian chivalary were in that Greek bridling of +the dark and the white horses. + +206. Not that a Greek never made mistakes. He made as many as we do +ourselves, nearly;--he died of his mistakes at last--as we shall die of +them; but so far he was separated from the herd of more mistaken and +more wretched nations--so far as he was Greek--it was by his rightness. +He lived, and worked, and was satisfied with the fatness of his land, +and the fame of his deeds, by his justice, and reason, and modesty. He +became _Græculus esuriens_, little, and hungry, and every man's +errand-boy, by his iniquity, and his competition, and his love of talk. +But his Græcism was in having done, at least at one period of his +dominion, more than anybody else, what was modest, useful, and eternally +true; and as a workman, he verily did, or first suggested the doing of, +everything possible to man. + +Take Dædalus, his great type of the practically executive craftsman, and +the inventor of expedients in craftsmanship, (as distinguished from +Prometheus, the institutor of moral order in art). Dædalus invents,--he, +or his nephew,-- + +The potter's wheel, and all work in clay; + +The saw, and all work in wood; + +The masts and sails of ships, and all modes of motion; (wings only +proving too dangerous!) + +The entire art of minute ornament; + +And the deceptive life of statues. + +By his personal toil, he involves the fatal labyrinth for Minos; builds +an impregnable fortress for the Agrigentines; adorns healing baths among +the wild parsley fields of Selinus; buttresses the precipices of Eryx, +under the temple of Aphrodite; and for her temple itself--finishes in +exquisiteness the golden honeycomb. + +207. Take note of that last piece of his art: it is connected with many +things which I must bring before you when we enter on the study of +architecture. That study we shall begin at the foot of the Baptistery of +Florence, which, of all buildings known to me, unites the most perfect +symmetry with the quaintest [Greek: poikilia]. Then, from the tomb of +your own Edward the Confessor, to the farthest shrine of the opposite +Arabian and Indian world, I must show you how the glittering and +iridescent dominion of Dædalus prevails; and his ingenuity in division, +interposition, and labyrinthine sequence, more widely still. Only this +last summer I found the dark red masses of the rough sandstone of +Furness Abbey had been fitted by him, with no less pleasure than he had +in carving them, into wedged hexagons--reminiscences of the honeycomb of +Venus Erycina. His ingenuity plays around the framework of all the +noblest things; and yet the brightness of it has a lurid shadow. The +spot of the fawn, of the bird, and the moth, may be harmless. But +Dædalus reigns no less over the spot of the leopard and snake. That +cruel and venomous power of his art is marked, in the legends of him, +by his invention of the saw from the serpent's tooth; and his seeking +refuge, under blood-guiltiness, with Minos, who can judge evil, and +measure, or remit, the penalty of it, but not reward good: Rhadamanthus +only can measure _that_; but Minos is essentially the recognizer of evil +deeds "conoscitor delle peccata," whom, therefore, you find in Dante +under the form of the [Greek: erpeton]. "Cignesi con la coda tante +volte, quantunque gradi vuol che giu sia messa." + +And this peril of the influence of Dædalus is twofold; first in leading +us to delight in glitterings and semblances of things, more than in +their form, or truth;--admire the harlequin's jacket more than the +hero's strength; and love the gilding of the missal more than its +words;--but farther, and worse, the ingenuity of Dædalus may even become +bestial, an instinct for mechanical labour only, strangely involved with +a feverish and ghastly cruelty:--(you will find this distinct in the +intensely Dædal work of the Japanese); rebellious, finally, against the +laws of nature and honour, and building labyrinths for monsters,--not +combs for bees. + +208. Gentlemen, we of the rough northern race may never, perhaps, be +able to learn from the Greek his reverence for beauty: but we may at +least learn his disdain of mechanism:--of all work which he felt to be +monstrous and inhuman in its imprudent dexterities. + +We hold ourselves, we English, to be good workmen. I do not think I +speak with light reference to recent calamity, (for I myself lost a +young relation, full of hope and good purpose, in the foundered ship +_London_,) when I say that either an Æginetan or Ionian shipwright built +ships that could be fought from, though they were under water; and +neither of them would have been proud of having built one that would +fill and sink helplessly if the sea washed over her deck, or turn upside +down if a squall struck her topsail. + +Believe me, gentlemen, good workmanship consists in continence and +common sense, more than in frantic expatiation of mechanical ingenuity; +and if you would be continent and rational, you had better learn more of +Art than you do now, and less of Engineering. What is taking place at +this very hour,[138] among the streets, once so bright, and avenues +once so pleasant, of the fairest city in Europe, may surely lead us all +to feel that the skill of Dædalus, set to build impregnable fortresses, +is not so wisely applied as in framing the [Greek: trêton ponou]--the +golden honeycomb. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[135] The closing Lecture, on the religious temper of the Florentine, +though necessary for the complete explanation of the subject to my +class, at the time, introduced new points of inquiry which I do not +choose to lay before the general reader until they can be examined in +fuller sequence. The present volume, therefore, closes with the Sixth +Lecture, and that on Christian art will be given as the first of the +published course on Florentine Sculpture. + +[136] These plates of coins are given for future reference and +examination, not merely for the use made of them in this place. The +Lacinian Hera, if a coin could be found unworn in surface, would be very +noble; her hair is thrown free because she is the goddess of the cape of +storms though in her temple, there, the wind never moved the ashes on +its altar. (Livy, xxiv. 3.) + +[137] Ancient Cities and Kings, Plate IV. No. 20. + +[138] The siege of Paris, at the time of the delivery of this Lecture, +was in one of its most destructive phases. + + + + +_THE FUTURE OF ENGLAND._ + +(_Delivered at the R. A. Institution, Woolwich, December 14, 1869._) + + +I would fain have left to the frank expression of the moment, but fear I +could not have found clear words--I cannot easily find them, even +deliberately,--to tell you how glad I am, and yet how ashamed, to accept +your permission to speak to you. Ashamed of appearing to think that I +can tell you any truth which you have not more deeply felt than I; but +glad in the thought that my less experience, and way of life sheltered +from the trials, and free from the responsibilities of yours, may have +left me with something of a child's power of help to you; a sureness of +hope, which may perhaps be the one thing that can be helpful to men who +have done too much not to have often failed in doing all that they +desired. And indeed, even the most hopeful of us, cannot but now be in +many things apprehensive. For this at least we all know too well, that +we are on the eve of a great political crisis, if not of political +change. That a struggle is approaching between the newly-risen power of +democracy and the apparently departing power of feudalism; and another +struggle, no less imminent, and far more dangerous, between wealth and +pauperism. These two quarrels are constantly thought of as the same. +They are being fought together, and an apparently common interest unites +for the most part the millionaire with the noble, in resistance to a +multitude, crying, part of it for bread and part of it for liberty. + +And yet no two quarrels can be more distinct. Riches--so far from being +necessary to noblesse--are adverse to it. So utterly adverse, that the +first character of all the Nobilities which have founded great dynasties +in the world is to be poor;--often poor by oath--always poor by +generosity. And of every true knight in the chivalric ages, the first +thing history tells you is, that he never kept treasure for himself. + +Thus the causes of wealth and noblesse are not the same; but opposite. +On the other hand, the causes of anarchy and of the poor are not the +same, but opposite. Side by side, in the same rank, are now indeed set +the pride that revolts against authority, and the misery that appeals +against avarice. But, so far from being a common cause, all anarchy is +the forerunner of poverty, and all prosperity begins in obedience. So +that thus, it has become impossible to give due support to the cause of +order, without seeming to countenance injury; and impossible to plead +justly the claims of sorrow, without seeming to plead also for those of +license. + +Let me try, then, to put in very brief terms, the real plan of this +various quarrel, and the truth of the cause on each side. Let us face +that full truth, whatever it may be, and decide what part, according to +our power, we should take in the quarrel. + +First. For eleven hundred years, all but five, since Charlemagne set on +his head the Lombard crown, the body of European people have submitted +patiently to be governed; generally by kings--always by single leaders +of some kind. But for the last fifty years they have begun to suspect, +and of late they have many of them concluded, that they have been on the +whole ill-governed, or misgoverned, by their kings. Whereupon they say, +more and more widely, "Let us henceforth have no kings; and no +government at all." + +Now we said, we must face the full truth of the matter, in order to see +what we are to do. And the truth is that the people _have_ been +misgoverned;--that very little is to be said, hitherto, for most of +their masters--and that certainly in many places they will try their new +system of "no masters:"--and as that arrangement will be delightful to +all foolish persons, and, at first, profitable to all wicked ones,--and +as these classes are not wanting or unimportant in any human +society,--the experiment is likely to be tried extensively. And the +world may be quite content to endure much suffering with this fresh +hope, and retain its faith in anarchy, whatever comes of it, till it can +endure no more. + +Then, secondly. The people have begun to suspect that one particular +form of this past misgovernment has been, that their masters have set +them to do all the work, and have themselves taken all the wages. In a +word, that what was called governing them, meant only wearing fine +clothes, and living on good fare at their expense. And I am sorry to +say, the people are quite right in this opinion also. If you inquire +into the vital fact of the matter, this you will find to be the constant +structure of European society for the thousand years of the feudal +system; it was divided into peasants who lived by working; priests who +lived by begging; and knights who lived by pillaging; and as the +luminous public mind becomes gradually cognizant of these facts, it will +assuredly not suffer things to be altogether arranged that way any more; +and the devising of other ways will be an agitating business; especially +because the first impression of the intelligent populace is, that +whereas, in the dark ages, half the nation lived idle, in the bright +ages to come, the whole of it may. + +Now, thirdly--and here is much the worst phase of the crisis. This past +system of misgovernment, especially during the last three hundred years, +has prepared, by its neglect, a class among the lower orders which it is +now peculiarly difficult to govern. It deservedly lost their +respect--but that was the least part of the mischief. The deadly part of +it was, that the lower orders lost their habit, and at last their +faculty, of respect;--lost the very capability of reverence, which is +the most precious part of the human soul. Exactly in the degree in which +you can find creatures greater than yourself, to look up to, in that +degree, you are ennobled yourself, and, in that degree, happy. If you +could live always in the presence of archangels, you would be happier +than in that of men; but even if only in the company of admirable +knights and beautiful ladies, the more noble and bright they were, and +the more you could reverence their virtue the happier you would be. On +the contrary, if you were condemned to live among a multitude of idiots, +dumb, distorted and malicious, you would not be happy in the constant +sense of your own superiority. Thus all real joy and power of progress +in humanity depend on finding something to reverence; and all the +baseness and misery of humanity begin in a habit of disdain. Now, by +general misgovernment, I repeat, we have created in Europe a vast +populace, and out of Europe a still vaster one, which has lost even the +power and conception of reverence;[139]--which exists only in the +worship of itself--which can neither see anything beautiful around it, +nor conceive anything virtuous above it; which has, towards all goodness +and greatness, no other feelings than those of the lowest +creatures--fear, hatred, or hunger a populace which has sunk below your +appeal in their nature, as it has risen beyond your power in their +multitude;--whom you can now no more charm than you can the adder, nor +discipline, than you can the summer fly. + +It is a crisis, gentlemen; and time to think of it. I have roughly and +broadly put it before you in its darkness. Let us look what we may find +of light. + +Only the other day, in a journal which is a fairly representative +exponent of the Conservatism of our day, and for the most part not at +all in favor of strikes or other popular proceedings; only about three +weeks since, there was a leader, with this, or a similar, title--"What +is to become of the House of Lords?" It startled me, for it seemed as if +we were going even faster than I had thought, when such a question was +put as a subject of quite open debate, in a journal meant chiefly for +the reading of the middle and upper classes. Open or not--the debate is +near. What _is_ to become of them? And the answer to such question +depends first on their being able to answer another question--"What is +the _use_ of them!" For some time back, I think the theory of the nation +has been, that they are useful as impediments to business, so as to give +time for second thoughts. But the nation is getting impatient of +impediments to business; and certainly, sooner or later, will think it +needless to maintain these expensive obstacles to its humors. And I +have not heard, either in public, or from any of themselves, a clear +expression of their own conception of their use. So that it seems thus +to become needful for all men to tell them, as our one quite +clear-sighted teacher, Carlyle, has been telling us for many a year, +that the use of the Lords of a country is to _govern_ the country. If +they answer that use, the country will rejoice in keeping them; if not, +that will become of them which must of all things found to have lost +their serviceableness. + +Here, therefore, is the one question, at this crisis, for them, and for +us. Will they be lords indeed, and give us laws--dukes indeed, and give +us guiding--princes indeed, and give us beginning, of truer dynasty, +which shall not be soiled by covetousness, nor disordered by iniquity? +Have they themselves sunk so far as not to hope this? Are there yet any +among them who can stand forward with open English brows, and say,--So +far as in me lies, I will govern with my might, not for Dieu et _mon_ +Droit, but for the first grand reading of the war cry, from which that +was corrupted, "Dieu et Droit?" Among them I know there are some--among +you, soldiers of England, I know there are many, who can do this; and in +you is our trust. I, one of the lower people of your country, ask of you +in their name--you whom I will not any more call soldiers, but by the +truer name of Knights;--Equites of England. How many yet of you are +there, knights errant now beyond all former fields of danger--knights +patient now beyond all former endurance; who still retain the ancient +and eternal purpose of knighthood, to subdue the wicked, and aid the +weak? To them, be they few or many, we English people call for help to +the wretchedness, and for rule over the baseness, of multitudes desolate +and deceived, shrieking to one another this new gospel of their new +religion. "Let the weak do as they can, and the wicked as they will." + +I can hear you saying in your hearts, even the bravest of you, "The time +is past for all that." Gentlemen, it is not so. The time has come for +_more_ than all that. Hitherto, soldiers have given their lives for +false fame, and for cruel power. The day is now when they must give +their lives for true fame, and for beneficent power: and the work is +near every one of you--close beside you--the means of it even thrust +into your hands. The people are crying to you for command, and you stand +there at pause, and silent. You think they don't want to be commanded; +try them; determine what is needful for them--honorable for them; show +it them, promise to bring them to it, and they will follow you through +fire. "Govern us," they cry with one heart, though many minds. They +_can_ be governed still, these English; they are men still; not gnats, +nor serpents. They love their old ways yet, and their old masters, and +their old land. They would fain live in it, as many as may stay there, +if you will show them how, there, to live;--or show them even, how, +there, like Englishmen, to die. + +"To live in it, as many as may!" How many do you think may? How many +_can_? How many do you want to live there? As masters, your first object +must be to increase your power; and in what does the power of a country +consist? Will you have dominion over its stones, or over its clouds, or +over its souls? What do you mean by a great nation, but a great +multitude of men who are true to each other, and strong, and of worth? +Now you can increase the multitude only definitely--your island has only +so much standing room--but you can increase the _worth in_definitely. It +is but a little island;--suppose, little as it is, you were to fill it +with friends? You may, and that easily. You must, and that speedily; or +there will be an end to this England of ours, and to all its loves and +enmities. + +To fill this little island with true friends--men brave, wise, and +happy! Is it so impossible, think you, after the world's eighteen +hundred years of Christianity, and our own thousand years of toil, to +fill only this little white gleaming crag with happy creatures, helpful +to each other? Africa, and India, and the Brazilian wide-watered plain, +are these not wide enough for the ignorance of our race? have they not +space enough for its pain? Must we remain _here_ also savage,--_here_ +at enmity with each other,--_here_ foodless, houseless, in rags, in +dust, and without hope, as thousands and tens of thousands of us are +lying? Do not think it, gentlemen. The thought that it is inevitable is +the last infidelity; infidelity not to God only, but to every creature +and every law that He has made. Are we to think that the earth was only +shaped to be a globe of torture; and that there cannot be one spot of it +where peace can rest, or justice reign? Where are men ever to be happy, +if not in England? by whom shall they ever be taught to do right, if not +by you? Are we not of a race first among the strong ones of the earth; +the blood in us incapable of weariness, unconquerable by grief? Have we +not a history of which we can hardly think without becoming insolent in +our just pride of it? Can we dare, without passing every limit of +courtesy to other nations, to say how much more we have to be proud of +in our ancestors than they? Among our ancient monarchs, great crimes +stand out as monstrous and strange. But their valor, and, according to +their understanding, their benevolence, are constant. The Wars of the +Roses, which are as a fearful crimson shadow on our land, represent the +normal condition of other nations; while from the days of the Heptarchy +downwards we have had examples given us, in all ranks, of the most +varied and exalted virtue; a heap of treasure that no moth can corrupt, +and which even our traitorship, if we are to become traitors to it, +cannot sully. + +And this is the race, then, that we know not any more how to govern! and +this the history which we are to behold broken off by sedition! and this +is the country, of all others, where life is to become difficult to the +honest, and ridiculous to the wise! And the catastrophe, forsooth, is to +come just when we have been making swiftest progress beyond the wisdom +and wealth of the past. Our cities are a wilderness of spinning wheels +instead of palaces; yet the people have not clothes. We have blackened +every leaf of English greenwood with ashes, and the people die of cold; +our harbors are a forest of merchant ships, and the people die of +hunger. + +Whose fault is it? Yours, gentlemen; yours only. You alone can feed +them, and clothe, and bring into their right minds, for you only can +govern--that is to say, you only can educate them. + +Educate, or govern, they are one and the same word. Education does not +mean teaching people to know what they do not know. It means teaching +them to behave as they do not behave. And the true "compulsory +education" which the people now ask of you is not catechism, but drill. +It is not teaching the youth of England the shapes of letters and the +tricks of numbers; and then leaving them to turn their arithmetic to +roguery, and their literature to lust. It is, on the contrary, training +them into the perfect exercise and kingly continence of their bodies and +souls. It is a painful, continual, and difficult work; to be done by +kindness, by watching, by warning, by precept, and by praise,--but above +all--by example. + +Compulsory! Yes, by all means! "Go ye out into the highways and hedges, +and _compel_ them to come in." Compulsory! Yes, and gratis also. _Dei +Gratia_, they must be taught, as, _Dei Gratia_, you are set to teach +them. I hear strange talk continually, "how difficult it is to make +people pay for being educated!" Why, I should think so! Do you make your +children pay for their education, or do you give it them compulsorily, +and gratis? You do not expect _them_ to pay you for their teaching, +except by becoming good children. Why should you expect a peasant to pay +for his, except by becoming a good man?--payment enough, I think, if we +knew it. Payment enough to himself, as to us. For that is another of our +grand popular mistakes--people are always thinking of education as a +means of livelihood. Education is not a profitable business, but a +costly one; nay, even the best attainments of it are always +unprofitable, in any terms of coin. No nation ever made its bread either +by its great arts, or its great wisdoms. By its minor arts or +manufactures, by its practical knowledges, yes: but its noble +scholarship, its noble philosophy, and its noble art, are always to be +bought as a treasure, not sold for a livelihood. You do not learn that +you may live--you live that you may learn. You are to spend on National +Education, and to be spent for it, and to make by it, not more money, +but better men;--to get into this British Island the greatest possible +number of good and brave Englishmen. _They_ are to be your "money's +worth." + +But where is the money to come from? Yes, that is to be asked. Let us, +as quite the first business in this our national crisis, look not only +into our affairs, but into our accounts, and obtain some general notion +how we annually spend our money, and what we are getting for it. +Observe, I do not mean to inquire into the public revenue only; of that +some account is rendered already. But let us do the best we can to set +down the items of the national _private_ expenditure; and know what we +spend altogether, and how. + +To begin with this matter of education. You probably have nearly all +seen the admirable lecture lately given by Captain Maxse, at +Southampton. It contains a clear statement of the facts at present +ascertained as to our expenditure in that respect. It appears that of +our public moneys, for every pound that we spend on education we spend +twelve either in charity or punishment;--ten millions a year in +pauperism and crime, and eight hundred thousand in instruction. Now +Captain Maxse adds to this estimate of ten millions public money spent +on crime and want, a more or less conjectural sum of eight millions for +private charities. My impression is that this is much beneath the truth, +but at all events it leaves out of consideration much the heaviest and +saddest form of charity--the maintenance, by the working members of +families, of the unfortunate or ill-conducted persons whom the general +course of misrule now leaves helpless to be the burden of the rest. + +Now I want to get first at some, I do not say approximate, but at all +events some suggestive, estimate of the quantity of real distress and +misguided life in this country. Then next, I want some fairly +representative estimate of our private expenditure in luxuries. We won't +spend more, publicly, it appears, than eight hundred thousand a year, on +educating men gratis. I want to know, as nearly as possible, what we +spend privately a year, in educating horses gratis. Let us, at least, +quit ourselves in this from the taunt of Rabshakeh, and see that for +every horse we train also a horseman; and that the rider be at least as +high-bred as the horse, not jockey, but chevalier. Again, we spend eight +hundred thousand, which is certainly a great deal of money, in making +rough _minds_ bright. I want to know how much we spend annually in +making rough _stones_ bright; that is to say, what may be the united +annual sum, or near it, of our jewellers' bills. So much we pay for +educating children gratis;--how much for educating diamonds gratis? and +which pays best for brightening, the spirit or the charcoal? Let us get +those two items set down with some sincerity, and a few more of the same +kind. _Publicly_ set down. We must not be ashamed of the way we spend +our money. If our right hand is not to know what our left does, it must +not be because it would be ashamed if it did. + +That is, therefore, quite the first practical thing to be done. Let +every man who wishes well to his country, render it yearly an account of +his income, and of the main heads of his expenditure; or, if he is +ashamed to do so, let him no more impute to the poor their poverty as a +crime, nor set them to break stones in order to frighten them from +committing it. To lose money ill is indeed often a crime; but to get it +ill is a worse one, and to spend it ill, worst of all. You object, Lords +of England, to increase, to the poor, the wages you give them, because +they spend them, you say, unadvisedly. Render them, therefore, an +account of the wages which _they_ give _you_; and show them, by your +example, how to spend theirs, to the last farthing advisedly. + +It is indeed time to make this an acknowledged subject of instruction, +to the workingman,--how to spend his wages. For, gentlemen, we _must_ +give that instruction, whether we will or no, one way or the other. We +have given it in years gone by; and now we find fault with our peasantry +for having been too docile, and profited too shrewdly by our tuition. +Only a few days since I had a letter from the wife of a village rector, +a man of common sense and kindness, who was greatly troubled in his +mind because it was precisely the men who got highest wages in summer +that came destitute to his door in the winter. Destitute, and of riotous +temper--for their method of spending wages in their period of prosperity +was by sitting two days a week in the tavern parlor, ladling port wine, +not out of bowls, but out of buckets. Well, gentlemen, who taught them +that method of festivity? Thirty years ago, I, a most inexperienced +freshman, went to my first college supper; at the head of the table sat +a nobleman of high promise and of admirable powers, since dead of palsy; +there also we had in the midst of us, not buckets, indeed, but bowls as +large as buckets; there also, we helped ourselves with ladles. There +(for this beginning of college education was compulsory), I choosing +ladlefuls of punch instead of claret, because I was then able, +unperceived to pour them into my waistcoat instead of down my throat, +stood it out to the end, and helped to carry four of my fellow-students, +one of them the son of the head of a college, head foremost, down stairs +and home. + +Such things are no more; but the fruit of them remains, and will for +many a day to come. The laborers whom you cannot now shut out of the +ale-house are only the too faithful disciples of the gentlemen who were +wont to shut themselves into the dining-room. The gentlemen have not +thought it necessary, in order to correct their own habits, to diminish +their incomes; and, believe me, the way to deal with your drunken +workman is not to lower his wages,--but to mend his wits.[140] + +And if indeed we do not yet see quite clearly how to deal with the sins +of our poor brother, it is possible that our dimness of sight may still +have other causes that can be cast out. There are two opposite cries of +the great liberal and conservative parties, which are both most right, +and worthy to be rallying cries. On their side "let every man have his +chance;" on yours "let every man stand in his place." Yes, indeed, let +that be so, every man in his place, and every man fit for it. See that +he holds that place from Heaven's Providence; and not from his family's +Providence. Let the Lords Spiritual quit themselves of simony, we laymen +will look after the heretics for them. Let the Lords Temporal quit +themselves of nepotism, and we will take care of their authority for +them. Publish for us, you soldiers, an army gazette, in which the one +subject of daily intelligence shall be the grounds of promotion; a +gazette which shall simply tell us, what there certainly can be no +detriment to the service in our knowing, when any officer is appointed +to a new command,--what his former services and successes have +been,--whom he has superseded,--and on what ground. It will be always a +satisfaction to us; it may sometimes be an advantage to you: and then, +when there is really necessary debate respecting reduction of wages, let +us always begin not with the wages of the industrious classes, but with +those of the idle ones. Let there be honorary titles, if people like +them; but let there be no honorary incomes. + +So much for the master's motto, "Every man in his place." Next for the +laborer's motto, "Every man his chance." Let us mend that for them a +little, and say, "Every man his certainty"--certainty, that if he does +well, he will be honored, and aided, and advanced in such degree as may +be fitting for his faculty and consistent with his peace; and equal +certainty that if he does ill, he will by sure justice be judged, and by +sure punishment be chastised; if it may be, corrected; and if that may +not be, condemned. That is the right reading of the Republican motto, +"Every man his chance." And then, with such a system of government, +pure, watchful and just, you may approach your great problem of national +education, or in other words, of national employment. For all education +begins in work. What we think, or what we know; or what we believe, is +in the end, of little consequence. The only thing of consequence is what +we _do;_ and for man, woman, or child, the first point of education is +to make them do their best. It is the law of good economy to make the +best of everything. How much more to make the best of every creature! +Therefore, when your pauper comes to you and asks for bread, ask of him +instantly--What faculty have you? What can you do best? Can you drive a +nail into wood? Go and mend the parish fences. Can you lay a brick? Mend +the walls of the cottages where the wind comes in. Can you lift a +spadeful of earth? Turn this field up three feet deep all over. Can you +only drag a weight with your shoulders? Stand at the bottom of this hill +and help up the overladen horses. Can you weld iron and chisel stone? +Fortify this wreck-strewn coast into a harbor; and change these shifting +sands into fruitful ground. Wherever death was, bring life; that is to +be your work; that your parish refuge; that your education. So and no +otherwise can we meet existent distress. But for the continual education +of the whole people, and for their future happiness, they must have such +consistent employment as shall develop all the powers of the fingers, +and the limbs, and the brain: and that development is only to be +obtained by hand-labor, of which you have these four great +divisions--hand-labor on the earth, hand-labor on the sea, hand-labor in +art, hand-labor in war. Of the last two of these I cannot speak +to-night, and of the first two only with extreme brevity. + +I. Hand-labor on the earth, the work of the husbandman and of the +shepherd;--to dress the earth and to keep the flocks of it--the first +task of man, and the final one--the education always of noblest +lawgivers, kings and teachers; the education of Hesiod, of Moses, of +David, of all the true strength of Rome; and all its tenderness: the +pride of Cincinnatus, and the inspiration of Virgil. Hand-labor on the +earth, and the harvest of it brought forth with singing:--not +steam-piston labor on the earth, and the harvest of it brought forth +with steam-whistling. You will have no prophet's voice accompanied by +that shepherd's pipe, and pastoral symphony. Do you know that lately, in +Cumberland, in the chief pastoral district of England--in Wordsworth's +own home--a procession of villagers on their festa day provided for +themselves, by way of music, a steam-plough whistling at the head of +them. + +Give me patience while I put the principle of machine labor before you, +as clearly and in as short compass as possible; it is one that should be +known at this juncture. Suppose a farming proprietor needs to employ a +hundred men on his estate, and that the labor of these hundred men is +enough, but not more than enough, to till all his land, and to raise +from it food for his own family, and for the hundred laborers. He is +obliged, under such circumstances, to maintain all the men in moderate +comfort, and can only by economy accumulate much for himself. But, +suppose he contrive a machine that will easily do the work of fifty men, +with only one man to watch it. This sounds like a great advance in +civilization. The farmer of course gets his machine made, turns off the +fifty men, who may starve or emigrate at their choice, and now he can +keep half of the produce of his estate, which formerly went to feed +them, all to himself. That is the essential and constant operation of +machinery among us at this moment. + +Nay, it is at first answered; no man can in reality keep half the +produce of an estate to himself, nor can he in the end keep more than +his own human share of anything; his riches must diffuse themselves at +some time; he must maintain somebody else with them, however he spends +them. That is mainly true (not altogether so), for food and fuel are in +ordinary circumstances personally wasted by rich people, in quantities +which would save many lives. One of my own great luxuries, for instance, +is candlelight--and I probably burn, for myself alone, as many candles +during the winter, as would comfort the old eyes, or spare the young +ones, of a whole rushlighted country village. Still, it is mainly true, +that it is not by their personal waste that rich people prevent the +lives of the poor. This is the way they do it. Let me go back to my +farmer. He has got his machine made, which goes creaking, screaming, and +occasionally exploding, about modern Arcadia. He has turned off his +fifty men to starve. Now, at some distance from his own farm, there is +another on which the laborers were working for their bread in the same +way, by tilling the land. The machinist sends over to these, saying--"I +have got food enough for you without your digging or ploughing any more. +I can maintain you in other occupations instead of ploughing that land; +if you rake in its gravel you will find some hard stones--you shall +grind those on mills till they glitter; then, my wife shall wear a +necklace of them. Also, if you turn up the meadows below you will find +some fine white clay, of which you shall make a porcelain service for +me: and the rest of the farm I want for pasture for horses for my +carriage--and you shall groom them, and some of you ride behind the +carriage with staves in your hands, and I will keep you much fatter for +doing that than you can keep yourselves by digging." + +Well--but it is answered, are we to have no diamonds, nor china, nor +pictures, nor footmen, then--but all to be farmers? I am not saying what +we ought to do, I want only to show you with perfect clearness first +what we _are doing_; and that, I repeat, is the upshot of +machine-contriving in this country. And observe its effect on the +national strength. Without machines, you have a hundred and fifty yeomen +ready to join for defence of the land. You get your machine, starve +fifty of them, make diamond-cutters or footmen of as many more, and for +your national defence against an enemy, you have now, and _can_ have, +only fifty men, instead of a hundred and fifty; these also now with +minds much alienated from you as their chief,[141] and the rest, +lapidaries or footmen; and a steam plough. + +That is one effect of machinery; but at all events, if we have thus lost +in men, we have gained in riches; instead of happy human souls, we have +at least got pictures, china, horses, and are ourselves better off than +we were before. But very often, and in much of our machine-contriving, +even _that_ result does not follow. We are not one whit the richer for +the machine, we only employ it for our amusement. For observe, our +gaining in riches depends on the men who are out of employment +consenting to be starved, or sent out of the country. But suppose they +do not consent passively to be starved, but some of them become +criminals, and have to be taken charge of and fed at a much greater cost +than if they were at work, and, others, paupers, rioters, and the like, +then you attain the real outcome of modern wisdom and ingenuity. You +have your hundred men honestly at country work; but you don't like the +sight of human beings in your fields; you like better to see a smoking +kettle. You pay, as an amateur, for that pleasure, and you employ your +fifty men in picking oakum, or begging, rioting, and thieving. + +By hand-labor, therefore, and that alone, we are to till the ground. By +hand-labor also to plough the sea; both for food, and in commerce, and +in war: not with floating kettles there neither, but with hempen bridle, +and the winds of heaven in harness. That is the way the power of Greece +rose on her Egean, the power of Venice on her Adria, of Amalfi in her +blue bay, of the Norman sea-riders from the North Cape to Sicily:--so, +your own dominion also of the past. Of the past mind you. On the Baltic +and the Nile, your power is already departed. By machinery you would +advance to discovery; by machinery you would carry your commerce;--you +would be engineers instead of sailors; and instantly in the North seas +you are beaten among the ice, and before the very Gods of Nile, beaten +among the sand. Agriculture, then, by the hand or by the plough drawn +only by animals; and shepherd and pastoral husbandry, are to be the +chief schools of Englishmen. And this most royal academy of all +academies you have to open over all the land, purifying your heaths and +hills, and waters, and keeping them full of every kind of lovely natural +organism, in tree, herb, and living creature. All land that is waste and +ugly, you must redeem into ordered fruitfulness; all ruin, desolateness, +imperfectness of hut or habitation, you must do away with; and +throughout every village and city of your English dominion there must +not be a hand that cannot find a helper, nor a heart that cannot find a +comforter. + +"How impossible!" I know, you are thinking. Ah! So far from impossible, +it is easy, it is natural, it is necessary, and I declare to you that, +sooner or later, it _must be done_, at our peril. If now our English +lords of land will fix this idea steadily before them; take the people +to their hearts, trust to their loyalty, lead their labor;--then indeed +there will be princes again in the midst of us, worthy of the island +throne, + + "This royal throne of kings--this sceptred isle-- + This fortress built by nature for herself + Against infection, and the hand of war; + This precious stone set in the silver sea; + This happy breed of men--this little world: + This other Eden--Demi-Paradise." + +But if they refuse to do this, and hesitate and equivocate, clutching +through the confused catastrophe of all things only at what they can +still keep stealthily for themselves--their doom is nearer than even +their adversaries hope, and it will be deeper than even their despisers +dream. + +That, believe me, is the work you have to do in England; and out of +England you have room for everything else you care to do. Are her +dominions in the world so narrow that she can find no place to spin +cotton in but Yorkshire? We may organize emigration into an infinite +power. We may assemble troops of the more adventurous and ambitious of +our youth; we may send them on truest foreign service, founding new +seats of authority, and centres of thought, in uncultivated and +unconquered lands; retaining the full affection to the native country no +less in our colonists than in our armies, teaching them to maintain +allegiance to their fatherland in labor no less than in battle; aiding +them with free hand in the prosecution of discovery, and the victory +over adverse natural powers; establishing seats of every manufacture in +the climates and places best fitted for it, and bringing ourselves into +due alliance and harmony of skill with the dexterities of every race, +and the wisdoms of every tradition and every tongue. + +And then you may make England itself the centre of the learning, of the +arts, of the courtesies and felicities of the world. Yon may cover her +mountains with pasture; her plains with corn, her valleys with the lily, +and her gardens with the rose. You may bring together there in peace +the wise and the pure, and the gentle of the earth, and by their word, +command through its farthest darkness the birth of "God's first +creature, which was Light." You know whose words those are; the words of +the wisest of Englishmen. He, and with him the wisest of all other great +nations, have spoken always to men of this hope, and they would not +hear. Plato, in the dialogue of Critias, his last, broken off at his +death--Pindar, in passionate singing of the fortunate islands--Virgil, +in the prophetic tenth eclogue--Bacon, in his fable of the New +Atlantis--More, in the book which, too impatiently wise, became the +bye-word of fools--these, all, have told us with one voice what we +should strive to attain; _they_ not hopeless of it, but for our follies +forced, as it seems, by heaven, to tell us only partly and in parables, +lest we should hear them and obey. + +Shall we never listen to the words of these wisest of men? Then listen +at least to the words of your children--let us in the lips of babes and +sucklings find our strength; and see that we do not make them mock +instead of pray, when we teach them, night and morning, to ask for what +we believe never can be granted;--that the will of the Father,--which +is, that His creatures may be righteous and happy--should be done, _on +earth_, as it is in Heaven. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[139] Compare _Time and Tide_, § 169, _and Fors Clavigera_, Letter XIV, +page 9. + +[140] See Appendix, "Modern Education," and compare § 70 of _Time and +Tide_. + +[141] [They were deserting, I am informed, in the early part of this +year, 1873, at the rate of a regiment a week.] + + + + +_NOTES ON THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PRUSSIA._ + + +I am often accused of inconsistency; but believe myself defensible +against the charge with respect to what I have said on nearly every +subject except that of war. It is impossible for me to write +consistently of war, for the groups of facts I have gathered about it +lead me to two precisely opposite conclusions. + +When I find this the case, in other matters, I am silent, till I can +choose my conclusion: but, with respect to war, I am forced to speak, by +the necessities of the time; and forced to act, one way or another. The +conviction on which I act is, that it causes an incalculable amount of +avoidable human suffering, and that it ought to cease among Christian +nations; and if therefore any of my boy-friends desire to be soldiers, I +try my utmost to bring them into what I conceive to be a better mind. +But, on the other hand, I know certainly that the most beautiful +characters yet developed among men have been formed in war;--that all +great nations have been warrior nations, and that the only kinds of +peace which we are likely to get in the present age are ruinous alike to +the intellect, and the heart. + +The lecture on "War," in this volume, addressed to young soldiers, had +for its object to strengthen their trust in the virtue of their +profession. It is inconsistent with itself, in its closing appeal to +women, praying them to use their influence to bring wars to an end. And +I have been hindered from completing my long intended notes on the +economy of the Kings of Prussia by continually increasing doubt how far +the machinery and discipline of war, under which they learned the art +of government, was essential for such lesson; and what the honesty and +sagacity of the Friedrich who so nobly repaired his ruined Prussia, +might have done for the happiness of his Prussia, unruined. + +In war, however, or in peace, the character which Carlyle chiefly loves +him for, and in which Carlyle has shown him to differ from all kings up +to this time succeeding him, is his constant purpose to use every power +entrusted to him for the good of his people; and be, not in name only, +but in heart and hand, their king. + +Not in ambition, but in natural instinct of duty. Friedrich, born to +govern, determines to govern to the best of his faculty. That "best" may +sometimes be unwise; and self-will, or love of glory, may have their +oblique hold on his mind, and warp it this way or that; but they are +never principal with him. He believes that war is necessary, and +maintains it; sees that peace is necessary, and calmly persists in the +work of it to the day of his death, not claiming therein more praise +than the head of any ordinary household, who rules it simply because it +is his place, and he must not yield the mastery of it to another. + +How far, in the future, it may be possible for men to gain the strength +necessary for kingship without either fronting death, or inflicting it, +seems to me not at present determinable. The historical facts are that, +broadly speaking, none but soldiers, or persons with a soldierly +faculty, have ever yet shown themselves fit to be kings; and that no +other men are so gentle, so just, or so clear-sighted. Wordsworth's +character of the happy warrior cannot be reached in the height of it +_but by_ a warrior; nay, so much is it beyond common strength that I had +supposed the entire meaning of it to be metaphorical, until one of the +best soldiers of England himself read me the poem,[142] and taught me, +what I might have known, had I enough watched his own life, that it was +entirely literal. There is nothing of so high reach distinctly +demonstrable in Friedrich: but I see more and more, as I grow older, +that the things which are the most worth, encumbered among the errors +and faults of every man's nature, are never clearly demonstrable; and +are often most forcible when they are scarcely distinct to his own +conscience,--how much less, clamorous for recognition by others! + +Nothing can be more beautiful than Carlyle's showing of this, to any +careful reader of Friedrich. But careful readers are but one in the +thousand; and by the careless, the masses of detail with which the +historian must deal are insurmountable. + +My own notes, made for the special purpose of hunting down the one point +of economy, though they cruelly spoil Carlyle's own current and method +of thought, may yet be useful in enabling readers, unaccustomed to books +involving so vast a range of conception, to discern what, on this one +subject only, may be gathered from that history. On any other subject of +importance, similar gatherings might be made of other passages. The +historian has to deal with all at once. + +I therefore have determined to print here, as a sequel to the Essay on +War, my notes from the first volume of Friedrich, on the economies of +Brandenburg, up to the date of the establishment of the Prussian +monarchy. The economies of the first three Kings of Prussia I shall then +take up in _Fors Clavigera_, finding them fitter for examination in +connection with the subject of that book than of this. + +I assume, that the reader will take down his first volume of Carlyle, +and read attentively the passages to which I refer him. I give the +reference first to the largest edition, in six volumes (1858-1865); +then, in parenthesis, to the smallest or "people's edition" (1872-1873). +The pieces which I have quoted in my own text are for the use of readers +who may not have ready access to the book; and are enough for the +explanation of the points to which I wish them to direct their thoughts +in reading such histories of soldiers or soldier-kingdoms. + + +I. + +_Year_ 928 to 936.--_Dawn of Order in Christian Germany._ + +Book II. Chap. i. p. 67 (47). + +Henry the Fowler, "the beginning of German kings," is a mighty soldier +_in the cause of peace_; his essential work the building and +organization of fortified towns for the protection of men. + +Read page 72 with utmost care (51), "He fortified towns," to end of +small print. I have added some notes on the matter in my lecture on +Giovanni Pisano; but whether you can glance at them or not, fix in your +mind this institution of truly civil or civic building in Germany, as +distinct from the building of baronial castles for the security of +_robbers_: and of a standing army consisting of every ninth man, called +a "burgher" ("townsman")--a soldier, appointed to learn that profession +that he may guard the walls--the exact reverse of _our_ notion of a +burgher. + +Frederick's final idea of his army is, indeed, only this. + +Brannibor, a chief fortress of the Wends, is thus taken, and further +strengthened by Henry the Fowler; wardens appointed for it; and thus the +history of Brandenburg begins. On all frontiers, also, this "beginning +of German kings" has his "Markgraf." "Ancient of the marked place." Read +page 73, measuredly, learning it by heart, if it may be. (51-2.) + + +II. + +936-1000.--_History of Nascent Brandenburg._ + +The passage I last desired you to read ends with this sentence: "The +sea-wall you build, and what main floodgates you establish in it, will +depend on the state of the outer sea." + +From this time forward you have to keep clearly separate in your minds, +(A) the history of that outer sea, Pagan Scandinavia, Russia, and +Bor-Russia, or Prussia proper; (B) the history of Henry the Fowler's +Eastern and Western Marches; asserting themselves gradually as Austria +and the Netherlands; and (C) the history of this inconsiderable fortress +of Brandenburg, gradually becoming considerable, and the capital city of +increasing district between them. That last history, however, Carlyle is +obliged to leave vague and gray for two hundred years after Henry's +death. Absolutely dim for the first century, in which nothing is evident +but that its wardens or Markgraves had no peaceable possession of the +place. Read the second paragraph in page 74 (52-3), "in old books" to +"reader," and the first in page 83 (59) "meanwhile" to "substantial," +consecutively. They bring the story of Brandenburg itself down, at any +rate, from 936 to 1000. + + +III. + +936-1000.--_State of the Outer Sea._ + +Read now Chapter II. beginning at page 76 (54), wherein you will get +account of the beginning of vigorous missionary work on the outer sea, +in Prussia proper; of the death of St. Adalbert, and of the purchase of +his dead body by the Duke of Poland. + +You will not easily understand Carlyle's laugh in this chapter, unless +you have learned yourself to laugh in sadness, and to laugh in love. + +"No Czech blows his pipe in the woodlands without certain precautions +and preliminary fuglings of a devotional nature." (Imagine St. Adalbert, +in spirit, at the railway station in Birmingham!) + +My own main point for notice in the chapter is the purchase of his body +for its "weight in gold." Swindling angels held it up in the scales; it +did not weigh so much as a web of gossamer. "Had such excellent odor, +too, and came for a mere nothing of gold," says Carlyle. It is one of +the first commercial transactions of Germany, but I regret the conduct +of the angels on the occasion. Evangelicalism has been proud of ceasing +to invest in relics, its swindling angels helping it to better things, +as it supposes. For my own part, I believe Christian Germany could not +have bought at this time any treasure more precious; nevertheless, the +missionary work itself you find is wholly vain. The difference of +opinion between St. Adalbert and the Wends, on Divine matters, does not +signify to the Fates. They will not have it disputed about; and end the +dispute adversely, to St. Adalbert--adversely, even, to Brandenburg and +its civilizing power, as you will immediately see. + + +IV. + +1000-1030.--_History of Brandenburg in Trouble._ + +Book II. Chap. iii. p. 83 (59). + +The adventures of Brandenburg in contest with Pagan Prussia, irritated, +rather than amended, by St. Adalbert. In 1023, roughly, a hundred years +after Henry the Fowler's death, Brandenburg is taken by the Wends, and +its first line of Markgraves ended; its population mostly butchered, +especially the priests; and the Wends' God, Triglaph, "something like +three whales' cubs combined by boiling," set up on the top of St. Mary's +Hill. + +Here is an adverse "Doctrine of the Trinity" which has its supporters! +It is wonderful,--this Tripod and Triglyph--three-footed, three-cut +faith of the North and South, the leaf of the oxalis, and strawberry, +and clover, fostering the same in their simple manner. I suppose it to +be the most savage and natural of notions about Deity; a prismatic +idol-shape of Him, rude as a triangular log, as a trefoil grass. I do +not find how long Triglaph held his state on St. Mary's Hill. "For a +time," says Carlyle, "the priests all slain or fled--shadowy Markgraves +the like--church and state lay in ashes, and Triglaph, like a triple +porpoise under the influence of laudanum, stood, I know not whether on +his head or his tail, aloft on the Harlungsberg, as the Supreme of this +Universe for the time being." + + +V. + +1030-1130.--_Brandenburg under the Ditmarsch Markgraves, or +Ditmarsch-Stade Markgraves._ + +Book II. Chap. iii. p. 85 (60). + +Of Anglish, or Saxon breed. They attack Brandenburg, under its +Triglyphic protector, take it--dethrone him, and hold the town for a +hundred years, their history "stamped beneficially on the face of +things, Markgraf after Markgraf getting killed in the business. +'Erschlagen,' 'slain,' fighting with the Heathen--say the old books, and +pass on to another." If we allow seven years to Triglaph--we get a clear +century for these--as above indicated. They die out in 1130. + + +VI. + +1130-1170.--_Brandenburg under Albert the Bear._ + +Book II. Chap iv. p. 91 (64). + +He is the first of the Ascanien Markgraves, whose castle of Ascanica is +on the northern slope of the Hartz Mountains, "ruins still dimly +traceable." + +There had been no soldier or king of note among the Ditmarsch +Markgraves, so that you will do well to fix in your mind successively +the three men, Henry the Fowler, St. Adalbert, and Albert the Bear. A +soldier again, and a strong one. Named the Bear only from the device on +his shield, first wholly definite Markgraf of Brandenburg that there is, +"and that the luckiest of events for Brandenburg." Read page 93 (66) +carefully, and note this of his economies. + + * * * * * + +Nothing better is known to me of Albert the Bear than his introducing +large numbers of Dutch Netherlanders into those countries; men thrown +out of work, who already knew how to deal with bog and sand, by mixing +and delving, and who first taught Brandenburg what greenness and +cow-pasture was. The Wends, in presence of such things, could not but +consent more and more to efface themselves--either to become German, and +grow milk and cheese in the Dutch manner, or to disappear from the +world. + + * * * * * + +After two-hundred and fifty years of barking and worrying, the Wends are +now finally reduced to silence; their anarchy well buried and wholesome +Dutch cabbage planted over it; Albert did several great things in the +world; but this, for posterity, remains his memorable feat. Not done +quite easily, but done: big destinies of nations or of persons are not +founded gratis in this world, He had a sore, toilsome time of it, +coercing, warring, managing among his fellow-creatures, while his day's +work lasted--fifty years or so, for it began early. He died in his +castle of Ballenstädt, peaceably among the Hartz Mountains at last, in +the year 1170, age about sixty-five. + + * * * * * + +Now, note in all this the steady gain of soldiership enforcing order and +agriculture, with St. Adalbert giving higher strain to the imagination. +Henry the Fowler establishes walled towns, fighting for mere peace. +Albert the Bear plants the country with cabbages, fighting for his +cabbage-fields. And the disciples of St. Adalbert, generally, have +succeeded in substituting some idea of Christ for the idea of Triglaph. +Some idea only; other ideas than of Christ haunt even to this day those +Hartz Mountains among which Albert the Bear dies so peacefully. +Mephistopheles, and all his ministers, inhabit there, commanding +mephitic clouds and earth-born dreams. + + +VII. + +1170-1320.--_Brandenburg 150 years under the Ascanien Markgraves._ + +Vol. I. Book II Chap. viii. p. 135 (96). + +"Wholesome Dutch cabbages continued to be more and more planted by them +in the waste sand: intrusive chaos, and Triglaph held at bay by them," +till at last in 1240, seventy years after the great Bear's death, they +fortify a new Burg, a "_little_ rampart," Wehrlin, diminutive of Wehr +(or vallum), gradually smoothing itself, with a little echo of the Bear +in it too, into Ber-lin, the oily river Spree flowing by, "in which you +catch various fish;" while trade over the flats and by the dull streams, +is widely possible. Of the Ascanien race, the notablest is Otto with the +Arrow, whose story see, pp. 138-141 (98-100), noting that Otto is one of +the first Minnesingers; that, being a prisoner to the Archbishop of +Magdeburg, his wife rescues him, selling her jewels to bribe the canons; +and that the Knight, set free on parole and promise of farther ransom, +rides back with his own price in his hand; holding himself thereat +cheaply bought, though no angelic legerdemain happens to the scales now. +His own estimate of his price--"Rain gold ducats on my war-horse and me, +till you cannot see the point of my spear atop." + +Emptiness of utter pride, you think? + +Not so. Consider with yourself, reader, how much you dare to say, aloud, +_you_ are worth. If you have _no_ courage to name any price whatsoever +for yourself, believe me, the cause is not your modesty, but that in +very truth you feel in your heart there would be no bid for you at +Lucian's sale of lives, were that again possible, at Christie and +Manson's. + +Finally (1319 exactly; say 1320, for memory), the Ascanien line expired +in Brandenburg, and the little town and its electorate lapsed to the +Kaiser: meantime other economical arrangements had been in progress; but +observe first how far we have got. + +The Fowler, St. Adalbert and the Bear have established order, and some +sort of Christianity; but the established persons begin to think +somewhat too well of themselves. On quite honest terms, a dead saint or +a living knight ought to be worth their true "weight in gold." But a +pyramid, with only the point of the spear seen at top, would be many +times over one's weight in gold. And although men were yet far enough +from the notion of modern days, that the gold is better than the flesh, +and from buying it with the clay of one's body, and even the fire of +one's soul, instead of soul and body with _it_, they were beginning to +fight for their own supremacy, or for their own religious fancies, and +not at all to any useful end, until an entirely unexpected movement is +made in the old useful direction forsooth, only by some kind +ship-captains of Lübeck! + + +VIII. + +1210-1320.--_Civil work, aiding military, during the Ascanien period._ + +Vol. I. Book II. Chap. vi. p. 109 (77). + +In the year 1190, Acre not yet taken, and the crusading army wasting by +murrain on the shore, the German soldiers especially having none to look +after them, certain compassionate ship-captains of Lübeck, one Walpot +von Bassenheim taking the lead, formed themselves into an union for +succor of the sick and the dying, set up canvas tents from the Lübeck +ship stores, and did what utmost was in them silently in the name of +mercy and heaven. Finding its work prosper, the little medicinal and +weather-fending company took vows on itself, strict chivalry forms, and +decided to become permanent "Knights Hospitallers of our dear Lady of +Mount Zion," separate from the former Knights Hospitallers, as being +entirely German: yet soon, as the German Order of St. Mary, eclipsing in +importance Templars, Hospitallers, and every other chivalric order then +extant; no purpose of battle in them, but much strength for it; their +purpose only the helping of German pilgrims. To this only they are +bound by their vow, "gelübde," and become one of the usefullest of clubs +in all the Pall Mall of Europe. + +Finding pilgrimage in Palestine falling slack, and more need for them on +the homeward side of the sea, their Hochmeister, Hermann of the Salza, +goes over to Venice in 1210. There the titular bishop of still +unconverted Preussen advises him of that field of work for his idle +knights. Hermann thinks well of it: sets his St. Mary's riders at +Triglaph, with the sword in one hand and a missal in the other. + +Not your modern way of affecting conversion! Too illiberal, you think; +and what would Mr. J. S. Mill say? + +But if Triglaph _had_ been verily "three whales' cubs combined by +boiling," you would yourself have promoted attack upon him for the sake +of his oil, would not you? The Teutsch Ritters, fighting him for +charity, are they so much inferior to you? + + * * * * * + +They built, and burnt, innumerable stockades for and against; built +wooden forts which are now stone towns. They fought much and +prevalently; galloped desperately to and fro, ever on the alert. In +peaceabler ulterior times, they fenced in the Nogat and the Weichsel +with dams, whereby unlimited quagmire might become grassy meadow--as it +continues to this day. Marienburg (Mary's Burg), with its grand stone +Schloss still visible and even habitable: this was at length their +headquarter. But how many Burgs of wood and stone they built, in +different parts; what revolts, surprisals, furious fights in woody, +boggy places they had, no man has counted. + +But always some preaching by zealous monks, accompanied the chivalrous +fighting. And colonists came in from Germany; trickling in, or at times +streaming. Victorious Ritterdom offers terms to the beaten heathen: +terms not of tolerant nature, but which _will be punctually kept by +Ritterdom_. When the flame of revolt or general conspiracy burnt up +again too extensively, high personages came on crusade to them. Ottocar, +King of Bohemia, with his extensive far-shining chivalry, "conquered +Samland in a month;" tore up the Romova where Adalbert had been +massacred, and burned it from the face of the earth. A certain fortress +was founded at that time, in Ottocar's presence; and in honor of him +they named it King's Fortress, "Königsberg." Among King Ottocar's +esquires, or subaltern junior officials, on this occasion, is one +Rudolf, heir of a poor Swiss lordship and gray hill castle, called +Hapsburg, rather in reduced circumstances, whom Ottocar likes for his +prudent, hardy ways; a stout, modest, wise young man, who may chance to +redeem Hapsburg a little, if he lives. + +Conversion, and complete conquest once come, there was a happy time for +Prussia; ploughshare instead of sword: busy sea-havens, German towns, +getting built; churches everywhere rising; grass growing, and peaceable +cows, where formerly had been quagmire and snakes, and for the Order a +happy time. On the whole, this Teutsch Ritterdom, for the first century +and more, was a grand phenomenon, and flamed like a bright blessed +beacon through the night of things, in those Northern countries. For +above a century, we perceive, it was the rallying place of all brave men +who had a career to seek on terms other than vulgar. The noble soul, +aiming beyond money, and sensible to more than hunger in this world, had +a beacon burning (as we say), if the night chanced to overtake it, and +the earth to grow too intricate, as is not uncommon. Better than the +career of stump-oratory, I should fancy, and its Hesperides apples, +golden, and of gilt horse-dung. Better than puddling away one's poor +spiritual gift of God (loan, not gift), such as it may be, in building +the lofty rhyme, the lofty review article, for a discerning public that +has sixpence to spare! Times alter greatly.[143] + + * * * * * + +We must pause here again for a moment to think where we are, and who is +_with us_. The Teutsch Ritters have been fighting, independently of all +states, for their own hand, or St. Adalbert's; partly for mere love of +fight, partly for love of order, partly for love of God. Meantime, other +Riders have been fighting wholly for what they could get by it; and +other persons, not Riders, have not been fighting at all, but in their +own towns peacefully manufacturing and selling. + +Of Henry the Fowler's Marches, Austria has become a military power, +Flanders a mercantile one, pious only in the degree consistent with +their several occupations. Prussia is now a practical and farming +country, more Christian than its longer-converted neighbors. + + * * * * * + +Towns are built, Königsberg (King Ottocar's town), Thoren (Thorn, City +of the Gates), with many others; so that the wild population and the +tame now lived tolerably together, under Gospel and Lübeck law; and all +was ploughing and trading. + + * * * * * + +But Brandenburg itself, what of it? + +The Ascanien Markgraves rule it on the whole prosperously down to 1320, +when their line expires, and it falls into the power of Imperial +Austria. + + +IX. + +1320-1415.--_Brandenburg under the Austrians._ + +A century--the fourteenth--of miserable anarchy and decline for +Brandenburg, its Kurfürsts, in deadly succession, making what they can +out of it for their own pockets. The city itself and its territory +utterly helpless. Read pp. 180, 181 (129, 130). "The towns suffered +much, any trade they might have had going to wreck. Robber castles +flourished, all else decayed, no highway safe. What are Hamburg pedlars +made for but to be robbed?" + + +X. + +1415-1440.--_Brandenburg under Friedrich of Nüremberg._ + +This is the fourth of the men whom you are to remember as creators of +the Prussian monarchy, Henry the Fowler, St. Adalbert, Albert the Bear, +of Ascanien, and Friedrich of Nüremberg; (of Hohenzollern, by name, and +by country, of the Black Forest, north of the Lake of Constance). + +Brandenburg is sold to him at Constance, during the great Council, for +about 200,000_l._ of our money, worth perhaps a million in that day; +still, with its capabilities, "dog cheap." Admitting, what no one at the +time denied, the general marketableness of states as private property, +this is the one practical result, thinks Carlyle (not likely to think +wrong), of that oecumenical deliberation, four years long, of the +"elixir of the intellect and dignity of Europe. And that one thing was +not its doing; but a pawnbroking job, intercalated," putting, however, +at last, Brandenburg again under the will of one strong man. On St. +John's day, 1412, he first set foot in his town, "and Brandenburg, under +its wise Kurfürst, begins to be cosmic again." The story of Heavy Peg, +pages 195-198 (138, 140), is one of the most brilliant and important +passages of the first volume; page 199, specially to our purpose, must +be given entire:-- + + The offer to be Kaiser was made him in his old days; but he + wisely declined that too. It was in Brandenburg, by what he + silently founded there, that he did his chief benefit to + Germany and mankind. He understood the noble art of + governing men; had in him the justness, clearness, valor, + and patience needed for that. A man of sterling probity, for + one thing. _Which indeed is the first requisite in said + art_:--if you will have your laws obeyed without mutiny, see + well that they be pieces of God Almighty's law; otherwise + all the artillery in the world will not keep down mutiny. + + Friedrich "travelled much over Brandenburg;" looking into + everything with his own eyes; making, I can well fancy, + innumerable crooked things straight; reducing more and more + that famishing dog-kennel of a Brandenburg into a fruitful + arable field. His portraits represent a square-headed, + mild-looking, solid gentleman, with a certain twinkle of + mirth in the serious eyes of him. Except in those Hussite + wars for Kaiser Sigismund and the Reich, in which no man + could prosper, he may be defined as constantly prosperous. + To Brandenburg he was, very literally, the blessing of + blessings; redemption out of death into life. In the ruins + of that old Friesack Castle, battered down by Heavy Peg, + antiquarian science (if it had any eyes) might look for the + taproot of the Prussian nation, and the beginning of all + that Brandenburg has since grown to under the sun. + +Which growth is now traced by Carlyle in its various budding and +withering, under the succession of the twelve Electors, of whom +Friedrich, with his heavy Peg, is first, and Friedrich, first King of +Prussia, grandfather of Friedrich the Great, the twelfth. + + +XI. + +1416-1701.--_Brandenburg under the Hohenzollern Kurfürsts._ + +Book III. + +Who the Hohenzollerns were, and how they came to power in Nüremberg, is +told in Chap. v. of Book II. + +Their succession in Brandenburg is given in brief at page 377 (269). I +copy it, in absolute barrenness of enumeration, for our momentary +convenience, here: + + Friedrich 1st of Brandenburg (6th of Nüremberg), 1412-1440 + Friedrich II., called "Iron Teeth," 1440-1472 + Albert, 1472-1486 + Johann, 1486-1499 + Joachim I., 1499-1535 + Joachim II., 1535-1571 + Johann George, 1571-1598 + Joachim Friedrich, 1598-1608 + Johann Sigismund, 1608-1619 + George Wilhelm, 1619-1640 + Friedrich Wilhelm (the Great Elector), 1640-1688 + Friedrich, first King; crowned 18th January, 1701 + +Of this line of princes we have to say they followed generally in their +ancestor's steps, and had success of the like kind more or less; +Hohenzollerns all of them, by character and behaviour as well as by +descent. No lack of quiet energy, of thrift, sound sense. There was +likewise solid fair-play in general, no founding of yourself on ground +that will not carry, _and there was instant, gentle, but inexorable +crushing of mutiny_, if it showed itself, which after the Second +Elector, or at most the Third, it had altogether ceased to do. + +This is the general account of them; of special matters note the +following:-- + + +II. Friedrich, called "Iron-teeth," from his firmness, proves a notable +manager and governor. Builds the palace at Berlin in its first form, and +makes it his chief residence. Buys Neumark from the fallen Teutsch +Ritters, and generally establishes things on securer footing. + + +III. Albert, "a fiery, tough old Gentlemen," called the Achilles of +Germany in his day; has half-a-century of fighting with his own +Nürembergers, with Bavaria, France, Burgundy, and its fiery Charles, +besides being head constable to the Kaiser among any disorderly persons +in the East. His skull, long shown on his tomb, "marvellous for strength +and with no visible sutures." + + +IV. John, the orator of his race; (but the orations unrecorded). His +second son, Archbishop of Maintz, for whose piece of memorable work see +page 223 (143) and read in connection with that the history of Margraf +George, pp. 237-241 (152-154), and the 8th chapter of the third book. + + +V. Joachim I., of little note; thinks there has been enough Reformation, +and checks proceedings in a dull stubbornness, causing him at least +grave domestic difficulties.--Page 271 (173). + + +VI. Joachim II. Again active in the Reformation, and staunch, + + though generally in a cautious, weighty, never in a rash, + swift way, to the great cause of Protestantism and to all + good causes. He was himself a solemnly devout man; deep, + awe-stricken reverence dwelling in his view of this + universe. Most serious, though with a jocose dialect, + commonly having a cheerful wit in speaking to men. Luther's + books he called his Seelenschatz, (soul's treasure); Luther + and the Bible were his chief reading. Fond of profane + learning, too, and of the useful or ornamental arts; given + to music, and "would himself sing aloud" when he had a + melodious leisure hour. + + +VII. Johann George, a prudent thrifty Herr; no mistresses, no luxuries +allowed; at the sight of a new-fashioned coat he would fly out on an +unhappy youth and pack him from his presence. Very strict in point of +justice; a peasant once appealing to him in one of his inspection +journeys through the country-- + + "Grant me justice, Durchlaucht, against so and so; I am your + Highness's born subject." "Thou shouldst have it, man, wert + thou a born Turk!" answered Johann George. + +Thus, generally, we find this line of Electors representing in Europe +the Puritan mind of England in a somewhat duller, but less dangerous, +form; receiving what Protestantism could teach of honesty and common +sense, but not its anti-Catholic fury, or its selfish spiritual anxiety. +Pardon of sins is not to be had from Tetzel; neither, the Hohenzollern +mind advises with itself, from even Tetzel's master, for either the +buying, or the asking. On the whole, we had better commit as few as +possible, and live just lives and plain ones. + + A conspicuous thrift, veracity, modest solidity, looks + through the conduct of this Herr; a determined Protestant he + too, as indeed all the following were and are. + + +VIII. Joachim Friedrich. Gets hold of Prussia, which hitherto, you +observe, has always been spoken of as a separate country from +Brandenburg. March 11, 1605--"squeezed his way into the actual +guardianship of Preussen and its imbecile Duke, which was his by right." + +For my own part, I do not trouble myself much about these rights, never +being able to make out any single one, to begin with, except the right +to keep everything and every place about you in as good order as you +can--Prussia, Poland, or what else. I should much like, for instance, +just now, to hear of any honest Cornish gentleman of the old Drake breed +taking a fancy to land in Spain, and trying what he could make of his +rights as far round Gibraltar as he could enforce them. At all events, +Master Joachim has somehow got hold of Prussia; and means to keep it. + + +IX. Johann Sigismund. Only notable for our economical purposes, as +getting the "guardianship" of Prussia confirmed to him. The story at +page 317 (226), "a strong flame of choler," indicates a new order of +things among the knights of Europe--"princely etiquettes melting all +into smoke." Too literally so, that being one of the calamitous +functions of the plain lives we are living, and of the busy life our +country is living. In the Duchy of Cleve, especially, concerning which +legal dispute begins in Sigismund's time. And it is well worth the +lawyers' trouble, it seems. + + It amounted, perhaps, to two Yorkshires in extent. A + naturally opulent country of fertile meadows, shipping + capabilities, metalliferous hills, and at this time, in + consequence of the Dutch-Spanish war, and the multitude of + Protestant refugees, it was getting filled with ingenious + industries, and rising to be what it still is, the busiest + quarter of Germany. A country lowing with kine; the hum of + the flax-spindle heard in its cottages in those old + days--"much of the linen called Hollands is made in Jülich, + and only bleached, stamped, and sold by the Dutch," says + Büsching. A country in our days which is shrouded at short + intervals with the due canopy of coal-smoke, and loud with + sounds of the anvil and the loom. + +The lawyers took two hundred and six years to settle the question +concerning this Duchy, and the thing Johann Sigismund had claimed +legally in 1609 was actually handed over to Johann Sigismund's +descendant in the seventh generation. "These litigated duchies are now +the Prussian provinces, Jülich, Berg, Cleve, and the nucleus of +Prussia's possessions in the Rhine country." + + +X. George Wilhelm. Read pp. 325 to 327 (231, 233) on this Elector and +German Protestantism, now fallen cold, and somewhat too little +dangerous. But George Wilhelm is the only weak prince of all the twelve. +For another example how the heart and life of a country depend upon its +prince, not on its council, read this, of Gustavus Adolphus, demanding +the cession of Spandau and Küstrin: + + Which cession Kurfürst George Wilhelm, though giving all his + prayers to the good cause, could by no means grant. Gustav + had to insist, with more and more emphasis, advancing at + last with military menace upon Berlin itself. He was met by + George Wilhelm and his Council, "in the woods of Cöpenick," + short way to the east of that city; there George Wilhelm and + his Council wandered about, sending messages, hopelessly + consulting, saying among each other, "Que faire? ils ont des + canons." For many hours so, round the inflexible Gustav, who + was there like a fixed mile-stone, and to all questions and + comers had only one answer. + +On our special question of war and its consequences, read this of the +Thirty Years' one: + + But on the whole, the grand weapon in it, and towards the + latter times, the exclusive one, was hunger. The opposing + armies tried to starve one another; at lowest, tried each + not to starve. Each trying to eat the country or, at any + rate, to leave nothing eatable in it; what that will mean + for the country we may consider. As the armies too + frequently, and the Kaiser's armies habitually, lived + without commissariat, often enough without pay, all horrors + of war and of being a seat of war, that have been since + heard of, are poor to those then practised, the detail of + which is still horrible to read. Germany, in all eatable + quarters of it, had to undergo the process; tortured, torn + to pieces, wrecked, and brayed as in a mortar, under the + iron mace of war. Brandenburg saw its towns seized and + sacked, its country populations driven to despair by the one + party and the other. Three times--first in the + Wallenstein-Mecklenburg times, while fire and sword were the + weapons, and again, twice over, in the ultimate stages of + the struggle, when starvation had become the + method--Brandenburg fell to be the principal theatre of + conflict, where all forms of the dismal were at their + height. In 1638, three years after that precious "Peace of + Prag,"... the ravages of the starving Gallas and his + Imperialists excelled all precedent,... men ate human flesh, + nay, human creatures ate their own children. "Que faire? ils + ont des canons!" + +"We have now arrived at the lowest nadir point" (says Carlyle) "of the +history of Brandenburg under the Hohenzollerns." Is this then all that +Heavy Peg and our nine Kurfürsts have done for us? + +Carlyle does not mean that; but even he, greatest of historians since +Tacitus, is not enough careful to mark for us the growth of national +character, as distinct from the prosperity of dynasties. + +A republican historian would think of this development only, and suppose +it to be possible without any dynasties. + +Which is indeed in a measure so, and the work now chiefly needed in +moral philosophy, as well as history, is an analysis of the constant and +prevalent, yet unthought of, influences, which, without any external +help from kings, and in a silent and entirely necessary manner, form, in +Sweden, in Bavaria, in the Tyrol, in the Scottish border, and on the +French sea-coast, races of noble peasants; pacific, poetic, heroic, +Christian-hearted in the deepest sense, who may indeed perish by sword +or famine in any cruel thirty years' war, or ignoble thirty years' +peace, and yet leave such strength to their children that the country, +apparently ravaged into hopeless ruin, revives, under any prudent king, +as the cultivated fields do under the spring rain. How the rock to which +no seed can cling, and which no rain can soften, is subdued into the +good ground which can bring forth its hundredfold, we forget to watch, +while we follow the footsteps of the sower, or mourn the catastrophes of +storm. All this while, the Prussian earth--the Prussian soul--has been +thus dealt upon by successive fate; and now, though laid, as it seems, +utterly desolate, it can be revived by a few years of wisdom and of +peace. + +Vol. I. Book III. Chap, xviii.--The Great Elector, Friedrich Wilhelm. +Eleventh of the dynasty:-- + + There hardly ever came to sovereign power a young man of + twenty under more distressing, hopeless-looking + circumstances. Political significance Brandenburg had none; + a mere Protestant appendage, dragged about by a Papist + Kaiser. His father's Prime Minister, as we have seen, was in + the interest of his enemies; not Brandenburg's servant, but + Austria's. The very commandants of his fortresses, + Commandant of Spandau more especially, refused to obey + Friedrich Wilhelm on his accession; "were bound to obey the + Kaiser in the first place." + + For twenty years past Brandenburg had been scoured by + hostile armies, which, especially the Kaiser's part of + which, committed outrages new in human history. In a year or + two hence, Brandenburg became again the theatre of business, + Austrian Gallas advancing thither again (1644) with intent + "to shut up Torstenson and his Swedes in Jutland." Gallas + could by no means do what he intended; on the contrary, he + had to run from Torstenson--what feet could do; was hunted, + he and his Merode Brüder (beautiful inventors of the + "marauding" art), till they pretty much all died (crepirten) + says Köhler. No great loss to society, the death of these + artists, but we can fancy what their life, and especially + what the process of their dying, may have cost poor + Brandenburg again! + + Friedrich Wilhelm's aim, in this as in other emergencies, + was sun-clear to himself, but for most part dim to everybody + else. He had to walk very warily, Sweden on one hand of him, + suspicious Kaiser on the other: he had to wear semblances, + to be ready with evasive words, and advance noiselessly by + many circuits. More delicate operation could not be + imagined. But advance he did; advance and arrive. With + extraordinary talent, diligence, and felicity the young man + wound himself out of this first fatal position, got those + foreign armies pushed out of his country, and kept them out. + His first concern had been to find some vestige of revenue, + to put that upon a clear footing, and by loans or otherwise + to scrape a little ready-money together. On the strength _of + which a small body of soldiers could be collected about him, + and drilled into real ability to fight and obey_. This as a + basis: on this followed all manner of things, freedom from + Swedish-Austrian invasions, as the first thing. He was + himself, as appeared by-and-by, a fighter of the first + quality, when it came to that; but never was willing to + fight if he could help it. Preferred rather to shift, + manoeuvre, and negotiate, which he did in most vigilant, + adroit, and masterly manner. But by degrees he had grown to + have, and could maintain it, an army of twenty-four thousand + men, among the best troops then in being. + +To wear semblances, to be ready with evasive words, how is this, Mr. +Carlyle? thinks perhaps the rightly thoughtful reader. + +Yes, such things have to be; There are lies and lies, and there are +truths and truths. Ulysses cannot ride on the ram's back, like Phryxus; +but must ride under his belly. Read also this, presently following: + + Shortly after which, Friedrich Wilhelm, who had shone much + in the battle of Warsaw, into which he was dragged against + his will, changed sides. An inconsistent, treacherous man? + Perhaps not, O reader! perhaps a man advancing "in + circuits," the only way he has; spirally, face now to east, + now to west, with his own reasonable private aim sun-clear + to him all the while? + +The battle of Warsaw, three days long, fought with Gustavus, the +grandfather of Charles XII., against the Poles, virtually ends the +Polish power: + + Old Johann Casimir, not long after that peace of Oliva, + getting tired of his unruly Polish chivalry and their ways, + abdicated--retired to Paris, and "and lived much with Ninon + de l'Enclos and her circle," for the rest of his life. He + used to complain of his Polish chivalry, that there was no + solidity in them; nothing but outside glitter, with tumult + and anarchic noise; fatal want of one essential talent, _the + talent of obeying_; and has been heard to prophesy that a + glorious Republic, persisting in such courses, would arrive + at results which would surprise it. + + Onward from this time, Friedrich Wilhelm figures in the + world; public men watching his procedure; kings anxious to + secure him--Dutch print-sellers sticking up his portraits + for a hero-worshipping public. Fighting hero, had the public + known it, was not his essential character, though he had to + fight a great deal. He was essentially an industrial man; + great in organizing, regulating, in constraining chaotic + heaps to become cosmic for him. He drains bogs, settles + colonies in the waste places of his dominions, cuts canals; + unweariedly encourages trade and work. The Friedrich + Wilhelm's Canal, which still carries tonnage from the Oder + to the Spree, is a monument of his zeal in this way; + creditable with the means he had. To the poor French + Protestants in the Edict-of-Nantes affair, he was like an + express benefit of Heaven; one helper appointed to whom the + help itself was profitable. He munificently welcomed them + to Brandenburg; showed really a noble piety and human pity, + as well as judgment; nor did Brandenburg and he want their + reward. Some twenty thousand nimble French souls, evidently + of the best French quality, found a home there; made "waste + sands about Berlin into potherb gardens;" and in spiritual + Brandenburg, too, did something of horticulture which is + still noticeable. + +Now read carefully the description of the man, p. 352 (224-5); the story +of the battle of Fehrbellin, "the Marathon of Brandenburg," p. 354 +(225); and of the winter campaign of 1679, p. 356 (227), beginning with +its week's marches at sixty miles a day; his wife, as always, being with +him; + + Louisa, honest and loving Dutch girl, aunt to our William of + Orange, who trimmed up her own "Orange-burg" + (country-house), twenty miles north of Berlin, into a little + jewel of the Dutch type, potherb gardens, training-schools + for young girls, and the like, a favorite abode of hers when + she was at liberty for recreation. But her life was busy and + earnest; she was helpmate, not in name only, to an ever busy + man. They were married young; a marriage of love withal. + Young Friedrich Wilhelm's courtship; wedding in Holland; the + honest, trustful walk and conversation of the two sovereign + spouses, their journeyings together, their mutual hopes, + fears, and manifold vicissitudes, till death, with stern + beauty, shut it in; all is human, true, and wholesome in it, + interesting to look upon, and rare among sovereign persons. + +Louisa died in 1667, twenty-one years before her husband, who married +again--(little to his contentment)--died in 1688; and Louisa's second +son, Friedrich, ten years old at his mother's death, and now therefore +thirty-one, succeeds, becoming afterwards Friedrich I. of Prussia. + +And here we pause on two great questions. Prussia is assuredly at this +point a happier and better country than it was, when inhabited by Wends. +But is Friedrich I. a happier and better man than Henry the Fowler? Have +all these kings thus improved their country, but never themselves? Is +this somewhat expensive and ambitious Herr, Friedrich I. buttoned in +diamonds, indeed the best that Protestantism can produce, as against +Fowlers, Bears, and Red Beards? Much more, Friedrich Wilhelm, orthodox +on predestination; most of all, his less orthodox son;--have we, in +these, the highest results which Dr. Martin Luther can produce for the +present, in the first circles of society? And if not, how is it that the +country, having gained so much in intelligence and strength, lies more +passively in their power than the baser country did under that of nobler +men? + +These, and collateral questions, I mean to work out as I can, with +Carlyle's good help;--but must pause for this time; in doubt, as +heretofore. Only of this one thing I doubt not, that the name of all +great kings, set over Christian nations, must at last be, in fufilment, +the hereditary one of these German princes, "Rich in Peace;" and that +their coronation will be with Wild olive, not with gold. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[142] The late Sir Herbert Edwardes. + +[143] I would much rather print these passages of Carlyle in large +golden letters than small black ones; but they are only here at all for +unlucky people who can't read them with the context. + + + + +THE + +ETHICS OF THE DUST + +TEN LECTURES + +TO + +LITTLE HOUSEWIVES + +ON + +THE ELEMENTS OF CRYSTALLISATION + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +ETHICS OF THE DUST. + + +LECTURE I. PAGE + +THE VALLEY OF DIAMONDS 1 + + +LECTURE II. + +THE PYRAMID BUILDERS 21 + + +LECTURE III. + +THE CRYSTAL LIFE 31 + + +LECTURE IV. + +THE CRYSTAL ORDERS 43 + + +LECTURE V. + +CRYSTAL VIRTUES 56 + + +LECTURE VI. + +CRYSTAL QUARRELS 70 + + +LECTURE VII. + +HOME VIRTUES 82 + + +LECTURE VIII. + +CRYSTAL CAPRICE 98 + + +LECTURE IX. + +CRYSTAL SORROWS 111 + + +LECTURE X. + +THE CRYSTAL REST 125 + +NOTES 143 + +FICTION--FAIR AND FOUL 153 + + +ELEMENTS OF DRAWING. + + +LETTER I. + +ON FIRST PRACTICE 233 + + +LETTER II. + +SKETCHING FROM NATURE 293 + + +LETTER III. + +ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 331 + + +APPENDIX: THINGS TO BE STUDIED 403 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +ELEMENTS OF DRAWING. + +FIGURE PAGE + +1. SQUARES 237 + +2. GRADATED SPACES 241 + +3. OUTLINE OF LETTER 245 + +4. OUTLINE OF BOUGH OF TREE 248 + +5. CHARRED LOG 257 + +6. SHOOT OF LILAC 272 + +7. LEAF 274 + +8. BOUGH OF PHILLYREA 275 + +9. SPRAY OF PHILLYREA 276 + +10. TRUNK OF TREE, BY TITIAN 284 + +11. SKETCH FROM RAPHAEL 285 + +12. OUTLINES OF A BALL 287 + +13. WOODCUT OF DURER'S 289 + +14, 15, 16. MASSES OF LEAVES 290, 291 + +17, 18, 19. CURVATURES IN LEAVES 295, 296 + +20. FROM AN ETCHING, BY TURNER 297 + +21. ALPINE BRIDGE 307 + +22. ALPINE BRIDGE AS IT APPEARS AT VARIOUS DISTANCES 308 + +23. OUTLINES EXPRESSIVE OF FOLIAGE 314 + +24. SHOOT OF SPANISH CHESTNUT 315 + +25. YOUNG SHOOT OF OAK 316 + +26, 27, 28. WOODCUTS AFTER TITIAN 321, 322 + +29. DIAGRAM OF WINDOW 339 + +30. SWISS COTTAGE 355 + +31. GROUPS OF LEAVE 350 + +32. PAINTING, by Turner 361 + +33. SKETCH ON CALAIS SANDS, by Turner 365 + +34. DRAWING OF AN IDEAL BRIDGE, by Turner 369 + +35. PROFILE OF THE TOWERS OF EHRENBREITSTEIN 370 + +36. CURVES 371 + +37, 38, 39. CURVES FOUND IN LEAVES 372 + +40. OUTLINES OF A TREE TRUNK 373 + +41-44. TREE RADIATION 374, 375 + +45, 46. WOODCUTS OF LEAF 376 + +47. LEAF OF COLUMBINE 378 + +48. TOP OF AN OLD TOWER 385 + + + + +PERSONÆ. + + +OLD LECTURER (of incalculable age) + +FLORRIE, on astronomical evidence presumed to be aged 9. + +ISABEL " 11. + +MAY " 11. + +LILY " 12. + +KATHLEEN " 14. + +LUCILLA " 15. + +VIOLET " 16. + +DORA (who has the keys and is housekeeper) " 17. + +EGYPT (so called from her dark eyes) " 17. + +JESSIE (who somehow always makes the room look + brighter when she is in it) " 18. + +MARY (of whom everybody, including the Old Lecturer, + is in great awe) " 20. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + +I have seldom been more disappointed by the result of my best pains +given to any of my books, than by the earnest request of my publisher, +after the opinion of the public had been taken on the 'Ethics of the +Dust,' that I would "write no more in dialogue!" However, I bowed to +public judgment in this matter at once, (knowing also my inventive +powers to be of the feeblest,); but in reprinting the book, (at the +prevailing request of my kind friend, Mr. Henry Willett,) I would pray +the readers whom it may at first offend by its disconnected method, to +examine, nevertheless, with care, the passages in which the principal +speaker sums the conclusions of any dialogue: for these summaries were +written as introductions, for young people, to all that I have said on +the same matters in my larger books; and, on re-reading them, they +satisfy me better, and seem to me calculated to be more generally +useful, than anything else I have done of the kind. + +The summary of the contents of the whole book, beginning, "You may at +least earnestly believe," at p. 130, is thus the clearest exposition I +have ever yet given of the general conditions under which the Personal +Creative Power manifests itself in the forms of matter; and the analysis +of heathen conceptions of Deity, beginning at p. 131, and closing at p. +138, not only prefaces, but very nearly supersedes, all that in more +lengthy terms I have since asserted, or pleaded for, in 'Aratra +Pentelici,' and the 'Queen of the Air.' + +And thus, however the book may fail in its intention of suggesting new +occupations or interests to its younger readers, I think it worth +reprinting, in the way I have also reprinted 'Unto this Last,'--page for +page; that the students of my more advanced works may be able to refer +to these as the original documents of them; of which the most essential +in this book are these following. + +I. The explanation of the baseness of the avaricious functions of the +Lower Pthah, p. 39, with his beetle-gospel, p. 41, "that a nation can +stand on its vices better than on its virtues," explains the main motive +of all my books on Political Economy. + +II. The examination of the connexion between stupidity and crime, pp. +57-62, anticipated all that I have had to urge in Fors Clavigera against +the commonly alleged excuse for public wickedness,--"They don't mean +it--they don't know any better." + +III. The examination of the roots of Moral Power, pp. 90-92, is a +summary of what is afterwards developed with utmost care in my inaugural +lecture at Oxford on the relation of Art to Morals; compare in that +lecture, §§ 83-85, with the sentence in p. 91 of this book, "Nothing is +ever done so as really to please our Father, unless we would also have +done it, though we had had no Father to know of it." + +This sentence, however, it must be observed, regards only the general +conditions of action in the children of God, in consequence of which it +is foretold of them by Christ that they will say at the Judgment, "When +saw we thee?" It does not refer to the distinct cases in which virtue +consists in faith given to command, appearing to foolish human judgment +inconsistent with the Moral Law, as in the sacrifice of Isaac; nor to +those in which any directly-given command requires nothing more of +virtue than obedience. + +IV. The subsequent pages, 92-97, were written especially to check the +dangerous impulses natural to the minds of many amiable young women, in +the direction of narrow and selfish religious sentiment: and they +contain, therefore, nearly everything which I believe it necessary that +young people should be made to observe, respecting the errors of +monastic life. But they in nowise enter on the reverse, or favourable +side: of which indeed I did not, and as yet do not, feel myself able to +speak with any decisiveness; the evidence on that side, as stated in the +text, having "never yet been dispassionately examined." + +V. The dialogue with Lucilla, beginning at p. 63, is, to my own fancy, +the best bit of conversation in the book, and the issue of it, at p. 67, +the most practically and immediately useful. For on the idea of the +inevitable weakness and corruption of human nature, has logically +followed, in our daily life, the horrible creed of modern "Social +science," that all social action must be scientifically founded on +vicious impulses. But on the habit of measuring and reverencing our +powers and talents that we may kindly use them, will be founded a true +Social science, developing, by the employment of them, all the real +powers and honourable feelings of the race. + +VI. Finally, the account given in the second and third lectures, of the +real nature and marvellousness of the laws of crystallization, is +necessary to the understanding of what farther teaching of the beauty of +inorganic form I may be able to give, either in 'Deucalion,' or in my +'Elements of Drawing.' I wish however that the second lecture had been +made the beginning of the book; and would fain now cancel the first +altogether, which I perceive to be both obscure and dull. It was meant +for a metaphorical description of the pleasures and dangers in the +kingdom of Mammon, or of worldly wealth; its waters mixed with blood, +its fruits entangled in thickets of trouble, and poisonous when +gathered; and the final captivity of its inhabitants within frozen walls +of cruelty and disdain. But the imagery is stupid and ineffective +throughout; and I retain this chapter only because I am resolved to +leave no room for any one to say that I have withdrawn, as erroneous in +principle, so much as a single sentence of any of my books written since +1860. + +One license taken in this book, however, though often permitted to +essay-writers for the relief of their dulness, I never mean to take +more,--the relation of composed metaphor as of actual dream, pp. 23 and +104. I assumed, it is true, that in these places the supposed dream +would be easily seen to be an invention; but must not any more, even +under so transparent disguise, pretend to any share in the real powers +of Vision possessed by great poets and true painters. + + BRANTWOOD: + + _10th October, 1877._ + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The following lectures were really given, in substance, at a girls' +school (far in the country); which in the course of various experiments +on the possibility of introducing some better practice of drawing into +the modern scheme of female education, I visited frequently enough to +enable the children to regard me as a friend. The lectures always fell +more or less into the form of fragmentary answers to questions; and they +are allowed to retain that form, as, on the whole, likely to be more +interesting than the symmetries of a continuous treatise. Many children +(for the school was large) took part, at different times, in the +conversations; but I have endeavoured, without confusedly multiplying +the number of imaginary[144] speakers, to represent, as far as I could, +the general tone of comment and enquiry among young people. + +It will be at once seen that these Lectures were not intended for an +introduction to mineralogy. Their purpose was merely to awaken in the +minds of young girls, who were ready to work earnestly and +systematically, a vital interest in the subject of their study. No +science can be learned in play; but it is often possible, in play, to +bring good fruit out of past labour, or show sufficient reasons for the +labour of the future. + +The narrowness of this aim does not, indeed, justify the absence of all +reference to many important principles of structure, and many of the +most interesting orders of minerals; but I felt it impossible to go far +into detail without illustrations; and if readers find this book useful, +I may, perhaps, endeavour to supplement it by illustrated notes of the +more interesting phenomena in separate groups of familiar +minerals;--flints of the chalk;--agates of the basalts;--and the +fantastic and exquisitely beautiful varieties of the vein-ores of the +two commonest metals, lead and iron. But I have always found that the +less we speak of our intentions, the more chance there is of our +realizing them; and this poor little book will sufficiently have done +its work, for the present, if it engages any of its young readers in +study which may enable them to despise it for its shortcomings. + + DENMARK HILL: + + _Christmas, 1865._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[144] I do not mean, in saying 'imaginary,' that I have not permitted to +myself, in several instances, the affectionate discourtesy of some +reminiscence of personal character; for which I must hope to be forgiven +by my old pupils and their friends, as I could not otherwise have +written the book at all. But only two sentences in all the dialogues, +and the anecdote of 'Dotty,' are literally 'historical.' + + + + +THE ETHICS OF THE DUST. + + + + +LECTURE I. + +_THE VALLEY OF DIAMONDS._ + + _A very idle talk, by the dining-room fire, after + raisin-and-almond time._ + + +OLD LECTURER; FLORRIE, ISABEL, MAY, LILY, _and_ SIBYL. + +OLD LECTURER (L.). Come here, Isabel, and tell me what the make-believe +was, this afternoon. + +ISABEL (_arranging herself very primly on the foot-stool_). Such a +dreadful one! Florrie and I were lost in the Valley of Diamonds. + +L. What! Sindbad's, which nobody could get out of? + +ISABEL. Yes; but Florrie and I got out of it. + +L. So I see. At least, I see you did; but are you sure Florrie did? + +ISABEL. Quite sure. + +FLORRIE (_putting her head round from behind_ L.'s _sofa-cushion_). +Quite sure. (_Disappears again._) + +L. I think I could be made to feel surer about it. + + (FLORRIE _reappears, gives_ L. _a kiss, and again exit._) + +L. I suppose it's all right; but how did you manage it? + +ISABEL. Well, you know, the eagle that took up Sindbad was very +large--very, very large--the largest of all the eagles. + +L. How large were the others? + +ISABEL. I don't quite know--they were so far off. But this one was, oh, +so big! and it had great wings, as wide as--twice over the ceiling. So, +when it was picking up Sindbad, Florrie and I thought it wouldn't know +if we got on its back too: so I got up first, and then I pulled up +Florrie, and we put our arms round its neck, and away it flew. + +L. But why did you want to get out of the valley? and why haven't you +brought me some diamonds? + +ISABEL. It was because of the serpents. I couldn't pick up even the +least little bit of a diamond, I was so frightened. + +L. You should not have minded the serpents. + +ISABEL. Oh, but suppose that they had minded me? + +L. We all of us mind you a little too much, Isabel, I'm afraid. + +ISABEL. No--no--no, indeed. + +L. I tell you what, Isabel--I don't believe either Sindbad, or Florrie, +or you, ever were in the Valley of Diamonds. + +ISABEL. You naughty! when I tell you we were! + +L. Because you say you were frightened at the serpents. + +ISABEL. And wouldn't you have been? + +L. Not at those serpents. Nobody who really goes into the valley is ever +frightened at them--they are so beautiful. + +ISABEL (_suddenly serious_). But there's no real Valley of Diamonds, is +there? + +L. Yes, Isabel; very real indeed. + +FLORRIE (_reappearing_). Oh, where? Tell me about it. + +L. I cannot tell you a great deal about it; only I know it is very +different from Sindbad's. In his valley, there was only a diamond lying +here and there; but, in the real valley, there are diamonds covering the +grass in showers every morning, instead of dew: and there are clusters +of trees, which look like lilac trees; but, in spring, all their +blossoms are of amethyst. + +FLORRIE. But there can't be any serpents there, then? + +L. Why not? + +FLORRIE. Because they don't come into such beautiful places. + +L. I never said it was a beautiful place. + +FLORRIE. What! not with diamonds strewed about it like dew? + +L. That's according te your fancy, Florrie. For myself, I like dew +better. + +ISABEL. Oh, but the dew won't stay; it all dries! + +L. Yes; and it would be much nicer if the diamonds dried too, for the +people in the valley have to sweep them off the grass, in heaps, +whenever they want to walk on it; and then the heaps glitter so, they +hurt one's eyes. + +FLORRIE. Now you're just playing, you know. + +L. So are you, you know. + +FLORRIE. Yes, but you mustn't play. + +L. That's very hard, Florrie; why mustn't I, if you may? + +FLORRIE. Oh, I may, because I'm little, but you mustn't, because +you're--(_hesitates for a delicate expression of magnitude_). + +L. (_rudely taking the first that comes_). Because I'm big? No; that's +not the way of it at all, Florrie. Because you're little, you should +have very little play; and because I'm big I should have a great deal. + +ISABEL _and_ FLORRIE (_both_). No--no--no--no. That isn't it at all. +(ISABEL _sola, quoting Miss Ingelow._) 'The lambs play always--they know +no better.' (_Putting her head very much on one side._) Ah, +now--please--please--tell us true; we want to know. + +L. But why do you want me to tell you true, any more than the man who +wrote the 'Arabian Nights?' + +ISABEL. Because--because we like to know about real things; and you can +tell us, and we can't ask the man who wrote the stories. + +L. What do you call real things? + +ISABEL. Now, you know! Things that really are. + +L. Whether you can see them or not? + +ISABEL. Yes, if somebody else saw them. + +L. But if nobody has ever seen them? + +ISABEL (_evading the point_.) Well, but, you know, if there were a real +Valley of Diamonds, somebody _must_ have seen it. + +L. You cannot be so sure of that, Isabel. Many people go to real places, +and never see them; and many people pass through this valley, and never +see it. + +FLORRIE. What stupid people they must be! + +L. No, Florrie. They are much wiser than the people who do see it. + +MAY. I think I know where it is. + +ISABEL. Tell us more about it, and then we'll guess. + +L. Well. There's a great broad road, by a river-side, leading up into +it. + +MAY (_gravely cunning, with emphasis on the last word_). Does the road +really go _up_? + +L. You think it should go down into a valley? No, it goes up; this is a +valley among the hills, and it is as high as the clouds, and is often +full of them; so that even the people who most want to see it, cannot, +always. + +ISABEL. And what is the river beside the road like? + +L. It ought to be very beautiful, because it flows over diamond +sand--only the water is thick and red. + +ISABEL. Red water? + +L. It isn't all water. + +MAY. Oh, please never mind that, Isabel, just now; I want to hear about +the valley. + +L. So the entrance to it is very wide, under a steep rock; only such +numbers of people are always trying to get in, that they keep jostling +each other, and manage it but slowly. Some weak ones are pushed back, +and never get in at all; and make great moaning as they go away: but +perhaps they are none the worse in the end. + +MAY. And when one gets in, what is it like? + +L. It is up and down, broken kind of ground: the road stops directly; +and there are great dark rocks, covered all over with wild gourds and +wild vines; the gourds, if you cut them, are red, with black seeds, like +water-melons, and look ever so nice; and the people of the place make a +red pottage of them: but you must take care not to eat any if you ever +want to leave the valley (though I believe putting plenty of meal in it +makes it wholesome). Then the wild vines have clusters of the colour of +amber; and the people of the country say they are the grape of Eshcol; +and sweeter than honey; but, indeed, if anybody else tastes them, they +are like gall. Then there are thickets of bramble, so thorny that they +would be cut away directly, anywhere else; but here they are covered +with little cinque-foiled blossoms of pure silver; and, for berries, +they have clusters of rubies. Dark rubies, which you only see are red +after gathering them. But you may fancy what blackberry parties the +children have! Only they get their frocks and hands sadly torn. + +LILY. But rubies can't spot one's frocks as blackberries do? + +L. No; but I'll tell you what spots them--the mulberries. There are +great forests of them, all up the hills, covered with silkworms, some +munching the leaves so loud that it is like mills at work; and some +spinning. But the berries are the blackest you ever saw; and, wherever +they fall, they stain a deep red; and nothing ever washes it out again. +And it is their juice, soaking through the grass, which makes the river +so red, because all its springs are in this wood. And the boughs of the +trees are twisted, as if in pain, like old olive branches; and their +leaves are dark. And it is in these forests that the serpents are; but +nobody is afraid of them. They have fine crimson crests, and they are +wreathed about the wild branches, one in every tree, nearly; and they +are singing serpents, for the serpents are, in this forest, what birds +are in ours. + +FLORRIE. Oh, I don't want to go there at all, now. + +L. You would like it very much indeed, Florrie, if you were there. The +serpents would not bite you; the only fear would be of your turning into +one! + +FLORRIE. Oh, dear, but that's worse. + +L. You wouldn't think so if you really were turned into one, Florrie; +you would be very proud of your crest. And as long as you were yourself +(not that you could get there if you remained quite the little Florrie +you are now), you would like to hear the serpents sing. They hiss a +little through it, like the cicadas in Italy; but they keep good time, +and sing delightful melodies; and most of them have seven heads, with +throats which each take a note of the octave; so that they can sing +chords--it is very fine indeed. And the fire-flies fly round the edge of +the forests all the night long; you wade in fire-flies, they make the +fields look like a lake trembling with reflection of stars; but you must +take care not to touch them, for they are not like Italian fireflies, +but burn, like real sparks. + +FLORRIE. I don't like it at all; I'll never go there. + +L. I hope not, Florrie; or at least that you will get out again if you +do. And it is very difficult to get out, for beyond these serpent +forests there are great cliffs of dead gold, which form a labyrinth, +winding always higher and higher, till the gold is all split asunder by +wedges of ice; and glaciers, welded, half of ice seven times frozen, and +half of gold seven times frozen, hang down from them, and fall in +thunder, cleaving into deadly splinters, like the Cretan arrowheads; and +into a mixed dust of snow and gold, ponderous, yet which the mountain +whirlwinds are able to lift and drive in wreaths and pillars, hiding the +paths with a burial cloud, fatal at once with wintry chill, and weight +of golden ashes. So the wanderers in the labyrinth fall, one by one, and +are buried there:--yet, over the drifted graves, those who are spared +climb to the last, through coil on coil of the path;--for at the end of +it they see the king of the valley, sitting on his throne: and beside +him (but it is only a false vision), spectra of creatures like +themselves, set on thrones, from which they seem to look down on all the +kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them. And on the canopy of his +throne there is an inscription in fiery letters, which they strive to +read, but cannot; for it is written in words which are like the words of +all languages, and yet are of none. Men say it is more like their own +tongue to the English than it is to any other nation; but the only +record of it is by an Italian, who heard the King himself cry it as a +war cry, 'Pape Satan, Pape Satan Aleppe.'[145] + +SIBYL. But do they all perish there? You said there was a way through +the valley, and out of it. + +L. Yes; but few find it. If any of them keep to the grass paths, where +the diamonds are swept aside; and hold their hands over their eyes so as +not to be dazzled, the grass paths lead forward gradually to a place +where one sees a little opening in the golden rocks. You were at +Chamouni last year, Sibyl; did your guide chance to show you the pierced +rock of the Aiguille du Midi? + +SIBYL. No, indeed, we only got up from Geneva on Monday night; and it +rained all Tuesday; and we had to be back at Geneva again, early on +Wednesday morning. + +L. Of course. That is the way to see a country in a Sibylline manner, by +inner consciousness: but you might have seen the pierced rock in your +drive up, or down, if the clouds broke: not that there is much to see in +it; one of the crags of the aiguille-edge, on the southern slope of it, +is struck sharply through, as by an awl, into a little eyelet hole; +which you may see, seven thousand feet above the valley (as the clouds +flit past behind it, or leave the sky), first white, and then dark blue. +Well, there's just such an eyelet hole in one of the upper crags of the +Diamond Valley; and, from a distance, you think that it is no bigger +than the eye of a needle. But if you get up to it, they say you may +drive a loaded camel through it, and that there are fine things on the +other side, but I have never spoken with anybody who had been through. + +SIBYL. I think we understand it now. We will try to write it down, and +think of it. + +L. Meantime, Florrie, though all that I have been telling you is very +true, yet you must not think the sort of diamonds that people wear in +rings and necklaces are found lying about on the grass. Would you like +to see how they really are found? + +FLORRIE. Oh, yes--yes. + +L. Isabel--or Lily--run up to my room and fetch me the little box with a +glass lid, out of the top drawer of the chest of drawers. (_Race +between_ LILY _and_ ISABEL.) + + (_Re-enter_ ISABEL _with the box, very much out of breath._ + LILY _behind._) + +L. Why, you never can beat Lily in a race on the stairs, can you, +Isabel? + +ISABEL (_panting_). Lily--beat me--ever so far--but she gave me--the +box--to carry in. + +L. Take off the lid, then; gently. + +FLORRIE (_after peeping in, disappointed_). There's only a great ugly +brown stone! + +L. Not much more than that, certainly, Florrie, if people were wise. But +look, it is not a single stone; but a knot of pebbles fastened together +by gravel; and in the gravel, or compressed sand, if you look close, you +will see grains of gold glittering everywhere, all through; and then, do +you see these two white beads, which shine, as if they had been covered +with grease? + +FLORRIE. May I touch them? + +L. Yes; you will find they are not greasy, only very smooth. Well, those +are the fatal jewels; native here in their dust with gold, so that you +may see, cradled here together, the two great enemies of mankind,--the +strongest of all malignant physical powers that have tormented our race. + +SIBYL. Is that really so? I know they do great harm; but do they not +also do great good? + +L. My dear child, what good? Was any woman, do you suppose, ever the +better for possessing diamonds? but how many have been made base, +frivolous, and miserable by desiring them? Was ever man the better for +having coffers full of gold? But who shall measure the guilt that is +incurred to fill them? Look into the history of any civilised nations; +analyse, with reference to this one cause of crime and misery, the lives +and thoughts of their nobles, priests, merchants, and men of luxurious +life. Every other temptation is at last concentrated into this; pride, +and lust, and envy, and anger all give up their strength to avarice. The +sin of the whole world is essentially the sin of Judas. Men do not +disbelieve their Christ; but they sell Him. + +SIBYL. But surely that is the fault of human nature? it is not caused by +the accident, as it were, of there being a pretty metal, like gold, to +be found by digging. If people could not find that, would they not find +something else, and quarrel for it instead? + +L. No. Wherever legislators have succeeded in excluding, for a time, +jewels and precious metals from among national possessions, the national +spirit has remained healthy. Covetousness is not natural to +man--generosity is; but covetousness must be excited by a special cause, +as a given disease by a given miasma; and the essential nature of a +material for the excitement of covetousness is, that it shall be a +beautiful thing which can be retained _without a use_. The moment we +can use our possessions to any good purpose ourselves, the instinct of +communicating that use to others rises side by side with our power. If +you can read a book rightly, you will want others to hear it; if you can +enjoy a picture rightly, you will want others to see it: learn how to +manage a horse, a plough, or a ship, and you will desire to make your +subordinates good horsemen, ploughmen, or sailors; you will never be +able to see the fine instrument you are master of, abused; but, once fix +your desire on anything useless, and all the purest pride and folly in +your heart will mix with the desire, and make you at last wholly +inhuman, a mere ugly lump of stomach and suckers, like a cuttle-fish. + +SIBYL. But surely, these two beautiful things, gold and diamonds, must +have been appointed to some good purpose? + +L. Quite conceivably so, my dear: as also earthquakes and pestilences; +but of such ultimate purposes we can have no sight. The practical, +immediate office of the earthquake and pestilence is to slay us, like +moths; and, as moths, we shall be wise to live out of their way. So, the +practical, immediate office of gold and diamonds is the multiplied +destruction of souls (in whatever sense you have been taught to +understand that phrase); and the paralysis of wholesome human effort and +thought on the face of God's earth: and a wise nation will live out of +the way of them. The money which the English habitually spend in cutting +diamonds would, in ten years, if it were applied to cutting rocks +instead, leave no dangerous reef nor difficult harbour round the whole +island coast. Great Britain would be a diamond worth cutting, indeed, a +true piece of regalia. (_Leaves this to their thoughts for a little +while._) Then, also, we poor mineralogists might sometimes have the +chance of seeing a fine crystal of diamond unhacked by the jeweller. + +SIBYL. Would it be more beautiful uncut? + +L. No; but of infinite interest. We might even come to know something +about the making of diamonds. + +SIBYL. I thought the chemists could make them already? + +L. In very small black crystals, yes; but no one knows how they are +formed where they are found; or if indeed they are formed there at all. +These, in my hand, look as if they had been swept down with the gravel +and gold; only we can trace the gravel and gold to their native rocks, +but not the diamonds. Read the account given of the diamond in any good +work on mineralogy;--you will find nothing but lists of localities of +gravel, or conglomerate rock (which is only an old indurated gravel). +Some say it was once a vegetable gum; but it may have been charred wood; +but what one would like to know is, mainly, why charcoal should make +itself into diamonds in India, and only into black lead in Borrowdale. + +SIBYL. Are they wholly the same, then? + +L. There is a little iron mixed with our black lead but nothing to +hinder its crystallisation. Your pencils in fact are all pointed with +formless diamond, though they would be HHH pencils to purpose, if it +crystallised. + +SUBYL. But what _is_ crystallisation? + +L. A pleasant question, when one's half asleep, and it has been tea time +these two hours. What thoughtless things girls are! + +SIBYL. Yes, we are; but we want to know, for all that. + +L. My dear, it would take a week to tell you. + +SIBYL. Well, take it, and tell us. + +L. But nobody knows anything about it. + +SIBYL. Then tell us something that nobody knows. + +L. Get along with you, and tell Dora to make tea. + + (_The house rises; but of course the_ LECTURER _wanted to be + forced to lecture again, and was._) + +FOOTNOTES: + +[145] Dante, Inf. 7. 1. + + + + +LECTURE II. + +_THE PYRAMID BUILDERS._ + + _In the large Schoolroom, to which everybody has been + summoned by ringing of the great bell._ + + +L. So you have all actually come to hear about crystallisation! I cannot +conceive why, unless the little ones think that the discussion may +involve some reference to sugar-candy. + + (_Symptoms of high displeasure among the younger members of + council._ ISABEL _frowns severely at L., and shakes her head + violently._) + +My dear children, if you knew it, you are yourselves, at this moment, as +you sit in your ranks, nothing, in the eye of a mineralogist, but a +lovely group of rosy sugar-candy, arranged by atomic forces. And even +admitting you to be something more, you have certainly been +crystallising without knowing it. Did I not hear a great hurrying and +whispering, ten minutes ago, when you were late in from the playground; +and thought you would not all be quietly seated by the time I was +ready:--besides some discussion about places--something about 'it's not +being fair that the little ones should always be nearest?' Well, you +were then all being crystallised. When you ran in from the garden, and +against one another in the passages, you were in what mineralogists +would call a state of solution, and gradual confluence; when you got +seated in those orderly rows, each in her proper place, you became +crystalline. That is just what the atoms of a mineral do, if they can, +whenever they get disordered: they get into order again as soon as may +be. + +I hope you feel inclined to interrupt me, and say, 'But we know our +places; how do the atoms know theirs? And sometimes we dispute about +our places; do the atoms--(and, besides, we don't like being compared to +atoms at all)--never dispute about theirs?' Two wise questions these, if +you had a mind to put them! it was long before I asked them myself, of +myself. And I will not call you atoms any more. May I call you--let me +see--'primary molecules?' (_General dissent, indicated in subdued but +decisive murmurs._) No! not even, in familiar Saxon, 'dust?' + + (_Pause, with expression on faces of sorrowful doubt_; LILY + _gives voice to the general sentiment in a timid 'Please + don't._') + +No, children, I won't call you that; and mind, as you grow up, that you +do not get into an idle and wicked habit of calling yourselves that. You +are something better than dust, and have other duties to do than ever +dust can do; and the bonds of affection you will enter into are better +than merely 'getting into order.' But see to it, on the other hand, that +you always behave at least as well as 'dust;' remember, it is only on +compulsion, and while it has no free permission to do as it likes, that +_it_ ever gets out of order; but sometimes, with some of us, the +compulsion has to be the other way--hasn't it? (_Remonstratory whispers, +expressive of opinion that the_ LECTURER _is becoming too personal._) +I'm not looking at anybody in particular--indeed I am not. Nay, if you +blush so, Kathleen, how can one help looking? We'll go back to the +atoms. + +'How do they know their places?' you asked, or should have asked. Yes, +and they have to do much more than know them: they have to find their +way to them, and that quietly and at once, without running against each +other. + +We may, indeed, state it briefly thus:--Suppose you have to build a +castle, with towers and roofs and buttresses, out of bricks of a given +shape, and that these bricks are all lying in a huge heap at the bottom, +in utter confusion, upset out of carts at random. You would have to draw +a great many plans, and count all your bricks, and be sure you had +enough for this and that tower, before you began, and then you would +have to lay your foundation, and add layer by layer, in order, slowly. + +But how would you be astonished, in these melancholy days, when children +don't read children's books, nor believe any more in fairies, if +suddenly a real benevolent fairy, in a bright brick-red gown, were to +rise in the midst of the red bricks, and to tap the heap of them with +her wand, and say: 'Bricks, bricks, to your places!' and then you saw in +an instant the whole heap rise in the air, like a swarm of red bees, +and--you have been used to see bees make a honeycomb, and to think that +strange enough, but now you would see the honeycomb make itself!--You +want to ask something, Florrie, by the look of your eyes. + +FLORRIE. Are they turned into real bees, with stings? + +L. No, Florrie; you are only to fancy flying bricks, as you saw the +slates flying from the roof the other day in the storm; only those +slates didn't seem to know where they were going, and, besides, were +going where they had no business: but my spell-bound bricks, though they +have no wings, and what is worse, no heads and no eyes, yet find their +way in the air just where they should settle, into towers and roofs, +each flying to his place and fastening there at the right moment, so +that every other one shall fit to him in his turn. + +LILY. But who are the fairies, then, who build the crystals? + +L. There is one great fairy, Lily, who builds much more than crystals; +but she builds these also. I dreamed that I saw her building a pyramid, +the other day, as she used to do, for the Pharaohs. + +ISABEL. But that was only a dream? + +L. Some dreams are truer than some wakings, Isabel; but I won't tell it +you unless you like. + +ISABEL. Oh, please, please. + +L. You are all such wise children, there's no talking to you; you won't +believe anything. + +LILY. No, we are not wise, and we will believe anything, when you say we +ought. + +L. Well, it came about this way. Sibyl, do you recollect that evening +when we had been looking at your old cave by Cumæ, and wondering why you +didn't live there still; and then we wondered how old you were; and +Egypt said you wouldn't tell, and nobody else could tell but she; and +you laughed--I thought very gaily for a Sibyl--and said you would +harness a flock of cranes for us, and we might fly over to Egypt if we +liked, and see. + +SIBYL. Yes, and you went, and couldn't find out after all! + +L. Why, you know, Egypt had been just doubling that third pyramid of +hers;[146] and making a new entrance into it; and a fine entrance it +was! First, we had to go through an ante-room, which had both its doors +blocked up with stones; and then we had three granite portcullises to +pull up, one after another; and the moment we had got under them, Egypt +signed to somebody above; and down they came again behind us, with a +roar like thunder, only louder; then we got into a passage fit for +nobody but rats, and Egypt wouldn't go any further herself, but said we +might go on if we liked; and so we came to a hole in the pavement, and +then to a granite trap-door--and then we thought we had gone quite far +enough, and came back, and Egypt laughed at us. + +EGYPT. You would not have had me take my crown off, and stoop all the +way down a passage fit only for rats? + +L. It was not the crown, Egypt--you know that very well. It was the +flounces that would not let you go any farther. I suppose, however, you +wear them as typical of the inundation of the Nile, so it is all right. + +ISABEL. Why didn't you take me with you? Where rats can go, mice can. I +wouldn't have come back. + +L. No, mousie; you would have gone on by yourself, and you might have +waked one of Pasht's cats.[147] and it would have eaten you. I was very +glad you were not there. But after all this, I suppose the imagination +of the heavy granite blocks and the underground ways had troubled me, +and dreams are often shaped in a strange opposition to the impressions +that have caused them; and from all that we had been reading in Bunsen +about stones that couldn't be lifted with levers, I began to dream about +stones that lifted themselves with wings. + +SIBYL. Now you must just tell us all about it. + +L. I dreamed that I was standing beside the lake, out of whose clay the +bricks were made for the great pyramid of Asychis.[148] They had just +been all finished, and were lying by the lake margin, in long ridges, +like waves. It was near evening; and as I looked towards the sunset, I +saw a thing like a dark pillar standing where the rock of the desert +stoops to the Nile valley. I did not know there was a pillar there, and +wondered at it; and it grew larger, and glided nearer, becoming like the +form of a man, but vast, and it did not move its feet, but glided like a +pillar of sand. And as it drew nearer, I looked by chance past it, +towards the sun; and saw a silver cloud, which was of all the clouds +closest to the sun (and in one place crossed it), draw itself back from +the sun, suddenly. And it turned, and shot towards the dark pillar; +leaping in an arch, like an arrow out of a bow. And I thought it was +lightning; but when it came near the shadowy pillar, it sank slowly down +beside it, and changed into the shape of a woman, very beautiful, and +with a strength of deep calm in her blue eyes. She was robed to the feet +with a white robe; and above that, to her knees, by the cloud which I +had seen across the sun; but all the golden ripples of it had become +plumes, so that it had changed into two bright wings like those of a +vulture, which wrapped round her to her knees. She had a weaver's +shuttle hanging over her shoulder, by the thread of it, and in her left +hand, arrows, tipped with fire. + +ISABEL (_clapping her hands_). Oh! it was Neith, it was Neith! I know +now. + +L. Yes; it was Neith herself; and as the two great spirits came nearer +to me, I saw they were the Brother and Sister--the pillared shadow was +the Greater Pthah.[149] And I heard them speak, and the sound of their +words was like a distant singing. I could not understand the words one +by one; yet their sense came to me; and so I knew that Neith had come +down to see her brother's work, and the work that he had put into the +mind of the king to make his servants do. And she was displeased at it; +because she saw only pieces of dark clay: and no porphyry, nor marble, +nor any fair stone that men might engrave the figures of the gods upon. +And she blamed her brother, and said, 'Oh, Lord of truth! is this then +thy will, that men should mould only four-square pieces of clay: and the +forms of the gods no more?' Then the Lord of truth sighed, and said, +'Oh! sister, in truth they do not love us; why should they set up our +images? Let them do what they may, and not lie--let them make their clay +four-square; and labour; and perish.' + +Then Neith's dark blue eyes grew darker, and she said, 'Oh, Lord of +truth! why should they love us? their love is vain; or fear us? for +their fear is base. Yet let them testify of us, that they knew we lived +for ever.' + +But the Lord of truth answered, 'They know, and yet they know not. Let +them keep silence; for their silence only is truth.' + +But Neith answered, 'Brother, wilt thou also make league with Death, +because Death is true? Oh! thou potter, who hast cast these human things +from thy wheel, many to dishonour, and few to honour; wilt thou not let +them so much as see my face; but slay them in slavery?' + +But Pthah only answered, 'Let them build, sister, let them build.' + +And Neith answered, 'What shall they build, if I build not with them?' + +And Pthah drew with his measuring rod upon the sand. And I saw suddenly, +drawn on the sand, the outlines of great cities, and of vaults, and +domes, and aqueducts, and bastions, and towers, greater than obelisks, +covered with black clouds. And the wind blew ripples of sand amidst the +lines that Pthah drew, and the moving sand was like the marching of men. +But I saw that wherever Neith looked at the lines, they faded, and were +effaced. + +'Oh, Brother!' she said at last, 'what is this vanity? If I, who am +Lady of wisdom, do not mock the children of men, why shouldst thou mock +them, who art Lord of truth?' But Pthah answered, 'They thought to bind +me; and they shall be bound. They shall labour in the fire for vanity.' + +And Neith said, looking at the sand, 'Brother, there is no true labour +here--there is only weary life and wasteful death.' + +And Pthah answered, 'Is it not truer labour, sister, than thy sculpture +of dreams?' + +Then Neith smiled; and stopped suddenly. + +She looked to the sun; its edge touched the horizon-edge of the desert. +Then she looked to the long heaps of pieces of clay, that lay, each with +its blue shadow, by the lake shore. + +'Brother,' she said, 'how long will this pyramid of thine be in +building?' + +'Thoth will have sealed the scroll of the years ten times, before the +summit is laid.' + +'Brother, thou knowest not how to teach thy children to labour,' +answered Neith. 'Look! I must follow Phre beyond Atlas; shall I build +your pyramid for you before he goes down?' And Pthah answered, 'Yea, +sister, if thou canst put thy winged shoulders to such work.' And Neith +drew herself to her height; and I heard a clashing pass through the +plumes of her wings, and the asp stood up on her helmet, and fire +gathered in her eyes. And she took one of the flaming arrows out of the +sheaf in her left hand, and stretched it out over the heaps of clay. And +they rose up like flights of locusts, and spread themselves in the air, +so that it grew dark in a moment. Then Neith designed them places with +her arrow point; and they drew into ranks, like dark clouds laid level +at morning. Then Neith pointed with her arrow to the north, and to the +south, and to the east, and to the west, and the flying motes of earth +drew asunder into four great ranked crowds; and stood, one in the north, +and one in the south, and one in the east, and one in the west--one +against another. Then Neith spread her wings wide for an instant, and +closed them with a sound like the sound of a rushing sea; and waved her +hand towards the foundation of the pyramid, where it was laid on the +brow of the desert. And the four flocks drew together and sank down, +like sea-birds settling to a level rock; and when they met, there was a +sudden flame, as broad as the pyramid, and as high as the clouds; and it +dazzled me; and I closed my eyes for an instant; and when I looked +again, the pyramid stood on its rock, perfect; and purple with the light +from the edge of the sinking sun. + +THE YOUNGER CHILDREN (_variously pleased_). I'm so glad! How nice! But +what did Pthah say? + +L. Neith did not wait to hear what he would say. When I turned back to +look at her, she was gone; and I only saw the level white cloud form +itself again, close to the arch of the sun as it sank. And as the last +edge of the sun disappeared, the form of Pthah faded into a mighty +shadow, and so passed away. + +EGYPT. And was Neith's pyramid left? + +L. Yes; but you could not think, Egypt, what a strange feeling of utter +loneliness came over me when the presence of the two gods passed away. +It seemed as if I had never known what it was to be alone before; and +the unbroken line of the desert was terrible. + +EGYPT. I used to feel that, when I was queen: sometimes I had to carve +gods, for company, all over my palace. I would fain have seen real ones, +if I could. + +L. But listen a moment yet, for that was not quite all my dream. The +twilight drew swiftly to the dark, and I could hardly see the great +pyramid; when there came a heavy murmuring sound in the air; and a +horned beetle, with terrible claws, fell on the sand at my feet, with a +blow like the beat of a hammer. Then it stood up on its hind claws, and +waved its pincers at me: and its fore claws became strong arms, and +hands; one grasping real iron pincers, and the other a huge hammer; and +it had a helmet on its head, without any eyelet holes, that I could see. +And its two hind claws became strong crooked legs, with feet bent +inwards. And so there stood by me a dwarf, in glossy black armour, +ribbed and embossed like a beetle's back, leaning on his hammer. And I +could not speak for wonder; but he spoke with a murmur like the dying +away of a beat upon a bell. He said, 'I will make Neith's great pyramid +small. I am the lower Pthah; and have power over fire. I can wither the +strong things, and strengthen the weak; and everything that is great I +can make small, and everything that is little I can make great.' Then he +turned to the angle of the pyramid and limped towards it. And the +pyramid grew deep purple; and then red like blood, and then pale +rose-colour, like fire. And I saw that it glowed with fire from within. +And the lower Pthah touched it with the hand that held the pincers; and +it sank down like the sand in an hour-glass,--then drew itself together, +and sank, still, and became nothing, it seemed to me; but the armed +dwarf stooped down, and took it into his hand, and brought it to me, +saying, 'Everything that is great I can make like this pyramid; and give +into men's hands to destroy.' And I saw that he had a little pyramid in +his hand, with as many courses in it as the large one; and built like +that, only so small. And because it glowed still, I was afraid to touch +it; but Pthah said, 'Touch it--for I have bound the fire within it, so +that it cannot burn.' So I touched it, and took it into my own hand; and +it was cold; only red, like a ruby. And Pthah laughed, and became like a +beetle again, and buried himself in the sand, fiercely; throwing it back +over his shoulders. And it seemed to me as if he would draw me down with +him into the sand; and I started back, and woke, holding the little +pyramid so fast in my hand that it hurt me. + +EGYPT. Holding WHAT in your hand? + +L. The little pyramid. + +EGYPT. Neith's pyramid? + +L. Neith's, I believe; though not built for Asychis. I know only that it +is a little rosy transparent pyramid, built of more courses of bricks +than I can count, it being made so small. You don't believe me, of +course, Egyptian infidel; but there it is. (_Giving crystal of rose +Fluor._) + + (_Confused examination by crowded audience, over each + other's shoulders and under each other's arms. + Disappointment begins to manifest itself._) + +SIBYL (_not quite knowing why she and others are disappointed_). But you +showed us this the other day! + +L. Yes; but you would not look at it the other day. + +SIBYL. But was all that fine dream only about this? + +L. What finer thing could a dream be about than this! It is small, if +you will; but when you begin to think of things rightly, the ideas of +smallness and largeness pass away. The making of this pyramid was in +reality just as wonderful as the dream I have been telling you, and just +as incomprehensible. It was not, I suppose, as swift, but quite as grand +things are done as swiftly. When Neith makes crystals of snow, it needs +a great deal more marshalling of the atoms, by her flaming arrows, than +it does to make crystals like this one; and that is done in a moment. + +EGYPT. But how you _do_ puzzle us! Why do you say Neith does it? You +don't mean that she is a real spirit, do you? + +L. What _I_ mean, is of little consequence. What the Egyptians meant, +who called her 'Neith,'--or Homer, who called her 'Athena,'--or Solomon, +who called her by a word which the Greeks render as 'Sophia,' you must +judge for yourselves. But her testimony is always the same, and all +nations have received it: 'I was by Him as one brought up with Him, and +I was daily His delight; rejoicing in the habitable parts of the earth, +and my delights were with the sons of men.' + +MARY. But is not that only a personification? + +L. If it be, what will you gain by unpersonifying it, or what right have +you to do so? Cannot you accept the image given you, in its life; and +listen, like children, to the words which chiefly belong to you as +children: 'I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall +find me?' + + (_They are all quiet for a minute or two; questions begin to + appear in their eyes._) + +I cannot talk to you any more to-day. Take that rose-crystal away with +you and think. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[146] Note i. + +[147] Note iii. + +[148] Note ii. + +[149] Note iii. + + + + +LECTURE III. + +_THE CRYSTAL LIFE._ + + _A very dull Lecture, wilfully brought upon themselves by + the elder children. Some of the young ones have, however, + managed to get in by mistake._ SCENE, _the Schoolroom._ + + +L. So I am to stand up here merely to be asked questions, to-day, Miss +Mary, am I? + +MARY. Yes; and you must answer them plainly; without telling us any more +stories. You are quite spoiling the children: the poor little things' +heads are turning round like kaleidoscopes; and they don't know in the +least what you mean. Nor do we old ones, either, for that matter: to-day +you must really tell us nothing but facts. + +L. I am sworn; but you won't like it, a bit. + +MARY. Now, first of all, what do you mean by 'bricks?'--Are the smallest +particles of minerals all of some accurate shape, like bricks? + +L. I do not know, Miss Mary; I do not even know if anybody knows. The +smallest atoms which are visibly and practically put together to make +large crystals, may better be described as 'limited in fixed directions' +than as 'of fixed forms.' But I can tell you nothing clear about +ultimate atoms: you will find the idea of little bricks, or, perhaps, of +little spheres, available for all the uses you will have to put it to. + +MARY. Well, it's very provoking; one seems always to be stopped just +when one is coming to the very thing one wants to know. + +L. No, Mary, for we should not wish to know anything but what is easily +and assuredly knowable. There's no end to it If I could show you, or +myself, a group of ultimate atoms, quite clearly, in this magnifying +glass, we should both be presently vexed because we could not break them +in two pieces, and see their insides. + +MARY. Well then, next, what do you mean by the flying of the bricks? +What is it the atoms do, that is like flying? + +L. When they are dissolved, or uncrystallised, they are really separated +from each other, like a swarm of gnats in the air, or like a shoal of +fish in the sea;--generally at about equal distances. In currents of +solutions, or at different depths of them, one part may be more full of +the dissolved atoms than another; but on the whole, you may think of +them as equidistant, like the spots in the print of your gown. If they +are separated by force of heat only, the substance is said to be melted; +if they are separated by any other substance, as particles of sugar by +water, they are said to be 'dissolved.' Note this distinction carefully, +all of you. + +DORA. I will be very particular. When next you tell me there isn't sugar +enough in your tea, I will say, 'It is not yet dissolved, sir.' + +L. I tell you what shall be dissolved, Miss Dora; and that's the present +parliament, if the members get too saucy. + + (DORA _folds her hands and casts down her eyes._) + +L. (_proceeds in state_). Now, Miss Mary, you know already, I believe, +that nearly everything will melt, under a sufficient heat, like wax. +Limestone melts (under pressure); sand melts; granite melts; the lava of +a volcano is a mixed mass of many kinds of rocks, melted: and any melted +substance nearly always, if not always, crystallises as it cools; the +more slowly the more perfectly. Water melts at what we call the +freezing, but might just as wisely, though not as conveniently, call the +melting, point; and radiates as it cools into the most beautiful of all +known crystals. Glass melts at a greater heat, and will crystallise, if +you let it cool slowly enough, in stars, much like snow. Gold needs more +heat to melt it, but crystallises also exquisitely, as I will presently +show you. Arsenic and sulphur crystallise from their vapours. Now in any +of these cases, either of melted, dissolved, or vaporous bodies, the +particles are usually separated from each other, either by heat, or by +an intermediate substance; and in crystallising they are both brought +nearer to each other, and packed, so as to fit as closely as possible: +the essential part of the business being not the bringing together, but +the packing. Who packed your trunk for you, last holidays, Isabel? + +ISABEL. Lily does, always. + +L. And how much can you allow for Lily's good packing, in guessing what +will go into the trunk? + +ISABEL. Oh! I bring twice as much as the trunk holds. Lily always gets +everything in. + +LILY. Ah! but, Isey, if you only knew what a time it takes! and since +you've had those great hard buttons on your frocks, I can't do anything +with them. Buttons won't go anywhere, you know. + +L. Yes, Lily, it would be well if she only knew what a time it takes; +and I wish any of us knew what a time crystallisation takes, for that is +consummately fine packing. The particles of the rock are thrown down, +just as Isabel brings her things--in a heap; and innumerable Lilies, not +of the valley, but of the rock, come to pack them. But it takes such a +time! + +However, the best--out and out the best--way of understanding the thing, +is to crystallise yourselves. + +THE AUDIENCE. Ourselves! + +L. Yes; not merely as you did the other day, carelessly, on the +schoolroom forms; but carefully and finely, out in the playground. You +can play at crystallisation there as much as you please. + +KATHLEEN _and_ JESSIE. Oh! how?--how? + +L. First, you must put yourselves together, as close as you can, in the +middle of the grass, and form, for first practice any figure you like. + +JESSIE. Any dancing figure, do you mean? + +L. No; I mean a square, or a cross, or a diamond. Any figure you like, +standing close together. You had better outline it first on the turf, +with sticks, or pebbles, so as to see that it is rightly drawn; then get +into it and enlarge or diminish it at one side, till you are all quite +in it, and no empty space left. + +DORA. Crinoline and all? + +L. The crinoline may stand eventually for rough crystalline surface, +unless you pin it in; and then you may make a polished crystal of +yourselves. + +LILY. Oh, we'll pin it in--we'll pin it in! + +L. Then, when you are all in the figure, let every one note her place, +and who is next her on each side; and let the outsiders count how many +places they stand from the corners. + +KATHLEEN. Yes, yes,--and then? + +L. Then you must scatter all over the playground--right over it from +side to side, and end to end; and put yourselves all at equal distances +from each other, everywhere. You needn't mind doing it very accurately, +but so as to be nearly equidistant; not less than about three yards +apart from each other, on every side. + +JESSIE. We can easily cut pieces of string of equal length, to hold. And +then? + +L. Then, at a given signal, let everybody walk, at the same rate, +towards the outlined figure in the middle. You had better sing as you +walk; that will keep you in good time. And as you close in towards it, +let each take her place, and the next comers fit themselves in beside +the first ones, till you are all in the figure again. + +KATHLEEN. Oh! how we shall run against each other! What fun it will be! + +L. No, no, Miss Katie; I can't allow any running against each other. The +atoms never do that, whatever human creatures do. You must all know your +places, and find your way to them without jostling. + +LILY. But how ever shall we do that? + +ISABEL. Mustn't the ones in the middle be the nearest, and the outside +ones farther off--when we go away to scatter, I mean? + +L. Yes; you must be very careful to keep your order; you will soon find +out how to do it; it is only like soldiers forming square, except that +each must stand still in her place as she reaches it, and the others +come round her; and you will have much more complicated figures, +afterwards, to form, than squares. + +ISABEL. I'll put a stone at my place: then I shall know it. + +L. You might each nail a bit of paper to the turf, at your place, with +your name upon it: but it would be of no use, for if you don't know your +places, you will make a fine piece of business of it, while you are +looking for your names. And, Isabel, if with a little head, and eyes, +and a brain (all of them very good and serviceable of their kind, as +such things go), you think you cannot know your place without a stone at +it, after examining it well,--how do you think each atom knows its +place, when it never was there before, and there's no stone at it? + +ISABEL. But does every atom know its place? + +L. How else could it get there? + +MARY. Are they not attracted to their places? + +L. Cover a piece of paper with spots, at equal intervals; and then +imagine any kind of attraction you choose, or any law of attraction, to +exist between the spots, and try how, on that permitted supposition, you +can attract them into the figure of a Maltese cross, in the middle of +the paper. + +MARY (_having tried it_). Yes; I see that I cannot:--one would need all +kinds of attractions, in different ways, at different places. But you do +not mean that the atoms are alive? + +L. What is it to be alive? + +DORA. There now; you're going to be provoking, I know. + +L. I do not see why it should be provoking to be asked what it is to be +alive. Do you think you don't know whether you are alive or not? + + (ISABEL _skips to the end of the room and back._) + +L. Yes, Isabel, that's all very fine; and you and I may call that being +alive: but a modern philosopher calls it being in a 'mode of motion.' It +requires a certain quantity of heat to take you to the sideboard; and +exactly the same quantity to bring you back again. That's all. + +ISABEL. No, it isn't. And besides, I'm not hot. + +L. I am, sometimes, at the way they talk. However, you know, Isabel, you +might have been a particle of a mineral, and yet have been carried round +the room, or anywhere else, by chemical forces, in the liveliest way. + +ISABEL. Yes; but I wasn't carried: I carried myself. + +L. The fact is, mousie, the difficulty is not so much to say what makes +a thing alive, as what makes it a Self. As soon as you are shut off from +the rest of the universe into a Self, you begin to be alive. + +VIOLET (_indignant_). Oh, surely--surely that cannot be so. Is not all +the life of the soul in communion, not separation? + +L. There can be no communion where there is no distinction. But we shall +be in an abyss of metaphysics presently, if we don't look out; and +besides, we must not be too grand, to-day, for the younger children. +We'll be grand, some day, by ourselves, if we must. (_The younger +children are not pleased, and prepare to remonstrate; but, knowing by +experience, that all conversations in which the word 'communion' occurs, +are unintelligible, think better of it._) Meantime, for broad answer +about the atoms. I do not think we should use the word 'life,' of any +energy which does not belong to a given form. A seed, or an egg, or a +young animal are properly called 'alive' with respect to the force +belonging to those forms, which consistently develops that form, and no +other. But the force which crystallises a mineral appears to be chiefly +external, and it does not produce an entirely determinate and individual +form, limited in size, but only an aggregation, in which some limiting +laws must be observed. + +MARY. But I do not see much difference, that way, between a crystal and +a tree. + +L. Add, then, that the mode of the energy in a living thing implies a +continual change in its elements; and a period for its end. So you may +define life by its attached negative, death; and still more by its +attached positive, birth. But I won't be plagued any more about this, +just now; if you choose to think the crystals alive, do, and welcome. +Rocks have always been called 'living' in their native place. + +MARY. There's one question more; then I've done. + +L. Only one? + +MARY. Only one. + +L. But if it is answered, won't it turn into two? + +MARY. No; I think it will remain single, and be comfortable. + +L. Let me hear it. + +MARY. You know, we are to crystallise ourselves out of the whole +playground. Now, what playground have the minerals? Where are they +scattered before they are crystallised; and where are the crystals +generally made? + +L. That sounds to me more like three questions than one, Mary. If it is +only one, it is a wide one. + +MARY. I did not say anything about the width of it. + +L. Well, I must keep it within the best compass I can. When rocks either +dry from a moist state, or cool from a heated state, they necessarily +alter in bulk; and cracks, or open spaces, form in them in all +directions. These cracks must be filled up with solid matter, or the +rock would eventually become a ruinous heap. So, sometimes by water, +sometimes by vapour, sometimes nobody knows how, crystallisable matter +is brought from somewhere, and fastens itself in these open spaces, so +as to bind the rock together again, with crystal cement. A vast quantity +of hollows are formed in lavas by bubbles of gas, just as the holes are +left in bread well baked. In process of time these cavities are +generally filled with various crystals. + +MARY. But where does the crystallising substance come from? + +L. Sometimes out of the rock itself; sometimes from below or above, +through the veins. The entire substance of the contracting rock may be +filled with liquid, pressed into it so as to fill every pore;--or with +mineral vapour;--or it may be so charged at one place, and empty at +another. There's no end to the 'may be's.' But all that you need fancy, +for our present purpose, is that hollows in the rocks, like the caves in +Derbyshire, are traversed by liquids or vapour containing certain +elements in a more or less free or separate state, which crystallise on +the cave walls. + +SIBYL. There now;--Mary has had all her questions answered: it's my turn +to have mine. + +L. Ah, there's a conspiracy among you, I see. I might have guessed as +much. + +DORA. I'm sure you ask us questions enough! How can you have the heart, +when you dislike so to be asked them yourself? + +L. My dear child, if people do not answer questions, it does not matter +how many they are asked, because they've no trouble with them. Now, when +I ask you questions, I never expect to be answered; but when you ask me, +you always do; and it's not fair. + +DORA. Very well, we shall understand, next time. + +SIBYL. No, but seriously, we all want to ask one thing more, quite +dreadfully. + +L. And I don't want to be asked it, quite dreadfully; but you'll have +your own way, of course. + +SIBYL. We none of us understand about the lower Pthah. It was not merely +yesterday; but in all we have read about him in Wilkinson, or in any +book, we cannot understand what the Egyptians put their god into that +ugly little deformed shape for. + +L. Well, I'm glad it's that sort of question; because I can answer +anything I like, to that. + +EGYPT. Anything you like will do quite well for us; we shall be pleased +with the answer, if you are. + +L. I am not so sure of that, most gracious queen; for I must begin by +the statement that queens seem to have disliked all sorts of work, in +those days, as much as some queens dislike sewing to-day. + +EGYPT. Now, it's too bad! and just when I was trying to say the +civillest thing I could! + +L. But, Egypt, why did you tell me you disliked sewing so? + +EGYPT. Did not I show you how the thread cuts my fingers? and I always +get cramp, somehow, in my neck, if I sew long. + +L. Well, I suppose the Egyptian queens thought every body got cramp in +their neck, if they sewed long; and that thread always cut people's +fingers. At all events, every kind of manual labour was despised both by +them, and the Greeks; and, while they owned the real good and fruit of +it, they yet held it a degradation to all who practised it. Also, +knowing the laws of life thoroughly, they perceived that the special +practice necessary to bring any manual art to perfection strengthened +the body distortedly; one energy or member gaining at the expense of the +rest. They especially dreaded and despised any kind of work that had to +be done near fire: yet, feeling what they owed to it in metal-work, as +the basis of all other work, they expressed this mixed reverence and +scorn in the varied types of the lame Hephæstus, and the lower Pthah. + +SIBYL. But what did you mean by making him say 'everything great I can +make small, and everything small great?' + +L. I had my own separate meaning in that. We have seen in modern times +the power of the lower Pthah developed in a separate way, which no Greek +nor Egyptian could have conceived. It is the character of pure and +eyeless manual labour to conceive everything as subjected to it: and, in +reality, to disgrace and diminish all that is so subjected; aggrandising +itself, and the thought of itself, at the expense of all noble things. I +heard an orator, and a good one too, at the Working Men's College, the +other day, make a great point in a description of our railroads; saying, +with grandly conducted emphasis, 'They have made man greater, and the +world less.' His working audience were mightily pleased; they thought it +so very fine a thing to be made bigger themselves; and all the rest of +the world less. I should have enjoyed asking them (but it would have +been a pity--they were so pleased), how much less they would like to +have the world made;--and whether, at present, those of them really felt +the biggest men, who lived in the least houses. + +SIBYL. But then, why did you make Pthah say that he could make weak +things strong, and small things great? + +L. My dear, he is a boaster and self-assertor, by nature; but it is so +far true. For instance, we used to have a fair in our neighbourhood--a +very fine fair we thought it. You never saw such an one; but if you look +at the engraving of Turner's 'St. Catherine's Hill,' you will see what +it was like. There were curious booths, carried on poles; and +peep-shows; and music, with plenty of drums and cymbals; and much +barley-sugar and gingerbread, and the like: and in the alleys of this +fair the London populace would enjoy themselves, after their fashion, +very thoroughly. Well, the little Pthah set to work upon it one day; he +made the wooden poles into iron ones, and put them across, like his own +crooked legs, so that you always fall over them if you don't look where +you are going; and he turned all the canvas into panes of glass, and put +it up on his iron cross-poles; and made all the little booths into one +great booth; and people said it was very fine, and a new style of +architecture; and Mr. Dickens said nothing was ever like it in +Fairyland, which was very true. And then the little Pthah set to work to +put fine fairings in it; and he painted the Nineveh bulls afresh, with +the blackest eyes he could paint (because he had none himself), and he +got the angels down from Lincoln choir, and gilded their wings like his +gingerbread of old times; and he sent for everything else he could think +of, and put it in his booth. There are the casts of Niobe and her +children; and the Chimpanzee; and the wooden Caffres and New-Zealanders; +and the Shakespeare House; and Le Grand Blondin, and Le Petit Blondin; +and Handel; and Mozart; and no end of shops, and buns, and beer; and all +the little-Pthah-worshippers say, never was anything so sublime! + +SIBYL. Now, do you mean to say you never go to these Crystal Palace +concerts? They're as good as good can be. + +L. I don't go to the thundering things with a million of bad voices in +them. When I want a song, I get Julia Mannering and Lucy Bertram and +Counsellor Pleydell to sing 'We be three poor Mariners' to me; then I've +no headache next morning. But I do go to the smaller concerts, when I +can; for they are very good, as you say, Sibyl: and I always get a +reserved seat somewhere near the orchestra, where I am sure I can see +the kettle-drummer drum. + +SIBYL. Now _do_ be serious, for one minute. + +L. I am serious--never was more so. You know one can't see the +modulation of violinists' fingers, but one can see the vibration of the +drummer's hand; and it's lovely. + +SIBYL. But fancy going to a concert, not to hear, but to see! + +L. Yes, it is very absurd. The quite right thing, I believe, is to go +there to talk. I confess, however, that in most music, when very well +done, the doing of it is to me the chiefly interesting part of the +business. I'm always thinking how good it would be for the fat, +supercilious people, who care so little for their half-crown's worth, to +be set to try and do a half-crown's worth of anything like it. + +MARY. But surely that Crystal Palace is a great good and help to the +people of London? + +L. The fresh air of the Norwood hills is, or was, my dear; but they are +spoiling that with smoke as fast as they can. And the palace (as they +call it) is a better place for them, by much, than the old fair; and it +is always there, instead of for three days only; and it shuts up at +proper hours of night. And good use may be made of the things in it, if +you know how: but as for its teaching the people, it will teach them +nothing but the lowest of the lower Pthah's work--nothing but hammer and +tongs. I saw a wonderful piece, of his doing, in the place, only the +other day. Some unhappy metal-worker--I am not sure if it was not a +metal-working firm--had taken three years to make a Golden eagle. + +SIBYL. Of real gold? + +L. No; of bronze, or copper, or some of their foul patent metal--it is +no matter what. I meant a model of our chief British eagle. Every +feather was made separately; and every filament of every feather +separately, and so joined on; and all the quills modelled of the right +length and right section, and at last the whole cluster of them fastened +together. You know, children, I don't think much of my own drawing; but +take my proud word for once, that when I go to the Zoological Gardens, +and happen to have a bit of chalk in my pocket, and the Gray Harpy will +sit, without screwing his head round, for thirty seconds,--I can do a +better thing of him in that time than the three years' work of this +industrious firm. For, during the thirty seconds, the eagle is my +object,--not myself; and during the three years, the firm's object, in +every fibre of bronze it made, was itself, and not the eagle. That is +the true meaning of the little Pthah's having no eyes--he can see only +himself. The Egyptian beetle was not quite the full type of him; our +northern ground beetle is a truer one. It is beautiful to see it at +work, gathering its treasures (such as they are) into little round +balls; and pushing them home with the strong wrong end of it,--head +downmost all the way,--like a modern political economist with his ball +of capital, declaring that a nation can stand on its vices better than +on its virtues. But away with you, children, now, for I'm getting cross. + +DORA. I'm going down-stairs; I shall take care, at any rate, that there +are no little Pthahs in the kitchen cupboards. + + + + +LECTURE IV. + +_THE CRYSTAL ORDERS._ + + _A working Lecture, in the large Schoolroom; with + experimental Interludes The great bell has rung + unexpectedly._ + + +KATHLEEN (_entering disconsolate, though first at the summons_). Oh +dear, oh dear, what a day! Was ever anything so provoking! just when we +wanted to crystallise ourselves;--and I'm sure it's going to rain all +day long. + +L. So am I, Kate. The sky has quite an Irish way with it But I don't see +why Irish girls should also look so dismal. Fancy that you don't want to +crystallise yourselves: you didn't, the day before yesterday, and you +were not unhappy when it rained then. + +FLORRIE. Ah! but we do want to-day; and the rain's so tiresome. + +L. That is to say, children, that because you are all the richer by the +expectation of playing at a new game, you choose to make yourselves +unhappier than when you had nothing to look forward to, but the old +ones. + +ISABEL. But then, to have to wait--wait--wait; and before we've tried +it;--and perhaps it will rain to-morrow, too! + +L. It may also rain the day after to-morrow. We can make ourselves +uncomfortable to any extent with perhapses, Isabel. You may stick +perhapses into your little minds, like pins, till you are as +uncomfortable as the Lilliputians made Gulliver with their arrows, when +he would not lie quiet. + +ISABEL. But what _are_ we to do to-day? + +L. To be quiet, for one thing, like Gulliver when he saw there was +nothing better to be done. And to practise patience. I can tell you +children, _that_ requires nearly as much practising as music; and we are +continually losing our lessons when the master comes. Now, to-day, +here's a nice little adagio lesson for us, if we play it properly. + +ISABEL. But I don't like that sort of lesson. I can't play it properly. + +L. Can you play a Mozart sonata yet, Isabel? The more need to practise. +All one's life is a music, if one touches the notes rightly, and in +time. But there must be no hurry. + +KATHLEEN. I'm sure there's no music in stopping in on a rainy day. + +L. There's no music in a 'rest,' Katie, that I know of: but there's the +making of music in it. And people are always missing that part of the +life-melody; and scrambling on without counting--not that it's easy to +count; but nothing on which so much depends ever _is_ easy. People are +always talking of perseverance, and courage, and fortitude; but patience +is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude,--and the rarest, too. I +know twenty persevering girls for one patient one: but it is only that +twenty-first who can do her work, out and out, or enjoy it. For patience +lies at the root of all pleasures, as well as of all powers. Hope +herself ceases to be happiness, when Impatience companions her. + + (ISABEL _and_ LILY _sit down on the floor, and fold their + hands. The others follow their example._) + +Good children! but that's not quite the way of it, neither. Folded hands +are not necessarily resigned ones. The Patience who really smiles at +grief usually stands, or walks, or even runs: she seldom sits; though +she may sometimes have to do it, for many a day, poor thing, by +monuments; or like Chaucer's, 'with facë pale, upon a hill of sand.' But +we are not reduced to that to-day. Suppose we use this calamitous +forenoon to choose the shapes we are to crystallise into? we know +nothing about them yet. + + (_The pictures of resignation rise from the floor, not in + the patientest manner. General applause._) + +MARY _(with one or two others_). The very thing we wanted to ask you +about! + +LILY. We looked at the books about crystals, but they are so dreadful. + +L. Well, Lily, we must go through a little dreadfulness, that's a fact: +no road to any good knowledge is wholly among the lilies and the grass; +there is rough climbing to be done always. But the crystal-books are a +little _too_ dreadful, most of them, I admit; and we shall have to be +content with very little of their help. You know, as you cannot stand on +each other's heads, you can only make yourselves into the sections of +crystals,--the figures they show when they are cut through; and we will +choose some that will be quite easy. You shall make diamonds of +yourselves---- + +ISABEL. Oh, no, no! we won't be diamonds, please. + +L. Yes, you shall, Isabel; they are very pretty things, if the +jewellers, and the kings and queens, would only let them alone. You +shall make diamonds of yourselves, and rubies of yourselves, and +emeralds; and Irish diamonds; two of those--with Lily in the middle of +one, which will be very orderly, of course; and Kathleen in the middle +of the other, for which we will hope the best;--and you shall make +Derbyshire spar of yourselves, and Iceland spar, and gold, and silver, +and--Quicksilver there's enough of in you, without any making. + +MARY. Now, you know, the children will be getting quite wild: we must +really get pencils and paper, and begin properly. + +L. Wait a minute, Miss Mary; I think as we've the school room clear +to-day, I'll try to give you some notion of the three great orders or +ranks of crystals, into which all the others seem more or less to fall. +We shall only want one figure a day, in the playground; and that can be +drawn in a minute: but the general ideas had better be fastened first. I +must show you a great many minerals; so let me have three tables wheeled +into the three windows, that we may keep our specimens separate;--we +will keep the three orders of crystals on separate tables. + + (_First Interlude, of pushing and pulling, and spreading of + baize covers._ VIOLET, _not particularly minding what she is + about, gets herself jammed into a corner, and bid to stand + out of the way; on which she devotes herself to + meditation._) + +VIOLET (_after interval of meditation_). How strange it is that +everything seems to divide into threes! + +L. Everything doesn't divide into threes. Ivy won't, though shamrock +will; and daisies won't, though lilies will. + +VIOLET. But all the nicest things seem to divide into threes. + +L. Violets won't. + +VIOLET. No; I should think not, indeed! But I mean the great things. + +L. I've always heard the globe had four quarters. + +ISABEL. Well; but you know you said it hadn't any quarters at all. So +mayn't it really be divided into three? + +L. If it were divided into no more than three, on the outside of it, +Isabel, it would be a fine world to live in; and if it were divided into +three in the inside of it, it would soon be no world to live in at all. + +DORA. We shall never get to the crystals, at this rate. (_Aside to_ +MARY.) He will get off into political economy before we know where we +are. (_Aloud._) But the crystals are divided into three, then? + +L. No; but there are three general notions by which we may best get hold +of them. Then between these notions there are other notions. + +LILY (_alarmed_). A great many? And shall we have to learn them all? + +L. More than a great many--a quite infinite many. So you cannot learn +them all. + +LILY (_greatly relieved_). Then may we only learn the three? + +L. Certainly; unless, when you have got those three notions, you want to +have some more notions;--which would not surprise me. But we'll try for +the three, first. Katie, you broke your coral necklace this morning? + +KATHLEEN. Oh! who told you? It was in jumping. I'm so sorry! + +L. I'm very glad. Can you fetch me the beads of it? + +KATHLEEN. I've lost some; here are the rest in my pocket, if I can only +get them out. + +L. You mean to get them out some day, I suppose; so try now. I want +them. + + (KATHLEEN _empties her pocket on the floor. The beads + disperse. The School disperses also. Second + Interlude--hunting piece._) + +L. (_after waiting patiently for a quarter of an hour, to_ ISABEL, _who +comes up from under the table with her hair all about her ears, and the +last findable beads in her hand_). Mice are useful little things +sometimes. Now, mousie, I want all those beads crystallised. How many +ways are there of putting them in order? + +ISABEL. Well, first one would string them, I suppose? + +L. Yes, that's the first way. You cannot string ultimate atoms; +but you can put them in a row, and then they fasten themselves +together, somehow, into a long rod or needle. We will call these +'_Needle_-crystals.' What would be the next way? + +ISABEL. I suppose, as we are to get together in the playground, when it +stops raining, in different shapes? + +L. Yes; put the beads together, then, in the simplest form you can, to +begin with. Put them into a square, and pack them close. + +ISABEL (_after careful endeavour_). I can't get them closer. + +L. That will do. Now you may see, beforehand, that if you try to throw +yourselves into square in this confused way, you will never know your +places; so you had better consider every square as made of rods, put +side by side. Take four beads of equal size, first, Isabel; put them +into a little square. That, you may consider as made up of two rods of +two beads each. Then you can make a square a size larger, out of three +rods of three. Then the next square may be a size larger. How many rods, +Lily? + +LILY. Four rods of four beads each, I suppose. + +L. Yes, and then five rods of five, and so on. But now, look here; make +another square of four beads again. You see they leave a little opening +in the centre. + +ISABEL (_pushing two opposite ones closer together_). Now they don't. + +L. No; but now it isn't a square; and by pushing the two together you +have pushed the two others farther apart. + +ISABEL. And yet, somehow, they all seem closer than they were! + +L. Yes; for before, each of them only touched two of the others, but now +each of the two in the middle touches the other three. Take away one of +the outsiders, Isabel; now you have three in a triangle--the smallest +triangle you can make out of the beads. Now put a rod of three beads on +at one side. So, you have a triangle of six beads; but just the shape of +the first one. Next a rod of four on the side of that; and you have a +triangle of ten beads: then a rod of five on the side of that; and you +have a triangle of fifteen. Thus you have a square with five beads on +the side, and a triangle with five beads on the side; equal-sided, +therefore, like the square. So, however few or many you may be, you may +soon learn how to crystallise quickly into these two figures, which are +the foundation of form in the commonest, and therefore actually the most +important, as well as in the rarest, and therefore, by our esteem, the +most important, minerals of the world. Look at this in my hand. + +VIOLET. Why, it is leaf-gold! + +L. Yes; but beaten by no man's hammer; or rather, not beaten at all, but +woven. Besides, feel the weight of it. There is gold enough there to +gild the walls and ceiling, if it were beaten thin. + +VIOLET. How beautiful! And it glitters like a leaf covered with frost. + +L. You only think it so beautiful because you know it is gold. It is not +prettier, in reality, than a bit of brass: for it is Transylvanian gold; +and they say there is a foolish gnome in the mines there, who is always +wanting to live in the moon, and so alloys all the gold with a little +silver. I don't know how that may be: but the silver always _is_ in the +gold; and if he does it, it's very provoking of him, for no gold is +woven so fine anywhere else. + +MARY (_who has been looking through her magnifying glass_). But this is +not woven. This is all made of little triangles. + +L. Say 'patched,' then, if you must be so particular. But if you fancy +all those triangles, small as they are (and many of them are infinitely +small), made up again of rods, and those of grains, as we built our +great triangle of the beads, what word will you take for the +manufacture? + +MAY. There's no word--it is beyond words. + +L. Yes; and that would matter little, were it not beyond thoughts too. +But, at all events, this yellow leaf of dead gold, shed, not from the +ruined woodlands, but the ruined rocks, will help you to remember the +second kind of crystals, _Leaf_-crystals, or _Foliated_ crystals; though +I show you the form in gold first only to make a strong impression on +you, for gold is not generally, or characteristically, crystallised in +leaves; the real type of foliated crystals is this thing, Mica; which if +you once feel well, and break well, you will always know again; and you +will often have occasion to know it, for you will find it everywhere, +nearly, in hill countries. + +KATHLEEN. If we break it well! May we break it? + +L. To powder, if you like. + + (_Surrenders plate of brown mica to public investigation. + Third Interlude. It sustains severely philosophical + treatment at all hands._) + +FLORRIE. (_to whom the last fragments have descended_) Always leaves, +and leaves, and nothing but leaves, or white dust! + +L. That dust itself is nothing but finer leaves. + + (_Shows them to_ FLORRIE _through magnifying glass._) + +ISABEL. (_peeping over_ FLORRIE'S _shoulder_). But then this bit under +the glass looks like that bit out of the glass! If we could break this +bit under the glass, what would it be like? + +L. It would be all leaves still. + +ISABEL. And then if we broke those again? + +L. All less leaves still. + +ISABEL (_impatient_). And if we broke them again, and again, and again, +and again, and again? + +L. Well, I suppose you would come to a limit, if you could only see it. +Notice that the little flakes already differ somewhat from the large +ones: because I can bend them up and down, and they stay bent; while the +large flake, though it bent easily a little way, sprang back when you +let it go, and broke, when you tried to bend it far. And a large mass +would not bend at all. + +MARY. Would that leaf gold separate into finer leaves, in the same way? + +L. No; and therefore, as I told you, it is not a characteristic specimen +of a foliated crystallisation. The little triangles are portions of +solid crystals, and so they are in this, which looks like a black mica; +but you see it is made up of triangles like the gold, and stands, almost +accurately, as an intermediate link, in crystals, between mica and gold. +Yet this is the commonest, as gold the rarest, of metals. + +MARY. Is it iron? I never saw iron so bright. + +L. It is rust of iron, finely crystallised: from its resemblance to +mica, it is often called micaceous iron. + +KATHLEEN. May we break this, too? + +L. No, for I could not easily get such another crystal; besides, it +would not break like the mica; it is much harder. But take the glass +again, and look at the fineness of the jagged edges of the triangles +where they lap over each other. The gold has the same: but you see them +better here, terrace above terrace, countless, and in successive angles, +like superb fortified bastions. + +MAY. But all foliated crystals are not made of triangles? + +L. Far from it: mica is occasionally so, but usually of hexagons; and +here is a foliated crystal made of squares, which will show you that the +leaves of the rock-land have their summer green, as well as their +autumnal gold. + +FLORRIE. Oh! oh! oh! (_jumps for joy_). + +L. Did you never see a bit of green leaf before, Florrie? + +FLORRIE. Yes, but never so bright as that, and not in a stone. + +L. If you will look at the leaves of the trees in sunshine after a +shower, you will find they are much brighter than that; and surely they +are none the worse for being on stalks instead of in stones? + +FLORRIE. Yes, but then there are so many of them, one never looks, I +suppose. + +L. Now you have it, Florrie. + +VIOLET (_sighing_). There are so many beautiful things we never see! + +L. You need not sigh for that, Violet; but I will tell you what we +should all sigh for,--that there are so many ugly things we never see. + +VIOLET. But we don't want to see ugly things! + +L. You had better say, 'We don't want to suffer them.' You ought to be +glad in thinking how much more beauty God has made, than human eyes can +ever see; but not glad in thinking how much more evil man has made, than +his own soul can ever conceive, much more than his hands can ever heal. + +VIOLET. I don't understand;--how is that like the leaves? + +L. The same law holds in our neglect of multiplied pain, as in our +neglect of multiplied beauty. Florrie jumps for joy at sight of half an +inch of a green leaf in a brown stone; and takes more notice of it than +of all the green in the wood: and you, or I, or any of us, would be +unhappy if any single human creature beside us were in sharp pain; but +we can read, at breakfast, day after day, of men being killed, and of +women and children dying of hunger, faster than the leaves strew the +brooks in Vallombrosa;--and then go out to play croquet, as if nothing +had happened. + +MAY. But we do not see the people being killed or dying. + +L. You did not see your brother, when you got the telegram the other +day, saying he was ill, May; but you cried for him and played no +croquet. But we cannot talk of these things now; and what is more, you +must let me talk straight on, for a little while; and ask no questions +till I've done: for we branch ('exfoliate,' I should say, +mineralogically) always into something else,--though that's my fault +more than yours; but I must go straight on now. You have got a distinct +notion, I hope, of leaf-crystals; and you see the sort of look they +have: you can easily remember that 'folium' is Latin for a leaf, and +that the separate flakes of mica, or any other such stones, are called +'folia;' but, because mica is the most characteristic of these stones, +other things that are like it in structure are called 'micas;' thus we +have Uran-mica, which is the green leaf I showed you; and Copper-mica, +which is another like it, made chiefly of copper; and this foliated iron +is called 'micaceous iron.' You have then these two great orders, +Needle-crystals, made (probably) of grains in rows; and Leaf-crystals, +made (probably) of needles interwoven; now, lastly, there are crystals +of a third order, in heaps, or knots, or masses, which may be made, +either of leaves laid one upon another, or of needles bound like Roman +fasces; and mica itself, when it is well crystallised, puts itself into +such masses, as if to show us how others are made. Here is a brown +six-sided crystal, quite as beautifully chiselled at the sides as any +castle tower; but you see it is entirely built of folia of mica, one +laid above another, which break away the moment I touch the edge with my +knife. Now, here is another hexagonal tower, of just the same size and +colour, which I want you to compare with the mica carefully; but as I +cannot wait for you to do it just now, I must tell you quickly what main +differences to look for. First, you will feel it is far heavier than the +mica. Then, though its surface looks quite micaceous in the folia of it, +when you try them with the knife, you will find you cannot break them +away---- + +KATHLEEN. May I try? + +L. Yes, you mistrusting Katie. Here's my strong knife for you. +(_Experimental pause._ KATHLEEN, _doing her best._) You'll have that +knife shutting on your finger presently, Kate; and I don't know a girl +who would like less to have her hand tied up for a week. + +KATHLEEN (_who also does not like to be beaten--giving up the knife +despondently_). What _can_ the nasty hard thing be? + +L. It is nothing but indurated clay, Kate: very hard set certainly, yet +not so hard as it might be. If it were thoroughly well crystallised, you +would see none of those micaceous fractures; and the stone would be +quite red and clear, all through. + +KATHLEEN. Oh, cannot you show us one? + +L. Egypt can, if you ask her; she has a beautiful one in the clasp of +her favourite bracelet. + +KATHLEEN. Why, that's a ruby! + +L. Well, so is that thing you've been scratching at. + +KATHLEEN. My goodness! + + (_Takes up the stone again, very delicately; and drops it. + General consternation._) + +L. Never mind, Katie; you might drop it from the top of the house, and +do it no harm. But though you really are a very good girl, and as +good-natured as anybody can possibly be, remember, you have your faults, +like other people; and, if I were you, the next time I wanted to assert +anything energetically, I would assert it by 'my badness,' not 'my +goodness.' + +KATHLEEN. Ah, now, it's too bad of you! + +L. Well, then, I'll invoke, on occasion, my 'too-badness.' But you may +as well pick up the ruby, now you have dropped it; and look carefully at +the beautiful hexagonal lines which gleam on its surface; and here is a +pretty white sapphire (essentially the same stone as the ruby), in which +you will see the same lovely structure, like the threads of the finest +white cobweb. I do not know what is the exact method of a ruby's +construction; but you see by these lines, what fine construction there +_is_, even in this hardest of stones (after the diamond), which usually +appears as a massive lump or knot. There is therefore no real +mineralogical distinction between needle crystals and knotted crystals, +but, practically, crystallised masses throw themselves into one of the +three groups we have been examining to-day; and appear either as +Needles, as Folia, or as Knots; when they are in needles (or fibres), +they make the stones or rocks formed out of them '_fibrous_;' when they +are in folia, they make them '_foliated_;' when they are in knots (or +grains), '_granular_.' Fibrous rocks are comparatively rare, in mass; +but fibrous minerals are innumerable; and it is often a question which +really no one but a young lady could possibly settle, whether one should +call the fibres composing them 'threads' or 'needles.' Here is +amianthus, for instance, which is quite as fine and soft as any cotton +thread you ever sewed with; and here is sulphide of bismuth, with +sharper points and brighter lustre than your finest needles have; and +fastened in white webs of quartz more delicate than your finest lace; +and here is sulphide of antimony, which looks like mere purple wool, but +it is all of purple needle crystals; and here is red oxide of copper +(you must not breathe on it as you look, or you may blow some of the +films of it off the stone), which is simply a woven tissue of scarlet +silk. However, these finer thread forms are comparatively rare, while +the bolder and needle-like crystals occur constantly; so that, I +believe, 'Needle-crystal' is the best word (the grand one is 'Acicular +crystal,' but Sibyl will tell you it is all the same, only less easily +understood; and therefore more scientific). Then the Leaf-crystals, as I +said, form an immense mass of foliated rocks; and the Granular crystals, +which are of many kinds, form essentially granular, or granitic and +porphyritic rocks; and it is always a point of more interest to me (and +I think will ultimately be to you), to consider the causes which force a +given mineral to take any one of these three general forms, than what +the peculiar geometrical limitations are, belonging to its own +crystals.[150] It is more interesting to me, for instance, to try and +find out why the red oxide of copper, usually crystallising in cubes or +octahedrons, makes itself exquisitely, out of its cubes, into this red +silk in one particular Cornish mine, than what are the absolutely +necessary angles of the octahedron, which is its common form. At all +events, that mathematical part of crystallography is quite beyond girls' +strength; but these questions of the various tempers and manners of +crystals are not only comprehensible by you, but full of the most +curious teaching for you. For in the fulfilment, to the best of their +power, of their adopted form under given circumstances, there are +conditions entirely resembling those of human virtue; and indeed +expressible under no term so proper as that of the Virtue, or Courage of +crystals:--which, if you are not afraid of the crystals making you +ashamed of yourselves, we will try to get some notion of, to-morrow. But +it will be a bye-lecture, and more about yourselves than the minerals, +Don't come unless you like. + +MARY. I'm sure the crystals will make us ashamed of ourselves; but we'll +come, for all that. + +L. Meantime, look well and quietly over these needle, or thread +crystals, and those on the other two tables, with magnifying glasses, +and see what thoughts will come into your little heads about them. For +the best thoughts are generally those which come without being forced, +one does not know how. And so I hope you will get through your wet day +patiently. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[150] Note iv. + + + + +LECTURE V. + +_CRYSTAL VIRTUES._ + + _A quiet talk, in the afternoon, by the sunniest window of + the Drawing-room. Present_, FLORRIE, ISABEL, MAY, LUCILLA, + KATHLEEN, DORA, MARY, _and some others, who have saved time + for the bye-Lecture._ + + +L. So you have really come, like good girls, to be made ashamed of +yourselves? + +DORA (_very meekly_). No, we needn't be made so; we always are. + +L. Well, I believe that's truer than most pretty speeches: but you know, +you saucy girl, some people have more reason to be so than others. Are +you sure everybody is, as well as you? + +THE GENERAL VOICE. Yes, yes; everybody. + +L. What! Florrie ashamed of herself? + + (FLORRIE _hides behind the curtain._) + +L. And Isabel? + + (ISABEL _hides under the table._) + +L. And May? + + (MAY _runs into the corner behind the piano._) + +L. And Lucilla? + + (LUCILLA _hides her face in her hands._) + +L. Dear, dear; but this will never do. I shall have to tell you of the +faults of the crystals, instead of virtues, to put you in heart again. + +MAY (_coming out of her corner_). Oh! have the crystals faults, like us? + +L. Certainly, May. Their best virtues are shown in fighting their +faults. And some have a great many faults; and some are very naughty +crystals indeed. + +FLORRIE (_from behind her curtain_). As naughty as me? + +ISABEL (_peeping from under the table cloth_). Or me? + +L. Well, I don't know. They never forget their syntax, children, when +once they've been taught it. But I think some of them are, on the whole, +worse than any of you. Not that it's amiable of you to look so radiant, +all in a minute, on that account. + +DORA. Oh! but it's so much more comfortable. + + (_Everybody seems to recover their spirits. Eclipse of_ + FLORRIE _and_ ISABEL _terminates._) + +L. What kindly creatures girls are, after all, to their neighbours' +failings! I think you may be ashamed of yourselves indeed, now, +children! I can tell you, you shall hear of the highest crystalline +merits that I can think of, to-day: and I wish there were more of them; +but crystals have a limited, though a stern, code of morals; and their +essential virtues are but two;--the first is to be pure, and the second +to be well shaped. + +MARY. Pure! Does that mean clear--transparent? + +L. No; unless in the case of a transparent substance. You cannot have a +transparent crystal of gold; but you may have a perfectly pure one. + +ISABEL. But you said it was the shape that made things be crystals; +therefore, oughtn't their shape to be their first virtue, not their +second? + +L. Right, you troublesome mousie. But I call their shape only their +second virtue, because it depends on time and accident, and things which +the crystal cannot help. If it is cooled too quickly, or shaken, it must +take what shape it can; but it seems as if, even then, it had in itself +the power of rejecting impurity, if it has crystalline life enough. Here +is a crystal of quartz, well enough shaped in its way; but it seems to +have been languid and sick at heart; and some white milky substance has +got into it, and mixed itself up with it, all through. It makes the +quartz quite yellow, if you hold it up to the light, and milky blue on +the surface. Here is another, broken into a thousand separate facets, +and out of all traceable shape; but as pure as a mountain spring. I like +this one best. + +THE AUDIENCE. So do I--and I--and I. + +MARY. Would a crystallographer? + +L. I think so. He would find many more laws curiously exemplified in the +irregularly grouped but pure crystal. But it is a futile question, this +of first or second. Purity is in most cases a prior, if not a nobler, +virtue; at all events it is most convenient to think about it first. + +MARY. But what ought we to think about it? Is there much to be +thought--I mean, much to puzzle one? + +L. I don't know what you call 'much.' It is a long time since I met with +anything in which there was little. There's not much in this, perhaps. +The crystal must be either dirty or clean,--and there's an end. So it is +with one's hands, and with one's heart--only you can wash your hands +without changing them, but not hearts, nor crystals. On the whole, while +you are young, it will be as well to take care that your hearts don't +want much washing; for they may perhaps need wringing also, when they +do. + + (_Audience doubtful and uncomfortable._ LUCILLA _at last + takes courage._) + +LUCILLA. Oh! but surely, sir, we cannot make our hearts clean? + +L. Not easily, Lucilla; so you had better keep them so when they are. + +LUCILLA. When they are! But, sir-- + +L. Well? + +LUCILLA. Sir--surely--are we not told that they are all evil? + +L. Wait a little, Lucilla; that is difficult ground you are getting +upon; and we must keep to our crystals, till at least we understand what +_their_ good and evil consist in; they may help us afterwards to some +useful hints about our own. I said that their goodness consisted chiefly +in purity of substance, and perfectness of form: but those are rather +the _effects_ of their goodness, than the goodness itself. The inherent +virtues of the crystals, resulting in these outer conditions, might +really seem to be best described in the words we should use respecting +living creatures--'force of heart' and steadiness of purpose.' There +seem to be in some crystals, from the beginning, an unconquerable purity +of vital power, and strength of crystal spirit. Whatever dead substance, +unacceptant of this energy, comes in their way, is either rejected, or +forced to take some beautiful subordinate form; the purity of the +crystal remains unsullied, and every atom of it bright with coherent +energy. Then the second condition is, that from the beginning of its +whole structure, a fine crystal seems to have determined that it will be +of a certain size and of a certain shape; it persists in this plan, and +completes it. Here is a perfect crystal of quartz for you. It is of an +unusual form, and one which it might seem very difficult to build--a +pyramid with convex sides, composed of other minor pyramids. But there +is not a flaw in its contour throughout; not one of its myriads of +component sides but is as bright as a jeweller's facetted work (and far +finer, if you saw it close). The crystal points are as sharp as +javelins; their edges will cut glass with a touch. Anything more +resolute, consummate, determinate in form, cannot be conceived. Here, on +the other hand, is a crystal of the same substance, in a perfectly +simple type of form--a plain six-sided prism; but from its base to its +point,--and it is nine inches long,--it has never for one instant made +up its mind what thickness it will have. It seems to have begun by +making itself as thick as it thought possible with the quantity of +material at command. Still not being as thick as it would like to be, it +has clumsily glued on more substance at one of its sides. Then it has +thinned itself, in a panic of economy; then puffed itself out again; +then starved one side to enlarge another; then warped itself quite out +of its first line. Opaque, rough-surfaced, jagged on the edge, distorted +in the spine, it exhibits a quite human image of decrepitude and +dishonour; but the worst of all the signs of its decay and helplessness, +is that half-way up, a parasite crystal, smaller, but just as sickly, +has rooted itself in the side of the larger one, eating out a cavity +round its root, and then growing backwards, or downwards, contrary to +the direction of the main crystal. Yet I cannot trace the least +difference in purity of substance between the first most noble stone, +and this ignoble and dissolute one. The impurity of the last is in its +will, or want of will. + +MARY. Oh, if we could but understand the meaning of it all! + +L. We can understand all that is good for us. It is just as true for us, +as for the crystal, that the nobleness of life depends on its +consistency,--clearness of purpose,--quiet and ceaseless energy. All +doubt, and repenting, and botching, and retouching, and wondering what +it will be best to do next, are vice, as well as misery. + +MARY (_much wondering_). But must not one repent when one does wrong, +and hesitate when one can't see one's way? + +L. You have no business at all to do wrong; nor to get into any way that +you cannot see. Your intelligence should always be far in advance of +your act. Whenever you do not know what you are about, you are sure to +be doing wrong. + +KATHLEEN. Oh, dear, but I never know what I am about! + +L. Very true, Katie, but it is a great deal to know, if you know that. +And you find that you have done wrong afterwards; and perhaps some day +you may begin to know, or at least, think, what you are about. + +ISABEL. But surely people can't do very wrong if they don't know, can +they? I mean, they can't be very naughty. They can be wrong, like +Kathleen or me, when we make mistakes; but not wrong in the dreadful +way. I can't express what I mean; but there are two sorts of wrong are +there not? + +L. Yes, Isabel; but you will find that the great difference is between +kind and unkind wrongs, not between meant and unmeant wrong. Very few +people really mean to do wrong,--in a deep sense, none. They only don't +know what they are about. Cain did not mean to do wrong when he killed +Abel. + + (ISABEL _draws a deep breath, and opens her eyes very + wide._) + +L. No, Isabel; and there are countless Cains among us now, who kill +their brothers by the score a day, not only for less provocation than +Cain had, but for _no_ provocation,--and merely for what they can make +of their bones,--yet do not think they are doing wrong in the least. +Then sometimes you have the business reversed, as over in America these +last years, where you have seen Abel resolutely killing Cain, and not +thinking he is doing wrong. The great difficulty is always to open +people's eyes: to touch their feelings, and break their hearts, is easy; +the difficult thing is to break their heads. What does it matter, as +long as they remain stupid, whether you change their feelings or not? +You cannot be always at their elbow to tell them what is right: and they +may just do as wrong as before, or worse; and their best intentions +merely make the road smooth for them,--you know where, children. For it +is not the place itself that is paved with them, as people say so often. +You can't pave the bottomless pit; but you may the road to it. + +MAY. Well, but if people do as well as they can see how, surely that is +the right for them, isn't it? + +L. No, May, not a bit of it; right is right, and wrong is wrong. It is +only the fool who does wrong, and says he 'did it for the best.' And if +there's one sort of person in the world that the Bible speaks harder of +than another, it is fools. Their particular and chief way of saying +'There is no God' is this, of declaring that whatever their 'public +opinion' may be, is right: and that God's opinion is of no consequence. + +MAY. But surely nobody can always know what is right? + +L. Yes, you always can, for to-day; and if you do what you see of it +to-day, you will see more of it, and more clearly, to-morrow. Here, for +instance, you children are at school, and have to learn French, and +arithmetic, and music, and several other such things. That is your +'right' for the present; the 'right' for us, your teachers, is to see +that you learn as much as you can, without spoiling your dinner, your +sleep, or your play; and that what you do learn, you learn well. You all +know when you learn with a will, and when you dawdle. There's no doubt +of conscience about that, I suppose? + +VIOLET. No; but if one wants to read an amusing book, instead of +learning one's lesson? + +L. You don't call that a 'question,' seriously, Violet? You are then +merely deciding whether you will resolutely do wrong or not. + +MARY. But, in after life, how many fearful difficulties may arise, +however one tries to know or to do what is right! + +L. You are much too sensible a girl, Mary, to have felt that, whatever +you may have seen. A great many of young ladies' difficulties arise from +their falling in love with a wrong person: but they have no business to +let themselves fall in love, till they know he is the right one. + +DORA. How many thousands ought he to have a year? + +L. (_disdaining reply_). There are, of course, certain crises of fortune +when one has to take care of oneself, and mind shrewdly what one is +about. There is never any real doubt about the path, but you may have to +walk very slowly. + +MARY. And if one is forced to do a wrong thing by some one who has +authority over you? + +L. My dear, no one can be forced to do a wrong thing, for the guilt is +in the will: but you may any day be forced to do a fatal thing, as you +might be forced to take poison; the remarkable law of nature in such +cases being, that it is always unfortunate _you_ who are poisoned, and +not the person who gives you the dose. It is a very strange law, but it +_is_ a law. Nature merely sees to the carrying out of the normal +operation of arsenic. She never troubles herself to ask who gave it you. +So also you may be starved to death, morally as well as physically, by +other people's faults. You are, on the whole, very good children sitting +here to-day;--do you think that your goodness comes all by your own +contriving? or that you are gentle and kind because your dispositions +are naturally more angelic than those of the poor girls who are playing, +with wild eyes, on the dustheaps in the alleys of our great towns; and +who will one day fill their prisons,--or, better, their graves? Heaven +only knows where they, and we who have cast them there, shall stand at +last. But the main judgment question will be, I suppose, for all of us, +'Did you keep a good heart through it?' What you were, others may answer +for;--what you tried to be, you must answer for, yourself. Was the heart +pure and true--tell us that? + +And so we come back to your sorrowful question, Lucilla, which I put +aside a little ago. You would be afraid to answer that your heart _was_ +pure and true, would not you? + +LUCILLA. Yes, indeed, sir. + +L. Because you have been taught that it is all evil--'only evil +continually.' Somehow, often as people say that, they never seem, to me, +to believe it? Do you really believe it? + +LUCILLA. Yes, sir; I hope so. + +L. That you have an entirely bad heart? + +LUCILLA (_a little uncomfortable at the substitution of the monosyllable +for the dissyllable, nevertheless persisting in her orthodoxy_). Yes, +sir. + +L. Florrie, I am sure you are tired; I never like you to stay when you +are tired; but, you know, you must not play with the kitten while we're +talking. + +FLORRIE. Oh! but I'm not tired; and I'm only nursing her. She'll be +asleep in my lap directly. + +L. Stop! that puts me in mind of something I had to show you, about +minerals that are like hair. I want a hair out of Tittie's tail. + +FLORRIE (_quite rude, in her surprise, even to the point of repeating +expressions_). Out of Tittie's tail! + +L. Yes; a brown one: Lucilla, you can get at the tip of it nicely, under +Florrie's arm; just pull one out for me. + +LUCILLA. Oh! but, sir, it will hurt her so! + +L. Never mind; she can't scratch you while Florrie is holding her. Now +that I think of it, you had better pull out two. + +LUCILLA. But then she may scratch Florrie! and it will hurt her so, sir! +if you only want brown hairs, wouldn't two of mine do? + +L. Would you really rather pull out your own than Tittie's? + +LUCILLA. Oh, of course, if mine will do. + +L. But that's very wicked, Lucilla! + +LUCILLA. Wicked, sir? + +L. Yes; if your heart was not so bad, you would much rather pull all the +cat's hairs out, than one of your own. + +LUCILLA. Oh! but sir, I didn't mean bad, like that. + +L. I believe, if the truth were told, Lucilla, you would like to tie a +kettle to Tittie's tail, and hunt her round the playground. + +LUCILLA. Indeed, I should not, sir. + +L. That's not true, Lucilla; you know it cannot be. + +LUCILLA. Sir? + +L. Certainly it is not;--how can you possibly speak any truth out of +such a heart as you have? It is wholly deceitful. + +LUCILLA. Oh! no, no; I don't mean that way; I don't mean that it makes +me tell lies, quite out. + +L. Only that it tells lies within you? + +LUCILLA. Yes. + +L. Then, outside of it, you know what is true, and say so; and I may +trust the outside of your heart; but within, it is all foul and false. +Is that the way? + +LUCILLA. I suppose so: I don't understand it, quite. + +L. There is no occasion for understanding it; but do you feel it? Are +you sure that your heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately +wicked? + +LUCILLA (_much relieved by finding herself among phrases with which she +is acquainted_). Yes, sir. I'm sure of that. + +L. (_pensively_). I'm sorry for it, Lucilla. + +LUCILLA. So am I, indeed. + +L. What are you sorry with, Lucilla? + +LUCILLA. Sorry with, sir? + +L. Yes; I mean, where do you feel sorry? in your feet? + +LUCILLA (_laughing a little_). No, sir, of course. + +L. In your shoulders, then? + +LUCILLA. No, sir. + +L. You are sure of that? Because, I fear, sorrow in the shoulders would +not be worth much. + +LUCILLA. I suppose I feel it in my heart, if I really am sorry. + +L. If you really are! Do you mean to say that you are sure you are +utterly wicked, and yet do not care? + +LUCILLA. No, indeed; I have cried about it often. + +L. Well, then, you are sorry in your heart? + +LUCILLA. Yes, when the sorrow is worth anything. + +L. Even if it be not, it cannot be anywhere else but there. It is not +the crystalline lens of your eyes which is sorry, when you cry? + +LUCILLA. No, sir, of course. + +L. Then, have you two hearts; one of which is wicked, and the other +grieved? or is one side of it sorry for the other side? + +LUCILLA (_weary of cross-examination, and a little vexed_). Indeed, sir, +you know I can't understand it; but you know how it is written--'another +law in my members, warring against the law of my mind.' + +L. Yes, Lucilla, I know how it is written; but I do not see that it will +help us to know that, if we neither understand what is written, nor feel +it. And you will not get nearer to the meaning of one verse, if, as soon +as you are puzzled by it, you escape to another, introducing three new +words--'law,' 'members,' and 'mind'; not one of which you at present +know the meaning of; and respecting which, you probably never will be +much wiser; since men like Montesquieu and Locke have spent great part +of their lives in endeavouring to explain two of them. + +LUCILLA. Oh! please, sir, ask somebody else. + +L. If I thought anyone else could answer better than you, Lucilla, I +would; but suppose I try, instead, myself, to explain your feelings to +you? + +LUCILLA. Oh, yes; please do. + +L. Mind, I say your 'feelings,' not your 'belief.' For I cannot +undertake to explain anybody's beliefs. Still I must try a little, +first, to explain the belief also, because I want to draw it to some +issue. As far as I understand what you say, or any one else, taught as +you have been taught, says, on this matter,--you think that there is an +external goodness, a whited-sepulchre kind of goodness, which appears +beautiful outwardly, but is within full of uncleanness: a deep secret +guilt, of which we ourselves are not sensible; and which can only be +seen by the Maker of us all. (_Approving murmurs from audience._) + +L. Is it not so with the body as well as the soul? + + (_Looked notes of interrogation._) + +L. A skull, for instance, is not a beautiful thing? + + (_Grave faces, signifying 'Certainly not,' and 'What + next?'_) + +L. And if you all could see in each other, with clear eyes, whatever God +sees beneath those fair faces of yours, you would not like it? + + (_Murmured 'No's.'_) + +L. Nor would it be good for you? + + (_Silence._) + +L. The probability being that what God does not allow you to see, He +does not wish you to see; nor even to think of? + + (_Silence prolonged._) + +L. It would not at all be good for you, for instance, whenever you were +washing your faces, and braiding your hair, to be thinking of the shapes +of the jawbones, and of the cartilage of the nose, and of the jagged +sutures of the scalp? + + (_Resolutely whispered No's._) + +L. Still less, to see through a clear glass the daily processes of +nourishment and decay? + + (_No._) + +L. Still less if instead of merely inferior and preparatory conditions +of structure, as in the skeleton,--or inferior offices of structure, as +in operations of life and death,--there were actual disease in the body; +ghastly and dreadful. You would try to cure it; but having taken such +measures as were necessary, you would not think the cure likely to be +promoted by perpetually watching the wounds, or thinking of them. On the +contrary, you would be thankful for every moment of forgetfulness: as, +in daily health, you must be thankful that your Maker has veiled +whatever is fearful in your frame under a sweet and manifest beauty; and +has made it your duty, and your only safety, to rejoice in that, both in +yourself and in others:--not indeed concealing, or refusing to believe +in sickness, if it come; but never dwelling on it. + +Now, your wisdom and duty touching soul-sickness are just the same. +Ascertain clearly what is wrong with you; and so far as you know any +means of mending it, take those means, and have done: when you are +examining yourself, never call yourself merely a 'sinner,' that is very +cheap abuse; and utterly useless. You may even get to like it, and be +proud of it. But call yourself a liar, a coward, a sluggard, a glutton, +or an evil-eyed jealous wretch, if you indeed find yourself to be in any +wise any of these. Take steady means to check yourself in whatever fault +you have ascertained, and justly accused yourself of. And as soon as you +are in active way of mending, you will be no more inclined to moan over +an undefined corruption. For the rest, you will find it less easy to +uproot faults, than to choke them by gaining virtues. Do not think of +your faults; still less of others' faults: in every person who comes +near you, look for what is good and strong: honour that; rejoice in it; +and, as you can, try to imitate it: and your faults will drop off, like +dead leaves, when their time comes. If, on looking back, your whole life +should seem rugged as a palm tree stem; still, never mind, so long as it +has been growing; and has its grand green shade of leaves, and weight of +honied fruit, at top. And even if you cannot find much good in yourself +at last, think that it does not much matter to the universe either what +you were, or are; think how many people are noble, if you cannot be; and +rejoice in _their_ nobleness. An immense quantity of modern confession +of sin, even when honest, is merely a sickly egotism; which will rather +gloat over its own evil, than lose the centralisation of its interest in +itself. + +MARY. But then, if we ought to forget ourselves so much, how did the old +Greek proverb 'Know thyself' come to be so highly esteemed? + +L. My dear, it is the proverb of proverbs; Apollo's proverb, and the +sun's;--but do you think you can know yourself by looking _into_ +yourself? Never. You can know what you are, only by looking _out_ of +yourself. Measure your own powers with those of others; compare your own +interests with those of others; try to understand what you appear to +them, as well as what they appear to you; and judge of yourselves, in +all things, relatively and subordinately; not positively: starting +always with a wholesome conviction of the probability that there is +nothing particular about you. For instance, some of you perhaps think +you can write poetry. Dwell on your own feelings and doings:--and you +will soon think yourselves Tenth Muses; but forget your own feelings; +and try, instead, to understand a line or two of Chaucer or Dante: and +you will soon begin to feel yourselves very foolish girls--which is much +like the fact. + +So, something which befalls you may seem a great misfortune;--you +meditate over its effects on you personally; and begin to think that it +is a chastisement, or a warning, or a this or that or the other of +profound significance; and that all the angels in heaven have left their +business for a little while, that they may watch its effects on your +mind. But give up this egotistic indulgence of your fancy; examine a +little what misfortunes, greater a thousandfold, are happening, every +second, to twenty times worthier persons: and your self-consciousness +will change into pity and humility; and you will know yourself, so far +as to understand that 'there hath nothing taken thee but what is common +to man.' + +Now, Lucilla, these are the practical conclusions which any person of +sense would arrive at, supposing the texts which relate to the inner +evil of the heart were as many, and as prominent, as they are often +supposed to be by careless readers. But the way in which common people +read their Bibles is just like the way that the old monks thought +hedgehogs ate grapes. They rolled themselves (it was said), over and +over, where the grapes lay on the ground. What fruit stuck to their +spines, they carried off, and ate. So your hedgehoggy readers roll +themselves over and over their Bibles, and declare that whatever sticks +to their own spines is Scripture; and that nothing else is. But you can +only get the skins of the texts that way. If you want their juice, you +must press them in cluster. Now, the clustered texts about the human +heart, insist, as a body, not on any inherent corruption in all hearts, +but on the terrific distinction between the bad and the good ones. 'A +good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, bringeth forth that +which is good; and an evil man, out of the evil treasure, bringeth +forth that which is evil.' 'They on the rock are they which, in an +honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it.' 'Delight thyself +in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.' 'The +wicked have bent their bow, that they may privily shoot at him that is +upright in heart.' And so on; they are countless, to the same effect. +And, for all of us, the question is not at all to ascertain how much or +how little corruption there is in human nature; but to ascertain +whether, out of all the mass of that nature, we are of the sheep or the +goat breed; whether we are people of upright heart, being shot at, or +people of crooked heart, shooting. And, of all the texts bearing on the +subject, this, which is a quite simple and practical order, is the one +you have chiefly to hold in mind. 'Keep thy heart with all diligence, +for out of it are the issues of life.' + +LUCILLA. And yet, how inconsistent the texts seem! + +L. Nonsense, Lucilla! do you think the universe is bound to look +consistent to a girl of fifteen? Look up at your own room window;--you +can just see it from where you sit. I'm glad that it is left open, as it +ought to be, in so fine a day. But do you see what a black spot it +looks, in the sunlighted wall? + +LUCILLA. Yes, it looks as black as ink. + +L. Yet you know it is a very bright room when you are inside of it; +quite as bright as there is any occasion for it to be, that its little +lady may see to keep it tidy. Well, it is very probable, also, that if +you could look into your heart from the sun's point of view, it might +appear a very black hole indeed; nay, the sun may sometimes think good +to tell you that it looks so to Him; but He will come into it, and make +it very cheerful for you, for all that, if you don't put the shutters +up. And the one question for _you_, remember, is not 'dark or light?' +but 'tidy or untidy?' Look well to your sweeping and garnishing; and be +sure it is only the banished spirit, or some of the seven wickeder ones +at his back, who will still whisper to you that it is all black. + + + + +LECTURE VI. + +_CRYSTAL QUARRELS._ + + _Full conclave, in Schoolroom. There has been a game at + crystallisation in the morning, of which various account has + to be rendered. In particular, everybody has to explain why + they were always where they were not intended to be._ + + +L. (_having received and considered the report_). You have got on pretty +well, children: but you know these were easy figures you have been +trying. Wait till I have drawn you out the plans of some crystals of +snow! + +MARY. I don't think those will be the most difficult:--they are so +beautiful that we shall remember our places better; and then they are +all regular, and in stars: it is those twisty oblique ones we are afraid +of. + +L. Read Carlyle's account of the battle of Leuthen, and learn +Freidrich's 'oblique order.' You will 'get it done for once, I think, +provided you _can_ march as a pair of compasses would.' But remember, +when you can construct the most difficult single figures, you have only +learned half the game--nothing so much as the half, indeed, as the +crystals themselves play it. + +MARY. Indeed; what else is there? + +L. It is seldom that any mineral crystallises alone. Usually two or +three, under quite different crystalline laws, form together. They do +this absolutely without flaw or fault, when they are in fine temper: and +observe what this signifies. It signifies that the two, or more, +minerals of different natures agree, somehow, between themselves, how +much space each will want;--agree which of them shall give away to the +other at their junction; or in what measure each will accommodate itself +to the other's shape! And then each takes its permitted shape, and +allotted share of space; yielding, or being yielded to, as it builds, +till each crystal has fitted itself perfectly and gracefully to its +differently-natured neighbour. So that, in order to practise this, in +even the simplest terms, you must divide into two parties, wearing +different colours; each must choose a different figure to construct; and +you must form one of these figures through the other, both going on at +the same time. + +MARY. I think _we_ may, perhaps, manage it; but I cannot at all +understand how the crystals do. It seems to imply so much preconcerting +of plan, and so much giving way to each other, as if they really were +living. + +L. Yes, it implies both concurrence and compromise, regulating all +wilfulness of design: and, more curious still, the crystals do _not_ +always give way to each other. They show exactly the same varieties of +temper that human creatures might. Sometimes they yield the required +place with perfect grace and courtesy; forming fantastic, but +exquisitely finished groups: and sometimes they will not yield at all; +but fight furiously for their places, losing all shape and honour, and +even their own likeness, in the contest. + +MARY. But is not that wholly wonderful? How is it that one never sees it +spoken of in books? + +L. The scientific men are all busy in determining the constant laws +under which the struggle takes place; these indefinite humours of the +elements are of no interest to them. And unscientific people rarely give +themselves the trouble of thinking at all when they look at stones. Not +that it is of much use to think; the more one thinks, the more one is +puzzled. + +MARY. Surely it is more wonderful than anything in botany? + +L. Everything has its own wonders; but, given the nature of the plant, +it is easier to understand what a flower will do, and why it does it, +than, given anything we as yet know of stone-nature, to understand what +a crystal will do, and why it does it. You at once admit a kind of +volition and choice, in the flower, but we are not accustomed to +attribute anything of the kind to the crystal. Yet there is, in reality, +more likeness to some conditions of human feeling among stones than +among plants. There is a far greater difference between kindly-tempered +and ill-tempered crystals of the same mineral, than between any two +specimens of the same flower: and the friendships and wars of crystals +depend more definitely and curiously on their varieties of disposition, +than any associations of flowers. Here, for instance, is a good garnet, +living with good mica; one rich red, and the other silver white: the +mica leaves exactly room enough for the garnet to crystallise +comfortably in; and the garnet lives happily in its little white house; +fitted to it, like a pholas in its cell. But here are wicked garnets +living with wicked mica. See what ruin they make of each other! You +cannot tell which is which; the garnets look like dull red stains on the +crumbling stone. By the way, I never could understand, if St. Gothard is +a real saint, why he can't keep his garnets in better order. These are +all under his care; but I suppose there are too many of them for him to +look after. The streets of Airolo are paved with them. + +MAY. Paved with garnets? + +L. With mica-slate and garnets; I broke this bit out of a paving stone. +Now garnets and mica are natural friends, and generally fond of each +other; but you see how they quarrel when they are ill brought up. So it +is always. Good crystals are friendly with almost all other good +crystals, however little they chance to see of each other, or however +opposite their habits may be; while wicked crystals quarrel with one +another, though they may be exactly alike in habits, and see each other +continually. And of course the wicked crystals quarrel with the good +ones. + +ISABEL. Then do the good ones get angry? + +L. No, never: they attend to their own work and life; and live it as +well as they can, though they are always the sufferers. Here, for +instance, is a rock-crystal of the purest race and finest temper, who +was born, unhappily for him, in a bad neighbourhood, near Beaufort in +Savoy; and he has had to fight with vile calcareous mud all his life. +See here, when he was but a child, it came down on him, and nearly +buried him; a weaker crystal would have died in despair; but he only +gathered himself together, like Hercules against the serpents, and threw +a layer of crystal over the clay; conquered it,--imprisoned it,--and +lived on. Then, when he was a little older, came more clay; and poured +itself upon him here, at the side; and he has laid crystal over that, +and lived on, in his purity. Then the clay came on at his angles, and +tried to cover them, and round them away; but upon that he threw out +buttress-crystals at his angles, all as true to his own central line as +chapels round a cathedral apse; and clustered them round the clay; and +conquered it again. At last the clay came on at his summit, and tried to +blunt his summit; but he could not endure that for an instant; and left +his flanks all rough, but pure; and fought the clay at his crest, and +built crest over crest, and peak over peak, till the clay surrendered at +last; and here is his summit, smooth and pure, terminating a pyramid of +alternate clay and crystal, half a foot high! + +LILY. Oh, how nice of him! What a dear, brave crystal! But I can't bear +to see his flanks all broken, and the clay within them. + +L. Yes; it was an evil chance for him, the being born to such +contention; there are some enemies so base that even to hold them +captive is a kind of dishonour. But look, here has been quite a +different kind of struggle: the adverse power has been more orderly, and +has fought the pure crystal in ranks as firm as its own. This is not +mere rage and impediment of crowded evil: here is a disciplined +hostility; army against army. + +LILY. Oh, but this is much more beautiful! + +L. Yes, for both the elements have true virtue in them; it is a pity +they are at war, but they war grandly. + +MARY. But is this the same clay as in the other crystal? + +L. I used the word clay for shortness. In both, the enemy is really +limestone; but in the first, disordered, and mixed with true clay; +while, here, it is nearly pure, and crystallises into its own primitive +form, the oblique six-sided one, which you know: and out of these it +makes regiments; and then squares of the regiments, and so charges the +rock crystal literally in square against column. + +ISABEL. Please, please, let me see. And what does the rock crystal do? + +L. The rock crystal seems able to do nothing. The calcite cuts it +through at every charge. Look here,--and here! The loveliest crystal in +the whole group is hewn fairly into two pieces. + +ISABEL. Oh, dear; but is the calcite harder than the crystal then? + +L. No, softer. Very much softer. + +MARY. But then, how can it possibly cut the crystal? + +L. It did not really cut it, though it passes through it. The two were +formed together, as I told you; but no one knows how. Still, it is +strange that this hard quartz has in all cases a good-natured way with +it, of yielding to everything else. All sorts of soft things make nests +for themselves in it; and it never makes a nest for itself in anything. +It has all the rough outside work; and every sort of cowardly and weak +mineral can shelter itself within it. Look; these are hexagonal plates +of mica; if they were outside of this crystal they would break, like +burnt paper; but they are inside of it,--nothing can hurt them,--the +crystal has taken them into its very heart, keeping all their delicate +edges as sharp as if they were under water, instead of bathed in rock. +Here is a piece of branched silver: you can bend it with a touch of your +finger, but the stamp of its every fibre is on the rock in which it lay, +as if the quartz had been as soft as wool. + +LILY. Oh, the good, good quartz! But does it never get inside of +anything? + +L. As it is a little Irish girl who asks, I may perhaps answer, without +being laughed at, that it gets inside of itself sometimes. But I don't +remember seeing quartz make a nest for itself in anything else. + +ISABEL. Please, there was something I heard you talking about, last +term, with Miss Mary. I was at my lessons, but I heard something about +nests; and I thought it was birds' nests; and I couldn't help +listening; and then, I remember, it was about 'nests of quartz in +granite.' I remember, because I was so disappointed! + +L. Yes, mousie, you remember quite rightly; but I can't tell you about +those nests to-day, nor perhaps to-morrow: but there's no contradiction +between my saying then, and now; I will show you that there is not, some +day. Will you trust me meanwhile? + +ISABEL. Won't I! + +L. Well, then, look, lastly, at this piece of courtesy in quartz; it is +on a small scale, but wonderfully pretty. Here is nobly born quartz +living with a green mineral, called epidote; and they are immense +friends. Now, you see, a comparatively large and strong quartz-crystal, +and a very weak and slender little one of epidote, have begun to grow, +close by each other, and sloping unluckily towards each other, so that +they at last meet. They cannot go on growing together; the quartz +crystal is five times as thick, and more than twenty times as +strong,[151] as the epidote; but he stops at once, just in the very +crowning moment of his life, when he is building his own summit! He lets +the pale little film of epidote grow right past him; stopping his own +summit for it; and he never himself grows any more. + +LILY (_after some silence of wonder_). But is the quartz _never_ wicked +then? + +L. Yes, but the wickedest quartz seems good-natured, compared to other +things. Here are two very characteristic examples; one is good quartz, +living with good pearlspar, and the other, wicked quartz, living with +wicked pearlspar. In both, the quartz yields to the soft carbonate of +iron: but, in the first place, the iron takes only what it needs of +room; and is inserted into the planes of the rock crystal with such +precision, that you must break it away before you can tell whether it +really penetrates the quartz or not; while the crystals of iron are +perfectly formed, and have a lovely bloom on their surface besides. But +here, when the two minerals quarrel, the unhappy quartz has all its +surfaces jagged and torn to pieces; and there is not a single iron +crystal whose shape you can completely trace. But the quartz has the +worst of it, in both instances. + +VIOLET. Might we look at that piece of broken quartz again, with the +weak little film across it? it seems such a strange lovely thing, like +the self-sacrifice of a human being. + +L. The self-sacrifice of a human being is not a lovely thing, Violet. It +is often a necessary and noble thing; but no form nor degree of suicide +can be ever lovely. + +VIOLET. But self-sacrifice is not suicide! + +L. What is it then? + +VIOLET. Giving up one's self for another. + +L. Well; and what do you mean by 'giving up one's self?' + +VIOLET. Giving up one's tastes, one's feelings, one's time, one's +happiness, and so on, to make others happy. + +L. I hope you will never marry anybody, Violet, who expects you to make +him happy in that way. + +VIOLET (_hesitating_). In what way? + +L. By giving up your tastes, and sacrificing your feelings, and +happiness. + +VIOLET. No, no, I don't mean that; but you know, for other people, one +must. + +L. For people who don't love you, and whom you know nothing about? Be it +so; but how does this 'giving up' differ from suicide then? + +VIOLET. Why, giving up one's pleasures is not killing one's self? + +L. Giving up wrong pleasure is not; neither is it self-sacrifice, but +self-culture. But giving up right pleasure is. If you surrender the +pleasure of walking, your foot will wither; you may as well cut it off: +if you surrender the pleasure of seeing, your eyes will soon be unable +to bear the light; you may as well pluck them out. And to maim yourself +is partly to kill yourself. Do but go on maiming, and you will soon +slay. + +VIOLET. But why do you make me think of that verse then about the foot +and the eye? + +L. You are indeed commanded to cut off and to pluck out, if foot or eye +offend you; but why _should_ they offend you? + +VIOLET. I don't know; I never quite understood that. + +L. Yet it is a sharp order; one needing to be well understood if it is +to be well obeyed! When Helen sprained her ancle the other day, you saw +how strongly it had to be bandaged: that is to say, prevented from all +work, to recover it. But the bandage was not 'lovely.' + +VIOLET. No, indeed. + +L. And if her foot had been crushed, or diseased, or snake-bitten, +instead of sprained, it might have been needful to cut it off. But the +amputation would not have been 'lovely.' + +VIOLET. No. + +L. Well, if eye and foot are dead already, and betray you--if the light +that is in you be darkness, and your feet run into mischief, or are +taken in the snare,--it is indeed time to pluck out, and cut off, I +think: but, so crippled, you can never be what you might have been +otherwise. You enter into life, at best, halt or maimed; and the +sacrifice is not beautiful, though necessary. + +VIOLET (_after a pause_). But when one sacrifices one's self for others? + +L. Why not rather others for you? + +VIOLET. Oh! but I couldn't bear that. + +L. Then why should they bear it? + +DORA (_bursting in, indignant_). And Thermopylæ, and Protesilaus, and +Marcus Curtius, and Arnold de Winkelried, and Iphigenia, and Jephthah's +daughter? + +L. (_sustaining the indignation unmoved_). And the Samaritan woman's +son? + +DORA. Which Samaritan woman's? + +L. Read 2 Kings vi. 29. + +DORA (_obeys_). How horrid! As if we meant anything like that! + +L. You don't seem to me to know in the least what you do mean, children. +What practical difference is there between 'that,' and what you are +talking about? The Samaritan children had no voice of their own in the +business, it is true; but neither had Iphigenia: the Greek girl was +certainly neither boiled, nor eaten; but that only makes a difference in +the dramatic effect; not in the principle. + +DORA (_biting her lip_). Well, then, tell us what we ought to mean. As +if you didn't teach it all to us, and mean it yourself, at this moment, +more than we do, if you wouldn't be tiresome! + +L. I mean, and have always meant, simply this, Dora;--that the will of +God respecting us is that we shall live by each other's happiness, and +life; not by each other's misery, or death. I made you read that verse +which so shocked you just now, because the relations of parent and child +are typical of all beautiful human help. A child may have to die for its +parents; but the purpose of Heaven is that it shall rather live for +them;--that, not by its sacrifice, but by its strength, its joy, its +force of being, it shall be to them renewal of strength; and as the +arrow in the hand of the giant. So it is in all other right relations. +Men help each other by their joy, not by their sorrow. They are not +intended to slay themselves for each other, but to strengthen themselves +for each other. And among the many apparently beautiful things which +turn, through mistaken use, to utter evil, I am not sure but that the +thoughtlessly meek and self-sacrificing spirit of good men must be named +as one of the fatallest. They have so often been taught that there is a +virtue in mere suffering, as such; and foolishly to hope that good may +be brought by Heaven out of all on which Heaven itself has set the stamp +of evil, that we may avoid it,--that they accept pain and defeat as if +these were their appointed portion; never understanding that their +defeat is not the less to be mourned because it is more fatal to their +enemies than to them. The one thing that a good man has to do, and to +see done, is justice; he is neither to slay himself nor others +causelessly: so far from denying himself, since he is pleased by good, +he is to do his utmost to get his pleasure accomplished. And I only wish +there were strength, fidelity, and sense enough, among the good +Englishmen of this day, to render it possible for them to band together +in a vowed brotherhood, to enforce, by strength of heart and hand, the +doing of human justice among all who came within their sphere. And +finally, for your own teaching, observe, although there may be need for +much self-sacrifice and self-denial in the correction of faults of +character, the moment the character is formed, the self-denial ceases. +Nothing is really well done, which it costs you pain to do. + +VIOLET. But surely, sir, you are always pleased with us when we try to +please others, and not ourselves? + +L. My dear child, in the daily course and discipline of right life, we +must continually and reciprocally submit and surrender in all kind and +courteous and affectionate ways: and these submissions and ministries to +each other, of which you all know (none better) the practice and the +preciousness, are as good for the yielder as the receiver: they +strengthen and perfect as much as they soften and refine. But the real +sacrifice of all our strength, or life, or happiness to others (though +it may be needed, and though all brave creatures hold their lives in +their hand, to be given, when such need comes, as frankly as a soldier +gives his life in battle), is yet always a mournful and momentary +necessity; not the fulfilment of the continuous law of being. +Self-sacrifice which is sought after, and triumphed in, is usually +foolish; and calamitous in its issue: and by the sentimental +proclamation and pursuit of it, good people have not only made most of +their own lives useless, but the whole framework of their religion so +hollow, that at this moment, while the English nation, with its lips, +pretends to teach every man to 'love his neighbour as himself,' with its +hands and feet it clutches and tramples like a wild beast; and +practically lives, every soul of it that can, on other people's labour. +Briefly, the constant duty of every man to his fellows is to ascertain +his own powers and special gifts; and to strengthen them for the help of +others. Do you think Titian would have helped the world better by +denying himself, and not painting; or Casella by denying himself, and +not singing? The real virtue is to be ready to sing the moment people +ask us; as he was, even in purgatory. The very word 'virtue' means not +'conduct' but 'strength,' vital energy in the heart. Were not you +reading about that group of words beginning with V,--vital, virtuous, +vigorous, and so on,--in Max Muller, the other day, Sibyl? Can't you +tell the others about it? + +SIBYL. No, I can't; will you tell us, please? + +L. Not now, it is too late. Come to me some idle time to-morrow, and +I'll tell you about it, if all's well. But the gist of it is, children, +that you should at least know two Latin words; recollect that 'mors' +means death and delaying; and 'vita' means life and growing: and try +always, not to mortify yourselves, but to vivify yourselves. + +VIOLET. But, then, are we not to mortify our earthly affections? and +surely we are to sacrifice ourselves, at least in God's service, if not +in man's? + +L. Really, Violet, we are getting too serious. I've given you enough +ethics for one talk, I think! Do let us have a little play. Lily, what +were you so busy about, at the ant-hill in the wood, this morning? + +LILY. Oh, it was the ants who were busy, not I; I was only trying to +help them a little. + +L. And they wouldn't be helped, I suppose? + +LILY. No, indeed. I can't think why ants are always so tiresome, when +one tries to help them! They were carrying bits of stick, as fast as +they could, through a piece of grass; and pulling and pushing, _so_ +hard; and tumbling over and over,--it made one quite pity them; so I +took some of the bits of stick, and carried them forward a little, where +I thought they wanted to put them; but instead of being pleased, they +left them directly, and ran about looking quite angry and frightened; +and at last ever so many of them got up my sleeves, and bit me all over, +and I had to come away. + +L. I couldn't think what you were about. I saw your French grammar lying +on the grass behind you, and thought perhaps you had gone to ask the +ants to hear you a French verb. + +ISABEL. Ah! but you didn't, though! + +L. Why not, Isabel? I knew, well enough, Lily couldn't learn that verb +by herself. + +ISABEL. No; but the ants couldn't help her. + +L. Are you sure the ants could not have helped you, Lily? + +LILY (_thinking_). I ought to have learned something from them, perhaps. + +L. But none of them left their sticks to help you through the irregular +verb? + +LILY. No, indeed. (_Laughing, with some others._) + +L. What are you laughing at, children? I cannot see why the ants should +not have left their tasks to help Lily in her's,--since here is Violet +thinking she ought to leave _her_ tasks, to help God in His. Perhaps, +however, she takes Lily's more modest view, and thinks only that 'He +ought to learn something from her.' + + (_Tears in_ VIOLET'S _eyes._) + +DORA (_scarlet_). It's too bad--it's a shame:--poor Violet! + +L. My dear children, there's no reason why one should be so red, and the +other so pale, merely because you are made for a moment to feel the +absurdity of a phrase which you have been taught to use, in common with +half the religious world. There is but one way in which man can ever +help God--that is, by letting God help him: and there is no way in which +his name is more guiltily taken in vain, than by calling the abandonment +of our own work, the performance of His. + +God is a kind Father. He sets us all in the places where He wishes us to +be employed; and that employment is truly 'our Father's business.' He +chooses work for every creature which will be delightful to them, if +they do it simply and humbly. He gives us always strength enough, and +sense enough, for what He wants us to do; if we either tire ourselves or +puzzle ourselves, it is our own fault. And we may always be sure, +whatever we are doing, that we cannot be pleasing Him, if we are not +happy ourselves. Now, away with you, children; and be as happy as you +can. And when you cannot, at least don't plume yourselves upon pouting. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[151] Quartz is not much harder than epidote; the strength is only +supposed to be in some proportion to the squares of the diameters. + + + + +LECTURE VII. + +_HOME VIRTUES._ + + _By the fireside, in the Drawing-room. Evening._ + + +DORA. Now, the curtains are drawn, and the fire's bright and here's your +arm-chair--and you're to tell us all about what you promised. + +L. All about what? + +DORA. All about virtue. + +KATHLEEN. Yes, and about the words that begin with V. + +L. I heard you singing about a word that begins with V, in the +playground, this morning, Miss Katie. + +KATHLEEN. Me singing? + +MAY. Oh tell us--tell us. + +L. 'Vilikens and his----' + +KATHLEEN (_stopping his mouth_). Oh! please don't. Where were you? + +ISABEL. I'm sure I wish I had known where he was! We lost him among the +rhododendrons, and I don't know where he got to; oh, you +naughty--naughty--(_climbs on his knee_). + +DORA. Now, Isabel, we really want to talk. + +L. _I_ don't. + +DORA. Oh, but you must. You promised, you know. + +L. Yes, if all was well; but all's ill. I'm tired, and cross; and I +won't. + +DORA. You're not a bit tired, and you're not crosser than two sticks; +and we'll make you talk, if you were crosser than six. Come here, Egypt; +and get on the other side of him. + + (EGYPT _takes up a commanding position near the + hearth-brush._) + +DORA (_reviewing her forces_). Now, Lily, come and sit on the rug in +front. + + (LILY _does as she is bid._) + +L. (_seeing he has no chance against the odds_.) Well, well; but I'm +really tired. Go and dance a little, first; and let me think. + +DORA. No; you mustn't think. You will be wanting to make us think next; +that will be tiresome. + +L. Well, go and dance first, to get quit of thinking; and then I'll talk +as long as you like. + +DORA. Oh, but we can't dance to-night. There isn't time; and we want to +hear about virtue. + +L. Let me see a little of it first. Dancing is the first of girl's +virtues. + +EGYPT. Indeed! And the second? + +L. Dressing. + +EGYPT. Now, you needn't say that! I mended that tear the first thing +before breakfast this morning. + +L. I cannot otherwise express the ethical principle, Egypt; whether you +have mended your gown or not. + +DORA. Now don't be tiresome. We really must hear about virtue, please; +seriously. + +L. Well. I'm telling you about it, as fast as I can. + +DORA. What! the first of girls' virtues is dancing? + +L. More accurately, it is wishing to dance, and not wishing to tease, +nor hear about virtue. + +DORA (_to_ EGYPT). Isn't he cross? + +EGYPT. How many balls must we go to in the season, to be perfectly +virtuous? + +L. As many as you can without losing your colour. But I did not say you +should wish to go to balls. I said you should be always wanting to +dance. + +EGYPT. So we do; but everybody says it is very wrong. + +L. Why, Egypt, I thought-- + + 'There was a lady once, + That would not be a queen,--that would she not, + For all the mud in Egypt.' + +You were complaining the other day of having to go out a great deal +oftener than you liked. + +EGYPT. Yes, so I was; but then, it isn't to dance. There's no room to +dance: it's--(_Pausing to consider what it is for_). + +L. It is only to be seen, I suppose. Well, there's no harm in that. +Girls ought to like to be seen. + +DORA (_her eyes flashing_). Now, you don't mean that; and you're too +provoking; and we won't dance again, for a month. + +L. It will answer every purpose of revenge, Dora, if you only banish me +to the library; and dance by yourselves: but I don't think Jessie and +Lily will agree to that. You like me to see you dancing, don't you Lily? + +LILY. Yes, certainly,--when we do it rightly. + +L. And besides, Miss Dora, if young ladies really do not want to be +seen, they should take care not to let their eyes flash when they +dislike what people say; and, more than that, it is all nonsense from +beginning to end, about not wanting to be seen. I don't know any more +tiresome flower in the borders than your especially 'modest' snowdrop; +which one always has to stoop down and take all sorts of tiresome +trouble with, and nearly break its poor little head off, before you can +see it; and then, half of it is not worth seeing. Girls should be like +daisies; nice and white, with an edge of red, if you look close; making +the ground bright wherever they are; knowing simply and quietly that +they do it, and are meant to do it, and that it would be very wrong if +they didn't do it. Not want to be seen, indeed! How long were you in +doing your back hair, this afternoon, Jessie? + + (JESSIE _not immediately answering_, DORA _comes to her + assistance._) + +DORA. Not above three-quarters of an hour, I think, Jess? + +JESSIE (_putting her finger up_). Now, Dorothy, _you_ needn't talk, you +know! + +L. I know she needn't, Jessie; I shall ask her about those dark plaits +presently. (DORA _looks round to see if there is any way open for +retreat._) But never mind; it was worth the time, whatever it was; and +nobody will ever mistake that golden wreath for a chignon; but if you +don't want it to be seen, you had better wear a cap. + +JESSIE. Ah, now, are you really going to do nothing but play? And we all +have been thinking, and thinking, all day; and hoping you would tell us +things; and now--! + +L. And now I am telling you things, and true things, and things good for +you; and you won't believe me. You might as well have let me go to sleep +at once, as I wanted to. + + (_Endeavours again to make himself comfortable._) + +ISABEL. Oh, no, no, you sha'n't go to sleep, you naughty--Kathleen, come +here. + +L. (_knowing what he has to expect if_ KATHLEEN _comes_). Get away, +Isabel, you're too heavy. (_Sitting up._) What have I been saying? + +DORA. I do believe he has been asleep all the time! You never heard +anything like the things you've been saying. + +L. Perhaps not. If you have heard them, and anything like them, it is +all I want. + +EGYPT. Yes, but we don't understand, and you know we don't; and we want +to. + +L. What did I say first? + +DORA. That the first virtue of girls was wanting to go to balls. + +L. I said nothing of the kind. + +JESSIE. 'Always wanting to dance,' you said. + +L. Yes, and that's true. Their first virtue is to be intensely +happy;--so happy that they don't know what to do with themselves for +happiness,--and dance, instead of walking. Don't you recollect 'Louisa,' + + 'No fountain from a rocky cave + E'er tripped with foot so free; + She seemed as happy as a wave + That dances on the sea.' + +A girl is always like that, when everything's right with her. + +VIOLET. But, surely, one must be sad sometimes? + +L. Yes, Violet; and dull sometimes, and stupid sometimes, and cross +sometimes. What must be, must; but it is always either our own fault, +or somebody else's. The last and worst thing that can be said of a +nation is, that it has made its young girls sad, and weary. + +MAY. But I am sure I have heard a great many good people speak against +dancing? + +L. Yes, May; but it does not follow they were wise as well as good. I +suppose they think Jeremiah liked better to have to write Lamentations +for his people, than to have to write that promise for them, which +everybody seems to hurry past, that they may get on quickly to the verse +about Rachel weeping for her children; though the verse they pass is the +counter-blessing to that one: 'Then shall the virgin rejoice in the +dance; and both young men and old together; and I will turn their +mourning into joy.' + + (_The children get very serious, but look at each other, as + if pleased._) + +MARY. They understand now: but, do you know what you said next? + +L. Yes; I was not more than half asleep. I said their second virtue was +dressing. + +MARY. Well! what did you mean by that? + +L. What do _you_ mean by dressing? + +MARY. Wearing fine clothes. + +L. Ah! there's the mistake. _I_ mean wearing plain ones. + +MARY. Yes, I daresay! but that's not what girls understand by dressing, +you know. + +L. I can't help that. If they understand by dressing, buying dresses, +perhaps they also understand by drawing, buying pictures. But when I +hear them say they can draw, I understand that they can make a drawing; +and when I hear them say they can dress, I understand that they can make +a dress and--which is quite as difficult--wear one. + +DORA. I'm not sure about the making; for the wearing, we can all wear +them--out, before anybody expects it. + +EGYPT (_aside, to_ L., _piteously_). Indeed I have mended that torn +flounce quite neatly; look if I haven't! + +L. (_aside, to_ EGYPT). All right; don't be afraid. (_Aloud to_ DORA.) +Yes, doubtless; but you know that is only a slow way of _un_dressing. + +DORA. Then, we are all to learn dress-making, are we? + +L. Yes; and always to dress yourselves beautifully--not finely, unless +on occasion; but then very finely and beautifully too. Also, you are to +dress as many other people as you can; and to teach them how to dress, +if they don't know; and to consider every ill-dressed woman or child +whom you see anywhere, as a personal disgrace; and to get at them, +somehow, until everybody is as beautifully dressed as birds. + + (_Silence; the children drawing their breaths hard, as if + they had come from under a shower bath._) + +L (_seeing objections begin to express themselves in the eyes_). Now you +needn't say you can't; for you can: and it's what you were meant to do, +always; and to dress your houses, and your gardens, too; and to do very +little else, I believe, except singing; and dancing, as we said, of +course; and--one thing more. + +DORA. Our third and last virtue, I suppose? + +L. Yes; on Violet's system of triplicities. + +DORA. Well, we are prepared for anything now. What is it? + +L. Cooking. + +DORA. Cardinal, indeed! If only Beatrice were here with her seven +handmaids, that she might see what a fine eighth we had found for her! + +MARY. And the interpretation? What does 'cooking' mean? + +L. It means the knowledge of Medea, and of Circe, and of Calypso, and of +Helen, and of Rebekah, and of the Queen of Sheba. It means the knowledge +of all herbs, and fruits, and balms, and spices; and of all that is +healing and sweet in fields and groves, and savoury in meats; it means +carefulness, and inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willingness, and +readiness of appliance; it means the economy of your great-grandmothers, +and the science of modern chemists; it means much tasting, and no +wasting; it means English thoroughness, and French art, and Arabian +hospitality; and it means, in fine, that you are to be perfectly and +always 'ladies'--'loaf-givers;' and, as you are to see, imperatively +that everybody has something pretty to put on,--so you are to see, yet +more imperatively, that everybody has something nice to eat. + + (_Another pause, and long drawn breath._) + +DORA (_slowly recovering herself_) _to_ EGYPT. We had better have let +him go to sleep, I think, after all! + +L. You had better let the younger ones go to sleep now: for I haven't +half done. + +ISABEL (_panic-struck_). Oh! please, please! just one quarter of an +hour. + +L. No, Isabel; I cannot say what I've got to say, in a quarter of an +hour; and it is too hard for you, besides:--you would be lying awake, +and trying to make it out, half the night. That will never do. + +ISABEL. Oh, please! + +L. It would please me exceedingly, mousie: but there are times when we +must both be displeased; more's the pity. Lily may stay for half an +hour, if she likes. + +LILY. I can't; because Isey never goes to sleep, if she is waiting for +me to come. + +ISABEL. Oh, yes, Lily; I'll go to sleep to-night, I will, indeed. + +LILY. Yes, it's very likely, Isey, with those fine round eyes! (_To_ L.) +You'll tell me something of what you've been saying, to-morrow, won't +you? + +L. No, I won't, Lily. You must choose. It's only in Miss Edgeworth's +novels that one can do right, and have one's cake and sugar afterwards, +as well (not that I consider the dilemma, to-night, so grave). + + (LILY, _sighing, takes_ ISABEL's _hand._) + +Yes, Lily dear, it will be better, in the outcome of it, so, than if you +were to hear all the talks that ever were talked, and all the stories +that ever were told. Good night. + + (_The door leading to the condemned cells of the Dormitory + closes on_ LILY, ISABEL, FLORRIE, _and other diminutive and + submissive victims._) + +JESSIE (_after a pause_). Why, I thought you were so fond of Miss +Edgeworth! + +L. So I am; and so you ought all to be. I can read her over and over +again, without ever tiring; there's no one whose every page is so full, +and so delightful; no one who brings you into the company of pleasanter +or wiser people; no one who tells you more truly how to do right. And it +is very nice, in the midst of a wild world, to have the very ideal of +poetical justice done always to one's hand:--to have everybody found +out, who tells lies; and everybody decorated with a red riband, who +doesn't; and to see the good Laura, who gave away her half sovereign, +receiving a grand ovation from an entire dinner party disturbed for the +purpose; and poor, dear, little Rosamond, who chooses purple jars +instead of new shoes, left at last without either her shoes or her +bottle. But it isn't life: and, in the way children might easily +understand it, it isn't morals. + +JESSIE. How do you mean we might understand it? + +L. You might think Miss Edgeworth meant that the right was to be done +mainly because one was always rewarded for doing it. It is an injustice +to her to say that: her heroines always do right simply for its own +sake, as they should; and her examples of conduct and motive are wholly +admirable. But her representation of events is false and misleading. Her +good characters never are brought into the deadly trial of +goodness,--the doing right, and suffering for it, quite finally. And +that is life, as God arranges it. 'Taking up one's cross' does not at +all mean having ovations at dinner parties, and being put over everybody +else's head. + +DORA. But what _does_ it mean then? That is just what we couldn't +understand, when you were telling us about not sacrificing ourselves, +yesterday. + +L. My dear, it means simply that you are to go the road which you see to +be the straight one; carrying whatever you find is given you to carry, +as well and stoutly as you can; without making faces, or calling people +to come and look at you. Above all, you are neither to load, nor unload, +yourself; nor cut your cross to your own liking. Some people think it +would be better for them to have it large; and many, that they could +carry it much faster if it were small; and even those who like it +largest are usually very particular about its being ornamental, and made +of the best ebony. But all that you have really to do is to keep your +back as straight as you can; and not think about what is upon it--above +all, not to boast of what is upon it. The real and essential meaning of +'virtue' is in that straightness of back. Yes; you may laugh, children, +but it is. You know I was to tell about the words that began with V. +Sibyl, what does 'virtue' mean, literally? + +SIBYL. Does it mean courage? + +L. Yes; but a particular kind of courage. It means courage of the nerve; +vital courage. That first syllable of it, if you look in Max Müller, you +will find really means 'nerve,' and from it come 'vis,' and 'vir,' and +'virgin' (through vireo), and the connected word 'virga'--'a rod;'--the +green rod, or springing bough of a tree, being the type of perfect human +strength, both in the use of it in the Mosaic story, when it becomes a +serpent, or strikes the rock; or when Aaron's bears its almonds; and in +the metaphorical expressions, the 'Rod out of the stem of Jesse,' and +the 'Man whose name is the Branch,' and so on. And the essential idea of +real virtue is that of a vital human strength, which instinctively, +constantly, and without motive, does what is right. You must train men +to this by habit, as you would the branch of a tree; and give them +instincts and manners (or morals) of purity, justice, kindness, and +courage. Once rightly trained, they act as they should, irrespectively +of all motive, of fear, or of reward. It is the blackest sign of +putrescence in a national religion, when men speak as if it were the +only safeguard of conduct; and assume that, but for the fear of being +burned, or for the hope of being rewarded, everybody would pass their +lives in lying, stealing, and murdering. I think quite one of the +notablest historical events of this century (perhaps the very +notablest), was that council of clergymen, horror-struck at the idea of +any diminution in our dread of hell, at which the last of English +clergymen whom one would have expected to see in such a function, rose +as the devil's advocate; to tell us how impossible it was we could get +on without him. + +VIOLET (_after a pause_). But, surely, if people weren't +afraid--(_hesitates again_). + +L. They should be afraid of doing wrong, and of that only, my dear. +Otherwise, if they only don't do wrong for fear of being punished, they +_have_ done wrong in their hearts, already. + +VIOLET. Well, but surely, at least one ought to be afraid of displeasing +God; and one's desire to please Him should be one's first motive? + +L. He never would be pleased with us, if it were, my dear. When a father +sends his son out into the world--suppose as an apprentice--fancy the +boy's coming home at night, and saying, 'Father, I could have robbed the +till to-day; but I didn't, because I thought you wouldn't like it.' Do +you think the father would be particularly pleased? + + (VIOLET _is silent._) + +He would answer, would he not, if he were wise and good, 'My boy, though +you had no father, you must not rob tills'? And nothing is ever done so +as really to please our Great Father, unless we would also have done it, +though we had had no Father to know of it. + +VIOLET (_after long pause_). But, then, what continual threatenings, and +promises of reward there are! + +L. And how vain both! with the Jews, and with all of us. But the fact +is, that the threat and promise are simply statements of the Divine law, +and of its consequences. The fact is truly told you,--make what use you +may of it: and as collateral warning, or encouragement, or comfort, the +knowledge of future consequences may often be helpful to us; but helpful +chiefly to the better state when we can act without reference to them. +And there's no measuring the poisoned influence of that notion of future +reward on the mind of Christian Europe, in the early ages. Half the +monastic system rose out of that, acting on the occult pride and +ambition of good people (as the other half of it came of their follies +and misfortunes). There is always a considerable quantity of pride, to +begin with, in what is called 'giving one's self to God.' As if one had +ever belonged to anybody else! + +DORA. But, surely, great good has come out of the monastic system--our +books,--our sciences--all saved by the monks? + +L. Saved from what, my dear? From the abyss of misery and ruin which +that false Christianity allowed the whole active world to live in. When +it had become the principal amusement, and the most admired art, of +Christian men, to cut one another's throats, and burn one another's +towns; of course the few feeble or reasonable persons left, who desired +quiet, safety, and kind fellowship, got into cloisters; and the +gentlest, thoughtfullest, noblest men and women shut themselves up, +precisely where they could be of least use. They are very fine things, +for us painters, now,--the towers and white arches upon the tops of the +rocks; always in places where it takes a day's climbing to get at them; +but the intense tragi-comedy of the thing, when one thinks of it, is +unspeakable. All the good people of the world getting themselves hung up +out of the way of mischief, like Bailie Nicol Jarvie;--poor little +lambs, as it were, dangling there for the sign of the Golden Fleece; or +like Socrates in his basket in the 'Clouds'! (I must read you that bit +of Aristophanes again, by the way.) And believe me, children, I am no +warped witness, as far as regards monasteries; or if I am, it is in +their favour. I have always had a strong leaning that way; and have +pensively shivered with Augustines at St. Bernard; and happily made hay +with Franciscans at Fesolé; and sat silent with Carthusians in their +little gardens, south of Florence; and mourned through many a day-dream, +at Melrose and Bolton. But the wonder is always to me, not how much, but +how little, the monks have, on the whole, done, with all that leisure, +and all that goodwill! What nonsense monks characteristically +wrote;--what little progress they made in the sciences to which they +devoted themselves as a duty,--medicine especially;--and, last and +worst, what depths of degradation they can sometimes see one another, +and the population round them, sink into; without either doubting their +system, or reforming it! + +(_Seeing questions rising to lips._) Hold your little tongues, children; +it's very late, and you'll make me forget what I've to say. Fancy +yourselves in pews, for five minutes. There's one point of possible good +in the conventual system, which is always attractive to young girls; and +the idea is a very dangerous one;--the notion of a merit, or exalting +virtue, consisting in a habit of meditation on the 'things above,' or +things of the next world. Now it is quite true, that a person of +beautiful mind, dwelling on whatever appears to them most desirable and +lovely in a possible future will not only pass their time pleasantly, +but will even acquire, at last, a vague and wildly gentle charm of +manner and feature, which will give them an air of peculiar sanctity in +the eyes of others. Whatever real or apparent good there may be in this +result, I want you to observe, children, that we have no real authority +for the reveries to which it is owing. We are told nothing distinctly of +the heavenly world; except that it will be free from sorrow, and pure +from sin. What is said of pearl gates, golden floors, and the like, is +accepted as merely figurative by religious enthusiasts themselves; and +whatever they pass their time in conceiving, whether of the happiness of +risen souls, of their intercourse, or of the appearance and employment +of the heavenly powers, is entirely the product of their own +imagination; and as completely and distinctly a work of fiction, or +romantic invention, as any novel of Sir Walter Scott's. That the romance +is founded on religious theory or doctrine;--that no disagreeable or +wicked persons are admitted into the story;--and that the inventor +fervently hopes that some portion of it may hereafter come true, does +not in the least alter the real nature of the effort or enjoyment. + +Now, whatever indulgence may be granted to amiable people for pleasing +themselves in this innocent way, it is beyond question, that to seclude +themselves from the rough duties of life, merely to write religious +romances, or, as in most cases, merely to dream them, without taking so +much trouble as is implied in writing, ought not to be received as an +act of heroic virtue. But, observe, even in admitting thus much, I have +assumed that the fancies are just and beautiful, though fictitious. Now, +what right have any of us to assume that our own fancies will assuredly +be either the one or the other? That they delight us, and appear lovely +to us, is no real proof of its not being wasted time to form them: and +we may surely be led somewhat to distrust our judgment of them by +observing what ignoble imaginations have sometimes sufficiently, or even +enthusiastically, occupied the hearts of others. The principal source of +the spirit of religious contemplation is the East; now I have here in my +hand a Byzantine image of Christ, which, if you will look at it +seriously, may, I think, at once and for ever render you cautious in the +indulgence of a merely contemplative habit of mind. Observe, it is the +fashion to look at such a thing only as a piece of barbarous art; that +is the smallest part of its interest. What I want you to see, is the +baseness and falseness of a religious state of enthusiasm, in which such +a work could be dwelt upon with pious pleasure. That a figure, with two +small round black beads for eyes; a gilded face, deep cut into horrible +wrinkles; an open gash for a mouth, and a distorted skeleton for a body, +wrapped about, to make it fine, with striped enamel of blue and +gold;--that such a figure, I say, should ever have been thought helpful +towards the conception of a Redeeming Deity, may make you, I think, very +doubtful, even of the Divine approval,--much more of the Divine +inspiration,--of religious reverie in general. You feel, doubtless, that +your own idea of Christ would be something very different from this; but +in what does the difference consist? Not in any more divine authority in +your imagination; but in the intellectual work of six intervening +centuries; which, simply, by artistic discipline, has refined this crude +conception for you, and filled you, partly with an innate sensation, +partly with an acquired knowledge, of higher forms,--which render this +Byzantine crucifix as horrible to you, as it was pleasing to its maker. +More is required to excite your fancy; but your fancy is of no more +authority than his was: and a point of national art-skill is quite +conceivable, in which the best we can do now will be as offensive to the +religious dreamers of the more highly cultivated time, as this Byzantine +crucifix is to you. + +MARY. But surely, Angelico will always retain his power over everybody? + +L. Yes, I should think, always; as the gentle words of a child will: but +you would be much surprised, Mary, if you thoroughly took the pains to +analyse, and had the perfect means of analysing, that power of +Angelico,--to discover its real sources. Of course it is natural, at +first, to attribute it to the pure religious fervour by which he was +inspired; but do you suppose Angelico was really the only monk, in all +the Christian world of the middle ages, who laboured, in art, with a +sincere religious enthusiasm? + +MARY. No, certainly not. + +L. Anything more frightful, more destructive of all religious faith +whatever, than such a supposition, could not be. And yet, what other +monk ever produced such work? I have myself examined carefully upwards +of two thousand illuminated missals, with especial view to the discovery +of any evidence of a similar result upon the art, from the monkish +devotion; and utterly in vain. + +MARY. But then, was not Fra Angelico a man of entirely separate and +exalted genius? + +L. Unquestionably; and granting him to be that, the peculiar phenomenon +in his art is, to me, not its loveliness, but its weakness. The effect +of 'inspiration,' had it been real, on a man of consummate genius, +should have been, one would have thought, to make everything that he did +faultless and strong, no less than lovely. But of all men, deserving to +be called 'great,' Fra Angelico permits to himself the least pardonable +faults, and the most palpable follies. There is evidently within him a +sense of grace, and power of invention, as great as Ghiberti's:--we are +in the habit of attributing those high qualities to his religious +enthusiasm; but, if they were produced by that enthusiasm in him, they +ought to be produced by the same feelings in others; and we see they +are not. Whereas, comparing him with contemporary great artists, of +equal grace and invention, one peculiar character remains notable in +him--which, logically, we ought therefore to attribute to the religious +fervour;--and that distinctive character is, the contented indulgence of +his own weaknesses, and perseverance in his own ignorances. + +MARY. But that's dreadful! And what _is_ the source of the peculiar +charm which we all feel in his work? + +L. There are many sources of it, Mary; united and seeming like one. You +would never feel that charm but in the work of an entirely good man; be +sure of that; but the goodness is only the recipient and modifying +element, not the creative one. Consider carefully what delights you in +any original picture of Angelico's. You will find, for one minor thing, +an exquisite variety and brightness of ornamental work. That is not +Angelico's inspiration. It is the final result of the labour and thought +of millions of artists, of all nations; from the earliest Egyptian +potters downwards--Greeks, Byzantines, Hindoos, Arabs, Gauls, and +Northmen--all joining in the toil; and consummating it in Florence, in +that century, with such embroidery of robe and inlaying of armour as had +never been seen till then; nor, probably, ever will be seen more. +Angelico merely takes his share of this inheritance, and applies it in +the tenderest way to subjects which are peculiarly acceptant of it. But +the inspiration, if it exist anywhere, flashes on the knight's shield +quite as radiantly as on the monk's picture. Examining farther into the +sources of your emotion in the Angelico work, you will find much of the +impression of sanctity dependent on a singular repose and grace of +gesture, consummating itself in the floating, flying, and above all, in +the dancing groups. That is not Angelico's inspiration. It is only a +peculiarly tender use of systems of grouping which had been long before +developed by Giotto, Memmi, and Orcagna; and the real root of it all is +simply--What do you think, children? The beautiful dancing of the +Florentine maidens! + +DORA (_indignant again_). Now, I wonder what next! Why not say it all +depended on Herodias' daughter, at once? + +L. Yes; it is certainly a great argument against singing, that there +were once sirens. + +DORA. Well, it may be all very fine and philosophical, but shouldn't I +just like to read you the end of the second volume of 'Modern Painters'! + +L. My dear, do you think any teacher could be worth your listening to, +or anybody else's listening to, who had learned nothing, and altered his +mind in nothing, from seven and twenty to seven and forty? But that +second volume is very good for you as far as it goes. It is a great +advance, and a thoroughly straight and swift one, to be led, as it is +the main business of that second volume to lead you, from Dutch cattle +pieces, and ruffian-pieces, to Fra Angelico. And it is right for you +also, as you grow older, to be strengthened in the general sense and +judgment which may enable you to distinguish the weaknesses from the +virtues of what you love: else you might come to love both alike; or +even the weaknesses without the virtues. You might end by liking +Overbeck and Cornelius as well as Angelico. However, I have perhaps been +leaning a little too much to the merely practical side of things, in +to-night's talk; and you are always to remember, children, that I do not +deny, though I cannot affirm, the spiritual advantages resulting, in +certain cases, from enthusiastic religious reverie, and from the other +practices of saints and anchorites. The evidence respecting them has +never yet been honestly collected, much less dispassionately examined: +but assuredly, there is in that direction a probability, and more than a +probability, of dangerous error, while there is none whatever in the +practice of an active, cheerful, and benevolent life. The hope of +attaining a higher religious position, which induces us to encounter, +for its exalted alternative, the risk of unhealthy error, is often, as I +said, founded more on pride than piety; and those who, in modest +usefulness, have accepted what seemed to them here the lowliest place in +the kingdom of their Father, are not, I believe, the least likely to +receive hereafter the command, then unmistakable, 'Friend, go up +higher.' + + + + +LECTURE VIII. + +_CRYSTAL CAPRICE._ + +_Formal Lecture in Schoolroom, after some practical examination of +minerals._ + + +L. We have seen enough, children, though very little of what might be +seen if we had more time, of mineral structures produced by visible +opposition, or contest among elements; structures of which the variety, +however great, need not surprise us: for we quarrel, ourselves, for many +and slight causes;--much more, one should think, may crystals, who can +only feel the antagonism, not argue about it. But there is a yet more +singular mimicry of our human ways in the varieties of form which appear +owing to no antagonistic force; but merely to the variable humour and +caprice of the crystals themselves: and I have asked you all to come +into the schoolroom to-day, because, of course, this is a part of the +crystal mind which must be peculiarly interesting to a feminine +audience. (_Great symptoms of disapproval on the part of said +audience._) Now, you need not pretend that it will not interest you; why +should it not? It is true that we men are never capricious; but that +only makes us the more dull and disagreeable. You, who are crystalline +in brightness, as well as in caprice, charm infinitely, by infinitude of +change. (_Audible murmurs of 'Worse and worse!' 'As if we could be got +over that way!' &c. The_ LECTURER, _however, observing the expression of +the features to be more complacent, proceeds._) And the most curious +mimicry, if not of your changes of fashion, at least of your various +modes (in healthy periods) of national costume, takes place among the +crystals of different countries. With a little experience, it is quite +possible to say at a glance, in what districts certain crystals have +been found; and although, if we had knowledge extended and accurate +enough, we might of course ascertain the laws and circumstances which +have necessarily produced the form peculiar to each locality, this would +be just as true of the fancies of the human mind. If we could know the +exact circumstances which affect it, we could foretell what now seems to +us only caprice of thought, as well as what now seems to us only caprice +of crystal: nay, so far as our knowledge reaches, it is on the whole +easier to find some reason why the peasant girls of Berne should wear +their caps in the shape of butterflies; and the peasant girls of Munich +their's in the shape of shells, than to say why the rock-crystals of +Dauphiné should all have their summits of the shape of lip-pieces of +flageolets, while those of St. Gothard are symmetrical; or why the fluor +of Chamouni is rose-coloured, and in octahedrons, while the fluor of +Weardale is green, and in cubes. Still farther removed is the hope, at +present, of accounting for minor differences in modes of grouping and +construction. Take, for instance, the caprices of this single mineral, +quartz;--variations upon a single theme. It has many forms; but see what +it will make out of this _one_, the six-sided prism. For shortness' +sake, I shall call the body of the prism its 'column,' and the pyramid +at the extremities its 'cap.' Now, here, first you have a straight +column, as long and thin as a stalk of asparagus, with two little caps +at the ends; and here you have a short thick column, as solid as a +haystack, with two fat caps at the ends; and here you have two caps +fastened together, and no column at all between them! Then here is a +crystal with its column fat in the middle, and tapering to a little cap; +and here is one stalked like a mushroom, with a huge cap put on the top +of a slender column! Then here is a column built wholly out of little +caps, with a large smooth cap at the top. And here is a column built of +columns and caps; the caps all truncated about half way to their points. +And in both these last, the little crystals are set anyhow, and build +the large one in a disorderly way; but here is a crystal made of columns +and truncated caps, set in regular terraces all the way up. + +MARY. But are not these, groups of crystals, rather than one crystal? + +L. What do you mean by a group, and what by one crystal? + +DORA (_audibly aside, to_ MARY, _who is brought to pause_). You know you +are never expected to answer, Mary. + +L. I'm sure this is easy enough. What do you mean by a group of people? + +MARY. Three or four together, or a good many together, like the caps in +these crystals. + +L. But when a great many persons get together they don't take the shape +of one person? + + (MARY _still at pause._) + +ISABEL. No, because they can't; but, you know the crystals can; so why +shouldn't they? + +L. Well, they don't; that is to say, they don't always, nor even often. +Look here, Isabel. + +ISABEL. What a nasty ugly thing! + +L. I'm glad you think it so ugly. Yet it is made of beautiful crystals; +they are a little grey and cold in colour, but most of them are clear. + +ISABEL. But they're in such horrid, horrid disorder! + +L. Yes; all disorder is horrid, when it is among things that are +naturally orderly. Some little girl's rooms are naturally _dis_orderly, +I suppose; or I don't know how they could live in them, if they cry out +so when they only see quartz crystals in confusion. + +ISABEL. Oh! but how come they to be like that? + +L. You may well ask. And yet you will always hear people talking as if +they thought order more wonderful than disorder! It _is_ wonderful--as +we have seen; but to me, as to you, child, the supremely wonderful thing +is that nature should ever be ruinous or wasteful, or deathful! I look +at this wild piece of crystallisation with endless astonishment. + +MARY. Where does it come from? + +L. The Tête Noire of Chamonix. What makes it more strange is that it +should be in a vein of fine quartz rock. If it were in a mouldering +rock, it would be natural enough; but in the midst of so fine substance, +here are the crystals tossed in a heap; some large, myriads small +(almost as small as dust), tumbling over each other like a terrified +crowd, and glued together by the sides, and edges, and backs, and heads; +some warped, and some pushed out and in, and all spoiled and each +spoiling the rest. + +MARY. And how flat they all are! + +L. Yes; that's the fashion at the Tête Noire. + +MARY. But surely this is ruin, not caprice? + +L. I believe it is in great part misfortune; and we will examine these +crystal troubles in next lecture. But if you want to see the +gracefullest and happiest caprices of which dust is capable, you must go +to the Hartz; not that I ever mean to go there myself, for I want to +retain the romantic feeling about the name; and I have done myself some +harm already by seeing the monotonous and heavy form of the Brocken from +the suburbs of Brunswick. But whether the mountains be picturesque or +not, the tricks which the goblins (as I am told) teach the crystals in +them, are incomparably pretty. They work chiefly on the mind of a +docile, bluish coloured, carbonate of lime; which comes out of a grey +limestone. The goblins take the greatest possible care of its education, +and see that nothing happens to it to hurt its temper; and when it may +be supposed to have arrived at the crisis which is, to a well brought up +mineral, what presentation at court is to a young lady--after which it +is expected to set fashions--there's no end to its pretty ways of +behaving. First it will make itself into pointed darts as fine as +hoar-frost; here, it is changed into a white fur as fine as silk; here +into little crowns and circlets, as bright as silver; as if for the +gnome princesses to wear; here it is in beautiful little plates, for +them to eat off; presently it is in towers which they might be +imprisoned in; presently in caves and cells, where they may make +nun-gnomes of themselves, and no gnome ever hear of them more; here is +some of it in sheaves, like corn; here, some in drifts, like snow; here, +some in rays, like stars: and, though these are, all of them, +necessarily, shapes that the mineral takes in other places, they are +all taken here with such a grace that you recognise the high caste and +breeding of the crystals wherever you meet them; and know at once they +are Hartz-born. + +Of course, such fine things as these are only done by crystals which are +perfectly good, and good-humoured; and of course, also, there are +ill-humoured crystals who torment each other, and annoy quieter +crystals, yet without coming to anything like serious war. Here (for +once) is some ill-disposed quartz, tormenting a peaceable octahedron of +fluor, in mere caprice. I looked at it the other night so long, and so +wonderingly, just before putting my candle out, that I fell into another +strange dream. But you don't care about dreams. + +DORA. No; we didn't, yesterday; but you know we are made up of caprice; +so we do, to-day: and you must tell it us directly. + +L. Well, you see, Neith and her work were still much in my mind; and +then, I had been looking over these Hartz things for you, and thinking +of the sort of grotesque sympathy there seemed to be in them with the +beautiful fringe and pinnacle work of Northern architecture. So, when I +fell asleep, I thought I saw Neith and St. Barbara talking together. + +DORA. But what had St. Barbara to do with it?[152] + +L. My dear, I am quite sure St. Barbara is the patroness of good +architects: not St. Thomas, whatever the old builders thought. It might +be very fine, according to the monks' notions, in St. Thomas, to give +all his employer's money away to the poor: but breaches of contract are +bad foundations; and I believe, it was not he, but St. Barbara, who +overlooked the work in all the buildings you and I care about. However +that may be, it was certainly she whom I saw in my dream with Neith. +Neith was sitting weaving, and I thought she looked sad, and threw her +shuttle slowly; and St. Barbara was standing at her side, in a stiff +little gown, all ins and outs, and angles; but so bright with embroidery +that it dazzled me whenever she moved; the train of it was just like a +heap of broken jewels, it was so stiff, and full of corners, and so +many-coloured, and bright. Her hair fell over her shoulders in long, +delicate waves, from under a little three pinnacled crown, like a tower. +She was asking Neith about the laws of architecture in Egypt and Greece; +and when Neith told her the measures of the pyramids, St. Barbara said +she thought they would have been better three-cornered: and when Neith +told her the measures of the Parthenon, St. Barbara said she thought it +ought to have had two transepts. But she was pleased when Neith told her +of the temple of the dew, and of the Caryan maidens bearing its frieze: +and then she thought that perhaps Neith would like to hear what sort of +temples she was building herself, in the French valleys, and on the +crags of the Rhine. So she began gossiping, just as one of you might to +an old lady: and certainly she talked in the sweetest way in the world +to Neith; and explained to her all about crockets and pinnacles: and +Neith sat, looking very grave; and always graver as St. Barbara went on; +till at last, I'm sorry to say, St. Barbara lost her temper a little. + +MAY (_very grave herself_). 'St. Barbara?' + +L. Yes, May. Why shouldn't she? It was very tiresome of Neith to sit +looking like that. + +MAY. But, then, St. Barbara was a saint! + +L. What's that, May? + +MAY. A saint! A saint is--I am sure you know! + +L. If I did, it would not make me sure that you knew too, May: but I +don't. + +VIOLET (_expressing the incredulity of the audience_). Oh,--sir! + +L. That is to say, I know that people are called saints who are supposed +to be better than others: but I don't know how much better they must be, +in order to be saints; nor how nearly anybody may be a saint, and yet +not be quite one; nor whether everybody who is called a saint was one; +nor whether everybody who isn't called a saint, isn't one. + + (_General silence; the audience feeling themselves on the + verge of the Infinities--and a little shocked--and much + puzzled by so many questions at once._) + +L. Besides, did you never hear that verse about being 'called to be +saints'? + +MAY (_repeats Rom._ i. 7.) + +L. Quite right, May. Well, then, who are called to be that? People in +Rome only? + +MAY. Everybody, I suppose, whom God loves. + +L. What! little girls as well as other people? + +MAY. All grown-up people, I mean. + +L. Why not little girls? Are they wickeder when they are little? + +MAY. Oh, I hope not. + +L. Why not little girls, then? + + (_Pause._) + +LILY. Because, you know, we can't be worth anything if we're ever so +good;--I mean, if we try to be ever so good; and we can't do difficult +things--like saints. + +L. I am afraid, my dear, that old people are not more able or willing +for their difficulties than you children are for yours. All I can say +is, that if ever I see any of you, when you are seven or eight and +twenty, knitting your brows over any work you want to do or to +understand, as I saw you, Lily, knitting your brows over your slate this +morning, I should think you very noble women. But--to come back to my +dream--St. Barbara _did_ lose her temper a little; and I was not +surprised. For you can't think how provoking Neith looked, sitting there +just like a statue of sandstone; only going on weaving, like a machine; +and never quickening the cast of her shuttle; while St. Barbara was +telling her so eagerly all about the most beautiful things, and +chattering away, as fast as bells ring on Christmas Eve, till she saw +that Neith didn't care; and then St. Barbara got as red as a rose, and +stopped, just in time;--or I think she would really have said something +naughty. + +ISABEL. Oh, please, but didn't Neith say anything then? + +L. Yes. She said, quite quietly, 'It may be very pretty, my love; but it +is all nonsense.' + +ISABEL. Oh dear, oh dear; and then? + +L. Well; then I was a little angry myself, and hoped St. Barbara would +be quite angry; but she wasn't. She bit her lips first; and then gave a +great sigh--such a wild, sweet sigh--and then she knelt down and hid her +face on Neith's knees. Then Neith smiled a little, and was moved. + +ISABEL. Oh, I am so glad! + +L. And she touched St. Barbara's forehead with a flower of white lotus; +and St. Barbara sobbed once or twice, and then said: 'If you only could +see how beautiful it is, and how much it makes people feel what is good +and lovely; and if you could only hear the children singing in the Lady +chapels!' And Neith smiled,--but still sadly,--and said, 'How do you +know what I have seen, or heard, my love? Do you think all those vaults +and towers of yours have been built without me? There was not a pillar +in your Giotto's Santa Maria del Fiore which I did not set true by my +spearshaft as it rose. But this pinnacle and flame work which has set +your little heart on fire, is all vanity; and you will see what it will +come to, and that soon; and none will grieve for it more than I. And +then every one will disbelieve your pretty symbols and types. Men must +be spoken simply to, my dear, if you would guide them kindly, and long.' +But St. Barbara answered, that, 'Indeed she thought every one liked her +work,' and that 'the people of different towns were as eager about their +cathedral towers as about their privileges or their markets;' and then +she asked Neith to come and build something with her, wall against +tower; and 'see whether the people will be as much pleased with your +building as with mine.' But Neith answered, 'I will not contend with +you, my dear. I strive not with those who love me; and for those who +hate me, it is not well to strive with me, as weaver Arachne knows. And +remember, child, that nothing is ever done beautifully, which is done in +rivalship; nor nobly, which is done in pride.' + +Then St. Barbara hung her head quite down, and said she was very sorry +she had been so foolish; and kissed Neith; and stood thinking a minute: +and then her eyes got bright again, and she said, she would go directly +and build a chapel with five windows in it; four for the four cardinal +virtues, and one for humility, in the middle, bigger than the rest. And +Neith very nearly laughed quite out, I thought; certainly her beautiful +lips lost all their sternness for an instant; then she said, 'Well, +love, build it, but do not put so many colours into your windows as you +usually do; else no one will be able to see to read, inside: and when it +is built, let a poor village priest consecrate it, and not an +archbishop.' St. Barbara started a little, I thought, and turned as if +to say something; but changed her mind, and gathered up her train, and +went out. And Neith bent herself again to her loom, in which she was +weaving a web of strange dark colours, I thought; but perhaps it was +only after the glittering of St. Barbara's embroidered train: and I +tried to make out the figures in Neith's web, and confused myself among +them, as one always does in dreams; and then the dream changed +altogether, and I found myself, all at once, among a crowd of little +Gothic and Egyptian spirits, who were quarrelling: at least the Gothic +ones were trying to quarrel; for the Egyptian ones only sat with their +hands on their knees, and their aprons sticking out very stiffly; and +stared. And after a while I began to understand what the matter was. It +seemed that some of the troublesome building imps, who meddle and make +continually, even in the best Gothic work, had been listening to St. +Barbara's talk with Neith; and had made up their minds that Neith had no +workpeople who could build against them. They were but dull imps, as you +may fancy by their thinking that; and never had done much, except +disturbing the great Gothic building angels at their work, and playing +tricks to each other; indeed, of late they had been living years and +years, like bats, up under the cornices of Strasbourg and Cologne +cathedrals, with nothing to do but to make mouths at the people below. +However, they thought they knew everything about tower building; and +those who had heard what Neith said, told the rest; and they all flew +down directly, chattering in German, like jackdaws, to show Neith's +people what they could do. And they had found some of Neith's old +workpeople somewhere near Sais, sitting in the sun, with their hands on +their knees; and abused them heartily: and Neith's people did not mind +at first, but, after a while, they seemed to get tired of the noise; and +one or two rose up slowly, and laid hold of their measuring rods, and +said, 'If St. Barbara's people liked to build with them, tower against +pyramid, they would show them how to lay stones.' Then the little Gothic +spirits threw a great many double somersaults for joy; and put the tips +of their tongues out slily to each other, on one side; and I heard the +Egyptians say, 'they must be some new kind of frog--they didn't think +there was much building in _them_.' However, the stiff old workers took +their rods, as I said, and measured out a square space of sand; but as +soon as the German spirits saw that, they declared they wanted exactly +that bit of ground to build on, themselves. Then the Egyptian builders +offered to go farther off, and the Germans ones said, 'Ja wohl.' But as +soon as the Egyptians had measured out another square, the little +Germans said they must have some of that too. Then Neith's people +laughed; and said, 'they might take as much as they liked, but they +would not move the plan of their pyramid again.' Then the little Germans +took three pieces, and began to build three spires directly; one large, +and two little. And when the Egyptians saw they had fairly begun, they +laid their foundation all round, of large square stones: and began to +build, so steadily that they had like to have swallowed up the three +little German spires. So when the Gothic spirits saw that, they built +their spires leaning, like the tower of Pisa, that they might stick out +at the side of the pyramid. And Neith's people stared at them; and +thought it very clever, but very wrong; and on they went, in their own +way, and said nothing. Then the little Gothic spirits were terribly +provoked because they could not spoil the shape of the pyramid; and they +sat down all along the ledges of it to make faces; but that did no good. +Then they ran to the corners, and put their elbows on their knees, and +stuck themselves out as far as they could, and made more faces; but that +did no good, neither. Then they looked up to the sky, and opened their +mouths wide, and gobbled, and said it was too hot for work, and +wondered when it would rain; but that did no good, neither. And all the +while the Egyptian spirits were laying step above step, patiently. But +when the Gothic ones looked, and saw how high they had got, they said, +'Ach, Himmel!' and flew down in a great black cluster to the bottom; and +swept out a level spot in the sand with their wings, in no time, and +began building a tower straight up, as fast as they could. And the +Egyptians stood still again to stare at them; for the Gothic spirits had +got quite into a passion, and were really working very wonderfully. They +cut the sandstone into strips as fine as reeds; and put one reed on the +top of another, so that you could not see where they fitted: and they +twisted them in and out like basket work, and knotted them into +likenesses of ugly faces, and of strange beasts biting each other; and +up they went, and up still, and they made spiral staircases at the +corners, for the loaded workers to come up by (for I saw they were but +weak imps, and could not fly with stones on their backs), and then they +made traceried galleries for them to run round by; and so up again; with +finer and finer work, till the Egyptians wondered whether they meant the +thing for a tower or a pillar: and I heard them saying to one another, +'It was nearly as pretty as lotus stalks; and if it were not for the +ugly faces, there would be a fine temple, if they were going to build it +all with pillars as big as that!' But in a minute afterwards,--just as +the Gothic spirits had carried their work as high as the upper course, +but three or four, of the pyramid--the Egyptians called out to them to +'mind what they were about, for the sand was running away from under one +of their tower corners.' But it was too late to mind what they were +about; for, in another instant, the whole tower sloped aside; and the +Gothic imps rose out of it like a flight of puffins, in a single cloud; +but screaming worse than any puffins you ever heard: and down came the +tower, all in a piece, like a falling poplar, with its head right on the +flank of the pyramid; against which it snapped short off. And of course +that waked me! + +MARY. What a shame of you to have such a dream, after all you have told +us about Gothic architecture! + +L. If you have understood anything I ever told you about it, you know +that no architecture was ever corrupted more miserably; or abolished +more justly by the accomplishment of its own follies. Besides, even in +its days of power, it was subject to catastrophes of this kind. I have +stood too often, mourning, by the grand fragment of the apse of +Beauvais, not to have that fact well burnt into me. Still, you must have +seen, surely, that these imps were of the Flamboyant school; or, at +least, of the German schools correspondent with it in extravagance. + +MARY. But, then, where is the crystal about which you dreamed all this? + +L. Here; but I suppose little Pthah has touched it again, for it is very +small. But, you see, here is the pyramid, built of great square stones +of fluor spar, straight up; and here are the three little pinnacles of +mischievous quartz, which have set themselves, at the same time, on the +same foundation; only they lean like the tower of Pisa, and come out +obliquely at the side: and here is one great spire of quartz which seems +as if it had been meant to stand straight up, a little way off; and then +had fallen down against the pyramid base, breaking its pinnacle away. In +reality, it has crystallised horizontally, and terminated imperfectly: +but, then, by what caprice does one crystal form horizontally, when all +the rest stand upright? But this is nothing to the phantasies of fluor, +and quartz, and some other such companions, when they get leave to do +anything they like. I could show you fifty specimens, about every one of +which you might fancy a new fairy tale. Not that, in truth, any crystals +get leave to do quite what they like; and many of them are sadly tried, +and have little time for caprices--poor things! + +MARY. I thought they always looked as if they were either in play or in +mischief! What trials have they? + +L. Trials much like our own. Sickness, and starvation; fevers, and +agues, and palsy; oppression; and old age, and the necessity of passing +away in their time, like all else. If there's any pity in you, you must +come to-morrow, and take some part in these crystal griefs. + +DORA. I am sure we shall cry till our eyes are red. + +L. Ah, you may laugh, Dora: but I've been made grave, not once, nor +twice, to see that even crystals 'cannot choose but be old' at last. It +may be but a shallow proverb of the Justice's; but it is a shrewdly wide +one. + +DORA (_pensive, for once_). I suppose it is very dreadful to be old! But +then (_brightening again_), what should we do without our dear old +friends, and our nice old lecturers? + +L. If all nice old lecturers were minded as little as one I know of---- + +DORA. And if they all meant as little what they say, would they not +deserve it? But we'll come--we'll come, and cry. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[152] Note v. + + + + +LECTURE IX. + +_CRYSTAL SORROWS._ + +_Working Lecture in Schoolroom._ + + +L. We have been hitherto talking, children, as if crystals might live, +and play, and quarrel, and behave ill or well, according to their +characters, without interruption from anything else. But so far from +this being so, nearly all crystals, whatever their characters, have to +live a hard life of it, and meet with many misfortunes. If we could see +far enough, we should find, indeed, that, at the root, all their vices +were misfortunes: but to-day I want you to see what sort of troubles the +best crystals have to go through, occasionally, by no fault of their +own. + +This black thing, which is one of the prettiest of the very few pretty +black things in the world, is called 'Tourmaline.' It may be +transparent, and green, or red, as well as black; and then no stone can +be prettier (only, all the light that gets into it, I believe, comes out +a good deal the worse; and is not itself again for a long while). But +this is the commonest state of it,--opaque, and as black as jet. + +MARY. What does 'Tourmaline' mean? + +L. They say it is Ceylanese, and I don't know Ceylanese; but we may +always be thankful for a graceful word, whatever it means. + +MARY. And what is it made of? + +L. A little of everything; there's always flint, and clay, and magnesia +in it; and the black is iron, according to its fancy; and there's +boracic acid, if you know what that is; and if you don't, I cannot tell +you to-day; and it doesn't signify; and there's potash, and soda; and, +on the whole, the chemistry of it is more like a mediæval doctor's +prescription, than the making of a respectable mineral: but it may, +perhaps, be owing to the strange complexity of its make, that it has a +notable habit which makes it, to me, one of the most interesting of +minerals. You see these two crystals are broken right across, in many +places, just as if they had been shafts of black marble fallen from a +ruinous temple; and here they lie, imbedded in white quartz, fragment +succeeding fragment, keeping the line of the original crystal, while the +quartz fills up the intervening spaces. Now tourmaline has a trick of +doing this, more than any other mineral I know: here is another bit +which I picked up on the glacier of Macugnaga; it is broken, like a +pillar built of very flat broad stones, into about thirty joints, and +all these are heaved and warped away from each other sideways, almost +into a line of steps; and then all is filled up with quartz paste. And +here, lastly, is a green Indian piece, in which the pillar is first +disjointed, and then wrung round into the shape of an S. + +MARY. How _can_ this have been done? + +L. There are a thousand ways in which it may have been done; the +difficulty is not to account for the doing of it; but for the showing of +it in some crystals, and not in others. You never by any chance get a +quartz crystal broken or twisted in this way. If it break or twist at +all, which it does sometimes, like the spire of Dijon, it is by its own +will or fault; it never seems to have been passively crushed. But, for +the forces which cause this passive ruin of the tourmaline,--here is a +stone which will show you multitudes of them in operation at once. It is +known as 'brecciated agate,' beautiful, as you see; and highly valued as +a pebble: yet, so far as I can read or hear, no one has ever looked at +it with the least attention. At the first glance, you see it is made of +very fine red striped agates, which have been broken into small pieces, +and fastened together again by paste, also of agate. There would be +nothing wonderful in this, if this were all. It is well known that by +the movements of strata, portions of rock are often shattered to +pieces:--well known also that agate is a deposit of flint by water under +certain conditions of heat and pressure: there is, therefore, nothing +wonderful in an agate's being broken; and nothing wonderful in its +being mended with the solution out of which it was itself originally +congealed. And with this explanation, most people, looking at a +brecciated agate, or brecciated anything, seem to be satisfied. I was so +myself, for twenty years; but, lately happening to stay for some time at +the Swiss Baden, where the beach of the Limmat is almost wholly composed +of brecciated limestones, I began to examine them thoughtfully; and +perceived, in the end, that they were, one and all, knots of as rich +mystery as any poor little human brain was ever lost in. That piece of +agate in your hand, Mary, will show you many of the common phenomena of +breccias; but you need not knit your brows over it in that way; depend +upon it, neither you nor I shall ever know anything about the way it was +made, as long as we live. + +DORA. That does not seem much to depend upon. + +L. Pardon me, puss. When once we gain some real notion of the extent and +the unconquerableness of our ignorance, it is a very broad and restful +thing to depend upon: you can throw yourself upon it at ease, as on a +cloud, to feast with the gods. You do not thenceforward trouble +yourself,--nor any one else,--with theories, or the contradiction of +theories; you neither get headache nor heartburning; and you never more +waste your poor little store of strength, or allowance of time. + +However, there are certain facts, about this agate-making, which I can +tell you; and then you may look at it in a pleasant wonder as long as +you like; pleasant wonder is no loss of time. + +First, then, it is not broken freely by a blow; it is slowly wrung, or +ground, to pieces. You can only with extreme dimness conceive the force +exerted on mountains in transitional states of movement. You have all +read a little geology; and you know how coolly geologists talk of +mountains being raised or depressed. They talk coolly of it, because +they are accustomed to the fact; but the very universality of the fact +prevents us from ever conceiving distinctly the conditions of force +involved. You know I was living last year in Savoy; my house was on the +back of a sloping mountain which rose gradually for two miles, behind +it; and then fell at once in a great precipice towards Geneva, going +down three thousand feet in four or five cliffs, or steps. Now that +whole group of cliffs had simply been torn away by sheer strength from +the rocks below, as if the whole mass had been as soft as biscuit. Put +four or five captains' biscuits on the floor, on the top of one another; +and try to break them all in half, not by bending, but by holding one +half down, and tearing the other halves straight up;--of course you will +not be able to do it, but you will feel and comprehend the sort of force +needed. Then, fancy each captains' biscuit a bed of rock, six or seven +hundred feet thick; and the whole mass torn straight through; and one +half heaved up three thousand feet, grinding against the other as it +rose,--and you will have some idea of the making of the Mont Saléve. + +MAY. But it must crush the rocks all to dust! + +L. No; for there is no room for dust. The pressure is too great; +probably the heat developed also so great that the rock is made partly +ductile; but the worst of it is, that we never can see these parts of +mountains in the state they were left in at the time of their elevation; +for it is precisely in these rents and dislocations that the crystalline +power principally exerts itself. It is essentially a styptic power, and +wherever the earth is torn, it heals and binds; nay, the torture and +grieving of the earth seem necessary to bring out its full energy; for +you only find the crystalline living power fully in action, where the +rents and faults are deep and many. + +DORA. If you please, sir,--would you tell us--what are 'faults'? + +L. You never heard of such things? + +DORA. Never in all our lives. + +L. When a vein of rock which is going on smoothly, is interrupted by +another troublesome little vein, which stops it, and puts it out, so +that it has to begin again in another place--that is called a fault. _I_ +always think it ought to be called the fault of the vein that interrupts +it; but the miners always call it the fault of the vein that is +interrupted. + +DORA. So it is, if it does not begin again where it left off. + +L. Well, that is certainly the gist of the business: but, whatever +good-natured old lecturers may do, the rocks have a bad habit, when they +are once interrupted, of never asking 'Where was I?' + +DORA. When the two halves of the dining table came separate, yesterday, +was that a 'fault'? + +L. Yes; but not the table's. However, it is not a bad illustration, +Dora. When beds of rock are only interrupted by a fissure, but remain at +the same level, like the two halves of the table, it is not called a +fault, but only a fissure; but if one half of the table be either tilted +higher than the other, or pushed to the side, so that the two parts will +not fit, it is a fault. You had better read the chapter on faults in +Jukes's Geology; then you will know all about it. And this rent that I +am telling you of in the Saléve, is one only of myriads, to which are +owing the forms of the Alps, as, I believe, of all great mountain +chains. Wherever you see a precipice on any scale of real magnificence, +you will nearly always find it owing to some dislocation of this kind; +but the point of chief wonder to me, is the delicacy of the touch by +which these gigantic rents have been apparently accomplished. Note, +however, that we have no clear evidence, hitherto, of the time taken to +produce any of them. We know that a change of temperature alters the +position and the angles of the atoms of crystals, and also the entire +bulk of rocks. We know that in all volcanic, and the greater part of all +subterranean, action, temperatures are continually changing, and +therefore masses of rock must be expanding or contracting, with infinite +slowness, but with infinite force. This pressure must result in +mechanical strain somewhere, both in their own substance, and in that of +the rocks surrounding them; and we can form no conception of the result +of irresistible pressure, applied so as to rend and raise, with +imperceptible slowness of gradation, masses thousands of feet in +thickness. We want some experiments tried on masses of iron and stone; +and we can't get them tried, because Christian creatures never will +seriously and sufficiently spend money, except to find out the shortest +ways of killing each other. But, besides this slow kind of pressure, +there is evidence of more or less sudden violence, on the same terrific +scale; and, through it all, the wonder, as I said, is always to me the +delicacy of touch. I cut a block of the Saléve limestone from the edge +of one of the principal faults which have formed the precipice; it is a +lovely compact limestone, and the fault itself is filled up with a red +breccia formed of the crushed fragments of the torn rock, cemented by a +rich red crystalline paste. I have had the piece I cut from it smoothed, +and polished across the junction; here it is; and you may now pass your +soft little fingers over the surface, without so much as feeling the +place where a rock which all the hills of England might have been sunk +in the body of, and not a summit seen, was torn asunder through that +whole thickness, as a thin dress is torn when you tread upon it. + + (_The audience examine the stone, and touch it timidly; but + the matter remains inconceivable to them._) + +MARY (_struck by the beauty of the stone_). But this is almost marble? + +L. It is quite marble. And another singular point in the business, to my +mind, is that these stones, which men have been cutting into slabs, for +thousands of years, to ornament their principal buildings with,--and +which, under the general name of 'marble,' have been the delight of the +eyes, and the wealth of architecture, among all civilised nations,--are +precisely those on which the signs and brands of these earth agonies +have been chiefly struck; and there is not a purple vein nor flaming +zone in them, which is not the record of their ancient torture. What a +boundless capacity for sleep, and for serene stupidity, there is in the +human mind! Fancy reflective beings, who cut and polish stones for three +thousand years, for the sake of the pretty stains upon them; and educate +themselves to an art at last (such as it is), of imitating these veins +by dexterous painting; and never a curious soul of them, all that while, +asks, 'What painted the rocks?' + + (_The audience look dejected, and ashamed of themselves._) + +The fact is, we are all, and always, asleep, through our lives; and it +is only by pinching ourselves very hard that we ever come to see, or +understand, anything. At least, it is not always we who pinch ourselves; +sometimes other people pinch us; which I suppose is very good of +them,--or other things, which I suppose is very proper of them. But it +is a sad life; made up chiefly of naps and pinches. + + (_Some of the audience, on this, appearing to think that the + others require pinching, the_ LECTURER _changes the + subject._) + +Now, however, for once, look at a piece of marble carefully, and think +about it. You see this is one side of the fault; the other side is down +or up, nobody knows where; but, on this side, you can trace the evidence +of the dragging and tearing action. All along the edge of this marble, +the ends of the fibres of the rock are torn, here an inch, and there +half an inch, away from each other; and you see the exact places where +they fitted, before they were torn separate; and you see the rents are +now all filled up with the sanguine paste, full of the broken pieces of +the rock; the paste itself seems to have been half melted, and partly to +have also melted the edge of the fragments it contains, and then to have +crystallised with them, and round them. And the brecciated agate I first +showed you contains exactly the same phenomena; a zoned crystallisation +going on amidst the cemented fragments, partly altering the structure of +those fragments themselves, and subject to continual change, either in +the intensity of its own power, or in the nature of the materials +submitted to it;--so that, at one time, gravity acts upon them, and +disposes them in horizontal layers, or causes them to droop in +stalactites; and at another, gravity is entirely defied, and the +substances in solution are crystallised in bands of equal thickness on +every side of the cell. It would require a course of lectures longer +than these (I have a great mind,--you have behaved so saucily--to stay +and give them) to describe to you the phenomena of this kind, in agates +and chalcedonies only;--nay, there is a single sarcophagus in the +British Museum, covered with grand sculpture of the 18th dynasty, which +contains in the magnificent breccia (agates and jaspers imbedded in +porphyry), out of which it is hewn, material for the thought of years; +and record of the earth-sorrow of ages in comparison with the duration +of which, the Egyptian letters tell us but the history of the evening +and morning of a day. + +Agates, I think, of all stones, confess most of their past history; but +all crystallisation goes on under, and partly records, circumstances of +this kind--circumstances of infinite variety, but always involving +difficulty, interruption, and change of condition at different times. +Observe, first, you have the whole mass of the rock in motion, either +contracting itself, and so gradually widening the cracks; or being +compressed, and thereby closing them, and crushing their edges;--and, if +one part of its substance be softer, at the given temperature, than +another, probably squeezing that softer substance out into the veins. +Then the veins themselves, when the rock leaves them open by its +contraction, act with various power of suction upon its substance;--by +capillary attraction when they are fine,--by that of pure vacuity when +they are larger, or by changes in the constitution and condensation of +the mixed gases with which they have been originally filled. Those gases +themselves may be supplied in all variation of volume and power from +below; or, slowly, by the decomposition of the rocks themselves; and, at +changing temperatures, must exert relatively changing forces of +decomposition and combination on the walls of the veins they fill; while +water, at every degree of heat and pressure (from beds of everlasting +ice, alternate with cliffs of native rock, to volumes of red hot, or +white hot, steam), congeals, and drips, and throbs, and thrills, from +crag to crag; and breathes from pulse to pulse of foaming or fiery +arteries, whose beating is felt through chains of the great islands of +the Indian seas, as your own pulses lift your bracelets, and makes whole +kingdoms of the world quiver in deadly earthquake, as if they were light +as aspen leaves. And, remember, the poor little crystals have to live +their lives, and mind their own affairs, in the midst of all this, as +best they may. They are wonderfully like human creatures,--forget all +that is going on if they don't see it, however dreadful; and never think +what is to happen to-morrow. They are spiteful or loving, and indolent +or painstaking, and orderly or licentious, with no thought whatever of +the lava or the flood which may break over them any day; and evaporate +them into air-bubbles, or wash them into a solution of salts. And you +may look at them, once understanding the surrounding conditions of their +fate, with an endless interest. You will see crowds of unfortunate +little crystals, who have been forced to constitute themselves in a +hurry, their dissolving element being fiercely scorched away; you will +see them doing their best, bright and numberless, but tiny. Then you +will find indulged crystals, who have had centuries to form themselves +in, and have changed their mind and ways continually; and have been +tired, and taken heart again; and have been sick, and got well again; +and thought they would try a different diet, and then thought better of +it; and made but a poor use of their advantages, after all. And others +you will see, who have begun life as wicked crystals; and then have been +impressed by alarming circumstances, and have become converted crystals, +and behaved amazingly for a little while, and fallen away again, and +ended, but discreditably, perhaps even in decomposition; so that one +doesn't know what will become of them. And sometimes you will see +deceitful crystals, that look as soft as velvet, and are deadly to all +near them; and sometimes you will see deceitful crystals, that seem +flint-edged, like our little quartz-crystal of a housekeeper here, +(hush! Dora,) and are endlessly gentle and true wherever gentleness and +truth are needed. And sometimes you will see little child-crystals put +to school like school-girls, and made to stand in rows; and taken the +greatest care of, and taught how to hold themselves up, and behave: and +sometimes you will see unhappy little child-crystals left to lie about +in the dirt, and pick up their living, and learn manners, where they +can. And sometimes you will see fat crystals eating up thin ones, like +great capitalists and little labourers; and politico-economic crystals +teaching the stupid ones how to eat each other, and cheat each other; +and foolish crystals getting in the way of wise ones; and impatient +crystals spoiling the plans of patient ones, irreparably; just as things +go on in the world. And sometimes you may see hypocritical crystals +taking the shape of others, though they are nothing like in their minds; +and vampire crystals eating out the hearts of others; and hermit-crab +crystals living in the shells of others; and parasite crystals living on +the means of others; and courtier crystals glittering in attendance upon +others; and all these, besides the two great companies of war and peace, +who ally themselves, resolutely to attack, or resolutely to defend. And +for the close, you see the broad shadow and deadly force of inevitable +fate, above all this: you see the multitudes of crystals whose time has +come; not a set time, as with us, but yet a time, sooner or later, when +they all must give up their crystal ghosts:--when the strength by which +they grew, and the breath given them to breathe, pass away from them; +and they fail, and are consumed, and vanish away; and another generation +is brought to life, framed out of their ashes. + +MARY. It is very terrible. Is it not the complete fulfilment, down into +the very dust, of that verse: 'The whole creation groaneth and +travaileth in pain'? + +L. I do not know that it is in pain, Mary: at least, the evidence tends +to show that there is much more pleasure than pain, as soon as sensation +becomes possible. + +LUCILLA. But then, surely, if we are told that it is pain, it must be +pain? + +L. Yes; if we are told; and told in the way you mean, Lucilla; but +nothing is said of the proportion to pleasure. Unmitigated pain would +kill any of us in a few hours; pain equal to our pleasures would make us +loathe life; the word itself cannot be applied to the lower conditions +of matter, in its ordinary sense. But wait till to-morrow to ask me +about this. To-morrow is to be kept for questions and difficulties; let +us keep to the plain facts to-day. There is yet one group of facts +connected with this rending of the rocks, which I especially want you to +notice. You know, when you have mended a very old dress, quite +meritoriously, till it won't mend any more---- + +EGYPT (_interrupting_). Could not you sometimes take gentlemen's work to +illustrate by? + +L. Gentlemen's work is rarely so useful as yours, Egypt; and when it is +useful, girls cannot easily understand it. + +DORA. I am sure we should understand it better than gentlemen understand +about sewing. + +L. My dear, I hope I always speak modestly, and under correction, when I +touch upon matters of the kind too high for me; and besides, I never +intend to speak otherwise than respectfully of sewing;--though you +always seem to think I am laughing at you. In all seriousness, +illustrations from sewing are those which Neith likes me best to use; +and which young ladies ought to like everybody to use. What do you think +the beautiful word 'wife' comes from? + +DORA (_tossing her head_). I don't think it is a particularly beautiful +word. + +L. Perhaps not. At your ages you may think 'bride' sounds better; but +wife's the word for wear, depend upon it. It is the great word in which +the English and Latin languages conquer the French and the Greek. I hope +the French will some day get a word for it, yet, instead of their +dreadful 'femme.' But what do you think it comes from? + +DORA. I never _did_ think about it. + +L. Nor you, Sibyl? + +SIBYL. No; I thought it was Saxon, and stopped there. + +L. Yes; but the great good of Saxon words is, that they usually do mean +something. Wife means 'weaver.' You have all the right to call +yourselves little 'housewives,' when you sew neatly. + +DORA. But I don't think we want to call ourselves 'little housewives.' + +L. You must either be house-Wives, or house-Moths; remember that. In the +deep sense, you must either weave men's fortunes, and embroider them; or +feed upon, and bring them to decay. You had better let me keep my sewing +illustration, and help me out with it. + +DORA. Well we'll hear it, under protest. + +L. You have heard it before; but with reference to other matters. When +it is said, 'no man putteth a piece of new cloth on an old garment, else +it taketh from the old,' does it not mean that the new piece tears the +old one away at the sewn edge? + +DORA. Yes; certainly. + +L. And when you mend a decayed stuff with strong thread, does not the +whole edge come away sometimes, when it tears again? + +DORA. Yes; and then it is of no use to mend it any more. + +L. Well, the rocks don't seem to think that: but the same thing happens +to them continually. I told you they were full of rents, or veins. Large +masses of mountain are sometimes as full of veins as your hand is; and +of veins nearly as fine (only you know a rock vein does not mean a tube, +but a crack or cleft). Now these clefts are mended, usually, with the +strongest material the rock can find; and often literally with threads; +for the gradually opening rent seems to draw the substance it is filled +with into fibres, which cross from one side of it to the other, and are +partly crystalline; so that, when the crystals become distinct, the +fissure has often exactly the look of a tear, brought together with +strong cross stitches. Now when this is completely done, and all has +been fastened and made firm, perhaps some new change of temperature may +occur, and the rock begin to contract again. Then the old vein must open +wider; or else another open elsewhere. If the old vein widen, it _may_ +do so at its centre; but it constantly happens, with well filled veins, +that the cross stitches are too strong to break; the walls of the vein, +instead, are torn away by them; and another little supplementary +vein--often three or four successively--will be thus formed at the side +of the first. + +MARY. That is really very much like our work. But what do the mountains +use to sew with? + +L. Quartz, whenever they can get it: pure limestones are obliged to be +content with carbonate of lime; but most mixed rocks can find some +quartz for themselves. Here is a piece of black slate from the Buet: it +looks merely like dry dark mud;--you could not think there was any +quartz in it; but, you see, its rents are all stitched together with +beautiful white thread, which is the purest quartz, so close drawn that +you can break it like flint, in the mass; but, where it has been exposed +to the weather, the fine fibrous structure is shown: and, more than +that, you see the threads have been all twisted and pulled aside, this +way and the other, by the warpings and shifting of the sides of the vein +as it widened. + +MARY. It is wonderful! But is that going on still? Are the mountains +being torn and sewn together again at this moment? + +L. Yes, certainly, my dear: but I think, just as certainly (though +geologists differ on this matter), not with the violence, or on the +scale, of their ancient ruin and renewal. All things seem to be tending +towards a condition of at least temporary rest; and that groaning and +travailing of the creation, as, assuredly, not wholly in pain, is not, +in the full sense, 'until now.' + +MARY. I want so much to ask you about that! + +SIBYL. Yes; and we all want to ask you about a great many other things +besides. + +L. It seems to me that you have got quite as many new ideas as are good +for any of you at present: and I should not like to burden you with +more; but I must see that those you have are clear, if I can make them +so; so we will have one more talk, for answer of questions, mainly. +Think over all the ground, and make your difficulties thoroughly +presentable. Then we'll see what we can make of them. + +DORA. They shall all be dressed in their very best; and curtsey as they +come in. + +L. No, no, Dora; no curtseys, if you please. I had enough of them the +day you all took a fit of reverence, and curtsied me out of the room. + +DORA. But, you know, we cured ourselves of the fault, at once, by that +fit. We have never been the least respectful since. And the difficulties +will only curtsey themselves out of the room, I hope;--come in at one +door--vanish at the other. + +L. What a pleasant world it would be, if all its difficulties were +taught to behave so! However, one can generally make something, or +(better still) nothing, or at least less, of them, if they thoroughly +know their own minds; and your difficulties--I must say that for you, +children,--generally do know their own minds, as you do yourselves. + +DORA. That is very kindly said for us. Some people would not allow so +much as that girls had any minds to know. + +L. They will at least admit that you have minds to change, Dora. + +MARY. You might have left us the last speech, without a retouch. But +we'll put our little minds, such as they are, in the best trim we can, +for to-morrow. + + + + +LECTURE X. + +_THE CRYSTAL REST._ + + _Evening. The fireside._ L's _arm-chair in the comfortablest + corner._ + + +L. (_perceiving various arrangements being made of foot-stool, cushion, +screen, and the like_). Yes, yes, it's all very fine! and I am to sit +here to be asked questions till supper-time, am I? + +DORA. I don't think you can have any supper to-night:--we've got so much +to ask. + +LILY. Oh, Miss Dora! We can fetch it him here, you know, so nicely! + +L. Yes, Lily, that will be pleasant, with competitive examination going +on over one's plate; the competition being among the examiners. Really, +now that I know what teasing things girls are, I don't so much wonder +that people used to put up patiently with the dragons who took _them_ +for supper. But I can't help myself, I suppose;--no thanks to St. +George. Ask away, children, and I'll answer as civilly as may be. + +DORA. We don't so much care about being answered civilly, as about not +being asked things back again. + +L. 'Ayez seulement la patience que je le parle.' There shall be no +requitals. + +DORA. Well, then, first of all--What shall we ask first, Mary? + +MARY. It does not matter. I think all the questions come into one, at +last, nearly. + +DORA. You know, you always talk as if the crystals were alive; and we +never understand how much you are in play, and how much in earnest. +That's the first thing. + +L. Neither do I understand, myself, my dear, how much I am in earnest. +The stones puzzle me as much as I puzzle you. They look as if they were +alive, and make me speak as if they were; and I do not in the least know +how much truth there is in the appearance. I'm not to ask things back +again to-night, but all questions of this sort lead necessarily to the +one main question, which we asked, before, in vain, 'What is it to be +alive?' + +DORA. Yes; but we want to come back to that: for we've been reading +scientific books about the 'conservation of forces,' and it seems all so +grand, and wonderful; and the experiments are so pretty; and I suppose +it must be all right: but then the books never speak as if there were +any such thing as 'life.' + +L. They mostly omit that part of the subject, certainly, Dora; but they +are beautifully right as far as they go; and life is not a convenient +element to deal with. They seem to have been getting some of it into and +out of bottles, in their 'ozone' and 'antizone' lately; but they still +know little of it: and, certainly, I know less. + +DORA. You promised not to be provoking, to-night. + +L. Wait a minute. Though, quite truly, I know less of the secrets of +life than the philosophers do; I yet know one corner of ground on which +we artists can stand, literally as 'Life Guards' at bay, as steadily as +the Guards at Inkermann; however hard the philosophers push. And you may +stand with us, if once you learn to draw nicely. + +DORA. I'm sure we are all trying! but tell us where we may stand. + +L. You may always stand by Form, against Force. To a painter, the +essential character of anything is the form of it; and the philosophers +cannot touch that. They come and tell you, for instance, that there is +as much heat, or motion, or calorific energy (or whatever else they like +to call it), in a tea-kettle as in a Gier-eagle. Very good; that is so; +and it is very interesting. It requires just as much heat as will boil +the kettle, to take the Gier-eagle up to his nest; and as much more to +bring him down again on a hare or a partridge. But we painters, +acknowledging the equality and similarity of the kettle and the bird in +all scientific respects, attach, for our part, our principal interest to +the difference in their forms. For us, the primarily cognisable facts, +in the two things, are, that the kettle has a spout, and the eagle a +beak; the one a lid on its back, the other a pair of wings;--not to +speak of the distinction also of volition, which the philosophers may +properly call merely a form or mode of force;--but then, to an artist, +the form, or mode, is the gist of the business. The kettle chooses to +sit still on the hob; the eagle to recline on the air. It is the fact of +the choice, not the equal degree of temperature in the fulfilment of it, +which appears to us the more interesting circumstance;--though the other +is very interesting too. Exceedingly so! Don't laugh, children; the +philosophers have been doing quite splendid work lately, in their own +way: especially, the transformation of force into light is a great piece +of systematised discovery; and this notion about the sun's being +supplied with his flame by ceaseless meteoric hail is grand, and looks +very likely to be true. Of course, it is only the old gun-lock,--flint +and steel,--on a large scale: but the order and majesty of it are +sublime. Still, we sculptors and painters care little about it. 'It is +very fine,' we say, 'and very useful, this knocking the light out of the +sun, or into it, by an eternal cataract of planets. But you may hail +away, so, for ever, and you will not knock out what we can. Here is a +bit of silver, not the size of half-a-crown, on which, with a single +hammer stroke, one of us, two thousand and odd years ago, hit out the +head of the Apollo of Clazomenæ. It is merely a matter of form; but if +any of you philosophers, with your whole planetary system to hammer +with, can hit out such another bit of silver as this,--we will take off +our hats to you. For the present, we keep them on.' + +MARY. Yes, I understand; and that is nice; but I don't think we shall +any of us like having only form to depend upon. + +L. It was not neglected in the making of Eve, my dear. + +MARY. It does not seem to separate us from the dust of the ground. It is +that breathing of the life which we want to understand. + +L. So you should: but hold fast to the form, and defend that first, as +distinguished from the mere transition of forces. Discern the moulding +hand of the potter commanding the clay, from his merely beating foot, +as it turns the wheel. If you can find incense, in the vase, +afterwards,--well: but it is curious how far mere form will carry you +ahead of the philosophers. For instance, with regard to the most +interesting of all their modes of force--light;--they never consider how +far the existence of it depends on the putting of certain vitreous and +nervous substances into the formal arrangement which we call an eye. The +German philosophers began the attack, long ago, on the other side, by +telling us, there was no such thing as light at all, unless we chose to +see it: now, German and English, both, have reversed their engines, and +insist that light would be exactly the same light that it is, though +nobody could ever see it. The fact being that the force must be there, +and the eyes there; and 'light' means the effect of the one on the +other;--and perhaps, also--(Plato saw farther into that mystery than any +one has since, that I know of),--on something a little way within the +eyes; but we may stand quite safe, close behind the retina, and defy the +philosophers. + +SIBYL. But I don't care so much about defying the philosophers, if only +one could get a clear idea of life, or soul, for one's self. + +L. Well, Sibyl, you used to know more about it, in that cave of yours, +than any of us. I was just going to ask you about inspiration, and the +golden bough, and the like; only I remembered I was not to ask anything. +But, will not you, at least, tell us whether the ideas of Life, as the +power of putting things together, or 'making' them; and of Death, as the +power of pushing things separate, or 'unmaking' them, may not be very +simply held in balance against each other? + +SIBYL. No, I am not in my cave to-night; and cannot tell you anything. + +L. I think they may. Modern Philosophy is a great separator; it is +little more than the expansion of Molière's great sentence, 'Il s'ensuit +de là, que tout ce qu'il y a de beau est dans les dictionnaires; il n'y +a que les mots qui sont transposés.' But when you used to be in your +cave, Sibyl, and to be inspired, there was (and there remains still in +some small measure), beyond the merely formative and sustaining power, +another, which we painters call 'passion'--I don't know what the +philosophers call it; we know it makes people red, or white; and +therefore it must be something, itself; and perhaps it is the most truly +'poetic' or 'making' force of all, creating a world of its own out of a +glance, or a sigh: and the want of passion is perhaps the truest death, +or 'unmaking' of everything;--even of stones. By the way, you were all +reading about that ascent of the Aiguille Verte, the other day? + +SIBYL. Because you had told us it was so difficult, you thought it could +not be ascended. + +L. Yes; I believed the Aiguille Verte would have held its own. But do +you recollect what one of the climbers exclaimed, when he first felt +sure of reaching the summit? + +SIBYL. Yes, it was, 'Oh, Aiguille Verte, vous êtes morte, vous êtes +morte!' + +L. That was true instinct. Real philosophic joy. Now can you at all +fancy the difference between that feeling of triumph in a mountain's +death; and the exultation of your beloved poet, in its life-- + + 'Quantus Athos, aut quantus Eryx, aut ipse coruscis + Quum fremit ilicibus quantus, gandetque nivali + Vertice, se attollens pater Apenninus ad auras.' + +DORA. You must translate for us mere house-keepers, please,--whatever +the cave-keepers may know about it. + +MARY. Will Dryden do? + +L. No. Dryden is a far way worse than nothing, and nobody will 'do.' You +can't translate it. But this is all you need know, that the lines are +full of a passionate sense of the Apennines' fatherhood, or protecting +power over Italy; and of sympathy with their joy in their snowy strength +in heaven; and with the same joy, shuddering through all the leaves of +their forests. + +MARY. Yes, that is a difference indeed! but then, you know, one can't +help feeling that it is fanciful. It is very delightful to imagine the +mountains to be alive; but then,--_are_ they alive? + +L. It seems to me, on the whole, Mary, that the feelings of the purest +and most mightily passioned human souls are likely to be the truest. +Not, indeed, if they do not desire to know the truth, or blind +themselves to it that they may please themselves with passion; for then +they are no longer pure: but if, continually seeking and accepting the +truth as far as it is discernible, they trust their Maker for the +integrity of the instincts He has gifted them with, and rest in the +sense of a higher truth which they cannot demonstrate, I think they will +be most in the right, so. + +DORA _and_ JESSIE (_clapping their hands_). Then we really may believe +that the mountains are living? + +L. You may at least earnestly believe, that the presence of the spirit +which culminates in your own life, shows itself in dawning, wherever the +dust of the earth begins to assume any orderly and lovely state. You +will find it impossible to separate this idea of gradated manifestation +from that of the vital power. Things are not either wholly alive, or +wholly dead. They are less or more alive. Take the nearest, most easily +examined instance--the life of a flower. Notice what a different degree +and kind of life there is in the calyx and the corolla. The calyx is +nothing but the swaddling clothes of the flower; the child-blossom is +bound up in it, hand and foot; guarded in it, restrained by it, till the +time of birth. The shell is hardly more subordinate to the germ in the +egg, than the calyx to the blossom. It bursts at last; but it never +lives as the corolla does. It may fall at the moment its task is +fulfilled, as in the poppy; or wither gradually, as in the buttercup; or +persist in a ligneous apathy, after the flower is dead, as in the rose; +or harmonise itself so as to share in the aspect of the real flower, as +in the lily; but it never shares in the corolla's bright passion of +life. And the gradations which thus exist between the different members +of organic creatures, exist no less between the different ranges of +organism. We know no higher or more energetic life than our own; but +there seems to me this great good in the idea of gradation of life--it +admits the idea of a life above us, in other creatures, as much nobler +than ours, as ours is nobler than that of the dust. + +MARY. I am glad you have said that; for I know Violet and Lucilla and +May want to ask you something; indeed, we all do; only you frightened +Violet so about the ant-hill, that she can't say a word; and May is +afraid of your teasing her, too: but I know they are wondering why you +are always telling them about heathen gods and goddesses, as if you half +believed in them; and you represent them as good; and then we see there +is really a kind of truth in the stories about them; and we are all +puzzled: and, in this, we cannot even make our difficulty quite clear to +ourselves;--it would be such a long confused question, if we could ask +you all we should like to know. + +L. Nor is it any wonder, Mary; for this is indeed the longest, and the +most wildly confused question that reason can deal with; but I will try +to give you, quickly, a few clear ideas about the heathen gods, which +you may follow out afterwards, as your knowledge increases. + +Every heathen conception of deity in which you are likely to be +interested, has three distinct characters:-- + +I. It has a physical character. It represents some of the great powers +or objects of nature--sun or moon, or heaven, or the winds, or the sea. +And the fables first related about each deity represent, figuratively, +the action of the natural power which it represents; such as the rising +and setting of the sun, the tides of the sea, and so on. + +II. It has an ethical character, and represents, in its history, the +moral dealings of God with man. Thus Apollo is first, physically, the +sun contending with darkness; but morally, the power of divine life +contending with corruption. Athena is, physically, the air; morally, the +breathing of the divine spirit of wisdom. Neptune is, physically, the +sea; morally, the supreme power of agitating passion; and so on. + +III. It has, at last, a personal character; and is realised in the minds +of its worshippers as a living spirit, with whom men may speak face to +face, as a man speaks to his friend. + +Now it is impossible to define exactly, how far, at any period of a +national religion, these three ideas are mingled; or how far one +prevails over the other. Each enquirer usually takes up one of these +ideas, and pursues it, to the exclusion of the others: no impartial +effort seems to have been made to discern the real state of the heathen +imagination in its successive phases. For the question is not at all +what a mythological figure meant in its origin; but what it became in +each subsequent mental development of the nation inheriting the thought. +Exactly in proportion to the mental and moral insight of any race, its +mythological figures mean more to it, and become more real. An early and +savage race means nothing more (because it has nothing more to mean) by +its Apollo, than the sun; while a cultivated Greek means every operation +of divine intellect and justice. The Neith, of Egypt, meant, physically, +little more than the blue of the air; but the Greek, in a climate of +alternate storm and calm, represented the wild fringes of the +storm-cloud by the serpents of her ægis; and the lightning and cold of +the highest thunder-clouds, by the Gorgon on her shield: while morally, +the same types represented to him the mystery and changeful terror of +knowledge, as her spear and helm its ruling and defensive power. And no +study can be more interesting, or more useful to you, than that of the +different meanings which have been created by great nations, and great +poets, out of mythological figures given them, at first, in utter +simplicity. But when we approach them in their third, or personal, +character (and, for its power over the whole national mind, this is far +the leading one), we are met at once by questions which may well put all +of you at pause. Were they idly imagined to be real beings? and did they +so usurp the place of the true God? Or were they actually real +beings--evil spirits,--leading men away from the true God? Or is it +conceivable that they might have been real beings,--good +spirits,--entrusted with some message from the true God? These were the +questions you wanted to ask; were they not, Lucilla? + +LUCILLA. Yes, indeed. + +L. Well, Lucilla, the answer will much depend upon the clearness of your +faith in the personality of the spirits which are described in the book +of your own religion;--their personality, observe, as distinguished from +merely symbolical visions. For instance, when Jeremiah has the vision +of the seething pot with its mouth to the north, you know that this +which he sees is not a real thing; but merely a significant dream. Also, +when Zechariah sees the speckled horses among the myrtle trees in the +bottom, you still may suppose the vision symbolical;--you do not think +of them as real spirits, like Pegasus, seen in the form of horses. But +when you are told of the four riders in the Apocalypse, a distinct sense +of personality begins to force itself upon you. And though you might, in +a dull temper, think that (for one instance of all) the fourth rider on +the pale horse was merely a symbol of the power of death,--in your +stronger and more earnest moods you will rather conceive of him as a +real and living angel. And when you look back from the vision of the +Apocalypse to the account of the destruction of the Egyptian first-born, +and of the army of Sennacherib, and again to David's vision at the +threshing floor of Araunah, the idea of personality in this death-angel +becomes entirely defined, just as in the appearance of the angels to +Abraham, Manoah, or Mary. + +Now, when you have once consented to this idea of a personal spirit, +must not the question instantly follow: 'Does this spirit exercise its +functions towards one race of men only, or towards all men? Was it an +angel of death to the Jew only, or to the Gentile also?' You find a +certain Divine agency made visible to a King of Israel, as an armed +angel, executing vengeance, of which one special purpose was to lower +his kingly pride. You find another (or perhaps the same) agency, made +visible to a Christian prophet as an angel standing in the sun, calling +to the birds that fly under heaven to come, that they may eat the flesh +of kings. Is there anything impious in the thought that the same agency +might have been expressed to a Greek king, or Greek seer, by similar +visions?--that this figure, standing in the sun, and armed with the +sword, or the bow (whose arrows were drunk with blood), and exercising +especially its power in the humiliation of the proud, might, at first, +have been called only 'Destroyer,' and afterwards, as the light, or sun, +of justice, was recognised in the chastisement, called also 'Physician' +or 'Healer?' If you feel hesitation in admitting the possibility of +such a manifestation, I believe you will find it is caused, partly +indeed by such trivial things as the difference to your ear between +Greek and English terms; but, far more, by uncertainty in your own mind +respecting the nature and truth of the visions spoken of in the Bible. +Have any of you intently examined the nature of your belief in them? +You, for instance, Lucilla, who think often, and seriously, of such +things? + +LUCILLA. No; I never could tell what to believe about them. I know they +must be true in some way or other; and I like reading about them. + +L. Yes; and I like reading about them too, Lucilla; as I like reading +other grand poetry. But, surely, we ought both to do more than like it? +Will God be satisfied with us, think you, if we read His words merely +for the sake of an entirely meaningless poetical sensation? + +LUCILLA. But do not the people who give themselves to seek out the +meaning of these things, often get very strange, and extravagant? + +L. More than that, Lucilla. They often go mad. That abandonment of the +mind to religious theory, or contemplation, is the very thing I have +been pleading with you against. I never said you should set yourself to +discover the meanings; but you should take careful pains to understand +them, so far as they _are_ clear; and you should always accurately +ascertain the state of your mind about them. I want you never to read +merely for the pleasure of fancy; still less as a formal religious duty +(else you might as well take to repeating Paters at once; for it is +surely wiser to repeat one thing we understand, than read a thousand +which we cannot). Either, therefore, acknowledge the passages to be, for +the present, unintelligible to you; or else determine the sense in which +you at present receive them; or, at all events, the different senses +between which you clearly see that you must choose. Make either your +belief, or your difficulty, definite; but do not go on, all through your +life, believing nothing intelligently, and yet supposing that your +having read the words of a divine book must give you the right to +despise every religion but your own. I assure you, strange as it may +seem, our scorn of Greek tradition depends, not on our belief, but our +disbelief, of our own traditions. We have, as yet, no sufficient clue to +the meaning of either; but you will always find that, in proportion to +the earnestness of our own faith, its tendency to accept a spiritual +personality increases: and that the most vital and beautiful Christian +temper rests joyfully in its conviction of the multitudinous ministry of +living angels, infinitely varied in rank and power. You all know one +expression of the purest and happiest form of such faith, as it exists +in modern times, in Richter's lovely illustrations of the Lord's Prayer. +The real and living death-angel, girt as a pilgrim for journey, and +softly crowned with flowers, beckons at the dying mother's door; +child-angels sit talking face to face with mortal children, among the +flowers;--hold them by their little coats, lest they fall on the +stairs;--whisper dreams of heaven to them, leaning over their pillows; +carry the sound of the church bells for them far through the air; and +even descending lower in service, fill little cups with honey, to hold +out to the weary bee. By the way, Lily, did you tell the other children +that story about your little sister, and Alice, and the sea? + +LILY. I told it to Alice, and to Miss Dora. I don't think I did to +anybody else. I thought it wasn't worth. + +L. We shall think it worth a great deal now, Lily, if you will tell it +us. How old is Dotty, again? I forget. + +LILY. She is not quite three; but she has such odd little old ways, +sometimes. + +L. And she was very fond of Alice? + +LILY. Yes; Alice was so good to her always! + +L. And so when Alice went away? + +LILY. Oh, it was nothing, you know, to tell about; only it was strange +at the time. + +L. Well; but I want you to tell it. + +LILY. The morning after Alice had gone, Dotty was very sad and restless +when she got up; and went about, looking into all the corners, as if she +could find Alice in them, and at last she came to me, and said, 'Is Alie +gone over the great sea?' And I said, 'Yes, she is gone over the great, +deep sea, but she will come back again some day.' Then Dotty looked +round the room; and I had just poured some water out into the basin; and +Dotty ran to it, and got up on a chair, and dashed her hands through the +water, again and again; and cried, 'Oh, deep, deep sea! send little Alie +back to me.' + +L. Isn't that pretty, children? There's a dear little heathen for you! +The whole heart of Greek mythology is in that; the idea of a personal +being in the elemental power;--of its being moved by prayer;--and of its +presence everywhere, making the broken diffusion of the element sacred. + +Now, remember, the measure in which we may permit ourselves to think of +this trusted and adored personality, in Greek, or in any other, +mythology, as conceivably a shadow of truth, will depend on the degree +in which we hold the Greeks, or other great nations, equal, or inferior, +in privilege and character, to the Jews, or to ourselves. If we believe +that the great Father would use the imagination of the Jew as an +instrument by which to exalt and lead him; but the imagination of the +Greek only to degrade and mislead him: if we can suppose that real +angels were sent to minister to the Jews and to punish them; but no +angels, or only mocking spectra of angels, or even devils in the shapes +of angels, to lead Lycurgus and Leonidas from desolate cradle to +hopeless grave:--and if we can think that it was only the influence of +spectres, or the teaching of demons, which issued in the making of +mothers like Cornelia, and of sons like Cleobis and Bito, we may, of +course, reject the heathen Mythology in our privileged scorn: but, at +least, we are bound to examine strictly by what faults of our own it has +come to pass, that the ministry of real angels among ourselves is +occasionally so ineffectual, as to end in the production of Cornelias +who entrust their child-jewels to Charlotte Winsors for the better +keeping of them; and of sons like that one who, the other day, in +France, beat his mother to death with a stick; and was brought in by the +jury, 'guilty, with extenuating circumstances.' + +MAY. Was that really possible? + +L. Yes, my dear. I am not sure that I can lay my hand on the reference +to it (and I should not have said 'the other day'--it was a year or two +ago), but you may depend on the fact; and I could give you many like it, +if I chose. There was a murder done in Russia, very lately, on a +traveller. The murderess's little daughter was in the way, and found it +out, somehow. Her mother killed her, too, and put her into the oven. +There is a peculiar horror about the relations between parent and child, +which are being now brought about by our variously degraded forms of +European white slavery. Here _is_ one reference, I see, in my notes on +that story of Cleobis and Bito; though I suppose I marked this chiefly +for its quaintness, and the beautifully Christian names of the sons; but +it is a good instance of the power of the King of the Valley of +Diamonds[153] among us. + +In 'Galignani' of July 21-22, 1862, is reported a trial of a farmer's +son in the department of the Yonne. The father, two years ago, at Malay +le Grand, gave up his property to his two sons, on condition of being +maintained by them. Simon fulfilled his agreement, but Pierre would not. +The tribunal of Sens condemns Pierre to pay eighty-four francs a year to +his father. Pierre replies, 'he would rather die than pay it.' Actually, +returning home, he throws himself into the river, and the body is not +found till next day. + +MARY. But--but--I can't tell what you would have us think. Do you +seriously mean that the Greeks were better than we are; and that their +gods were real angels? + +L. No, my dear. I mean only that we know, in reality, less than nothing +of the dealings of our Maker with our fellow-men; and can only reason or +conjecture safely about them, when we have sincerely humble thoughts of +ourselves and our creeds. + +We owe to the Greeks every noble discipline in literature; every radical +principle of art; and every form of convenient beauty in our household +furniture and daily occupations of life. We are unable, ourselves, to +make rational use of half that we have received from them: and, of our +own, we have nothing but discoveries in science, and fine mechanical +adaptations of the discovered physical powers. On the other hand, the +vice existing among certain classes, both of the rich and poor, in +London, Paris, and Vienna, could have been conceived by a Spartan or +Roman of the heroic ages only as possible in a Tartarus, where fiends +were employed to teach, but not to punish, crime. It little becomes us +to speak contemptuously of the religion of races to whom we stand in +such relations; nor do I think any man of modesty or thoughtfulness will +ever speak so of any religion, in which God has allowed one good man to +die, trusting. + +The more readily we admit the possibility of our own cherished +convictions being mixed with error, the more vital and helpful whatever +is right in them will become: and no error is so conclusively fatal as +the idea that God will not allow _us_ to err, though He has allowed all +other men to do so. There may be doubt of the meaning of other visions, +but there is none respecting that of the dream of St. Peter; and you may +trust the Rock of the Church's Foundation for true interpreting, when he +learned from it that, 'in every nation, he that feareth God and worketh +righteousness, is accepted with Him.' See that you understand what that +righteousness means; and set hand to it stoutly: you will always measure +your neighbors' creed kindly, in proportion to the substantial fruits of +your own. Do not think you will ever get harm by striving to enter into +the faith of others, and to sympathise, in imagination, with the guiding +principles of their lives. So only can you justly love them, or pity +them, or praise. By the gracious effort you will double, treble--nay, +indefinitely multiply, at once the pleasure, the reverence, and the +intelligence with which you read: and, believe me, it is wiser and +holier, by the fire of your own faith to kindle the ashes of expired +religions, than to let your soul shiver and stumble among their graves, +through the gathering darkness, and communicable cold. + +MARY (_after some pause_). We shall all like reading Greek history so +much better after this! but it has put everything else out of our heads +that we wanted to ask. + +L. I can tell you one of the things; and I might take credit for +generosity in telling you; but I have a personal reason--Lucilla's verse +about the creation. + +DORA. Oh, yes--yes; and its 'pain together, until now.' + +L. I call you back to that, because I must warn you against an old error +of my own. Somewhere in the fourth volume of 'Modern Painters,' I said +that the earth seemed to have passed through its highest state: and +that, after ascending by a series of phases, culminating in its +habitation by man, it seems to be now gradually becoming less fit for +that habitation. + +MARY. Yes, I remember. + +L. I wrote those passages under a very bitter impression of the gradual +perishing of beauty from the loveliest scenes which I knew in the +physical world;--not in any doubtful way, such as I might have +attributed to loss of sensation in myself--but by violent and definite +physical action; such as the filling up of the Lac de Chêde by landslips +from the Rochers des Fiz;--the narrowing of the Lake Lucerne by the +gaining delta of the stream of the Muotta-Thal, which, in the course of +years, will cut the lake into two, as that of Brientz has been divided +from that of Thun;--the steady diminishing of the glaciers north of the +Alps, and still more, of the sheets of snow on their southern slopes, +which supply the refreshing streams of Lombardy:--the equally steady +increase of deadly maremma round Pisa and Venice; and other such +phenomena, quite measurably traceable within the limits even of short +life, and unaccompanied, as it seemed, by redeeming or compensatory +agencies. I am still under the same impression respecting the existing +phenomena; but I feel more strongly, every day, that no evidence to be +collected within historical periods can be accepted as any clue to the +great tendencies of geological change; but that the great laws which +never fail, and to which all change is subordinate, appear such as to +accomplish a gradual advance to lovelier order, and more calmly, yet +more deeply, animated Rest. Nor has this conviction ever fastened itself +upon me more distinctly, than during my endeavour to trace the laws +which govern the lowly framework of the dust. For, through all the +phases of its transition and dissolution, there seems to be a continual +effort to raise itself into a higher state; and a measured gain, through +the fierce revulsion and slow renewal of the earth's frame, in beauty, +and order, and permanence. The soft white sediments of the sea draw +themselves, in process of time, into smooth knots of sphered symmetry; +burdened and strained under increase of pressure, they pass into a +nascent marble; scorched by fervent heat, they brighten and blanch into +the snowy rock of Paros and Carrara. The dark drift of the inland river, +or stagnant slime of inland pool and lake, divides, or resolves itself +as it dries, into layers of its several elements; slowly purifying each +by the patient withdrawal of it from the anarchy of the mass in which it +was mingled. Contracted by increasing drought, till it must shatter into +fragments, it infuses continually a finer ichor into the opening veins, +and finds in its weakness the first rudiments of a perfect strength. +Bent at last, rock from rock, nay, atom from atom, and tormented in +lambent fire, it knits, through the fusion, the fibres of a perennial +endurance; and, during countless subsequent centuries, declining, or +rather let me say, rising to repose, finishes the infallible lustre of +its crystalline beauty, under harmonies of law which are wholly +beneficent, because wholly inexorable. + + (_The children seem pleased, but more inclined to think over + these matters than to talk._) + +L. (_after giving them a little time_). Mary, I seldom ask you to read +anything out of books of mine; but there is a passage about the Law of +Help, which I want you to read to the children now, because it is of no +use merely to put it in other words for them. You know the place I mean, +do not you? + +MARY. Yes (_presently finding it_); where shall I begin? + +L. Here; but the elder ones had better look afterwards at the piece +which comes just before this. + +MARY (_reads_): + + * * * * * + +'A pure or holy state of anything is that in which all its parts are +helpful or consistent. The highest and first law of the universe, and +the other name of life, is therefore, "help." The other name of death is +"separation." Government and co-operation are in all things, and +eternally, the laws of life. Anarchy and competition, eternally, and in +all things, the laws of death. + +'Perhaps the best, though the most familiar, example we could take of +the nature and power of consistence, will be that of the possible +changes in the dust we tread on. + +'Exclusive of animal decay, we can hardly arrive at a more absolute type +of impurity, than the mud or slime of a damp, over-trodden path, in the +outskirts of a manufacturing town. I do not say mud of the road, because +that is mixed with animal refuse; but take merely an ounce or two of the +blackest slime of a beaten footpath, on a rainy day, near a +manufacturing town. That slime we shall find in most cases composed of +clay (or brickdust, which is burnt clay), mixed with soot, a little sand +and water. All these elements are at helpless war with each other, and +destroy reciprocally each other's nature and power: competing and +fighting for place at every tread of your foot; sand squeezing out clay, +and clay squeezing out water, and soot meddling everywhere, and defiling +the whole. Let us suppose that this ounce of mud is left in perfect +rest, and that its elements gather together, like to like, so that their +atoms may get into the closest relations possible. + +'Let the clay begin. Ridding itself of all foreign substance, it +gradually becomes a white earth, already very beautiful, and fit, with +help of congealing fire, to be made into finest porcelain, and painted +on, and be kept in kings' palaces. But such artificial consistence is +not its best. Leave it still quiet, to follow its own instinct of unity, +and it becomes, not only white but clear; not only clear, but hard; nor +only clear and hard, but so set that it can deal with light in a +wonderful way, and gather out of it the loveliest blue rays only, +refusing the rest. We call it then a sapphire. + +'Such being the consummation of the clay, we give similar permission of +quiet to the sand. It also becomes, first, a white earth; then proceeds +to grow clear and hard, and at last arranges itself in mysterious, +infinitely fine parallel lines, which have the power of reflecting, not +merely the blue rays, but the blue, green, purple, and red rays, in the +greatest beauty in which they can be seen through any hard material +whatsoever. We call it then an opal. + +'In next order the soot sets to work. It cannot make itself white at +first; but, instead of being discouraged, tries harder and harder; and +comes out clear at last; and the hardest thing in the world: and for +the blackness that it had, obtains in exchange the power of reflecting +all the rays of the sun at once, in the vividest blaze that any solid +thing can shoot. We call it then a diamond. + +'Last of all, the water purifies, or unites itself; contented enough if +it only reach the form of a dewdrop: but, if we insist on its proceeding +to a more perfect consistence, it crystallises into the shape of a star. +And, for the ounce of slime which we had by political economy of +competition, we have, by political economy of co-operation, a sapphire, +an opal, and a diamond, set in the midst of a star of snow.' + + * * * * * + +L. I have asked you to hear that, children, because, from all that we +have seen in the work and play of these past days, I would have you gain +at least one grave and enduring thought. The seeming trouble,--the +unquestionable degradation,--of the elements of the physical earth, must +passively wait the appointed time of their repose, or their restoration. +It can only be brought about for them by the agency of external law. But +if, indeed, there be a nobler life in us than in these strangely moving +atoms;--if, indeed, there is an eternal difference between the fire +which inhabits them, and that which animates us,--it must be shown, by +each of us in his appointed place, not merely in the patience, but in +the activity of our hope; not merely by our desire, but our labour, for +the time when the Dust of the generations of men shall be confirmed for +foundations of the gates of the city of God. The human clay, now +trampled and despised, will not be,--cannot be,--knit into strength and +light by accident or ordinances of unassisted fate. By human cruelty and +iniquity it has been afflicted;--by human mercy and justice it must be +raised: and, in all fear or questioning of what is or is not, the real +message of creation, or of revelation, you may assuredly find perfect +peace, if you are resolved to do that which your Lord has plainly +required,--and content that He should indeed require no more of +you,--than to do Justice, to love Mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[153] Note vi. + + + + +NOTES. + + +NOTE I. + +Page 24. + +_'That third pyramid of hers.'_ + +Throughout the dialogues, it must be observed that 'Sibyl' is addressed +(when in play) as having once been the Cumæan Sibyl; and 'Egypt' as +having been queen Nitocris,--the Cinderella, and 'the greatest heroine +and beauty' of Egyptian story. The Egyptians called her 'Neith the +Victorious' (Nitocris), and the Greeks 'Face of the Rose' (Rhodope). +Chaucer's beautiful conception of Cleopatra in the 'Legend of Good +Women,' is much more founded on the traditions of her than on those of +Cleopatra; and, especially in its close, modified by Herodotus's +terrible story of the death of Nitocris, which, however, is +mythologically nothing more than a part of the deep monotonous ancient +dirge for the fulfilment of the earthly destiny of Beauty; 'She cast +herself into a chamber full of ashes.' + +I believe this Queen is now sufficiently ascertained to have either +built, or increased to double its former size, the third pyramid of +Gizeh: and the passage following in the text refers to an imaginary +endeavour, by the Old Lecturer and the children together, to make out +the description of that pyramid in the 167th page of the second volume +of Bunsen's 'Egypt's Place in Universal History'--ideal +endeavour,--which ideally terminates as the Old Lecturer's real +endeavours to the same end always have terminated. There are, however, +valuable notes respecting Nitocris at page 210 of the same volume: but +the 'Early Egyptian History for the Young,' by the author of Sidney +Gray, contains, in a pleasant form, as much information as young readers +will usually need. + + +NOTE II. + +Page 25. + +_'Pyramid of Asychis.'_ + +This pyramid, in mythology, divides with the Tower of Babel the shame, +or vain glory, of being presumptuously, and first among great edifices, +built with 'brick for stone.' This was the inscription on it, according +to Herodotus:-- + + 'Despise me not, in comparing me with the pyramids of stone; + for I have the pre-eminence over them, as far as Jupiter has + pre-eminence over the gods. For, striking with staves into + the pool, men gathered the clay which fastened itself to the + staff, and kneaded bricks out of it, and so made me.' + +The word I have translated 'kneaded' is literally 'drew;' in the sense +of drawing, for which the Latins used 'duco;' and thus gave us our +'ductile' in speaking of dead clay, and Duke, Doge, or leader, in +speaking of living clay. As the asserted pre-eminence of the edifice is +made, in this inscription, to rest merely on the quantity of labour +consumed in it, this pyramid is considered, in the text, as the type, at +once, of the base building, and of the lost labour, of future ages, so +far at least as the spirits of measured and mechanical effort deal with +it: but Neith, exercising her power upon it, makes it a type of the work +of wise and inspired builders. + + +NOTE III. + +Page 25. + +_'The Greater Pthah.'_ + +It is impossible, as yet, to define with distinctness the personal +agencies of the Egyptian deities. They are continually associated in +function, or hold derivative powers, or are related to each other in +mysterious triads; uniting always symbolism of physical phenomena with +real spiritual power. I have endeavoured partly to explain this in the +text of the tenth Lecture: here, it is only necessary for the reader to +know that the Greater Pthah more or less represents the formative power +of order and measurement: he always stands on a four-square pedestal, +'the Egyptian cubit, metaphorically used as the hieroglyphic for truth;' +his limbs are bound together, to signify fixed stability, as of a +pillar; he has a measuring-rod in his hand; and at Philæ, is represented +as holding an egg on a potter's wheel; but I do not know if this symbol +occurs in older sculptures. His usual title is the 'Lord of Truth.' +Others, very beautiful: 'King of the Two Worlds, of Gracious +Countenance,' 'Superintendent of the Great Abode,' &c., are given by Mr. +Birch in Arundale's 'Gallery of Antiquities,' which I suppose is the +book of best authority easily accessible. For the full titles and +utterances of the gods, Rosellini is as yet the only--and I believe, +still a very questionable--authority; and Arundale's little book, +excellent in the text, has this great defect, that its drawings give the +statues invariably a ludicrous or ignoble character. Readers who have +not access to the originals must be warned against this frequent fault +in modern illustration (especially existing also in some of the painted +casts of Gothic and Norman work at the Crystal Palace). It is not owing +to any wilful want of veracity: the plates in Arundale's book are +laboriously faithful: but the expressions of both face and body in a +figure depend merely on emphasis of touch; and, in barbaric art, most +draughtsmen emphasise what they plainly see--the barbarism; and miss +conditions of nobleness, which they must approach the monument in a +different temper before they will discover, and draw with great subtlety +before they can express. + +The character of the Lower Pthah, or perhaps I ought rather to say, of +Pthah in his lower office, is sufficiently explained in the text of the +third Lecture; only the reader must be warned that the Egyptian +symbolism of him by the beetle was not a scornful one; it expressed only +the idea of his presence in the first elements of life. But it may not +unjustly be used, in another sense, by us, who have seen his power in +new development; and, even as it was, I cannot conceive that the +Egyptians should have regarded their beetle-headed image of him +(Champollion, 'Pantheon,' pl. 12), without some occult scorn. It is the +most painful of all their types of any beneficent power; and even among +those of evil influences, none can be compared with it, except its +opposite, the tortoise-headed demon of indolence. + +Pasht (p. 24, line 32) is connected with the Greek Artemis, especially +in her offices of judgment and vengeance. She is usually lioness-headed; +sometimes cat-headed; her attributes seeming often trivial or ludicrous +unless their full meaning is known; but the enquiry is much too wide to +be followed here. The cat was sacred to her; or rather to the sun, and +secondarily to her. She is alluded to in the text because she is always +the companion of Pthah (called 'the beloved of Pthah,' it may be as +Judgment, demanded and longed for by Truth); and it may be well for +young readers to have this fixed in their minds, even by chance +association. There are more statues of Pasht in the British Museum than +of any other Egyptian deity; several of them fine in workmanship; nearly +all in dark stone, which may be, presumably, to connect her, as the +moon, with the night; and in her office of avenger, with grief. + +Thoth (p. 27, line 17), is the Recording Angel of Judgment; and the +Greek Hermes Phre (line 20), is the Sun. + +Neith is the Egyptian spirit of divine wisdom; and the Athena of the +Greeks. No sufficient statement of her many attributes, still less of +their meanings, can be shortly given; but this should be noted +respecting the veiling of the Egyptian image of her by vulture +wings--that as she is, physically, the goddess of the air, this bird, +the most powerful creature of the air known to the Egyptians, naturally +became her symbol. It had other significations; but certainly this, when +in connection with Neith. As representing her, it was the most important +sign, next to the winged sphere, in Egyptian sculpture; and, just as in +Homer, Athena herself guides her heroes into battle, this symbol of +wisdom, giving victory, floats over the heads of the Egyptian kings. The +Greeks, representing the goddess herself in human form, yet would not +lose the power of the Egyptian symbol, and changed it into an angel of +victory. First seen in loveliness on the early coins of Syracuse and +Leontium, it gradually became the received sign of all conquest, and the +so-called 'Victory' of later times; which, little by little, loses its +truth, and is accepted by the moderns only as a personification of +victory itself,--not as an actual picture of the living Angel who led to +victory. There is a wide difference between these two conceptions,--all +the difference between insincere poetry, and sincere religion. This I +have also endeavoured farther to illustrate in the tenth Lecture; there +is however one part of Athena's character which it would have been +irrelevant to dwell upon there; yet which I must not wholly leave +unnoticed. + +As the goddess of the air, she physically represents both its beneficent +calm, and necessary tempest: other storm-deities (as Chrysaor and Æolus) +being invested with a subordinate and more or less malignant function, +which is exclusively their own, and is related to that of Athena as the +power of Mars is related to hers in war. So also Virgil makes her able +to wield the lightning herself, while Juno cannot, but must pray for the +intervention of Æolus. She has precisely the correspondent moral +authority over calmness of mind, and just anger. She soothes Achilles, +as she incites Tydides; her physical power over the air being always +hinted correlatively. She grasps Achilles by his hair--as the wind would +lift it--softly, + + 'It fanned his cheek, it raised his hair, + Like a meadow gale in spring.' + +She does not merely turn the lance of Mars from Diomed; but seizes it in +both her hands, and casts it aside, with a sense of making it vain, like +chaff in the wind;--to the shout of Achilles, she adds her own voice of +storm in heaven--but in all cases the moral power is still the principal +one--most beautifully in that seizing of Achilles by the hair, which was +the talisman of his life (because he had vowed it to the Sperchius if he +returned in safety), and which, in giving at Patroclus' tomb, he, +knowingly, yields up the hope of return to his country, and signifies +that he will die with his friend. Achilles and Tydides are, above all +other heroes, aided by her in war, because their prevailing characters +are the desire of justice, united in both with deep affections; and, in +Achilles, with a passionate tenderness, which is the real root of his +passionate anger. Ulysses is her favourite chiefly in her office as the +goddess of conduct and design. + + +NOTE IV. + +Page 54. + +_'Geometrical limitations.'_ + +It is difficult, without a tedious accuracy, or without full +illustration, to express the complete relations of crystalline +structure, which dispose minerals to take, at different times, fibrous, +massive, or foliated forms; and I am afraid this chapter will be +generally skipped by the reader: yet the arrangement itself will be +found useful, if kept broadly in mind; and the transitions of state are +of the highest interest, if the subject is entered upon with any +earnestness. It would have been vain to add to the scheme of this little +volume any account of the geometrical forms of crystals: an available +one, though still far too difficult and too copious, has been arranged +by the Rev. Mr. Mitchell, for Orr's 'Circle of the Sciences'; and, I +believe, the 'nets' of crystals, which are therein given to be cut out +with scissors and put prettily together, will be found more conquerable +by young ladies than by other students. They should also, when an +opportunity occurs, be shown, at any public library, the diagram of the +crystallisation of quartz referred to poles, at p. 8 of Cloizaux's +'Manuel de Minéralogie': that they may know what work is; and what the +subject is. + +With a view to more careful examination of the nascent states of silica, +I have made no allusion in this volume to the influence of mere +segregation, as connected with the crystalline power. It has only been +recently, during the study of the breccias alluded to in page 113, that +I have fully seen the extent to which this singular force often modifies +rocks in which at first its influence might hardly have been suspected; +many apparent conglomerates being in reality formed chiefly by +segregation, combined with mysterious brokenly-zoned structures, like +those of some malachites. I hope some day to know more of these and +several other mineral phenomena (especially of those connected with the +relative sizes of crystals), which otherwise I should have endeavoured +to describe in this volume. + + +NOTE V. + +Page 102. + +_'St. Barbara.'_ + +I would have given the legends of St. Barbara, and St. Thomas, if I had +thought it always well for young readers to have everything at once told +them which they may wish to know. They will remember the stories better +after taking some trouble to find them: and the text is intelligible +enough as it stands. The idea of St. Barbara, as there given is founded +partly on her legend in Peter de Natalibus, partly on the beautiful +photograph of Van Eyck's picture of her at Antwerp: which was some time +since published at Lille. + + +NOTE VI. + +Page 137. + +_'King of the Valley of Diamonds.'_ + +Isabel interrupted the Lecturer here, and was briefly bid to hold her +tongue; which gave rise to some talk, apart, afterwards, between L. and +Sibyl, of which a word or two may be perhaps advisably set down. + +SIBYL. We shall spoil Isabel, certainly, if we don't mind: I was glad +you stopped her, and yet sorry; for she wanted so much to ask about the +Valley of Diamonds again, and she has worked so hard at it, and made it +nearly all out by herself. She recollected Elisha's throwing in the +meal, which nobody else did. + +L. But what did she want to ask? + +SIBYL. About the mulberry trees and the serpents; we are all stopped by +that. Won't you tell us what it means? + +L. Now, Sibyl, I am sure you, who never explained yourself, should be +the last to expect others to do so. I hate explaining myself. + +SIBYL. And yet how often you complain of other people for not saying +what they meant. How I have heard you growl over the three stone steps +to purgatory; for instance! + +L. Yes; because Dante's meaning is worth getting at; but mine matters +nothing: at least, if ever I think it is of any consequence, I speak it +as clearly as may be. But you may make anything you like of the serpent +forests. I could have helped you to find out what they were, by giving a +little more detail, but it would have been tiresome. + +SIBYL. It is much more tiresome not to find out. Tell us, please, as +Isabel says, because we feel so stupid. + +L. There is no stupidity; you could not possibly do more than guess at +anything so vague. But I think, you, Sibyl, at least, might have +recollected what first dyed the mulberry? + +SIBYL. So I did; but that helped little; I thought of Dante's forest of +suicides, too, but you would not simply have borrowed that? + +L. No. If I had had strength to use it, I should have stolen it, to beat +into another shape; not borrowed it. But that idea of souls in trees is +as old as the world; or at least, as the world of man. And I _did_ mean +that there were souls in those dark branches; the souls of all those who +had perished in misery through the pursuit of riches; and that the river +was of their blood, gathering gradually, and flowing out of the valley. +That I meant the serpents for the souls of those who had lived +carelessly and wantonly in their riches; and who have all their sins +forgiven by the world, because they are rich: and therefore they have +seven crimson crested heads, for the seven mortal sins; of which they +are proud: and these, and the memory and report of them, are the chief +causes of temptation to others, as showing the pleasantness and +absolving power of riches; so that thus they are singing serpents. And +the worms are the souls of the common money-getters and traffickers, who +do nothing but eat and spin: and who gain habitually by the distress or +foolishness of others (as you see the butchers have been gaining out of +the panic at the cattle plague, among the poor),--so they are made to +eat the dark leaves, and spin, and perish. + +SIBYL. And the souls of the great, cruel, rich people who oppress the +poor, and lend money to government to make unjust war, where are they? + +L. They change into the ice, I believe, and are knit with the gold; and +make the grave dust of the valley. I believe so, at least, for no one +ever sees those souls anywhere. + + (SIBYL _ceases questioning._) + +ISABEL (_who has crept up to her side without any one's seeing_). Oh, +Sibyl, please ask him about the fire-flies! + +L. What, you there, mousie! No; I won't tell either Sibyl or you about +the fire-flies; nor a word more about anything else. You ought to be +little fire-flies yourselves, and find your way in twilight by your own +wits. + +ISABEL. But you said they burned, you know? + +L. Yes; and you may be fire-flies that way too, some of you, before +long, though I did not mean that. Away with you, children. You have +thought enough for to-day. + + + + +NOTE TO SECOND EDITION. + + +_Sentence_ out of letter from May (who is staying with Isabel just now +at Cassel), dated 15th June, 1877:-- + +"I am reading the Ethics with a nice Irish girl who is staying here, and +she's just as puzzled as I've always been about the fire-flies, and we +both want to know so much.--Please be a very nice old Lecturer, and tell +us, won't you?" + +Well, May, you never were a vain girl; so could scarcely guess that I +meant them for the light, unpursued vanities, which yet blind us, +confused among the stars. One evening, as I came late into Siena, the +fire-flies were flying high on a stormy sirocco wind,--the stars +themselves no brighter, and all their host seeming, at moments, to fade +as the insects faded. + + + + +FICTION--FAIR AND FOUL. + + +On the first mild--or, at least, the first bright--day of March, in this +year, I walked through what was once a country lane, between the +hostelry of the Half-moon at the bottom of Herne Hill, and the secluded +College of Dulwich. + +In my young days, Croxsted Lane was a green bye-road traversable for +some distance by carts; but rarely so traversed, and, for the most part, +little else than a narrow strip of untilled field, separated by +blackberry hedges from the better cared-for meadows on each side of it: +growing more weeds, therefore, than they, and perhaps in spring a +primrose or two--white archangel--daisies plenty, and purple thistles in +autumn. A slender rivulet, boasting little of its brightness, for there +are no springs at Dulwich, yet fed purely enough by the rain and morning +dew, here trickled--there loitered--through the long grass beneath the +hedges, and expanded itself, where it might, into moderately clear and +deep pools, in which, under their veils of duck-weed, a fresh-water +shell or two, sundry curious little skipping shrimps, any quantity of +tadpoles in their time, and even sometimes a tittlebat, offered +themselves to my boyhood's pleased, and not inaccurate, observation. +There, my mother and I used to gather the first buds of the hawthorn; +and there, in after years, I used to walk in the summer shadows, as in a +place wilder and sweeter than our garden, to think over any passage I +wanted to make better than usual in _Modern Painters_. + +So, as aforesaid, on the first kindly day of this year, being thoughtful +more than usual of those old times, I went to look again at the place. + +Often, both in those days, and since, I have put myself hard to it, +vainly, to find words wherewith to tell of beautiful things; but beauty +has been in the world since the world was made, and human language can +make a shift, somehow, to give account of it, whereas the peculiar +forces of devastation induced by modern city life have only entered the +world lately; and no existing terms of language known to me are enough +to describe the forms of filth, and modes of ruin, that varied +themselves along the course of Croxsted Lane. The fields on each side of +it are now mostly dug up for building, or cut through into gaunt corners +and nooks of blind ground by the wild crossings and concurrencies of +three railroads. Half a dozen handfuls of new cottages, with Doric +doors, are dropped about here and there among the gashed ground: the +lane itself, now entirely grassless, is a deep-rutted, heavy-hillocked +cart-road, diverging gatelessly into various brick-fields or pieces of +waste; and bordered on each side by heaps of--Hades only knows +what!--mixed dust of every unclean thing that can crumble in drought, +and mildew of every unclean thing that can rot or rust in damp: ashes +and rags, beer-bottles and old shoes, battered pans, smashed crockery, +shreds of nameless clothes, door-sweepings, floor-sweepings, kitchen +garbage, back-garden sewage, old iron, rotten timber jagged with +out-torn nails, cigar-ends, pipe-bowls, cinders, bones, and ordure, +indescribable; and, variously kneaded into, sticking to, or fluttering +foully here and there over all these,--remnants broadcast, of every +manner of newspaper, advertisement or big-lettered bill, festering and +flaunting out their last publicity in the pits of stinking dust and +mortal slime. + +The lane ends now where its prettiest windings once began; being cut off +by a cross-road leading out of Dulwich to a minor railway station: and +on the other side of this road, what was of old the daintiest intricacy +of its solitude is changed into a straight, and evenly macadamised +carriage drive, between new houses of extreme respectability, with good +attached gardens and offices--most of these tenements being larger--all +more pretentious, and many, I imagine, held at greatly higher rent than +my father's, tenanted for twenty years at Herne Hill. And it became +matter of curious meditation to me what must here become of children +resembling my poor little dreamy quondam self in temper, and thus +brought up at the same distance from London, and in the same or better +circumstances of worldly fortune; but with only Croxsted Lane in its +present condition for their country walk. The trimly kept road before +their doors, such as one used to see in the fashionable suburbs of +Cheltenham or Leamington, presents nothing to their study but gravel, +and gas-lamp posts; the modern addition of a vermilion letter-pillar +contributing indeed to the splendour, but scarcely to the interest of +the scene; and a child of any sense or fancy would hastily contrive +escape from such a barren desert of politeness, and betake itself to +investigation, such as might be feasible, of the natural history of +Croxsted Lane. + +But, for its sense or fancy, what food, or stimulus, can it find, in +that foul causeway of its youthful pilgrimage? What would have happened +to myself, so directed, I cannot clearly imagine. Possibly, I might have +got interested in the old iron and wood-shavings; and become an engineer +or a carpenter: but for the children of to-day, accustomed from the +instant they are out of their cradles, to the sight of this infinite +nastiness, prevailing as a fixed condition of the universe, over the +face of nature, and accompanying all the operations of industrious man, +what is to be the scholastic issue? unless, indeed, the thrill of +scientific vanity in the primary analysis of some unheard-of process of +corruption--or the reward of microscopic research in the sight of worms +with more legs, and acari of more curious generation than ever vivified +the more simply smelling plasma of antiquity. + +One result of such elementary education is, however, already certain; +namely, that the pleasure which we may conceive taken by the children of +the coming time, in the analysis of physical corruption, guides, into +fields more dangerous and desolate, the expatiation of imaginative +literature: and that the reactions of moral disease upon itself, and the +conditions of languidly monstrous character developed in an atmosphere +of low vitality, have become the most valued material of modern +fiction, and the most eagerly discussed texts of modern philosophy. + +The many concurrent reasons for this mischief may, I believe, be massed +under a few general heads. + +I. There is first the hot fermentation and unwholesome secrecy of the +population crowded into large cities, each mote in the misery lighter, +as an individual soul, than a dead leaf, but becoming oppressive and +infectious each to his neighbour, in the smoking mass of decay. The +resulting modes of mental ruin and distress are continually new; and in +a certain sense, worth study in their monstrosity: they have accordingly +developed a corresponding science of fiction, concerned mainly with the +description of such forms of disease, like the botany of leaf-lichens. + +In De Balzac's story of _Father Goriot_, a grocer makes a large fortune, +of which he spends on himself as much as may keep him alive; and on his +two daughters, all that can promote their pleasures or their pride. He +marries them to men of rank, supplies their secret expenses, and +provides for his favourite a separate and clandestine establishment with +her lover. On his deathbed, he sends for this favourite daughter, who +wishes to come, and hesitates for a quarter of an hour between doing so, +and going to a ball at which it has been for the last month her chief +ambition to be seen. She finally goes to the ball. + +This story is, of course, one of which the violent contrasts and +spectral catastrophe could only take place, or be conceived, in a large +city. A village grocer cannot make a large fortune, cannot marry his +daughters to titled squires, and cannot die without having his children +brought to him, if in the neighbourhood, by fear of village gossip, if +for no better cause. + +II. But a much more profound feeling than this mere curiosity of science +in morbid phenomena is concerned in the production of the carefullest +forms of modern fiction. The disgrace and grief resulting from the mere +trampling pressure and electric friction of town life, become to the +sufferers peculiarly mysterious in their undeservedness, and frightful +in their inevitableness. The power of all surroundings over them for +evil; the incapacity of their own minds to refuse the pollution, and of +their own wills to oppose the weight, of the staggering mass that chokes +and crushes them into perdition, brings every law of healthy existence +into question with them, and every alleged method of help and hope into +doubt. Indignation, without any calming faith in justice, and +self-contempt, without any curative self-reproach, dull the +intelligence, and degrade the conscience, into sullen incredulity of all +sunshine outside the dunghill, or breeze beyond the wafting of its +impurity; and at last a philosophy develops itself, partly satiric, +partly consolatory, concerned only with the regenerative vigour of +manure, and the necessary obscurities of fimetic Providence; showing how +everybody's fault is somebody else's, how infection has no law, +digestion no will, and profitable dirt no dishonour. + +And thus an elaborate and ingenious scholasticism, in what may be called +the Divinity of Decomposition, has established itself in connection with +the more recent forms of romance, giving them at once a complacent tone +of clerical dignity, and an agreeable dash of heretical impudence; while +the inculcated doctrine has the double advantage of needing no laborious +scholarship for its foundation, and no painful self-denial for its +practice. + +III. The monotony of life in the central streets of any great modern +city, but especially in those of London, where every emotion intended to +be derived by men from the sight of nature, or the sense of art, is +forbidden for ever, leaves the craving of the heart for a sincere, yet +changeful, interest, to be fed from one source only. Under natural +conditions the degree of mental excitement necessary to bodily health is +provided by the course of the seasons, and the various skill and fortune +of agriculture. In the country every morning of the year brings with it +a new aspect of springing or fading nature; a new duty to be fulfilled +upon earth, and a new promise or warning in heaven. No day is without +its innocent hope, its special prudence, its kindly gift, and its +sublime danger; and in every process of wise husbandry, and every +effort of contending or remedial courage, the wholesome passions, pride, +and bodily power of the labourer are excited and exerted in happiest +unison. The companionship of domestic, the care of serviceable, animals, +soften and enlarge his life with lowly charities, and discipline him in +familiar wisdoms and unboastful fortitudes; while the divine laws of +seed-time which cannot be recalled, harvest which cannot be hastened, +and winter in which no man can work, compel the impatiences and coveting +of his heart into labour too submissive to be anxious, and rest too +sweet to be wanton. What thought can enough comprehend the contrast +between such life, and that in streets where summer and winter are only +alternations of heat and cold; where snow never fell white, nor sunshine +clear; where the ground is only a pavement, and the sky no more than the +glass roof of an arcade; where the utmost power of a storm is to choke +the gutters, and the finest magic of spring, to change mud into dust: +where--chief and most fatal difference in state, there is no interest of +occupation for any of the inhabitants but the routine of counter or desk +within doors, and the effort to pass each other without collision +outside; so that from morning to evening the only possible variation of +the monotony of the hours, and lightening of the penalty of existence, +must be some kind of mischief, limited, unless by more than ordinary +godsend of fatality, to the fall of a horse, or the slitting of a +pocket. + +I said that under these laws of inanition, the craving of the human +heart for some kind of excitement could be supplied from _one_ source +only. It might have been thought by any other than a sternly tentative +philosopher, that the denial of their natural food to human feelings +would have provoked a reactionary desire for it; and that the dreariness +of the street would have been gilded by dreams of pastoral felicity. +Experience has shown the fact to be otherwise; the thoroughly trained +Londoner can enjoy no other excitement than that to which he has been +accustomed, but asks for _that_ in continually more ardent or more +virulent concentration; and the ultimate power of fiction to entertain +him is by varying to his fancy the modes, and defining for his dulness +the horrors, of Death. In the single novel of _Bleak House_ there are +nine deaths (or left for death's, in the drop scene) carefully wrought +out or led up to, either by way of pleasing surprise, as the baby's at +the brickmaker's, or finished in their threatenings and sufferings, with +as much enjoyment as can be contrived in the anticipation, and as much +pathology as can be concentrated in the description. Under the following +varieties of method:-- + + One by assassination Mr. Tulkinghorn. + One by starvation, with phthisis Joe. + One by chagrin Richard. + One by spontaneous combustion Mr. Krook. + One by sorrow Lady Dedlock's lover. + One by remorse Lady Dedlock. + One by insanity Miss Flite. + One by paralysis Sir Leicester. + +Besides the baby, by fever, and a lively young Frenchwoman left to be +hanged. + +And all this, observe, not in a tragic, adventurous, or military story, +but merely as the further enlivenment of a narrative intended to be +amusing; and as a properly representative average of the statistics of +civilian mortality in the centre of London. + +Observe further, and chiefly. It is not the mere number of deaths +(which, if we count the odd troopers in the last scene, is exceeded in +_Old Mortality_, and reached, within one or two, both in _Waverley_ and +_Guy Mannering_) that marks the peculiar tone of the modern novel. It is +the fact that all these deaths, but one, are of inoffensive, or at least +in the world's estimate respectable persons; and that they are all +grotesquely either violent or miserable, purporting thus to illustrate +the modern theology that the appointed destiny of a large average of our +population is to die like rats in a drain, either by trap or poison. +Not, indeed, that a lawyer in full practice can be usually supposed as +faultless in the eye of heaven as a dove or a woodcock; but it is not, +in former divinities, thought the will of Providence that he should be +dropped by a shot from a client behind his fire-screen, and retrieved in +the morning by his housemaid under the chandelier. Neither is Lady +Dedlock less reprehensible in her conduct than many women of fashion +have been and will be: but it would not therefore have been thought +poetically just, in old-fashioned morality, that she should be found by +her daughter lying dead, with her face in the mud of a St. Giles's +churchyard. + +In the work of the great masters death is always either heroic, +deserved, or quiet and natural (unless their purpose be totally and +deeply tragic, when collateral meaner death is permitted, like that of +Polonius or Roderigo). In _Old Mortality_, four of the deaths, +Bothwell's, Ensign Grahame's, Macbriar's, and Evandale's, are +magnificently heroic; Burley's and Oliphant's long deserved, and swift; +the troopers', met in the discharge of their military duty, and the old +miser's, as gentle as the passing of a cloud, and almost beautiful in +its last words of--now unselfish--care. + + 'Ailie' (he aye ca'd me Ailie, we were auld acquaintance,) + 'Ailie, take ye care and haud the gear weel thegither; for + the name of Morton of Milnwood's gane out like the last + sough of an auld sang.' And sae he fell out o' ae dwam into + another, and ne'er spak a word mair, unless it were + something we cou'dna mak out, about a dipped candle being + gude eneugh to see to dee wi'. He cou'd ne'er bide to see a + moulded ane, and there was ane, by ill luck, on the table. + +In _Guy Mannering_, the murder, though unpremeditated, of a single +person, (himself not entirely innocent, but at least by heartlessness in +a cruel function earning his fate,) is avenged to the uttermost on all +the men conscious of the crime; Mr. Bertram's death, like that of his +wife, brief in pain, and each told in the space of half-a-dozen lines; +and that of the heroine of the tale, self-devoted, heroic in the +highest, and happy. + +Nor is it ever to be forgotten, in the comparison of Scott's with +inferior work, that his own splendid powers were, even in early life, +tainted, and in his latter years destroyed, by modern conditions of +commercial excitement, then first, but rapidly, developing themselves. +There are parts even in his best novels coloured to meet tastes which he +despised; and many pages written in his later ones to lengthen his +article for the indiscriminate market. + +But there was one weakness of which his healthy mind remained incapable +to the last. In modern stories prepared for more refined or fastidious +audiences than those of Dickens, the funereal excitement is obtained, +for the most part, not by the infliction of violent or disgusting death; +but in the suspense, the pathos, and the more or less by all felt, and +recognised, mortal phenomena of the sick-room. The temptation, to weak +writers, of this order of subject is especially great, because the study +of it from the living--or dying--model is so easy, and to many has been +the most impressive part of their own personal experience; while, if the +description be given even with mediocre accuracy, a very large section +of readers will admire its truth, and cherish its melancholy: Few +authors of second or third rate genius can either record or invent a +probable conversation in ordinary life; but few, on the other hand, are +so destitute of observant faculty as to be unable to chronicle the +broken syllables and languid movements of an invalid. The easily +rendered, and too surely recognised, image of familiar suffering is felt +at once to be real where all else had been false; and the historian of +the gestures of fever and words of delirium can count on the applause of +a gratified audience as surely as the dramatist who introduces on the +stage of his flagging action a carriage that can be driven or a fountain +that will flow. But the masters of strong imagination disdain such work, +and those of deep sensibility shrink from it.[154] Only under conditions +of personal weakness, presently to be noted, would Scott comply with the +cravings of his lower audience in scenes of terror like the death of +Front-de-Boeuf. But he never once withdrew the sacred curtain of the +sick-chamber, nor permitted the disgrace of wanton tears round the +humiliation of strength, or the wreck of beauty. + +IV. No exception to this law of reverence will be found in the scenes in +Coeur de Lion's illness introductory to the principal incident in the +_Talisman_. An inferior writer would have made the king charge in +imagination at the head of his chivalry, or wander in dreams by the +brooks of Aquitaine; but Scott allows us to learn no more startling +symptoms of the king's malady than that he was restless and impatient, +and could not wear his armour. Nor is any bodily weakness, or crisis of +danger, permitted to disturb for an instant the royalty of intelligence +and heart in which he examines, trusts and obeys the physician whom his +attendants fear. + +Yet the choice of the main subject in this story and its companion--the +trial, to a point of utter torture, of knightly faith, and several +passages in the conduct of both, more especially the exaggerated scenes +in the House of Baldringham, and hermitage of Engedi, are signs of the +gradual decline in force of intellect and soul which those who love +Scott best have done him the worst injustice in their endeavours to +disguise or deny. The mean anxieties, moral humiliations, and +mercilessly demanded brain-toil, which killed him, show their sepulchral +grasp for many and many a year before their final victory; and the +states of more or less dulled, distorted, and polluted imagination which +culminate in _Castle Dangerous_, cast a Stygian hue over _St. Ronan's +Well, The Fair Maid of Perth_, and _Anne of Geierstein_, which lowers +them, the first altogether, the other two at frequent intervals, into +fellowship with the normal disease which festers throughout the whole +body of our lower fictitious literature. + +Fictitious! I use the ambiguous word deliberately; for it is impossible +to distinguish in these tales of the prison-house how far their vice and +gloom are thrown into their manufacture only to meet a vile demand, and +how far they are an integral condition of thought in the minds of men +trained from their youth up in the knowledge of Londinian and Parisian +misery. The speciality of the plague is a delight in the exposition of +the relations between guilt and decrepitude; and I call the results of +it literature 'of the prison-house,' because the thwarted habits of body +and mind, which are the punishment of reckless crowding in cities, +become, in the issue of that punishment, frightful subjects of exclusive +interest to themselves; and the art of fiction in which they finally +delight is only the more studied arrangement and illustration, by +coloured firelights, of the daily bulletins of their own wretchedness, +in the prison calendar, the police news, and the hospital report. + +The reader will perhaps be surprised at my separating the greatest work +of Dickens, _Oliver Twist_, with honour, from the loathsome mass to +which it typically belongs. That book is an earnest and uncaricatured +record of states of criminal life, written with didactic purpose, full +of the gravest instruction, nor destitute of pathetic studies of noble +passion. Even the _Mysteries of Paris_ and Gaboriau's _Crime d'Augival_ +are raised, by their definiteness of historical intention and +forewarning anxiety, far above the level of their order, and may be +accepted as photographic evidence of an otherwise incredible +civilisation, corrupted in the infernal fact of it, down to the genesis +of such figures as the Vicomte d'Augival, the Stabber,[155] the +Skeleton, and the She-wolf. But the effectual head of the whole +cretinous school is the renowned novel in which the hunchbacked lover +watches the execution of his mistress from the tower of Notre-Dame; and +its strength passes gradually away into the anatomical preparations, for +the general market, of novels like _Poor Miss Finch_, in which the +heroine is blind, the hero epileptic, and the obnoxious brother is found +dead with his hands dropped off, in the Arctic regions.[156] + +This literature of the Prison-house, understanding by the word not only +the cell of Newgate, but also and even more definitely the cell of the +Hôtel-Dieu, the Hôpital des Fous, and the grated corridor with the +dripping slabs of the Morgue, having its central root thus in the Ile +de Paris--or historically and pre-eminently the 'Cité de Paris'--is, +when understood deeply, the precise counter-corruption of the religion +of the Sainte Chapelle, just as the worst forms of bodily and mental +ruin are the corruption of love. I have therefore called it 'Fiction +mécroyante,' with literal accuracy and precision; according to the +explanation of the word which the reader may find in any good French +dictionary,[157] and round its Arctic pole in the Morgue, he may gather +into one Caina of gelid putrescence the entire product of modern infidel +imagination, amusing itself with destruction of the body, and busying +itself with aberration of the mind. + +Aberration, palsy, or plague, observe, as distinguished from normal +evil, just as the venom of rabies or cholera differs from that of a wasp +or a viper. The life of the insect and serpent deserves, or at least +permits, our thoughts; not so, the stages of agony in the fury-driven +hound. There is some excuse, indeed, for the pathologic labour of the +modern novelist in the fact that he cannot easily, in a city population, +find a healthy mind to vivisect: but the greater part of such amateur +surgery is the struggle, in an epoch of wild literary competition, to +obtain novelty of material. The varieties of aspect and colour in +healthy fruit, be it sweet or sour, may be within certain limits +described exhaustively. Not so the blotches of its conceivable blight: +and while the symmetries of integral human character can only be traced +by harmonious and tender skill, like the branches of a living tree, the +faults and gaps of one gnawed away by corroding accident can be shuffled +into senseless change like the wards of a Chubb lock. + +V. It is needless to insist on the vast field for this dice-cast or +card-dealt calamity which opens itself in the ignorance, money-interest, +and mean passion, of city marriage. Peasants know each other as +children--meet, as they grow up in testing labour; and if a stout +farmer's son marries a handless girl, it is his own fault. Also in the +patrician families of the field, the young people know what they are +doing, and marry a neighbouring estate, or a covetable title, with some +conception of the responsibilities they undertake. But even among these, +their season in the confused metropolis creates licentious and +fortuitous temptation before unknown; and in the lower middle orders, an +entirely new kingdom of discomfort and disgrace has been preached to +them in the doctrines of unbridled pleasure which are merely an apology +for their peculiar forms of illbreeding. It is quite curious how often +the catastrophe, or the leading interest, of a modern novel, turns upon +the want, both in maid and bachelor, of the common self-command which +was taught to their grandmothers and grandfathers as the first element +of ordinarily decent behaviour. Rashly inquiring the other day the plot +of a modern story from a female friend, I elicited, after some +hesitation, that it hinged mainly on the young people's 'forgetting +themselves in a boat;' and I perceive it to be accepted as nearly an +axiom in the code of modern civic chivalry that the strength of amiable +sentiment is proved by our incapacity on proper occasions to express, +and on improper ones to control it. The pride of a gentleman of the old +school used to be in his power of saying what he meant, and being silent +when he ought, (not to speak of the higher nobleness which bestowed love +where it was honourable, and reverence where it was due); but the +automatic amours and involuntary proposals of recent romance acknowledge +little further law of morality than the instinct of an insect, or the +effervescence of a chemical mixture. + +There is a pretty little story of Alfred de Musset's,--_La Mouche_, +which, if the reader cares to glance at it, will save me further trouble +in explaining the disciplinarian authority of mere old-fashioned +politeness, as in some sort protective of higher things. It describes, +with much grace and precision, a state of society by no means +pre-eminently virtuous, or enthusiastically heroic; in which many people +do extremely wrong, and none sublimely right. But as there are heights +of which the achievement is unattempted, there are abysses to which fall +is barred; neither accident nor temptation will make any of the +principal personages swerve from an adopted resolution, or violate an +accepted principle of honour; people are expected as a matter of course +to speak with propriety on occasion, and to wait with patience when they +are bid: those who do wrong, admit it; those who do right don't boast of +it; everybody knows his own mind, and everybody has good manners. + +Nor must it be forgotten that in the worst days of the self-indulgence +which destroyed the aristocracies of Europe, their vices, however +licentious, were never, in the fatal modern sense, 'unprincipled.' The +vainest believed in virtue; the vilest respected it. 'Chaque chose avait +son nom,'[158] and the severest of English moralists recognises the +accurate wit, the lofty intellect, and the unfretted benevolence, which +redeemed from vitiated surroundings the circle of d'Alembert and +Marmontel.[159] + +I have said, with too slight praise, that the vainest, in those days, +'believed' in virtue. Beautiful and heroic examples of it were always +before them; nor was it without the secret significance attaching to +what may seem the least accidents in the work of a master, that Scott +gave to both his heroines of the age of revolution in England the name +of the queen of the highest order of English chivalry.[160] + +It is to say little for the types of youth and maid which alone Scott +felt it a joy to imagine, or thought it honourable to portray, that they +act and feel in a sphere where they are never for an instant liable to +any of the weaknesses which disturb the calm, or shake the resolution, +of chastity and courage in a modern novel. Scott lived in a country and +time, when, from highest to lowest, but chiefly in that dignified and +nobly severe[161] middle class to which he himself belonged, a habit of +serene and stainless thought was as natural to the people as their +mountain air. Women like Rose Bradwardine and Ailie Dinmont were the +grace and guard of almost every household (God be praised that the race +of them is not yet extinct, for all that Mall or Boulevard can do), and +it has perhaps escaped the notice of even attentive readers that the +comparatively uninteresting character of Sir Walter's heroes had always +been studied among a class of youths who were simply incapable of doing +anything seriously wrong; and could only be embarrassed by the +consequences of their levity or imprudence. + +But there is another difference in the woof of a Waverley novel from the +cobweb of a modern one, which depends on Scott's larger view of human +life. Marriage is by no means, in his conception of man and woman, the +most important business of their existence;[162] nor love the only +reward to be proposed to their virtue or exertion. It is not in his +reading of the laws of Providence a necessity that virtue should, either +by love or any other external blessing, be rewarded at all;[163] and +marriage is in all cases thought of as a constituent of the happiness of +life, but not as its only interest, still less its only aim. And upon +analysing with some care the motives of his principal stories, we shall +often find that the love in them is merely a light by which the sterner +features of character are to be irradiated, and that the marriage of the +hero is as subordinate to the main bent of the story as Henry the +Fifth's courtship of Katherine is to the battle of Agincourt. Nay, the +fortunes of the person who is nominally the subject of the tale are +often little more than a background on which grander figures are to be +drawn, and deeper fates forth-shadowed. The judgments between the faith +and chivalry of Scotland at Drumclog and Bothwell bridge owe little of +their interest in the mind of a sensible reader to the fact that the +captain of the Popinjay is carried a prisoner to one battle, and returns +a prisoner from the other: and Scott himself, while he watches the white +sail that bears Queen Mary for the last time from her native land, very +nearly forgets to finish his novel, or to tell us--and with small sense +of any consolation to be had out of that minor circumstance,--that +'Roland and Catherine were united, spite of their differing faiths.' + +Neither let it be thought for an instant that the slight, and sometimes +scornful, glance with which Scott passes over scenes which a novelist of +our own day would have analysed with the airs of a philosopher, and +painted with the curiosity of a gossip, indicate any absence in his +heart of sympathy with the great and sacred elements of personal +happiness. An era like ours, which has with diligence and ostentation +swept its heart clear of all the passions once known as loyalty, +patriotism, and piety, necessarily magnifies the apparent force of the +one remaining sentiment which sighs through the barren chambers, or +clings inextricably round the chasms of ruin; nor can it but regard with +awe the unconquerable spirit which still tempts or betrays the +sagacities of selfishness into error or frenzy which is believed to be +love. + +That Scott was never himself, in the sense of the phrase as employed by +lovers of the Parisian school, 'ivre d'amour,' may be admitted without +prejudice to his sensibility,[164] and that he never knew 'l'amor che +move 'l sol e l'altre stelle,' was the chief, though unrecognised, +calamity of his deeply chequered life. But the reader of honour and +feeling will not therefore suppose that the love which Miss Vernon +sacrifices, stooping for an instant from her horse, is of less noble +stamp, or less enduring faith, than that which troubles and degrades +the whole existence of Consuelo; or that the affection of Jeanie Deans +for the companion of her childhood, drawn like a field of soft blue +heaven beyond the cloudy wrack of her sorrow, is less fully in +possession of her soul than the hesitating and self-reproachful impulses +under which a modern heroine forgets herself in a boat, or compromises +herself in the cool of the evening. + +I do not wish to return over the waste ground we have traversed, +comparing, point by point, Scott's manner with those of Bermondsey and +the Faubourgs; but it may be, perhaps, interesting at this moment to +examine, with illustration from those Waverley novels which have so +lately _re_tracted the attention of a fair and gentle public, the +universal conditions of 'style,' rightly so called, which are in all +ages, and above all local currents or wavering tides of temporary +manners, pillars of what is for ever strong, and models of what is for +ever fair. + +But I must first define, and that within strict horizon, the works of +Scott, in which his perfect mind may be known, and his chosen ways +understood. + +His great works of prose fiction, excepting only the first half-volume +of _Waverley_, were all written in twelve years, 1814-26 (of his own age +forty-three to fifty-five), the actual time employed in their +composition being not more than a couple of months out of each year; and +during that time only the morning hours and spare minutes during the +professional day. 'Though the first volume of _Waverley_ was begun long +ago, and actually lost for a time, yet the other two were begun and +finished between the 4th of June and the first of July, during all which +I attended my duty in court, and proceeded without loss of time or +hindrance of business.'[165] + +Few of the maxims for the enforcement of which, in _Modern Painters_, +long ago, I got the general character of a lover of paradox, are more +singular, or more sure, than the statement, apparently so encouraging to +the idle, that if a great thing can be done at all, it can be done +easily. But it is in that kind of ease with which a tree blossoms after +long years of gathered strength, and all Scott's great writings were the +recreations of a mind confirmed in dutiful labour, and rich with organic +gathering of boundless resource. + +Omitting from our count the two minor and ill-finished sketches of the +_Black Dwarf_ and _Legend of Montrose_, and, for a reason presently to +be noticed, the unhappy _St. Ronan's_, the memorable romances of Scott +are eighteen, falling into three distinct groups, containing six each. + +The first group is distinguished from the other two by characters of +strength and felicity which never more appeared after Scott was struck +down by his terrific illness in 1819. It includes _Waverley_, _Guy +Mannering_, _The Antiquary_, _Rob Roy_, _Old Mortality_, and _The Heart +of Midlothian_. + +The composition of these occupied the mornings of his happiest days, +between the ages of 43 and 48. On the 8th of April, 1819 (he was 48 on +the preceding 15th of August) he began for the first time to +dictate--being unable for the exertion of writing--_The Bride of +Lammermuir_, 'the affectionate Laidlaw beseeching him to stop dictating, +when his audible suffering filled every pause. "Nay, Willie," he +answered "only see that the doors are fast. I would fain keep all the +cry as well as all the wool to ourselves; but as for giving over work, +that can only be when I am in woollen."'[166] From this time forward the +brightness of joy and sincerity of inevitable humour, which perfected +the imagery of the earlier novels, are wholly absent, except in the two +short intervals of health unaccountably restored, in which he wrote +_Redgauntlet_ and _Nigel_. + +It is strange, but only a part of the general simplicity of Scott's +genius, that these revivals of earlier power were unconscious, and that +the time of extreme weakness in which he wrote _St. Ronan's Well_, was +that in which he first asserted his own restoration. + +It is also a deeply interesting characteristic of his noble nature that +he never gains anything by sickness; the whole man breathes or faints +as one creature; the ache that stiffens a limb chills his heart, and +every pang of the stomach paralyses the brain. It is not so with +inferior minds, in the workings of which it is often impossible to +distinguish native from narcotic fancy, and throbs of conscience from +those of indigestion. Whether in exaltation or languor, the colours of +mind are always morbid, which gleam on the sea for the 'Ancient +Mariner,' and through the casements on 'St. Agnes' Eve;' but Scott is at +once blinded and stultified by sickness; never has a fit of the cramp +without spoiling a chapter, and is perhaps the only author of vivid +imagination who never wrote a foolish word but when he was ill. + +It remains only to be noticed on this point that any strong natural +excitement, affecting the deeper springs of his heart, would at once +restore his intellectual powers in all their fullness, and that, far +towards their sunset: but that the strong will on which he prided +himself, though it could trample upon pain, silence grief, and compel +industry, never could warm his imagination, or clear the judgment in his +darker hours. + +I believe that this power of the heart over the intellect is common to +all great men: but what the special character of emotion was, that alone +could lift Scott above the power of death, I am about to ask the reader, +in a little while, to observe with joyful care. + +The first series of romances then, above named, are all that exhibit the +emphasis of his unharmed faculties. The second group, composed in the +three years subsequent to illness all but mortal, bear every one of them +more or less the seal of it. + +They consist of the _Bride of Lammermuir_, _Ivanhoe_, the _Monastery_, +the _Abbot_, _Kenilworth_, and the _Pirate_.[167] The marks of broken +health on all these are essentially twofold--prevailing melancholy, and +fantastic improbability. Three of the tales are agonizingly tragic, the +_Abbot_ scarcely less so in its main event, and _Ivanhoe_ deeply wounded +through all its bright panoply; while even in that most powerful of the +series, the impossible archeries and axestrokes, the incredibly +opportune appearances of Locksley, the death of Ulrica, and the +resuscitation of Athelstane, are partly boyish, partly feverish. Caleb +in the _Bride_, Triptolemus and Halcro in the _Pirate_, are all +laborious, and the first incongruous; half a volume of the _Abbot_ is +spent in extremely dull detail of Roland's relations with his +fellow-servants and his mistress, which have nothing whatever to do with +the future story; and the lady of Avenel herself disappears after the +first volume, 'like a snaw wreath when it's thaw, Jeanie.' The public +has for itself pronounced on the _Monastery_, though as much too harshly +as it has foolishly praised the horrors of _Ravenswood_ and the nonsense +of _Ivanhoe_; because the modern public finds in the torture and +adventure of these, the kind of excitement which it seeks at an opera, +while it has no sympathy whatever with the pastoral happiness of +Glendearg, or with the lingering simplicities of superstition which give +historical likelihood to the legend of the White Lady. + +But both this despised tale and its sequel have Scott's heart in them. +The first was begun to refresh himself in the intervals of artificial +labour on _Ivanhoe_. 'It was a relief,' he said, 'to interlay the +scenery most familiar to me[168] with the strange world for which I had +to draw so much on imagination.'[169] Through all the closing scenes of +the second he is raised to his own true level by his love for the +queen. And within the code of Scott's work to which I am about to appeal +for illustration of his essential powers, I accept the _Monastery_ and +_Abbot_, and reject from it the remaining four of this group. + +The last series contains two quite noble ones, _Redgauntlet_ and +_Nigel_; two of very high value, _Durward_ and _Woodstock_; the slovenly +and diffuse _Peveril_, written for the trade; the sickly _Tales of the +Crusaders_, and the entirely broken and diseased _St. Ronan's Well_. +This last I throw out of count altogether, and of the rest, accept only +the four first named as sound work; so that the list of the novels in +which I propose to examine his methods and ideal standards, reduces +itself to these following twelve (named in order of production): +_Waverley_, _Guy Mannering_, the _Antiquary_, _Rob Roy_, _Old +Mortality_, the _Heart of Midlothian_, the _Monastery_, the _Abbot_, the +_Fortunes of Nigel_, _Quentin Durward_, and _Woodstock_.[170] + +It is, however, too late to enter on my subject in this article, which I +may fitly close by pointing out some of the merely verbal +characteristics of his style, illustrative in little ways of the +questions we have been examining, and chiefly of the one which may be +most embarrassing to many readers, the difference, namely, between +character and disease. + +One quite distinctive charm in the Waverleys is their modified use of +the Scottish dialect; but it has not generally been observed, either by +their imitators, or the authors of different taste who have written for +a later public, that there is a difference between the dialect of a +language, and its corruption. + +A dialect is formed in any district where there are persons of +intelligence enough to use the language itself in all its fineness and +force, but under the particular conditions of life, climate, and temper, +which introduce words peculiar to the scenery, forms of word and idioms +of sentence peculiar to the race, and pronunciations indicative of their +character and disposition. + +Thus 'burn' (of a streamlet) is a word possible only in a country where +there are brightly running waters, 'lassie,' a word possible only where +girls are as free as the rivulets, and 'auld,' a form of the southern +'old,' adopted by a race of finer musical ear than the English. + +On the contrary, mere deteriorations, or coarse, stridulent, and, in the +ordinary sense of the phrase, 'broad' forms of utterance, are not +dialects at all, having nothing dialectic in them, and all phrases +developed in states of rude employment, and restricted intercourse, are +injurious to the tone and narrowing to the power of the language they +affect. Mere breadth of accent does not spoil a dialect as long as the +speakers are men of varied idea and good intelligence; but the moment +the life is contracted by mining, millwork, or any oppressive and +monotonous labour, the accents and phrases become debased. It is part of +the popular folly of the day to find pleasure in trying to write and +spell these abortive, crippled, and more or less brutal forms of human +speech. + +Abortive, crippled, or brutal, are however not necessarily 'corrupted' +dialects. Corrupt language is that gathered by ignorance, invented by +vice, misused by insensibility, or minced and mouthed by affectation, +especially in the attempt to deal with words of which only half the +meaning is understood, or half the sound heard. Mrs. Gamp's 'aperiently +so'--and the 'undermined' with primal sense of undermine, of--I forget +which gossip, in the _Mill on the Floss_, are master- and +mistress-pieces in this latter kind. Mrs. Malaprop's 'allegories on the +banks of the Nile' are in a somewhat higher order of mistake: Miss +Tabitha Bramble's ignorance is vulgarised by her selfishness, and +Winifred Jenkins' by her conceit. The 'wot' of Noah Claypole, and the +other degradations of cockneyism (Sam Weller and his father are in +nothing more admirable than in the power of heart and sense that can +purify even these); the 'trewth' of Mr. Chadband, and 'natur' of Mr. +Squeers, are examples of the corruption of words by insensibility: the +use of the word 'bloody' in modern low English is a deeper corruption, +not altering the form of the word, but defiling the thought in it. + +Thus much being understood, I shall proceed to examine thoroughly a +fragment of Scott's Lowland Scottish dialect; not choosing it of the +most beautiful kind; on the contrary, it shall be a piece reaching as +low down as he ever allows Scotch to go--it is perhaps the only unfair +patriotism in him, that if ever he wants a word or two of really +villainous slang, he gives it in English or Dutch--not Scotch. + +I had intended in the close of this paper to analyse and compare the +characters of Andrew Fairservice and Richie Moniplies for examples, the +former of innate evil, unaffected by external influences, and +undiseased, but distinct from natural goodness as a nettle is distinct +from balm or lavender; and the latter of innate goodness, contracted and +pinched by circumstance, but still undiseased, as an oak-leaf crisped by +frost, not by the worm. This, with much else in my mind, I must put off; +but the careful study of one sentence of Andrew's will give us a good +deal to think of. + +I take his account of the rescue of Glasgow Cathedral at the time of the +Reformation. + + Ah! it's a brave kirk--nane o' yere whigmaleeries and + curliewurlies and opensteek hems about it--a' solid, + weel-jointed mason-wark, that will stand as lang as the + warld, keep hands and gunpowther aff it. It had amaist a + douncome lang syne at the Reformation, when they pu'd doun + the kirks of St. Andrews and Perth, and thereawa', to + cleanse them o' Papery, and idolatry, and image-worship, and + surplices, and sic-like rags o' the muckle hure that sitteth + on seven hills, as if ane wasna braid eneugh for her auld + hinder end. Sae the commons o' Renfrew, and o' the Barony, + and the Gorbals, and a' about, they behoved to come into + Glasgow ae fair morning, to try their hand on purging the + High Kirk o' Popish nicknackets. But the townsmen o' + Glasgow, they were feared their auld edifice might slip the + girths in gaun through siccan rough physic, sae they rang + the common bell, and assembled the train-bands wi' took o' + drum. By good luck, the worthy James Rabat was Dean o' Guild + that year--(and a gude mason he was himsell, made him the + keener to keep up the auld bigging), and the trades + assembled, and offered downright battle to the commons, + rather than their kirk should coup the crans, as others had + done elsewhere. It wasna for luve o' Paperie--na, na!--nane + could ever say that o' the trades o' Glasgow--Sae they sune + came to an agreement to take a' the idolatrous statues of + sants (sorrow be on them!) out o' their neuks--And sae the + bits o' stane idols were broken in pieces by Scripture + warrant, and flung into the Molendinar burn, and the auld + kirk stood as crouse as a cat when the flaes are kaimed aff + her, and a'body was alike pleased. And I hae heard wise folk + say, that if the same had been done in ilka kirk in + Scotland, the Reform wad just hae been as pure as it is e'en + now, and we wad hae mair Christian-like kirks; for I hae + been sae lang in England, that naething will drived out o' + my head, that the dog-kennel at Osbaldistone-Hall is better + than mony a house o' God in Scotland. + +Now this sentence is in the first place a piece of Scottish history of +quite inestimable and concentrated value. Andrew's temperament +is the type of a vast class of Scottish--shall we call it +'_sow_-thistlian'--mind, which necessarily takes the view of either Pope +or saint that the thistle in Lebanon took of the cedar or lilies in +Lebanon; and the entire force of the passions which, in the Scottish +revolution, foretold and forearmed the French one, is told in this one +paragraph; the coarseness of it, observe, being admitted, not for the +sake of the laugh, any more than an onion in broth merely for its +flavour, but for the meat of it; the inherent constancy of that +coarseness being a fact in this order of mind, and an essential part of +the history to be told. + +Secondly, observe that this speech, in the religious passion of it, such +as there may be, is entirely sincere. Andrew is a thief, a liar, a +coward, and, in the Fair service from which he takes his name, a +hypocrite; but in the form of prejudice, which is all that his mind is +capable of in the place of religion, he is entirely sincere. He does not +in the least pretend detestation of image worship to please his master, +or any one else; he honestly scorns the 'carnal morality[171] as dowd +and fusionless as rue-leaves at Yule' of the sermon in the upper +cathedral; and when wrapt in critical attention to the 'real savour o' +doctrine' in the crypt, so completely forgets the hypocrisy of his fair +service as to return his master's attempt to disturb him with hard +punches of the elbow. + +Thirdly. He is a man of no mean sagacity, quite up to the average +standard of Scottish common sense, not a low one; and, though incapable +of understanding any manner of lofty thought or passion, is a shrewd +measurer of weaknesses, and not without a spark or two of kindly +feeling. See first his sketch of his master's character to Mr. +Hammorgaw, beginning: 'He's no a'thegither sae void o' sense, neither;' +and then the close of the dialogue: 'But the lad's no a bad lad after +a', and he needs some carefu' body to look after him.' + +Fourthly. He is a good workman; knows his own business well, and can +judge of other craft, if sound, or otherwise. + +All these four qualities of him must be known before we can understand +this single speech. Keeping them in mind, I take it up, word by word. + +You observe, in the outset, Scott makes no attempt whatever to indicate +accents or modes of pronunciation by changed spelling, unless the word +becomes a quite definitely new and scarcely writeable one. The Scottish +way of pronouncing 'James,' for instance, is entirely peculiar, and +extremely pleasant to the ear. But it is so, just because it does _not_ +change the word into Jeems, nor into Jims, nor into Jawms. A modern +writer of dialects would think it amusing to use one or other of these +ugly spellings. But Scott writes the name in pure English, knowing that +a Scots reader will speak it rightly, and an English one be wise in +letting it alone. On the other hand he writes 'weel' for 'well,' because +that word is complete in its change, and may be very closely expressed +by the double _e_. The ambiguous '_u_'s in 'gude' and 'sune' are +admitted, because far liker the sound than the double _o_ would be, and +that in 'hure,' for grace' sake, to soften the word;--so also 'flaes' +for 'fleas.' 'Mony' for 'many' is again positively right in sound, and +'neuk' differs from our 'nook' in sense, and is not the same word at +all, as we shall presently see. + +Secondly, observe, not a word is corrupted in any indecent haste, +slowness, slovenliness, or incapacity of pronunciation. There is no +lisping, drawling, slobbering, or snuffling: the speech is as clear as +a bell and as keen as an arrow: and its elisions and contractions are +either melodious, ('na,' for 'not,'--'pu'd,' for 'pulled,') or as normal +as in a Latin verse. The long words are delivered without the slightest +bungling; and 'bigging' finished to its last _g_. + +I take the important words now in their places. + +_Brave._ The old English sense of the word in 'to go brave' retained, +expressing Andrew's sincere and respectful admiration. Had he meant to +insinuate a hint of the church's being too fine, he would have said +'braw.' + +_Kirk._ This is of course just as pure and unprovincial a word as +'Kirche,' or 'église.' + +_Whigmaleerie._ I cannot get at the root of this word, but it is one +showing that the speaker is not bound by classic rules, but will use any +syllables that enrich his meaning. 'Nipperty-tipperty' (of his master's +'poetry-nonsense') is another word of the same class. 'Curlieurlie' is +of course just as pure as Shakespeare's 'Hurly-burly.' But see first +suggestion of the idea to Scott at Blair-Adam (L. vi. 264). + +_Opensteek hems._ More description, or better, of the later Gothic +cannot be put into four syllables. 'Steek,' melodious for stitch, has a +combined sense of closing or fastening. And note that the later Gothic, +being precisely what Scott knew best (in Melrose) and liked best, it is, +here as elsewhere, quite as much himself[172] as Frank, that he is +laughing at, when he laughs _with_ Andrew, whose 'opensteek hems' are +only a ruder metaphor for his own 'willow-wreaths changed to stone.' + +_Gunpowther._ '-Ther' is a lingering vestige of the French '-dre.' + +_Syne._ One of the melodious and mysterious Scottish words which have +partly the sound of wind and stream in them, and partly the range of +softened idea which is like a distance of blue hills over border land +('far in the distant Cheviot's blue'). Perhaps even the least +sympathetic 'Englisher' might recognise this, if he heard 'Old Long +Since' vocally substituted for the Scottish words to the air. I do not +know the root; but the word's proper meaning is not 'since,' but before +or after an interval of some duration, 'as weel sune as syne.' 'But +first on Sawnie gies a ca', Syne, bauldly in she enters.' + +_Behoved_ (_to come_). A rich word, with peculiar idiom, always used +more or less ironically of anything done under a partly mistaken and +partly pretended notion of duty. + +_Siccan._ Far prettier, and fuller in meaning than 'such.' It contains +an added sense of wonder; and means properly 'so great' or 'so unusual.' + +_Took_ (_o' drum_). Classical 'tuck' from Italian 'toccata,' the +preluding 'touch' or flourish, on any instrument (but see Johnson under +word 'tucket,' quoting _Othello_). The deeper Scottish vowels are used +here to mark the deeper sound of the bass drum, as in more solemn +warning. + +_Bigging._ The only word in all the sentence of which the Scottish form +is less melodious than the English, 'and what for no,' seeing that +Scottish architecture is mostly little beyond Bessie Bell's and Mary +Gray's? 'They biggit a bow're by yon burnside, and theekit it ow're wi +rashes.' But it is pure Anglo-Saxon in roots; see glossary to +Fairbairn's edition of the Douglas _Virgil_, 1710. + +_Coup._ Another of the much-embracing words; short for 'upset,' but with +a sense of awkwardness as the inherent cause of fall; compare Richie +Moniplies (also for sense of 'behoved'): 'Ae auld hirplin deevil of a +potter behoved just to step in my way, and offer me a pig (earthern +pot--etym. dub.), as he said "just to put my Scotch ointment in;" and I +gave him a push, as but natural, and the tottering deevil coupit owre +amang his own pigs, and damaged a score of them.' So also Dandie Dinmont +in the postchaise: ''Od! I hope they'll no coup us.' + +_The Crans._ Idiomatic; root unknown to me, but it means in this use, +full, total, and without recovery. + +_Molendinar._ From 'molendinum,' the grinding-place. I do not know if +actually the local name,[173] or Scott's invention. Compare Sir +Piercie's 'Molinaras.' But at all events used here with bye-sense of +degradation of the formerly idle saints to grind at the mill. + +_Crouse._ Courageous, softened with a sense of comfort. + +_Ilka._ Again a word with azure distance, including the whole sense of +'each' and 'every.' The reader must carefully and reverently distinguish +these comprehensive words, which gather two or more perfectly understood +meanings into one _chord_ of meaning, and are harmonies more than words, +from the above-noted blunders between two half-hit meanings, struck as a +bad piano-player strikes the edge of another note. In English we have +fewer of these combined thoughts; so that Shakespeare rather plays with +the distinct lights of his words, than melts them into one. So again +Bishop Douglas spells, and doubtless spoke, the word 'rose,' +differently, according to his purpose; if as the chief or governing +ruler of flowers, 'rois,' but if only in her own beauty, rose. + +_Christian-like._ The sense of the decency and order proper to +Christianity is stronger in Scotland than in any other country, and the +word 'Christian' more distinctly opposed to 'beast.' Hence the +back-handed cut at the English for their over-pious care of dogs. + +I am a little surprised myself at the length to which this examination +of one small piece of Sir Walter's first-rate work has carried us, but +here I must end for this time, trusting, if the Editor of the +_Nineteenth Century_ permit me, yet to trespass, perhaps more than once, +on his readers' patience; but, at all events, to examine in a following +paper the technical characteristics of Scott's own style, both in prose +and verse, together with Byron's, as opposed to our fashionably recent +dialects and rhythms; the essential virtues of language, in both the +masters of the old school, hinging ultimately, little as it might be +thought, on certain unalterable views of theirs concerning the code +called 'of the Ten Commandments,' wholly at variance with the dogmas of +automatic morality which, summed again by the witches' line, 'Fair is +foul, and foul is fair,' hover through the fog and filthy air of our +prosperous England. + + JOHN RUSKIN. + + * * * * * + +'_He hated greetings in the market-place_, and there were generally +loiterers in the streets to persecute him _either about the events of +the day_, or about some petty pieces of business.' + +These lines, which the reader will find near the beginning of the +sixteenth chapter of the first volume of the _Antiquary_, contain two +indications of the old man's character, which, receiving the ideal of +him as a portrait of Scott himself, are of extreme interest to me. They +mean essentially that neither Monkbarns nor Scott had any mind to be +called of men, Rabbi, in mere hearing of the mob; and especially that +they hated to be drawn back out of their far-away thoughts, or forward +out of their long-ago thoughts, by any manner of 'daily' news, whether +printed or gabbled. Of which two vital characteristics, deeper in both +the men, (for I must always speak of Scott's creations as if they were +as real as himself,) than any of their superficial vanities, or passing +enthusiasms, I have to speak more at another time. I quote the passage +just now, because there was one piece of the daily news of the year 1815 +which did extremely interest Scott, and materially direct the labour of +the latter part of his life; nor is there any piece of history in this +whole nineteenth century quite so pregnant with various instruction as +the study of the reasons which influenced Scott and Byron in their +opposite views of the glories of the battle of Waterloo. + +But I quote it for another reason also. The principal greeting which Mr. +Oldbuck on this occasion receives in the market-place, being compared +with the speech of Andrew Fairservice, examined in my first paper, will +furnish me with the text of what I have mainly to say in the present +one. + +'"Mr. Oldbuck," said the town-clerk (a more important person, who came +in front and ventured to stop the old gentleman), "the provost, +understanding you were in town, begs on no account that you'll quit it +without seeing him; he wants to speak to ye about bringing the water +frae the Fairwell spring through a part o' your lands." + +'"What the deuce!--have they nobody's land but mine to cut and carve +on?--I won't consent, tell them." + +'"And the provost," said the clerk, going on, without noticing the +rebuff, "and the council, wad be agreeable that you should hae the auld +stanes at Donagild's Chapel, that ye was wussing to hae." + +'"Eh?--what?--Oho! that's another story--Well, well, I'll call upon the +provost, and we'll talk about it." + +'"But ye maun speak your mind on't forthwith, Monkbarns, if ye want the +stanes; for Deacon Harlewalls thinks the carved through-stanes might be +put with advantage on the front of the new council-house--that is, the +twa cross-legged figures that the callants used to ca' Robbin and +Bobbin, ane on ilka door-cheek; and the other stane, that they ca'd +Ailie Dailie, abune the door. It will be very tastefu', the Deacon says, +and just in the style of modern Gothic." + +'"Good Lord deliver me from this Gothic generation!" exclaimed the +Antiquary,--"a monument of a knight-templar on each side of a Grecian +porch, and a Madonna on the top of it!--_O crimini!_--Well, tell the +provost I wish to have the stones, and we'll not differ about the +water-course.--It's lucky I happened to come this way to-day." + +'They parted mutually satisfied; but the wily clerk had most reason to +exult in the dexterity he had displayed, since the whole proposal of an +exchange between the monuments (which the council had determined to +remove as a nuisance, because they encroached three feet upon the public +road) and the privilege of conveying the water to the burgh, through the +estate of Monkbarns, was an idea which had originated with himself upon +the pressure of the moment.' + +In this single page of Scott, will the reader please note the kind of +prophetic instinct with which the great men of every age mark and +forecast its destinies? The water from the Fairwell is the future +Thirlmere carried to Manchester; the 'auld stanes'[174] at Donagild's +Chapel, removed as a _nuisance_, foretell the necessary view taken by +modern cockneyism, Liberalism, and progress, of all things that remind +them of the noble dead, of their father's fame, or of their own duty; +and the public road becomes their idol, instead of the saint's shrine. +Finally, the roguery of the entire transaction--the mean man seeing the +weakness of the honourable, and 'besting' him--in modern slang, in the +manner and at the pace of modern trade--'on the pressure of the moment.' + +But neither are these things what I have at present quoted the passage +for. + +I quote it, that we may consider how much wonderful and various history +is gathered in the fact, recorded for us in this piece of entirely fair +fiction, that in the Scottish borough of Fairport, (Montrose, really,) +in the year 17-- of Christ, the knowledge given by the pastors and +teachers provided for its children by enlightened Scottish +Protestantism, of their fathers' history, and the origin of their +religion, had resulted in this substance and sum;--that the statues of +two crusading knights had become, to their children, Robin and Bobbin; +and the statue of the Madonna, Ailie Dailie. + +A marvellous piece of history, truly: and far too comprehensive for +general comment here. Only one small piece of it I must carry forward +the readers' thoughts upon. + +The pastors and teachers aforesaid, (represented typically in another +part of this errorless book by Mr. Blattergowl) are not, whatever else +they may have to answer for, answerable for these names. The names are +of the children's own choosing and bestowing, but not of the children's +own inventing. 'Robin' is a classically endearing cognomen, recording +the _errant_ heroism of old days--the name of the Bruce and of Rob Roy. +'Bobbin' is a poetical and symmetrical fulfilment and adornment of the +original phrase. 'Ailie' is the last echo of 'Ave,' changed into the +softest Scottish Christian name familiar to the children, itself the +beautiful feminine form of royal 'Louis;' the 'Dailie' again +symmetrically added for kinder and more musical endearment. The last +vestiges, you see, of honour for the heroism and religion of their +ancestors, lingering on the lips of babes and sucklings. + +But what is the meaning of this necessity the children find themselves +under of completing the nomenclature rhythmically and rhymingly? Note +first the difference carefully, and the attainment of both qualities by +the couplets in question. Rhythm is the syllabic and quantitative +measure of the words, in which Robin, both in weight and time, balances +Bobbin; and Dailie holds level scale with Ailie. But rhyme is the added +correspondence of sound; unknown and undesired, so far as we can learn, +by the Greek Orpheus, but absolutely essential to, and, as special +virtue, becoming titular of, the Scottish Thomas. + +The 'Ryme,'[175] you may at first fancy, is the especially childish part +of the work. Not so. It is the especially chivalric and Christian part +of it. It characterises the Christian chant or canticle, as a higher +thing than a Greek ode, melos, or hymnos, or than a Latin carmen. + +Think of it, for this again is wonderful! That these children of +Montrose should have an element of music in their souls which Homer had +not,--which a melos of David the Prophet and King had not,--which +Orpheus and Amphion had not,--which Apollo's unrymed oracles became mute +at the sound of. + +A strange new equity this,--melodious justice and judgment as it +were,--in all words spoken solemnly and ritualistically by Christian +human creatures;--Robin and Bobbin--by the Crusader's tomb, up to 'Dies +iræ, dies illa,' at judgment of the crusading soul. + +You have to understand this most deeply of all Christian minstrels, from +first to last; that they are more musical, because more joyful, than any +others on earth: ethereal minstrels, pilgrims of the sky, true to the +kindred points of heaven and home; their joy essentially the sky-lark's, +in light, in purity; but, with their human eyes, looking for the +glorious appearing of something in the sky, which the bird cannot. + +This it is that changes Etruscan murmur into Terza rima--Horatian Latin +into Provençal troubadour's melody; not, because less artful, less wise. + +Here is a little bit, for instance, of French ryming just before +Chaucer's time--near enough to our own French to be intelligible to us +yet. + + 'O quant très-glorieuse vie, + Quant cil quit out peut et maistrie, + Veult esprouver pour nécessaire, + Ne pour quant il ne blasma mie + La vie de Marthe sa mie: + Mais il lui donna exemplaire + D'autrement vivre, et de bien plaire + A Dieu; et plut de bien à faire: + Pour se conclut-il que Marie + Qui estoit à ses piedz sans braire, + Et pensait d'entendre et de taire, + Estleut la plus saine partie. + + La meilleur partie esleut-elle + Et la plus saine et la plus belle, + Qui jà ne luy sera ostée + Car par vérité se fut celle + Qui fut tousjours fresche et nouvelle, + D'aymer Dieu et d'en estre aymée; + Car jusqu'au cueur fut entamée, + Et si ardamment enflammée. + Que tous-jours ardoit l'estincelle; + Par quoi elle fut visitée + Et de Dieu premier comfortée; + Car charité est trop ysnelle.' + +The only law of _metre_, observed in this song, is that each line shall +be octosyllabic: + + Qui fut | tousjours | fresche et | nouvelle, + D'autre | ment vi | vret de | bien (ben) plaire, + Et pen | soit den | tendret | de taire + +But the reader must note that words which were two-syllabled in Latin +mostly remain yet so in the French. + + La _vi_ | -_e_ de | Marthe | sa mie, + +although _mie_, which is pet language, loving abbreviation of _amica_ +through _amie_, remains monosyllabic. But _vie_ elides its _e_ before a +vowel: + + Car Mar- | the me | nait vie | active + Et Ma- | ri-e | contemp | lative; + +and custom endures many exceptions. Thus _Marie_ may be three-syllabled +as above, or answer to _mie_ as a dissyllable; but _vierge_ is always, I +think, dissyllabic, _vier-ge_, with even stronger accent on the -_ge_, +for the Latin -_go_. + +Then, secondly, of quantity, there is scarcely any fixed law. The metres +may be timed as the minstrel chooses--fast or slow--and the iambic +current checked in reverted eddy, as the words chance to come. + +But, thirdly, there is to be rich ryming and chiming, no matter how +simply got, so only that the words jingle and tingle together with due +art of interlacing and answering in different parts of the stanza, +correspondent to the involutions of tracery and illumination. The whole +twelve-line stanza is thus constructed with two rymes only, six of each, +thus arranged: + + AAB | AAB | BBA | BBA | + +dividing the verse thus into four measures, reversed in ascent and +descent, or _descant_ more properly; and doubtless with correspondent +phases in the voice-given, and duly accompanying, or following, music; +Thomas the Rymer's own precept, that 'tong is chefe in mynstrelsye,' +being always kept faithfully in mind.[176] + +Here then you have a sufficient example of the pure chant of the +Christian ages; which is always at heart joyful, and divides itself into +the four great forms, Song of Praise, Song of Prayer, Song of Love, and +Song of Battle; praise, however, being the keynote of passion through +all the four forms; according to the first law which I have already +given in the laws of Fesolé; 'all great Art is Praise,' of which the +contrary is also true, all foul or miscreant Art is accusation, [Greek: +diabolê]: 'She gave me of the tree and I did eat' being an entirely +museless expression on Adam's part, the briefly essential contrary of +Love-song. + +With these four perfect forms of Christian chant, of which we may take +for pure examples the 'Te Deum,' the 'Te Lucis Ante,' the 'Amor che +nella mente,'[177] and the 'Chant de Roland,' are mingled songs of +mourning, of Pagan origin (whether Greek or Danish), holding grasp still +of the races that have once learned them, in times of suffering and +sorrow; and songs of Christian humiliation or grief, regarding chiefly +the sufferings of Christ, or the conditions of our own sin: while +through the entire system of these musical complaints are interwoven +moralities, instructions, and related histories, in illustration of +both, passing into Epic and Romantic verse, which gradually, as the +forms and learnings of society increase, becomes less joyful, and more +didactic, or satiric, until the last echoes of Christian joy and melody +vanish in the 'Vanity of human wishes.' + +And here I must pause for a minute or two to separate the different +branches of our inquiry clearly from one another. For one thing, the +reader must please put for the present out of his head all thought of +the progress of 'civilisation'--that is to say, broadly, of the +substitution of wigs for hair, gas for candles, and steam for legs. This +is an entirely distinct matter from the phases of policy and religion. +It has nothing to do with the British Constitution, or the French +Revolution, or the unification of Italy. There are, indeed, certain +subtle relations between the state of mind, for instance, in Venice, +which makes her prefer a steamer to a gondola, and that which makes her +prefer a gazetteer to a duke; but these relations are not at all to be +dealt with until we solemnly understand that whether men shall be +Christians and poets, or infidels and dunces, does not depend on the way +they cut their hair, tie their breeches, or light their fires. Dr. +Johnson might have worn his wig in fulness conforming to his dignity, +without therefore coming to the conclusion that human wishes were vain; +nor is Queen Antoinette's civilised hair-powder, as opposed to Queen +Bertha's savagely loose hair, the cause of Antoinette's laying her head +at last in scaffold dust, but Bertha in a pilgrim-haunted tomb. + +Again, I have just now used the words 'poet' and 'dunce,' meaning the +degree of each quality possible to average human nature. Men are +eternally divided into the two classes of poet (believer, maker, and +praiser) and dunce (or unbeliever, unmaker, and dispraiser). And in +process of ages they have the power of making faithful and formative +creatures of themselves, or unfaithful and _de_formative. And this +distinction between the creatures who, blessing, are blessed, and +evermore _benedicti_, and the creatures who, cursing, are cursed, and +evermore _maledicti_, is one going through all humanity; antediluvian in +Cain and Abel, diluvian in Ham and Shem. And the question for the public +of any given period is not whether they are a constitutional or +unconstitutional vulgus, but whether they are a benignant or malignant +vulgus. So also, whether it is indeed the gods who have given any +gentleman the grace to despise the rabble, depends wholly on whether it +is indeed the rabble, or he, who are the malignant persons. + +But yet again. This difference between the persons to whom Heaven, +according to Orpheus, has granted 'the hour of delight,'[178] and those +whom it has condemned to the hour of detestableness, being, as I have +just said, of all times and nations,--it is an interior and more +delicate difference which we are examining in the gift of _Christian_, +as distinguished from unchristian, song. Orpheus, Pindar, and Horace are +indeed distinct from the prosaic rabble, as the bird from the snake; but +between Orpheus and Palestrina, Horace and Sidney, there is another +division, and a new power of music and song given to the humanity which +has hope of the Resurrection. + +_This_ is the root of all life and all rightness in Christian harmony, +whether of word or instrument; and so literally, that in precise manner +as this hope disappears, the power of song is taken away, and taken away +utterly. When the Christian falls back out of the bright hope of the +Resurrection, even the Orpheus song is forbidden him. Not to have known +the hope is blameless: one may sing, unknowing, as the swan, or +Philomela. But to have known and fall away from it, and to declare that +the human wishes, which are summed in that one--'Thy kingdom come'--are +vain! The Fates ordain there shall be no singing after that denial. + +For observe this, and earnestly. The old Orphic song, with its dim hope +of yet once more Eurydice,--the Philomela song--granted after the cruel +silence,--the Halcyon song--with its fifteen days of peace, were all +sad, or joyful only in some vague vision of conquest over death. But the +Johnsonian vanity of wishes is on the whole satisfactory to +Johnson--accepted with gentlemanly resignation by Pope--triumphantly and +with bray of penny trumpets and blowing of steam-whistles, proclaimed +for the glorious discovery of the civilised ages, by Mrs. Barbauld, Miss +Edgeworth, Adam Smith, and Co. There is no God, but have we not +invented gunpowder?--who wants a God, with that in his pocket?[179] +There is no Resurrection, neither angel nor spirit; but have we not +paper and pens, and cannot every blockhead print his opinions, and the +Day of Judgment become Republican, with everybody for a judge, and the +flat of the universe for the throne? There is no law, but only +gravitation and congelation, and we are stuck together in an everlasting +hail, and melted together in everlasting mud, and great was the day in +which our worships were born. And there is no Gospel, but only, whatever +we've got, to get more, and, wherever we are, to go somewhere else. And +are not these discoveries, to be sung of, and drummed of, and fiddled +of, and generally made melodiously indubitable in the eighteenth century +song of praise? + +The Fates will not have it so. No word of song is possible, in that +century, to mortal lips. Only polished versification, sententious +pentameter and hexameter, until, having turned out its toes long enough +without dancing, and pattered with its lips long enough without piping, +suddenly Astræa returns to the earth, and a Day of Judgment of a sort, +and there bursts out a song at last again, a most curtly melodious +triplet of Amphisbænic ryme. '_Ça ira._' + +Amphisbænic, fanged in each ryme with fire, and obeying Ercildoune's +precept, 'Tong is chefe of mynstrelsye,' to the syllable.--Don +Giovanni's hitherto fondly chanted 'Andiam, andiam,' become suddenly +impersonal and prophetic: IT shall go, and you also. A cry--before it is +a song, then song and accompaniment together--perfectly done; and the +march 'towards the field of Mars. The two hundred and fifty +thousand--they to the sound of stringed music--preceded by young girls +with tricolor streamers, they have shouldered soldier-wise their shovels +and picks, and with one throat are singing _Ça ira_.'[180] + +Through all the springtime of 1790, 'from Brittany to Burgundy, on most +plains of France, under most city walls, there march and +constitutionally wheel to the Ça-iraing mood of fife and drum--our clear +glancing phalanxes;--the song of the two hundred and fifty thousand, +virgin led, is in the long light of July.' Nevertheless, another song is +yet needed, for phalanx, and for maid. For, two springs and summers +having gone--amphisbænic,--on the 28th of August 1792, 'Dumouriez rode +from the camp of Maulde, eastwards to _Sedan_.'[181] + +And Longwi has fallen basely, and Brunswick and the Prussian king will +beleaguer Verdun, and Clairfait and the Austrians press deeper in over +the northern marches, Cimmerian Europe behind. And on that same night +Dumouriez assembles council of war at his lodgings in Sedan. Prussians +here, Austrians there, triumphant both. With broad highway to Paris and +little hindrance--_we_ scattered, helpless here and there--what to +advise? The generals advise retreating, and retreating till Paris be +sacked at the latest day possible. Dumouriez, silent, dismisses +_them_,--keeps only, with a sign, Thouvenot. Silent, thus, when needful, +yet having voice, it appears, of what musicians call tenor-quality, of a +rare kind. Rubini-esque, even, but scarcely producible to fastidious +ears at opera. The seizure of the forest of Argonne follows--the +cannonade of Valmy. The Prussians do not march on Paris _this_ time, the +autumnal hours of fate pass on--_ça ira_--and on the 6th of November, +Dumouriez meets the Austrians also. 'Dumouriez wide-winged, they +wide-winged--at and around Jemappes, its green heights fringed and maned +with red fire. And Dumouriez is swept back on this wing and swept back +on that, and is like to be swept back utterly, when he rushes up in +person, speaks a prompt word or two, and then, with clear tenor-pipe, +uplifts the hymn of the Marseillaise, ten thousand tenor or bass pipes +joining, or say some forty thousand in all, for every heart leaps up at +the sound; and so, with rhythmic march melody, they rally, they advance, +they rush death-defying, and like the fire whirlwind sweep all manner of +Austrians from the scene of action.' Thus, through the lips of +Dumouriez, sings Tyrtæus, Rouget de Lisle,[182] 'Aux armes--marchons!' +Iambic measure with a witness! in what wide strophe here beginning--in +what unthought-of antistrophe returning to that council chamber in +Sedan! + +While these two great songs were thus being composed, and sung, and +danced to in cometary cycle, by the French nation, here in our less +giddy island there rose, amidst hours of business in Scotland and of +idleness in England, three troubadours of quite different temper. +Different also themselves, but not opponent; forming a perfect chord, +and adverse all the three of them alike to the French musicians, in this +main point--that while the _Ça ira_ and Marseillaise were essentially +songs of blame and wrath, the British bards wrote, virtually, always +songs of praise, though by no means psalmody in the ancient keys. On the +contrary, all the three are alike moved by a singular antipathy to the +priests, and are pointed at with fear and indignation by the pietists, +of their day;--not without latent cause. For they are all of them, with +the most loving service, servants of that world which the Puritan and +monk alike despised; and, in the triple chord of their song, could not +but appear to the religious persons around them as respectively and +specifically the praisers--Scott of the world, Burns of the flesh, and +Byron of the devil. + +To contend with this carnal orchestra, the religious world, having long +ago rejected its Catholic Psalms as antiquated and unscientific, and +finding its Puritan melodies sunk into faint jar and twangle from their +native trumpet-tone, had nothing to oppose but the innocent, rather than +religious, verses of the school recognised as that of the English +Lakes; very creditable to them; domestic at once and refined; observing +the errors of the world outside of the Lakes with a pitying and tender +indignation, and arriving in lacustrine seclusion at many valuable +principles of philosophy, as pure as the tarns of their mountains, and +of corresponding depth.[183] + +I have lately seen, and with extreme pleasure, Mr. Matthew Arnold's +arrangement of Wordsworth's poems; and read with sincere interest his +high estimate of them. But a great poet's work never needs arrangement +by other hands; and though it is very proper that Silver How should +clearly understand and brightly praise its fraternal Rydal Mount, we +must not forget that, over yonder, are the Andes, all the while. + +Wordsworth's rank and scale among poets were determined by himself, in a +single exclamation:-- + + 'What was the great Parnassus' self to thee, + Mount Skiddaw?' + +Answer his question faithfully, and you have the relation between the +great masters of the Muse's teaching, and the pleasant fingerer of his +pastoral flute among the reeds of Rydal. + +Wordsworth is simply a Westmoreland peasant, with considerably less +shrewdness than most border Englishmen or Scotsmen inherit; and no sense +of humour: but gifted (in this singularly) with vivid sense of natural +beauty, and a pretty turn for reflections, not always acute, but, as far +as they reach, medicinal to the fever of the restless and corrupted life +around him. Water to parched lips may be better than Samian wine, but do +not let us therefore confuse the qualities of wine and water. I much +doubt there being many inglorious Miltons in our country churchyards; +but I am very sure there are many Wordsworths resting there, who were +inferior to the renowned one only in caring less to hear themselves +talk. + +With an honest and kindly heart, a stimulating egoism, a wholesome +contentment in modest circumstances, and such sufficient ease, in that +accepted state, as permitted the passing of a good deal of time in +wishing that daisies could see the beauty of their own shadows, and +other such profitable mental exercises, Wordsworth has left us a series +of studies of the graceful and happy shepherd life of our lake country, +which to me personally, for one, are entirely sweet and precious; but +they are only so as the mirror of an existent reality in many ways more +beautiful than its picture. + +But the other day I went for an afternoon's rest into the cottage of one +of our country people of old statesman class; cottage lying nearly +midway between two village churches, but more conveniently for downhill +walk towards one than the other. I found, as the good housewife made tea +for me, that nevertheless she went up the hill to church. 'Why do not +you go to the nearer church?' I asked. 'Don't you like the clergyman?' +'Oh no, sir,' she answered, 'it isn't that; but you know I couldn't +leave my mother.' 'Your mother! she is buried at H---- then?' 'Yes, sir; +and you know I couldn't go to church anywhere else.' + +That feelings such as these existed among the peasants, not of +Cumberland only, but of all the tender earth that gives forth her fruit +for the living, and receives her dead to peace, might perhaps have been, +to our great and endless comfort, discovered before now, if Wordsworth +had been content to tell us what he knew of his own villages and people, +not as the leader of a new and only correct school of poetry, but simply +as a country gentleman of sense and feeling, fond of primroses, kind to +the parish children, and reverent of the spade with which Wilkinson had +tilled his lands: and I am by no means sure that his influence on the +stronger minds of his time was anywise hastened or extended by the +spirit of tunefulness under whose guidance he discovered that heaven +rhymed to seven, and Foy to boy. + +Tuneful nevertheless at heart, and of the heavenly choir, I gladly and +frankly acknowledge him; and our English literature enriched with a new +and a singular virtue in the aërial purity and healthful rightness of +his quiet song;--but _aërial_ only,--not ethereal; and lowly in its +privacy of light. + +A measured mind, and calm; innocent, unrepentant; helpful to sinless +creatures and scatheless, such of the flock as do not stray. Hopeful at +least, if not faithful; content with intimations of immortality such as +may be in skipping of lambs, and laughter of children,--incurious to see +in the hands the print of the Nails. + +A gracious and constant mind; as the herbage of its native hills, +fragrant and pure;--yet, to the sweep and the shadow, the stress and +distress, of the greater souls of men, as the tufted thyme to the laurel +wilderness of Tempe,--as the gleaming euphrasy to the dark branches of +Dodona. + + * * * * * + +[I am obliged to defer the main body of this paper to next +month,--revises penetrating all too late into my lacustrine seclusion; +as chanced also unluckily with the preceding paper, in which the reader +will perhaps kindly correct the consequent misprints, p. 29, l. 20, of +'scarcely' to 'securely,' and p. 31, l. 34, 'full,' with comma, to +'fall,' without one; noticing besides that _Redgauntlet_ has been +omitted in the italicised list, p. 25, l. 16; and that the reference to +note 2 should not be at the word 'imagination,' p. 24, but at the word +'trade,' p. 25, l. 7. My dear old friend, Dr. John Brown, sends me, from +Jamieson's _Dictionary_, the following satisfactory end to one of my +difficulties:--'Coup the crans.' The language is borrowed from the +'cran,' or trivet on which small pots are placed in cookery, which is +sometimes turned with its feet uppermost by an awkward assistant. Thus +it signifies to be _completely_ upset.] + + JOHN RUSKIN. + + +[BYRON.] + + 'Parching summer hath no warrant + To consume this crystal well; + Rains, that make each brook a torrent, + Neither sully it, nor swell.' + +So was it, year by year, among the unthought-of hills. Little Duddon and +child Rotha ran clear and glad; and laughed from ledge to pool, and +opened from pool to mere, translucent, through endless days of peace. + +But eastward, between her orchard plains, Loire locked her embracing +dead in silent sands; dark with blood rolled Iser; glacial-pale, +Beresina-Lethe, by whose shore the weary hearts forgot their people, and +their father's house. + +Nor unsullied, Tiber; nor unswoln, Arno and Aufidus; and Euroclydon high +on Helle's wave; meantime, let our happy piety glorify the garden rocks +with snowdrop circlet, and breathe the spirit of Paradise, where life is +wise and innocent. + +Maps many have we, now-a-days clear in display of earth constituent, air +current, and ocean tide. Shall we ever engrave the map of meaner +research, whose shadings shall content themselves in the task of showing +the depth, or drought,--the calm, or trouble, of Human Compassion? + +For this is indeed all that is noble in the life of Man, and the source +of all that is noble in the speech of Man. Had it narrowed itself then, +in those days, out of all the world, into this peninsula between +Cockermouth and Shap? + +Not altogether so; but indeed the _Vocal_ piety seemed conclusively to +have retired (or excursed?) into that mossy hermitage, above Little +Langdale. The _Un_vocal piety, with the uncomplaining sorrow, of Man, +may have had a somewhat wider range, for aught we know: but history +disregards those items; and of firmly proclaimed and sweetly canorous +religion, there really seemed at that juncture none to be reckoned upon, +east of Ingleborough, or north of Criffel. Only under Furness Fells, or +by Bolton Priory, it seems we can still write Ecclesiastical Sonnets, +stanzas on the force of Prayer, Odes to Duty, and complimentary +addresses to the Deity upon His endurance for adoration. Far otherwise, +over yonder, by Spezzia Bay, and Ravenna Pineta, and in ravines of +Hartz. There, the softest voices speak the wildest words; and Keats +discourses of Endymion, Shelley of Demogorgon, Goethe of Lucifer, and +Bürger of the Resurrection of Death unto Death--while even Puritan +Scotland and Episcopal Anglia produce for us only these three minstrels +of doubtful tone, who show but small respect for the 'unco guid,' put +but limited faith in gifted Gilfillan, and translate with unflinching +frankness the _Morgante Maggiore_.[184] + +Dismal the aspect of the spiritual world, or at least the sound of it, +might well seem to the eyes and ears of Saints (such as we had) of the +period--dismal in angels' eyes also assuredly! Yet is it possible that +the dismalness in angelic sight may be otherwise quartered, as it were, +from the way of mortal heraldry; and that seen, and heard, of +angels,--again I say--hesitatingly--_is_ it possible that the goodness +of the Unco Guid, and the gift of Gilfillan, and the word of Mr. +Blattergowl, may severally not have been the goodness of God, the gift +of God, nor the word of God: but that in the much blotted and broken +efforts at goodness, and in the careless gift which they themselves +despised,[185] and in the sweet ryme and murmur of their unpurposed +words, the Spirit of the Lord had, indeed, wandering, as in chaos days +on lightless waters, gone forth in the hearts and from the lips of those +other three strange prophets, even though they ate forbidden bread by +the altar of the poured-out ashes, and even though the wild beast of the +desert found them, and slew. + +This, at least, I know, that it had been well for England, though all +her other prophets, of the Press, the Parliament, the Doctor's chair, +and the Bishop's throne, had fallen silent; so only that she had been +able to understand with her heart here and there the simplest line of +these, her despised. + +I take one at mere chance: + + 'Who thinks of self, when gazing on the sky?'[186] + +Well, I don't know; Mr. Wordsworth certainly did, and observed, with +truth, that its clouds took a sober colouring in consequence of his +experiences. It is much if, indeed, this sadness be unselfish, and our +eyes _have_ kept loving watch o'er Man's Mortality. I have found it +difficult to make any one now-a-days believe that such sobriety can be; +and that Turner saw deeper crimson than others in the clouds of Goldau. +But that any should yet think the clouds brightened by Man's +_Im_mortality instead of dulled by his death,--and, gazing on the sky, +look for the day when every eye must gaze also--for behold, He cometh +with the clouds--this it is no more possible for Christian England to +apprehend, however exhorted by her gifted and guid. + +'But Byron was not thinking of such things!'--He, the reprobate! how +should such as he think of Christ? + +Perhaps not wholly as you or I think of Him. Take, at chance, another +line or two, to try: + + 'Carnage (so Wordsworth tells you) is God's daughter;[187] + If _he_ speak truth, she is Christ's sister, and + Just now, behaved as in the Holy Land.' + +Blasphemy, cry you, good reader? Are you sure you understand it? The +first line I gave you was easy Byron--almost shallow Byron--these are of +the man in his depth, and you will not fathom them, like a tarn,--nor in +a hurry. + +'Just now behaved as in the Holy Land.' How _did_ Carnage behave in the +Holy Land then? You have all been greatly questioning, of late, whether +the sun, which you find to be now going out, ever stood still. Did you +in any lagging minute, on those scientific occasions, chance to reflect +what he was bid stand still _for_? or if not--will you please look--and +what, also, going forth again as a strong man to run his course, he saw, +rejoicing? + +'Then Joshua passed from Makkedah unto Libnah--and fought against +Libnah. And the Lord delivered it and the king thereof into the hand of +Israel, and he smote it with the edge of the sword, and all the souls +that were therein.' And from Lachish to Eglon, and from Eglon to +Kirjath-Arba, and Sarah's grave in the Amorites' land, 'and Joshua smote +all the country of the hills and of the south--and of the vale and of +the springs, and all their kings; he left none remaining, but utterly +destroyed all that breathed--as the Lord God of Israel commanded.' + +Thus 'it is written:' though you perhaps do not so often hear _these_ +texts preached from, as certain others about taking away the sins of the +world. I wonder how the world would like to part with them! hitherto it +has always preferred parting first with its Life--and God has taken it +at its word. But Death is not _His_ Begotten Son, for all that; nor is +the death of the innocent in battle carnage His 'instrument for working +out a pure intent' as Mr. Wordsworth puts it; but Man's instrument for +working out an impure one, as Byron would have you to know. Theology +perhaps less orthodox, but certainly more reverent;--neither is the +Woolwich Infant a Child of God; neither does the iron-clad 'Thunderer' +utter thunders of God--which facts, if you had had the grace or sense to +learn from Byron, instead of accusing him of blasphemy, it had been +better at this day for _you_, and for many a savage soul also, by Euxine +shore, and in Zulu and Afghan lands. + +It was neither, however, for the theology, nor the use, of these lines +that I quoted them; but to note this main point of Byron's own +character. He was the first great Englishman who felt the cruelty of +war, and, in its cruelty, the shame. Its guilt had been known to George +Fox--its folly shown practically by Penn. But the _compassion_ of the +pious world had still for the most part been shown only in keeping its +stock of Barabbases unhanged if possible: and, till Byron came, neither +Kunersdorf, Eylau, nor Waterloo, had taught the pity and the pride of +men that + + 'The drying up a single tear has more + Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.'[188] + +Such pacific verse would not indeed have been acceptable to the +Edinburgh volunteers on Portobello sands. But Byron can write a battle +song too, when it is _his_ cue to fight. If you look at the introduction +to the _Isles of Greece_, namely the 85th and 86th stanzas of the 3rd +canto of _Don Juan_,--you will find--what will you _not_ find, if only +you understand them! 'He' in the first line, remember, means the typical +modern poet. + + 'Thus usually, when he was asked to sing, + He gave the different nations something national. + 'Twas all the same to him--"God save the King" + Or "Ça ira" according to the fashion all; + His muse made increment of anything + From the high lyric down to the low rational: + If Pindar sang horse races, what should hinder + Himself from being as pliable as Pindar? + + 'In France, for instance, he would write a chanson; + In England a six-canto quarto tale; + In Spain, he'd make a ballad or romance on + The last war--much the same in Portugal; + In Germany, the Pegasus he'd prance on + Would be old Goethe's--(see what says de Staël) + In Italy he'd ape the 'Trecentisti;' + In Greece, he'd sing some sort of hymn like this t' ye. + +Note first here, as we did in Scott, the concentrating and foretelling +power. The 'God Save the Queen' in England, fallen hollow now, as the +'Ça ira' in France--not a man in France knowing where either France or +'that' (whatever 'that' may be) is going to; nor the Queen of England +daring, for her life, to ask the tiniest Englishman to do a single thing +he doesn't like;--nor any salvation, either of Queen or Realm, being any +more possible to God, unless under the direction of the Royal Society: +then, note the estimate of height and depth in poetry, swept in an +instant, 'high lyric to low rational.' Pindar to Pope (knowing Pope's +height, too, all the while, no man better); then, the poetic power of +France--resumed in a word--Béranger; then the cut at Marmion, entirely +deserved, as we shall see, yet kindly given, for everything he names in +these two stanzas is the best of its kind; then Romance in Spain on--the +_last_ war, (_present_ war not being to Spanish poetical taste), then, +Goethe the real heart of all Germany, and last, the aping of the +Trecentisti which has since consummated itself in Pre-Raphaelitism! that +also being the best thing Italy has done through England, whether in +Rossetti's 'blessed damozels' or Burne Jones's 'days of creation.' +Lastly comes the mock at himself--the modern English Greek--(followed up +by the 'degenerate into hands like mine' in the song itself); and +then--to amazement, forth he thunders in his Achilles voice. We have had +one line of him in his clearness--five of him in his depth--sixteen of +him in his play. Hear now but these, out of his whole heart:-- + + 'What,--silent yet? and silent _all_? + Ah no, the voices of the dead + Sound like a distant torrent's fall, + And answer, "Let _one_ living head, + But one, arise--we come--we come:" + --'Tis but the living who are dumb.' + +Resurrection, this, you see like Bürger's; but not of death unto death. + +'Sound like a distant torrent's fall.' I said the _whole_ heart of Byron +was in this passage. First its compassion, then its indignation, and the +third element, not yet examined, that love of the beauty of this world +in which the three--unholy--children, of its Fiery Furnace were like to +each other; but Byron the widest-hearted. Scott and Burns love Scotland +more than Nature itself: for Burns the moon must rise over Cumnock +Hills,--for Scott, the Rymer's glen divide the Eildons; but, for Byron, +Loch-na-Gar _with Ida_, looks o'er Troy, and the soft murmurs of the Dee +and the Bruar change into voices of the dead on distant Marathon. + +Yet take the parallel from Scott, by a field of homelier rest:-- + + 'And silence aids--though the steep hills + Send to the lake a thousand rills; + In summer tide, so soft they weep, + The sound but lulls the ear asleep; + Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, + So stilly is the solitude. + + Naught living meets the eye or ear, + But well I ween the dead are near; + For though, in feudal strife, a foe + Hath laid our Lady's Chapel low, + Yet still beneath the hallowed soil, + The peasant rests him from his toil, + And, dying, bids his bones be laid + Where erst his simple fathers prayed.' + +And last take the same note of sorrow--with Burns's finger on the fall +of it: + + 'Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens, + Ye hazly shaws and briery dens, + Ye burnies, wimplin' down your glens + Wi' toddlin' din, + Or foamin' strang wi' hasty stens + Frae lin to lin.' + +As you read, one after another, these fragments of chant by the great +masters, does not a sense come upon you of some element in their +passion, no less than in their sound, different, specifically, from that +of 'Parching summer hath no warrant'? Is it more profane, think you--or +more tender--nay, perhaps, in the core of it, more true? + +For instance, when we are told that + + 'Wharfe, as he moved along, + To matins joined a mournful voice,' + +is this disposition of the river's mind to pensive psalmody quite +logically accounted for by the previous statement (itself by no means +rhythmically dulcet,) that + + 'The boy is in the arms of Wharfe, + And strangled by a merciless force'? + +Or, when we are led into the improving reflection, + + 'How sweet were leisure, could it yield no more + Then 'mid this wave-washed churchyard to recline, + From pastoral graves extracting thoughts divine!' + +--is the divinity of the extract assured to us by its being made at +leisure, and in a reclining attitude--as compared with the meditations +of otherwise active men, in an erect one? Or are we perchance, many of +us, still erring somewhat in our notions alike of Divinity and +Humanity,--poetical extraction, and moral position? + +On the chance of its being so, might I ask hearing for just a few words +more of the school of Belial? + +Their occasion, it must be confessed, is a quite unjustifiable one. Some +very wicked people--mutineers, in fact--have retired, misanthropically, +into an unfrequented part of the country, and there find themselves +safe, indeed, but extremely thirsty. Whereupon Byron thus gives them to +drink: + + 'A little stream came tumbling from the height + And straggling into ocean as it might. + Its bounding crystal frolicked in the ray + And gushed from cliff to crag with saltless spray, + Close on the wild wide ocean,--yet as pure + And fresh as Innocence; and more secure. + Its silver torrent glittered o'er the deep + As the shy chamois' eye o'erlooks the steep, + While, far below, the vast and sullen swell + Of ocean's Alpine azure rose and fell.'[189] + +Now, I beg, with such authority as an old workman may take concerning +his trade, having also looked at a waterfall or two in my time, and not +unfrequently at a wave, to assure the reader that here _is_ entirely +first-rate literary work. Though Lucifer himself had written it, the +thing is itself good, and not only so, but unsurpassably good, the +closing line being probably the best concerning the sea yet written by +the race of the sea-kings. + +But Lucifer himself _could_ not have written it; neither any servant of +Lucifer. I do not doubt but that most readers were surprised at my +saying, in the close of my first paper, that Byron's 'style' depended in +any wise on his views respecting the Ten Commandments. That so +all-important a thing as 'style' should depend in the least upon so +ridiculous a thing as moral sense: or that Allegra's father, watching +her drive by in Count G.'s coach and six, had any remnant of so +ridiculous a thing to guide,--or check,--his poetical passion, may alike +seem more than questionable to the liberal and chaste philosophy of the +existing British public. But, first of all, putting the question of who +writes, or speaks, aside, do you, good reader, _know_ good 'style' when +you get it? Can you say, of half-a-dozen given lines taken anywhere out +of a novel, or poem, or play, That is good, essentially, in style, or +bad, essentially? and can you say why such half-dozen lines are good, or +bad? + +I imagine that in most cases, the reply would be given with hesitation, +yet if you will give me a little patience, and take some accurate pains, +I can show you the main tests of style in the space of a couple of +pages. + +I take two examples of absolutely perfect, and in manner highest, _i. +e._ kingly, and heroic, style: the first example in expression of anger, +the second of love. + + (1) 'We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us, + His present, and your pains, we thank you for. + When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, + We will in France, by God's grace, play a set, + Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.' + + (2) 'My gracious Silence, hail! + Would'st thou have laughed, had I come coffin'd home + That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, + Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, + And mothers that lack sons.' + +Let us note, point by point, the conditions of greatness common to both +these passages, so opposite in temper. + +A. Absolute command over all passion, however intense; this the +first-of-first conditions, (see the King's own sentence just before, 'We +are no tyrant, but a Christian King, Unto _whose grace_ our passion is +as subject As are our wretches fettered in our prisons'); and with this +self-command, the supremely surveying grasp of every thought that is to +be uttered, before its utterance; so that each may come in its exact +place, time, and connection. The slightest hurry, the misplacing of a +word, or the unnecessary accent on a syllable, would destroy the 'style' +in an instant. + +B. Choice of the fewest and simplest words that can be found in the +compass of the language, to express the thing meant: these few words +being also arranged in the most straightforward and intelligible way; +allowing inversion only when the subject can be made primary without +obscurity; thus, 'his present, and your pains, we thank you for' is +better than 'we thank you for his present and your pains,' because the +Dauphin's gift is by courtesy put before the Ambassador's pains; but +'when to these balls our rackets we have matched' would have spoiled the +style in a moment, because--I was going to have said, ball and racket +are of equal rank, and therefore only the natural order proper; but also +here the natural order is the desired one, the English racket to have +precedence of the French ball. In the fourth line the 'in France' comes +first, as announcing the most important resolution of action; the 'by +God's grace' next, as the only condition rendering resolution possible; +the detail of issue follows with the strictest limit in the final word. +The King does not say 'danger,' far less 'dishonour,' but 'hazard' only; +of _that_ he is, humanly speaking, sure. + +C. Perfectly emphatic and clear utterance of the chosen words; slowly +in the degree of their importance, with omission however of every word +not absolutely required; and natural use of the familiar contractions of +final dissyllable. Thus, 'play a set shall strike' is better than 'play +a set _that_ shall strike,' and 'match'd' is kingly short--no necessity +could have excused 'matched' instead. On the contrary, the three first +words, 'We are glad,' would have been spoken by the king more slowly and +fully than any other syllables in the whole passage, first pronouncing +the kingly 'we' at its proudest, and then the 'are' as a continuous +state, and then the 'glad,' as the exact contrary of what the +ambassadors expected him to be.[190] + +D. Absolute spontaneity in doing all this, easily and necessarily as the +heart beats. The king _cannot_ speak otherwise than he does--nor the +hero. The words not merely come to them, but are compelled to them. Even +lisping numbers 'come,' but mighty numbers are ordained, and inspired. + +E. Melody in the words, changeable with their passion fitted to it +exactly and the utmost of which the language is capable--the melody in +prose being Eolian and variable--in verse, nobler by submitting itself +to stricter law. I will enlarge upon this point presently. + +F. Utmost spiritual contents in the words; so that each carries not only +its instant meaning, but a cloudy companionship of higher or darker +meaning according to the passion--nearly always indicated by metaphor: +'play a set'--sometimes by abstraction--(thus in the second passage +'silence' for silent one) sometimes by description instead of direct +epithet ('coffined' for dead) but always indicative of there being more +in the speaker's mind than he has said, or than he can say, full though +his saying be. On the quantity of this attendant fulness depends the +majesty of style; that is to say, virtually, on the quantity of +contained thought in briefest words, such thought being primarily loving +and true: and this the sum of all--that nothing can be well said, but +with truth, nor beautifully, but by love. + +These are the essential conditions of noble speech in prose and verse +alike, but the adoption of the form of verse, and especially rymed +verse, means the addition to all these qualities of one more; of music, +that is to say, not Eolian merely, but Apolline; a construction or +architecture of words fitted and befitting, under external laws of time +and harmony. + +When Byron says 'rhyme is of the rude,'[191] he means that Burns needs +it,--while Henry the Fifth does not, nor Plato, nor Isaiah--yet in this +need of it by the simple, it becomes all the more religious: and thus +the loveliest pieces of Christian language are all in ryme--the best of +Dante, Chaucer, Douglas, Shakespeare, Spenser, and Sidney. + +I am not now able to keep abreast with the tide of modern scholarship; +(nor, to say the truth, do I make the effort, the first edge of its +waves being mostly muddy, and apt to make a shallow sweep of the shore +refuse:) so that I have no better book of reference by me than the +confused essay on the antiquity of ryme at the end of Turner's +_Anglo-Saxons_. I cannot however conceive a more interesting piece of +work, if not yet done, than the collection of sifted earliest fragments +known of rymed song in European languages. Of Eastern I know nothing; +but, this side Hellespont, the substance of the matter is all given in +King Canute's impromptu + + 'Gaily (or is it sweetly?--I forget which, and it's no matter) + sang the monks of Ely, + As Knut the king came sailing by;' + +much to be noted by any who make their religion lugubrious, and their +Sunday the eclipse of the week. And observe further, that if Milton does +not ryme, it is because his faculty of Song was concerning Loss, +chiefly; and he has little more than faculty of Croak, concerning Gain; +while Dante, though modern readers never go further with him than into +the Pit, is stayed only by Casella in the ascent to the Rose of Heaven. +So, Gibbon can write in _his_ manner the Fall of Rome; but Virgil, in +_his_ manner, the rise of it; and finally Douglas, in _his_ manner, +bursts into such rymed passion of praise both of Rome and Virgil, as +befits a Christian Bishop, and a good subject of the Holy See. + + 'Master of Masters--sweet source, and springing well, + Wide where over all ringes thy heavenly bell; + + * * * * + + Why should I then with dull forehead and vain, + With rude ingene, and barane, emptive brain, + With bad harsh speech, and lewit barbare tongue + Presume to write, where thy sweet bell is rung, + Or counterfeit thy precious wordis dear? + Na, na--not so; but kneel when I them hear. + But farther more--and lower to descend + Forgive me, Virgil, if I thee offend + Pardon thy scolar, suffer him to ryme + Since _thou_ wast but ane mortal man sometime.' + +'Before honour is humility.' Does not clearer light come for you on that +law after reading these nobly pious words? And note you _whose_ +humility? How is it that the sound of the bell comes so instinctively +into his chiming verse? This gentle singer is the son of--Archibald +Bell-the-Cat! + +And now perhaps you can read with right sympathy the scene in _Marmion_ +between his father and King James. + + 'His hand the monarch sudden took-- + Now, by the Bruce's soul, + Angus, my hasty speech forgive, + For sure as doth his spirit live + As he said of the Douglas old + I well may say of you,-- + That never king did subject hold, + In speech more free, in war more bold, + More tender and more true: + And while the king his hand did strain + The old man's tears fell down like rain.' + +I believe the most infidel of scholastic readers can scarcely but +perceive the relation between the sweetness, simplicity, and melody of +expression in these passages, and the gentleness of the passions they +express, while men who are not scholastic, and yet are true scholars, +will recognise further in them that the simplicity of the educated is +lovelier than the simplicity of the rude. Hear next a piece of Spenser's +teaching how rudeness itself may become more beautiful even by its +mistakes, if the mistakes are made lovingly. + + 'Ye shepherds' daughters that dwell on the green, + Hye you there apace; + Let none come there but that virgins been + To adorn her grace: + And when you come, whereas she in place, + See that your rudeness do not you disgrace; + Bind your fillets fast, + And gird in your waste, + For more fineness, with a taudry lace.' + + 'Bring hither the pink and purple cullumbine + With gylliflowers; + Bring coronatiöns, and sops in wine, + Worn of paramours; + Strow me the ground with daffadowndillies + And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lilies; + The pretty paunce + And the chevisaunce + Shall match with the fair flowre-delice.'[192] + +Two short pieces more only of master song, and we have enough to test +all by. + + (2) 'No more, no more, since thou art dead, + Shall we e'er bring coy brides to bed, + No more, at yearly festivals, + We cowslip balls + Or chains of columbines shall make, + For this or that occasion's sake. + No, no! our maiden pleasures be + Wrapt in thy winding-sheet with thee.'[193] + + (3) 'Death is now the phoenix rest, + And the turtle's loyal breast + To eternity doth rest. + Truth may seem, but cannot be; + Beauty brag, but 'tis not she: + Truth and beauty buried be.'[194] + +If now, with the echo of these perfect verses in your mind, you turn to +Byron, and glance over, or recall to memory, enough of him to give means +of exact comparison, you will, or should, recognise these following +kinds of mischief in him. First, if any one offends him--as for instance +Mr. Southey, or Lord Elgin--'his manners have not that repose that marks +the caste,' &c. _This_ defect in his Lordship's style, being myself +scrupulously and even painfully reserved in the use of vituperative +language, I need not say how deeply I deplore.[195] + +Secondly. In the best and most violet-bedded bits of his work there is +yet, as compared with Elizabethan and earlier verse, a strange taint; +and indefinable--evening flavour of Covent Garden, as it were;--not to +say, escape of gas in the Strand. That is simply what it proclaims +itself--London air. If he had lived all his life in Green-head Ghyll, +things would of course have been different. But it was his fate to come +to town--modern town--like Michael's son; and modern London (and Venice) +are answerable for the state of their drains, not Byron. + +Thirdly. His melancholy is without any relief whatsoever; his jest +sadder than his earnest; while, in Elizabethan work, all lament is full +of hope, and all pain of balsam. + +Of this evil he has himself told you the cause in a single line, +prophetic of all things since and now. 'Where _he_ gazed, a gloom +pervaded space.'[196] + +So that, for instance, while Mr. Wordsworth, on a visit to town, being +an exemplary early riser, could walk, felicitous, on Westminster Bridge, +remarking how the city now did like a garment wear the beauty of the +morning; Byron, rising somewhat later, contemplated only the garment +which the beauty of the morning had by that time received for wear from +the city: and again, while Mr. Wordsworth, in irrepressible religious +rapture, calls God to witness that the houses seem asleep, Byron, lame +demon as he was, flying smoke-drifted, unroofs the houses at a glance, +and sees what the mighty cockney heart of them contains in the still +lying of it, and will stir up to purpose in the waking business of it, + + 'The sordor of civilisation, mixed + With all the passions which Man's fall hath fixed.'[197] + +Fourthly, with this steadiness of bitter melancholy, there is joined a +sense of the material beauty, both of inanimate nature, the lower +animals, and human beings, which in the iridescence, colour-depth, and +morbid (I use the word deliberately) mystery and softness of it,--with +other qualities indescribable by any single words, and only to be +analysed by extreme care,--is found, to the full, only in five men that +I know of in modern times; namely Rousseau, Shelley, Byron, Turner, and +myself,--differing totally and throughout the entire group of us, from +the delight in clear-struck beauty of Angelico and the Trecentisti; and +separated, much more singularly, from the cheerful joys of Chaucer, +Shakespeare, and Scott, by its unaccountable affection for 'Rokkes blak' +and other forms of terror and power, such as those of the ice-oceans, +which to Shakespeare were only Alpine rheum; and the Via Malas and +Diabolic Bridges which Dante would have condemned none but lost souls to +climb, or cross;--all this love of impending mountains, coiled +thunder-clouds, and dangerous sea, being joined in us with a sulky, +almost ferine, love of retreat in valleys of Charmettes, gulphs of +Spezzia, ravines of Olympus, low lodgings in Chelsea, and close +brushwood at Coniston. + +And, lastly, also in the whole group of us, glows volcanic instinct of +Astræan justice returning not to, but up out of, the earth, which will +not at all suffer us to rest any more in Pope's serene 'whatever is, is +right;' but holds, on the contrary, profound conviction that about +ninety-nine hundredths of whatever at present is, is wrong: conviction +making four of us, according to our several manners, leaders of +revolution for the poor, and declarers of political doctrine monstrous +to the ears of mercenary mankind; and driving the fifth, less sanguine, +into mere painted-melody of lament over the fallacy of Hope and the +implacableness of Fate. + +In Byron the indignation, the sorrow, and the effort are joined to the +death: and they are the parts of his nature (as of mine also in its +feebler terms), which the selfishly comfortable public have, literally, +no conception of whatever; and from which the piously sentimental +public, offering up daily the pure emotion of divine tranquillity, +shrink with anathema not unembittered by alarm. + +Concerning which matters I hope to speak further and with more precise +illustration in my next paper; but, seeing that this present one has +been hitherto somewhat sombre, and perhaps, to gentle readers, not a +little discomposing, I will conclude it with a piece of light biographic +study, necessary to my plan, and as conveniently admissible in this +place as afterwards;--namely, the account of the manner in which +Scott--whom we shall always find, as aforesaid, to be in salient and +palpable elements of character, of the World, worldly, as Burns is of +the Flesh, fleshly, and Byron of the Deuce, damnable,--spent his Sunday. + +As usual, from Lockhart's farrago we cannot find out the first thing we +want to know,--whether Scott worked after his week-day custom, on the +Sunday morning. But, I gather, not; at all events his household and his +cattle rested (L. iii. 108). I imagine he walked out into his woods, or +read quietly in his study. Immediately after breakfast, whoever was in +the house, 'Ladies and gentlemen, I shall read prayers at eleven, when I +expect you all to attend' (vii. 306). Question of college and other +externally unanimous prayers settled for us very briefly: 'if you have +no faith, have at least manners.' He read the Church of England service, +lessons and all, the latter, if interesting, eloquently (_ibid._). After +the service, one of Jeremy Taylor's sermons (vi. 188). After the sermon, +if the weather was fine, walk with his family, dogs included and guests, +to _cold_ picnic (iii. 109), followed by short extempore biblical +novelettes; for he had his Bible, the Old Testament especially, by +heart, it having been his mother's last gift to him (vi. 174). These +lessons to his children in Bible history were always given, whether +there was picnic or not. For the rest of the afternoon he took his +pleasure in the woods with Tom Purdie, who also always appeared at his +master's elbow on Sunday after dinner was over, and drank long life to +the laird and his lady and all the good company, in a quaigh of whiskey +or a tumbler of wine, according to his fancy (vi. 195). Whatever might +happen on the other evenings of the week, Scott always dined at home on +Sunday; and with old friends: never, unless inevitably, receiving any +person with whom he stood on ceremony (v. 335). He came into the room +rubbing his hands like a boy arriving at home for the holidays, his +Peppers and Mustards gambolling about him, 'and even the stately Maida +grinning and wagging his tail with sympathy.' For the usquebaugh of the +less honoured week-days, at the Sunday board he circulated the champagne +briskly during dinner, and considered a pint of claret each man's fair +share afterwards (v. 339). In the evening, music being to the Scottish +worldly mind indecorous, he read aloud some favourite author, for the +amusement or edification of his little circle. Shakespeare it might be, +or Dryden,--Johnson, or Joanna Baillie,--Crabbe, or Wordsworth. But in +those days 'Byron was pouring out his spirit fresh and full, and if a +new piece from _his_ hand had appeared, it was _sure to be read by Scott +the Sunday evening afterwards_; and that with such delighted emphasis as +showed how completely the elder bard had kept up his enthusiasm for +poetry at pitch of youth, and all his admiration of genius, free, pure, +and unstained by the least drop of literary jealousy' (v. 341). + +With such necessary and easily imaginable varieties as chanced in having +Dandy Dinmont or Captain Brown for guests at Abbotsford, or Colonel +Mannering, Counsellor Pleydell, and Dr. Robertson in Castle Street, such +was Scott's habitual Sabbath: a day, we perceive, of eating the fat, +(_dinner_, presumably not cold, being a work of necessity and +mercy--thou also, even thou, Saint Thomas of Trumbull, hast thine!) and +drinking the sweet, abundant in the manner of Mr. Southey's cataract of +Lodore,--'Here it comes, sparkling.' A day bestrewn with coronatiöns and +sops in wine; deep in libations to good hope and fond memory; a day of +rest to beast, and mirth to man, (as also to sympathetic beasts that can +be merry,) and concluding itself in an Orphic hour of delight, +signifying peace on Tweedside, and goodwill to men, there or far +away;--always excepting the French, and Boney. + +'Yes, and see what it all came to in the end.' + +Not so, dark-virulent Minos-Mucklewrath; the end came of quite other +things: of _these_, came such length of days and peace as Scott had in +his Fatherland, and such immortality as he has in all lands. + +Nathless, firm, though deeply courteous, rebuke, for his sometimes +overmuch light-mindedness, was administered to him by the more grave and +thoughtful Byron. For the Lord Abbot of Newstead knew his Bible by heart +as well as Scott, though it had never been given him by his mother as +her dearest possession. Knew it, and, what was more, had thought of it, +and sought in it what Scott had never cared to think, nor been fain to +seek. + +And loving Scott well, and always doing him every possible pleasure in +the way he sees to be most agreeable to him--as, for instance, +remembering with precision, and writing down the very next morning, +every blessed word that the Prince Regent had been pleased to say of him +before courtly audience,--he yet conceived that such cheap ryming as his +own _Bride of Abydos_, for instance, which he had written from beginning +to end in four days, or even the travelling reflections of Harold and +Juan on men and women, were scarcely steady enough Sunday afternoon's +reading for a patriarch-Merlin like Scott. So he dedicates to him a work +of a truly religious tendency, on which for his own part he has done his +best,--the drama of _Cain_. Of which dedication the virtual significance +to Sir Walter might be translated thus. Dearest and last of Border +soothsayers, thou hast indeed told us of Black Dwarfs, and of White +Maidens, also of Grey Friars, and Green Fairies; also of sacred hollies +by the well, and haunted crooks in the glen. But of the bushes that the +black dogs rend in the woods of Phlegethon; and of the crooks in the +glen, and the bickerings of the burnie where ghosts meet the mightiest +of us; and of the black misanthrope, who is by no means yet a dwarfed +one, and concerning whom wiser creatures than Hobbie Elliot may +tremblingly ask 'Gude guide us, what's yon?' hast thou yet known, seeing +that thou hast yet told, _nothing_. + +Scott may perhaps have his answer. We shall in good time hear. + + JOHN RUSKIN + +FOOTNOTES: + +[154] Nell, in the _Old Curiosity Shop_, was simply killed for the +market, as a butcher kills a lamb (see Forster's _Life_), and Paul was +written under the same conditions of illness which affected Scott--a +part of the ominous palsies, grasping alike author and subject, both in +_Dombey_ and _Little Dorrit_. + +[155] Chourineur' not striking with dagger-point, but ripping with +knife-edge. Yet I do him, and La Louve, injustice in classing them with +the two others; they are put together only as parts in the same +phantasm. Compare with La Louve, the strength of wild virtue in the +'Louvécienne' (Lucienne) of Gaboriau--she, province-born and bred; and +opposed to Parisian civilisation in the character of her sempstress +friend. 'De ce Paris, où elle était née, elle savait tout--elle +connaissait tout. Rien ne l'étonnait, nul ne l'intimidait. Sa science +des détails matériels de l'existence était inconcevable. Impossible de +la duper!--Eh bien! cette fille si laborieuse et si économe n'avait même +pas la plus vague notion des sentiments qui sont l'honneur de la femme. +Je n'avais pas idée d'une si complète absence de sens moral; d'une si +inconsciente dépravation, d'une impudence si effrontément +naïve.'--_L'Argent des autres_, vol. i. p. 358. + +[156] The reader who cares to seek it may easily find medical evidence +of the physical effects of certain states of brain disease in producing +especially images of truncated and Hermes-like deformity, complicated +with grossness. Horace, in the _Epodes_, scoffs at it, but not without +horror. Luca Signorelli and Raphael in their arabesques are deeply +struck by it: Durer, defying and playing with it alternately, is almost +beaten down again and again in the distorted faces, hewing halberts, and +suspended satyrs of his arabesques round the polyglot Lord's Prayer; it +takes entire possession of Balzac in the _Contes Drolatiques_; it struck +Scott in the earliest days of his childish 'visions' intensified by the +axe-stroke murder of his grand aunt; L. i. 142, and see close of this +note. It chose for him the subject of the _Heart of Midlothian_, and +produced afterwards all the recurrent ideas of executions, tainting +_Nigel_, almost spoiling _Quentin Durward_--utterly the _Fair Maid of +Perth_: and culminating in _Bizarro_, L. x. 149. It suggested all the +deaths by falling, or sinking, as in delirious sleep--Kennedy, Eveline +Neville (nearly repeated in Clara Mowbray), Amy Robsart, the Master of +Ravenswood in the quicksand, Morris, and Corporal Grace-be-here--compare +the dream of Gride, in _Nicholas Nickleby_, and Dickens's own last +words, _on the ground_, (so also, in my own inflammation of the brain, +two years ago, I dreamed that I fell through the earth and came out on +the other side). In its grotesque and distorting power, it produced all +the figures of the Lay Goblin, Pacolet, Flibbertigibbet, Cockledemoy, +Geoffrey Hudson, Fenella, and Nectabanus; in Dickens it in like manner +gives Quilp, Krook, Smike, Smallweed, Miss Mowcher, and the dwarfs and +wax-work of Nell's caravan; and runs entirely wild in _Barnaby Rudge_, +where, with a _corps de drame_ composed of one idiot, two madmen, a +gentleman fool who is also a villain, a shop-boy fool who is also a +blackguard, a hangman, a shrivelled virago, and a doll in +ribands--carrying this company through riot and fire, till he hangs the +hangman, one of the madmen, his mother, and the idiot, runs the +gentleman-fool through in a bloody duel, and burns and crushes the +shop-boy fool into shapelessness, he cannot yet be content without +shooting the spare lover's leg off, and marrying him to the doll in a +wooden one; the shapeless shop-boy being finally also married in _two_ +wooden ones. It is this mutilation, observe, which is the very sign +manual of the plague; joined, in the artistic forms of it, with a love +of thorniness--(in their mystic root, the truncation of the limbless +serpent and the spines of the dragon's wing. Compare _Modern Painters_, +vol. iv., 'Chapter on the Mountain Gloom,' s. 19); and in _all_ forms of +it, with petrifaction or loss of power by cold in the blood, whence the +last Darwinian process of the witches' charm--'cool it with a baboon's +_blood_, _then_ the charm is firm and good.' The two frescoes in the +colossal handbills which have lately decorated the streets of London +(the baboon with the mirror, and the Maskelyne and Cooke decapitation) +are the final English forms of Raphael's arabesque under this influence; +and it is well worth while to get the number for the week ending April +3, 1880, of _Young Folks_--'A magazine of instructive and entertaining +literature for boys and girls of all ages,' containing 'A Sequel to +Desdichado' (the modern development of Ivanhoe), in which a quite +monumental example of the kind of art in question will be found as a +leading illustration of this characteristic sentence, "See, good +Cerberus," said Sir Rupert, "_my hand has been struck off. You must make +me a hand of iron, one with springs in it, so that I can make it grasp a +dagger._" The text is also, as it professes to be, instructive; being +the ultimate degeneration of what I have above called the 'folly' of +_Ivanhoe_; for folly begets folly down, and down; and whatever Scott and +Turner did wrong has thousands of imitators--their wisdom none will so +much as hear, how much less follow! + +In both of the Masters, it is always to be remembered that the evil and +good are alike conditions of literal _vision_: and therefore also, +inseparably connected with the state of the health. I believe the first +elements of all Scott's errors were in the milk of his consumptive +nurse, which all but killed him as an infant, L. i. 19--and was without +doubt the cause of the teething fever that ended in his lameness (L. i. +20). Then came (if the reader cares to know what I mean by Fors, let him +read the page carefully) the fearful accidents to his only sister, and +her death, L. i. 17; then the madness of his nurse, who planned his own +murder (21), then the stories continually told him of the executions at +Carlisle (24), his aunt's husband having seen them; issuing, he himself +scarcely knows how, in the unaccountable terror that came upon him at +the sight of statuary, 31--especially Jacob's ladder; then the murder of +Mrs. Swinton, and finally the nearly fatal bursting of the blood vessel +at Kelso, with the succeeding nervous illness, 65-67--solaced, while he +was being 'bled and blistered till he had scarcely a pulse left,' by +that history of the Knights of Malta--fondly dwelt on and realised by +actual modelling of their fortress, which returned to his mind for the +theme of its last effort in passing away. + +[157] 'Se dit par dénigrement, d'un chrétien qui ne croit pas les dogmes +de sa religion.'--Fleming, vol. ii. p. 659. + +[158] 'A son nom,' properly. The sentence is one of Victor Cherbuliez's, +in _Prosper Randoce_, which is full of other valuable ones. See the old +nurse's 'ici bas les choses vont de travers, comme un chien qui va à +vêpres, p. 93; and compare Prosper's treasures, 'la petite Vénus, et le +petit Christ d'ivoire,' p. 121; also Madame Brehanne's request for the +divertissement of 'quelque belle batterie à coups de couteau' with +Didier's answer. 'Hélas! madame, vous jouez de malheur, ici dans la +Drôme, l'on se massacre aussi peu que possible,' p. 33. + +[159] Edgeworth's _Tales_ (Hunter, 1827), 'Harrington and Ormond,' vol. +iii. p. 260. + +[160] Alice of Salisbury, Alice Lee, Alice Bridgnorth. + +[161] Scott's father was habitually ascetic. 'I have heard his son tell +that it was common with him, if any one observed that the soup was good, +to taste it again, and say, "Yes--it is too good, bairns," and dash a +tumbler of cold water into his plate.'--Lockhart's _Life_ (Black, +Edinburgh, 1869), vol. i. p. 312. In other places I refer to this book +in the simple form of 'L.' + +[162] A young lady sang to me, just before I copied out this page for +press, a Miss Somebody's 'great song,' 'Live, and Love, and Die.' Had it +been written for nothing better than silkworms, it should at least have +added--Spin. + +[163] See passage of introduction to _Ivanhoe_, wisely quoted in L. vi. +106. + +[164] See below, note, p. 25, on the conclusion of _Woodstock_. + +[165] L. iv. 177. + +[166] L. vi. 67. + +[167] 'One other such novel, and there's an end; but who can last for +ever? who ever lasted so long?'--Sydney Smith (of the _Pirate_) to +Jeffrey, December 30, 1821. (_Letters_, vol. ii. p. 223.) + +[168] L. vi. p. 188. Compare the description of Fairy Dean, vii. 192. + +[169] All, alas! were now in a great measure so written. _Ivanhoe_, _The +Monastery_, _The Abbot_ and _Kenilworth_ were all published between +December 1819 and January 1821, Constable & Co. giving five thousand +guineas for the remaining copyright of them, Scott clearing ten thousand +before the bargain was completed; and before the _Fortunes of Nigel_ +issued from the press Scott had exchanged instruments and received his +bookseller's bills for no less than four 'works of fiction,' not one of +them otherwise described in the deeds of agreement, to be produced in +unbroken succession, _each of them to fill up at least three volumes, +but with proper saving clauses as to increase of copy money in case any +of them should run to four_; and within two years all this anticipation +had been wiped off by _Peveril of the Peak_, _Quentin Durward_, _St. +Ronan's Well_, and _Redgauntlet_. + +[170] _Woodstock_ was finished 26th March 1826. He knew then of his +ruin; and wrote in bitterness, but not in weakness. The closing pages +are the most beautiful of the book. But a month afterwards Lady Scott +died; and he never wrote glad word more. + +[171] Compare Mr. Spurgeon's not unfrequent orations on the same +subject. + +[172] There are three definite and intentional portraits of himself, in +the novels, each giving a separate part of himself: Mr. Oldbuck, Frank +Osbaldistone, and Alan Fairford. + +[173] Andrew knows Latin, and might have coined the word in his conceit; +but, writing to a kind friend in Glasgow, I find the brook was called +'Molyndona' even before the building of the Sub-dean Mill in 1446. See +also account of the locality in Mr. George's admirable volume, _Old +Glasgow_, pp. 129, 149, &c. The Protestantism of Glasgow, since throwing +that powder of saints into her brook Kidron, has presented it with other +pious offerings; and my friend goes on to say that the brook, once famed +for the purity of its waters (much used for bleaching), 'has for nearly +a hundred years been a crawling stream of loathsomeness. It is now +bricked over, and a carriage way made on the top of it; underneath the +foul mess still passes through the heart of the city, till it falls into +the Clyde close to the harbour.' + +[174] The following fragments out of the letters in my own possession, +written by Scott to the builder of Abbotsford, as the outer decorations +of the house were in process of completion, will show how accurately +Scott had pictured himself in Monkbarns. + + 'Abbotsford: April 21, 1817. + +'Dear Sir,--Nothing can be more obliging than your attention to the old +stones. You have been as true as the sundial itself.' [The sundial had +just been erected.] 'Of the two I would prefer the larger one, as it is +to be in front of a parapet quite in the old taste. But in case of +accidents it will be safest in your custody till I come to town again on +the 12th of May. Your former favours (which were weighty as acceptable) +have come safely out here, and will be disposed of with great effect.' + + 'Abbotsford: July 30. + +'I fancy the Tolbooth still keeps its feet, but, as it must soon +descend, I hope you will remember me. I have an important use for the +niche above the door; and though many a man has got a niche _in_ the +Tolbooth by building, I believe I am the first that ever got a niche out +of it on such an occasion. For which I have to thank your kindness, and +to remain very much your obliged humble servant, + + 'WALTER SCOTT.' + + 'August 16. + +'My dear Sir,--I trouble you with this [_sic_] few lines to thank you +for the very accurate drawings and measurements of the Tolbooth door, +and for your kind promise to attend to my interest and that of +Abbotsford in the matter of the Thistle and Fleur de Lis. Most of our +scutcheons are now mounted, and look very well, as the house is +something after the model of an old hall (not a castle), where such +things are well in character.' [Alas--Sir Walter, Sir Walter!] 'I intend +the old lion to predominate over a well which the children have +christened the Fountain of the Lions. His present den, however, +continues to be the hall at Castle Street.' + + 'September 5. + +'Dear Sir,--I am greatly obliged to you for securing the stone. I am not +sure that I will put up the gate quite in the old form, but I would like +to secure the means of doing so. The ornamental stones are now put up, +and have a very happy effect. If you will have the kindness to let me +know when the Tolbooth door comes down, I will send in my carts for the +stones; I have an admirable situation for it. I suppose the door itself' +[he means, the wooden one] 'will be kept for the new jail; if not, and +not otherwise wanted, I would esteem it curious to possess it. Certainly +I hope so many sore hearts will not pass through the celebrated door +when in my possession as heretofore.' + + * * * * * + + 'September 8. + +'I should esteem it very fortunate if I could have the door also, though +I suppose it is modern, having been burned down at the time of +Porteous-mob. + +'I am very much obliged to the gentlemen who thought these remains of +the Heart of Midlothian are not ill bestowed on their intended +possessor.' + +[175] Henceforward, not in affectation, but for the reader's better +convenience, I shall continue to spell 'Ryme' without our wrongly added +_h_. + +[176] L. ii. 278. + +[177] 'Che nella mente mia _ragiona_.' Love--you observe, the highest +_Reasonableness_, instead of French _ivresse_, or even Shakespearian +'mere folly'; and Beatrice as the Goddess of Wisdom in this third song +of the _Convito_, to be compared with the Revolutionary Goddess of +Reason; remembering of the whole poem chiefly the line:-- + + 'Costei penso chi che mosso l'universo.' + +(See Lyell's _Canzoniere_, p. 104.) + +[178] [Greek: hôran tês terpsios]--Plato, _Laws_, ii., Steph. 669. +'Hour' having here nearly the power of 'Fate' with added sense of being +a daughter of Themis. + +[179] 'Gunpowder is one of the greatest inventions of modern times, _and +what has given such a superiority to civilised nations over barbarous_'! +(_Evenings at Home_--fifth evening.) No man can owe more than I both to +Mrs. Barbauld and Miss Edgeworth; and I only wish that in the substance +of what they wisely said, they had been more listened to. Nevertheless, +the germs of all modern conceit and error respecting manufacture and +industry, as rivals to Art and to Genius, are concentrated in '_Evenings +at Home_' and '_Harry and Lucy_'--being all the while themselves works +of real genius, and prophetic of things that have yet to be learned and +fulfilled. See for instance the paper, 'Things by their Right Names,' +following the one from which I have just quoted (The Ship), and closing +the first volume of the old edition of the _Evenings_. + +[180] Carlyle, _French Revolution_ (Chapman, 1869), vol. ii. p. 70; +conf. p. 25, and the _Ça ira_ at Arras, vol. iii. p. 276. + +[181] _Ibid._ iii. 26. + +[182] Carlyle, _French Revolution_, iii. 106, the last sentence altered +in a word or two. + +[183] I have been greatly disappointed, in taking soundings of our most +majestic mountain pools, to find them, in no case, verge on the +unfathomable. + +[184] 'It must be put by the original, stanza for stanza, and verse for +verse; and you will see what was permitted in a Catholic country and a +bigoted age to Churchmen, on the score of Religion--and so tell those +buffoons who accuse me of attacking the Liturgy. + +'I write in the greatest haste, it being the hour of the Corso, and I +must go and buffoon with the rest. My daughter Allegra is just gone with +the Countess G. in Count G.'s coach and six. Our old Cardinal is dead, +and the new one not appointed yet--but the masquing goes on the same.' +(Letter to Murray, 355th in Moore, dated Ravenna, Feb. 7, 1828.) 'A +dreadfully moral place, for you must not look at anybody's wife, except +your neighbour's.' + +[185] See quoted _infra_ the mock, by Byron, of himself and all other +modern poets, _Juan_, canto iii. stanza 86, and compare canto xiv. +stanza 8. In reference of future quotations the first numeral will stand +always for canto; the second for stanza; the third, if necessary, for +line. + +[186] _Island_, ii. 16, where see context. + +[187] _Juan_, viii. 5; but, by your Lordship's quotation, Wordsworth +says 'instrument'--not 'daughter.' Your Lordship had better have said +'Infant' and taken the Woolwich authorities to witness: only Infant +would not have rymed. + +[188] _Juan_, viii. 3; compare 14 and 63, with all its lovely context +61--68: then 82, and afterwards slowly and with thorough attention, the +Devil's speech, beginning, 'Yes, Sir, you forget' in scene 2 of _The +Deformed Transformed_: then Sardanapalus's, act i. scene 2, beginning +'he is gone, and on his finger bears my signet,' and finally, the +_Vision of Judgment_, stanzas 3 to 5. + +[189] _Island_, iii. 3, and compare, of shore surf, the 'slings its high +flakes, shivered into sleet' of stanza 7. + +[190] A modern editor--of whom I will not use the expressions which +occur to me--finding the 'we' a redundant syllable in the iambic line, +prints 'we're.' It is a little thing--but I do not recollect, in the +forty years of my literary experience, any piece of editor's retouch +quite so base. But I don't read the new editions much; that must be +allowed for. + +[191] _Island_, ii. 5. I was going to say, 'Look to the context.' but am +fain to give it here; for the stanza, learned by heart, ought to be our +school-introduction to the literature of the world. + + 'Such was this ditty of Tradition's days, + Which to the dead a lingering fame conveys + In song, where fame as yet hath left no sign + Beyond the sound whose charm is half divine; + Which leaves no record to the sceptic eye, + But yields young history all to harmony; + A boy Achilles, with the centaur's lyre + In hand, to teach him to surpass his sire. + For one long-cherish'd ballad's simple stave + Rung from the rock, or mingled with the wave, + Or from the bubbling streamlet's grassy side, + Or gathering mountain echoes as they glide, + Hath greater power o'er each true heart and ear, + Than all the columns Conquest's minions rear; + Invites, when hieroglyphics are a theme + For sages' labours or the student's dream; + Attracts, when History's volumes are a toil-- + The first, the freshest bud of Feeling's soil. + Such was this rude rhyme--rhyme is of the rude, + But such inspired the Norseman's solitude, + Who came and conquer'd; such, wherever rise + Lands which no foes destroy or civilise, + Exist; and what can our accomplish'd art + Of verse do more than reach the a waken'd heart?' + +[192] _Shepherd's Calendar._ 'Coronatiön,' loyal-pastoral for Carnation; +'sops in wine,' jolly-pastoral for double pink; 'paunce,' thoughtless +pastoral for pansy; 'chevisaunce' I don't know, (not in Gerarde); +'flowre-delice'--pronounce dellice--half made up of 'delicate' and +'delicious.' + +[193] Herrick, _Dirge for Jephthah's Daughter_. + +[194] _Passionate Pilgrim._ + +[195] In this point, compare the _Curse of Minerva_ with the _Tears of +the Muses_. + +[196] 'He,'--Lucifer; (_Vision of Judgment_, 24). It is precisely +because Byron was _not_ his servant, that he could see the gloom. To the +Devil's true servants, their Master's presence brings both cheerfulness +and prosperity;--with a delightful sense of their own wisdom and virtue; +and of the 'progress' of things in general:--in smooth sea and fair +weather,--and with no need either of helm touch, or oar toil: as when +once one is well within the edge of Maelstrom. + +[197] _Island_, ii. 4; perfectly orthodox theology, you observe; no +denial of the fall,--nor substitution of Bacterian birth for it. Nay, +nearly Evangelical theology, in contempt for the human heart; but with +deeper than Evangelical humility, acknowledging also what is sordid in +its civilisation. + + + + +THE + +ELEMENTS OF DRAWING + +IN + +THREE LETTERS TO BEGINNERS + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN BY THE AUTHOR + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It may perhaps be thought, that in prefacing a Manual of Drawing, I +ought to expatiate on the reasons why drawing should be learned; but +those reasons appear to me so many and so weighty, that I cannot quickly +state or enforce them. With the reader's permission, as this volume is +too large already, I will waive all discussion respecting the importance +of the subject, and touch only on those points which may appear +questionable in the method of its treatment. + +In the first place, the book is not calculated for the use of children +under the age of twelve or fourteen. I do not think it advisable to +engage a child in any but the most voluntary practice of art. If it has +talent for drawing, it will be continually scrawling on what paper it +can get; and should be allowed to scrawl at its own free will, due +praise being given for every appearance of care, or truth, in its +efforts. It should be allowed to amuse itself with cheap colours almost +as soon as it has sense enough to wish for them. If it merely daubs the +paper with shapeless stains, the colour-box may be taken away till it +knows better: but as soon as it begins painting red coats on soldiers, +striped flags to ships, etc., it should have colours at command; and, +without restraining its choice of subject in that imaginative and +historical art, of a military tendency, which children delight in, +(generally quite as valuable, by the way, as any historical art +delighted in by their elders,) it should be gently led by the parents to +try to draw, in such childish fashion as may be, the things it can see +and likes,--birds, or butterflies, or flowers, or fruit. In later +years, the indulgence of using the colour should only be granted as a +reward, after it has shown care and progress in its drawings with +pencil. A limited number of good and amusing prints should always be +within a boy's reach: in these days of cheap illustration he can hardly +possess a volume of nursery tales without good woodcuts in it, and +should be encouraged to copy what he likes best of this kind; but should +be firmly restricted to a _few_ prints and to a few books. If a child +has many toys, it will get tired of them and break them; if a boy has +many prints he will merely dawdle and scrawl over them; it is by the +limitation of the number of his possessions that his pleasure in them is +perfected, and his attention concentrated. The parents need give +themselves no trouble in instructing him, as far as drawing is +concerned, beyond insisting upon economical and neat habits with his +colours and paper, showing him the best way of holding pencil and rule, +and, so far as they take notice of his work, pointing out where a line +is too short or too long, or too crooked, when compared with the copy; +_accuracy_ being the first and last thing they look for. If the child +shows talent for inventing or grouping figures, the parents should +neither check, nor praise it. They may laugh with it frankly, or show +pleasure in what it has done, just as they show pleasure in seeing it +well, or cheerful; but they must not praise it for being clever, any +more than they would praise it for being stout. They should praise it +only for what costs it self-denial, namely attention and hard work; +otherwise they will make it work for vanity's sake, and always badly. +The best books to put into its hands are those illustrated by George +Cruikshank or by Richter. (See Appendix.) At about the age of twelve or +fourteen, it is quite time enough to set youth or girl to serious work; +and then this book will, I think, be useful to them; and I have good +hope it may be so, likewise, to persons of more advanced age wishing to +know something of the first principles of art. + +Yet observe, that the method of study recommended is not brought forward +as absolutely the best, but only as the best which I can at present +devise for an isolated student. It is very likely that farther +experience in teaching may enable me to modify it with advantage in +several important respects; but I am sure the main principles of it are +sound, and most of the exercises as useful as they can be rendered +without a master's superintendence. The method differs, however, so +materially from that generally adopted by drawing-masters, that a word +or two of explanation may be needed to justify what might otherwise be +thought wilful eccentricity. + +The manuals at present published on the subject of drawing are all +directed, as far as I know, to one or other of two objects. Either they +propose to give the student a power of dexterous sketching with pencil +or water-colour, so as to emulate (at considerable distance) the +slighter work of our second-rate artists; or they propose to give him +such accurate command of mathematical forms as may afterwards enable him +to design rapidly and cheaply for manufactures. When drawing is taught +as an accomplishment, the first is the aim usually proposed; while the +second is the object kept chiefly in view at Marlborough House, and in +the branch Government Schools of Design. + +Of the fitness of the modes of study adopted in those schools, to the +end specially intended, judgment is hardly yet possible; only, it seems +to me, that we are all too much in the habit of confusing art as +_applied_ to manufacture, with manufacture itself. For instance, the +skill by which an inventive workman designs and moulds a beautiful cup, +is skill of true art; but the skill by which that cup is copied and +afterwards multiplied a thousandfold, is skill of manufacture: and the +faculties which enable one workman to design and elaborate his original +piece, are not to be developed by the same system of instruction as +those which enable another to produce a maximum number of approximate +copies of it in a given time. Farther: it is surely inexpedient that any +reference to purposes of manufacture should interfere with the education +of the artist himself. Try first to manufacture a Raphael; then let +Raphael direct your manufacture. He will design you a plate, or cup, or +a house, or a palace, whenever you want it, and design them in the most +convenient and rational way; but do not let your anxiety to reach the +platter and the cup interfere with your education of the Raphael. Obtain +first the best work you can, and the ablest hands, irrespective of any +consideration of economy or facility of production. Then leave your +trained artist to determine how far art can be popularised, or +manufacture ennobled. + +Now, I believe that (irrespective of differences in individual temper +and character) the excellence of an artist, as such, depends wholly on +refinement of perception, and that it is this, mainly, which a master or +a school can teach; so that while powers of invention distinguish man +from man, powers of perception distinguish school from school. All great +schools enforce delicacy of drawing and subtlety of sight: and the only +rule which I have, as yet, found to be without exception respecting art, +is that all great art is delicate. + +Therefore, the chief aim and bent of the following system is to obtain, +first, a perfectly patient, and, to the utmost of the pupil's power, a +delicate method of work, such as may ensure his seeing truly. For I am +nearly convinced, that when once we see keenly enough, there is very +little difficulty in drawing what we see; but, even supposing that this +difficulty be still great, I believe that the sight is a more important +thing than the drawing; and I would rather teach drawing that my pupils +may learn to love Nature, than teach the looking at Nature that they may +learn to draw. It is surely also a more important thing for young people +and unprofessional students, to know how to appreciate the art of +others, than to gain much power in art themselves. Now the modes of +sketching ordinarily taught are inconsistent with this power of +judgment. No person trained to the superficial execution of modern +water-colour painting, can understand the work of Titian or Leonardo; +they must for ever remain blind to the refinement of such men's +pencilling, and the precision of their thinking. But, however slight a +degree of manipulative power the student may reach by pursuing the mode +recommended to him in these letters, I will answer for it that he cannot +go once through the advised exercises without beginning to understand +what masterly work means; and, by the time he has gained some +proficiency in them, he will have a pleasure in looking at the painting +of the great schools, and a new perception of the exquisiteness of +natural scenery, such as would repay him for much more labour than I +have asked him to undergo. + +That labour is, nevertheless, sufficiently irksome, nor is it possible +that it should be otherwise, so long as the pupil works unassisted by a +master. For the smooth and straight road which admits unembarrassed +progress must, I fear, be dull as well as smooth; and the hedges need to +be close and trim when there is no guide to warn or bring back the +erring traveller. The system followed in this work will, therefore, at +first, surprise somewhat sorrowfully those who are familiar with the +practice of our class at the Working Men's College; for there, the +pupil, having the master at his side to extricate him from such +embarrassments as his first efforts may lead into, is _at once_ set to +draw from a solid object, and soon finds entertainment in his efforts +and interest in his difficulties. Of course the simplest object which it +is possible to set before the eye is a sphere; and practically, I find a +child's toy, a white leather ball, better than anything else; as the +gradations on balls of plaster of Paris, which I use sometimes to try +the strength of pupils who have had previous practice, are a little too +delicate for a beginner to perceive. It has been objected that a circle, +or the outline of a sphere, is one of the most difficult of all lines to +draw. It is so; but I do not want it to be drawn. All that his study of +the ball is to teach the pupil, is the way in which shade gives the +appearance of projection. This he learns most satisfactorily from a +sphere; because any solid form, terminated by straight lines or flat +surfaces, owes some of its appearance of projection to its perspective; +but in the sphere, what, without shade, was a flat circle, becomes, +merely by the added shade, the image of a solid ball; and this fact is +just as striking to the learner, whether his circular outline be true or +false. He is, therefore, never allowed to trouble himself about it; if +he makes the ball look as oval as an egg, the degree of error is simply +pointed out to him, and he does better next time, and better still the +next. But his mind is always fixed on the gradation of shade, and the +outline left to take, in due time, care of itself. I call it outline, +for the sake of immediate intelligibility,--strictly speaking, it is +merely the edge of the shade; no pupil in my class being ever allowed to +draw an outline, in the ordinary sense. It is pointed out to him, from +the first, that Nature relieves one mass, or one tint, against another; +but outlines none. The outline exercise, the second suggested in this +letter, is recommended, not to enable the pupil to draw outlines, but as +the only means by which, unassisted, he can test his accuracy of eye, +and discipline his hand. When the master is by, errors in the form and +extent of shadows can be pointed out as easily as in outline, and the +handling can be gradually corrected in details of the work. But the +solitary student can only find out his own mistakes by help of the +traced limit, and can only test the firmness of his hand by an exercise +in which nothing but firmness is required; and during which all other +considerations (as of softness, complexity, &c.) are entirely excluded. + +Both the system adopted at the Working Men's College, and that +recommended here, agree, however, in one principle, which I consider the +most important and special of all that are involved in my teaching: +namely, the attaching its full importance, from the first, to local +colour. I believe that the endeavour to separate, in the course of +instruction, the observation of light and shade from that of local +colour, has always been, and must always be, destructive of the +student's power of accurate sight, and that it corrupts his taste as +much as it retards his progress. I will not occupy the reader's time by +any discussion of the principle here, but I wish him to note it as the +only distinctive one in my system, so far as it is a system. For the +recommendation to the pupil to copy faithfully, and without alteration, +whatever natural object he chooses to study, is serviceable, among other +reasons, just because it gets rid of systematic rules altogether, and +teaches people to draw, as country lads learn to ride, without saddle or +stirrups; my main object being, at first, not to get my pupils to hold +their reins prettily, but to "sit like a jackanapes, never off." + +In these written instructions, therefore, it has always been with regret +that I have seen myself forced to advise anything like monotonous or +formal discipline. But, to the unassisted student, such formalities are +indispensable, and I am not without hope that the sense of secure +advancement, and the pleasure of independent effort, may render the +following out of even the more tedious exercises here proposed, possible +to the solitary learner, without weariness. But if it should be +otherwise, and he finds the first steps painfully irksome, I can only +desire him to consider whether the acquirement of so great a power as +that of pictorial expression of thought be not worth some toil; or +whether it is likely, in the natural order of matters in this working +world, that so great a gift should be attainable by those who will give +no price for it. + +One task, however, of some difficulty, the student will find I have not +imposed upon him: namely, learning the laws of perspective. It would be +worth while to learn them, if he could do so easily; but without a +master's help, and in the way perspective is at present explained in +treatises, the difficulty is greater than the gain. For perspective is +not of the slightest use, except in rudimentary work. You can draw the +rounding line of a table in perspective, but you cannot draw the sweep +of a sea bay; you can foreshorten a log of wood by it, but you cannot +foreshorten an arm. Its laws are too gross and few to be applied to any +subtle form; therefore, as you must learn to draw the subtle forms by +the eye, certainly you may draw the simple ones. No great painters ever +trouble themselves about perspective, and very few of them know its +laws; they draw everything by the eye, and, naturally enough, disdain in +the easy parts of their work rules which cannot help them in difficult +ones. It would take about a month's labour to draw imperfectly, by laws +of perspective, what any great Venetian will draw perfectly in five +minutes, when he is throwing a wreath of leaves round a head, or bending +the curves of a pattern in and out among the folds of drapery. It is +true that when perspective was first discovered, everybody amused +themselves with it; and all the great painters put fine saloons and +arcades behind their madonnas, merely to show that they could draw in +perspective: but even this was generally done by them only to catch the +public eye, and they disdained the perspective so much, that though they +took the greatest pains with the circlet of a crown, or the rim of a +crystal cup, in the heart of their picture, they would twist their +capitals of columns and towers of churches about in the background in +the most wanton way, wherever they liked the lines to go, provided only +they left just perspective enough to please the public. In modern days, +I doubt if any artist among us, except David Roberts, knows so much +perspective as would enable him to draw a Gothic arch to scale, at a +given angle and distance. Turner, though he was professor of perspective +to the Royal Academy, did not know what he professed, and never, as far +as I remember, drew a single building in true perspective in his life; +he drew them only with as much perspective as suited him. Prout also +knew nothing of perspective, and twisted his buildings, as Turner did, +into whatever shapes he liked. I do not justify this; and would +recommend the student at least to treat perspective with common +civility, but to pay no court to it. The best way he can learn it, by +himself, is by taking a pane of glass, fixed in a frame, so that it can +be set upright before the eye, at the distance at which the proposed +sketch is intended to be seen. Let the eye be placed at some fixed +point, opposite the middle of the pane of glass, but as high or as low +as the student likes; then with a brush at the end of a stick, and a +little body-colour that will adhere to the glass, the lines of the +landscape may be traced on the glass, as you see them through it. When +so traced they are all in true perspective. If the glass be sloped in +any direction, the lines are still in true perspective, only it is +perspective calculated for a sloping plane, while common perspective +always supposes the plane of the picture to be vertical. It is good, in +early practice, to accustom yourself to enclose your subject, before +sketching it, with a light frame of wood held upright before you; it +will show you what you may legitimately take into your picture, and +what choice there is between a narrow foreground near you, and a wide +one farther off; also, what height of tree or building you can properly +take in, &c.[198] + +Of figure drawing, nothing is said in the following pages, because I do +not think figures, as chief subjects, can be drawn to any good purpose +by an amateur. As accessaries in landscape, they are just to be drawn on +the same principles as anything else. + +Lastly: If any of the directions given subsequently to the student +should be found obscure by him, or if at any stage of the recommended +practice he finds himself in difficulties which I have not provided +enough against, he may apply by letter to Mr. Ward, who is my under +drawing-master at the Working Men's College (45 Great Ormond Street), +and who will give any required assistance, on the lowest terms that can +remunerate him for the occupation of his time. I have not leisure myself +in general to answer letters of inquiry, however much I may desire to do +so; but Mr. Ward has always the power of referring any question to me +when he thinks it necessary. I have good hope, however, that enough +guidance is given in this work to prevent the occurrence of any serious +embarrassment; and I believe that the student who obeys its directions +will find, on the whole, that the best answer of questions is +perseverance; and the best drawing-masters are the woods and hills. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[198] If the student is fond of architecture, and wishes to know more of +perspective than he can learn in this rough way, Mr. Runciman (of 40 +Accacia Road, St. John's Wood), who was my first drawing-master, and to +whom I owe many happy hours, can teach it him quickly, easily, and +rightly. + + + + +THE + +ELEMENTS OF DRAWING. + + + + +LETTER I. + +ON FIRST PRACTICE. + + +MY DEAR READER: + +Whether this book is to be of use to you or not, depends wholly on your +reason for wishing to learn to draw. If you desire only to possess a +graceful accomplishment, to be able to converse in a fluent manner about +drawing, or to amuse yourself listlessly in listless hours, I cannot +help you: but if you wish to learn drawing that you may be able to set +down clearly, and usefully, records of such things as cannot be +described in words, either to assist your own memory of them, or to +convey distinct ideas of them to other people; if you wish to obtain +quicker perceptions of the beauty of the natural world, and to preserve +something like a true image of beautiful things that pass away, or which +you must yourself leave; if, also, you wish to understand the minds of +great painters, and to be able to appreciate their work sincerely, +seeing it for yourself, and loving it, not merely taking up the thoughts +of other people about it; then I _can_ help you, or, which is better, +show you how to help yourself. + +Only you must understand, first of all, that these powers which indeed +are noble and desirable, cannot be got without work. It is much easier +to learn to draw well, than it is to learn to play well on any musical +instrument; but you know that it takes three or four years of practice, +giving three or four hours a day, to acquire even ordinary command over +the keys of a piano; and you must not think that a masterly command of +your pencil, and the knowledge of what may be done with it, can be +acquired without painstaking, or in a very short time. The kind of +drawing which is taught, or supposed to be taught, in our schools, in a +term or two, perhaps at the rate of an hour's practice a week, is not +drawing at all. It is only the performance of a few dexterous (not +always even that) evolutions on paper with a black-lead pencil; +profitless alike to performer and beholder, unless as a matter of +vanity, and that the smallest possible vanity. If any young person, +after being taught what is, in polite circles, called "drawing," will +try to copy the commonest piece of real _work_--suppose a lithograph on +the title-page of a new opera air, or a woodcut in the cheapest +illustrated newspaper of the day--they will find themselves entirely +beaten. And yet that common lithograph was drawn with coarse chalk, much +more difficult to manage than the pencil of which an accomplished young +lady is supposed to have command; and that woodcut was drawn in urgent +haste, and half spoiled in the cutting afterwards; and both were done by +people whom nobody thinks of as artists, or praises for their power; +both were done for daily bread, with no more artist's pride than any +simple handicraftsmen feel in the work they live by. + +Do not, therefore, think that you can learn drawing, any more than a new +language, without some hard and disagreeable labour. But do not, on the +other hand, if you are ready and willing to pay this price, fear that +you may be unable to get on for want of special talent. It is indeed +true that the persons who have peculiar talent for art, draw +instinctively and get on almost without teaching; though never without +toil. It is true, also, that of inferior talent for drawing there are +many degrees; it will take one person a much longer time than another to +attain the same results, and the results thus painfully attained are +never quite so satisfactory as those got with greater ease when the +faculties are naturally adapted to the study. But I have never yet, in +the experiments I have made, met with a person who could not learn to +draw at all; and, in general, there is a satisfactory and available +power in every one to learn drawing if he wishes, just as nearly all +persons have the power of learning French, Latin, or arithmetic, in a +decent and useful degree, if their lot in life requires them to possess +such knowledge. + +Supposing then that you are ready to take a certain amount of pains, and +to bear a little irksomeness and a few disappointments bravely, I can +promise you that an hour's practice a day for six months, or an hour's +practice every other day for twelve months, or, disposed in whatever way +you find convenient, some hundred and fifty hours' practice, will give +you sufficient power of drawing faithfully whatever you want to draw, +and a good judgment, up to a certain point, of other people's work: of +which hours, if you have one to spare at present, we may as well begin +at once. + + +EXERCISE I. + +Everything that you can see, in the world around you, presents itself to +your eyes only as an arrangement of patches of different colours +variously shaded.[199] Some of these patches of colour have an +appearance of lines or texture within them, as a piece of cloth or silk +has of threads, or an animal's skin shows texture of hairs; but whether +this be the case or not, the first broad aspect of the thing is that of +a patch of some definite colour; and the first thing to be learned is, +how to produce extents of smooth colour, without texture. + +This can only be done properly with a brush; but a brush, being soft at +the point, causes so much uncertainty in the touch of an unpractised +hand, that it is hardly possible to learn to draw first with it, and it +is better to take, in early practice, some instrument with a hard and +fine point, both that we may give some support to the hand, and that by +working over the subject with so delicate a point, the attention may be +properly directed to all the most minute parts of it. Even the best +artists need occasionally to study subjects with a pointed instrument, +in order thus to discipline their attention: and a beginner must be +content to do so for a considerable period. + +Also, observe that before we trouble ourselves about differences of +colour, we must be able to lay on _one_ colour properly, in whatever +gradations of depth and whatever shapes we want. We will try, therefore, +first to lay on tints or patches of _grey_, of whatever depth we want, +with a pointed instrument. Take any finely-pointed steel pen (one of +Gillott's lithographic crow-quills is best), and a piece of quite +smooth, but not shining, note-paper, cream-laid, and get some ink that +has stood already some time in the inkstand, so as to be quite black, +and as thick as it can be without clogging the pen. Take a rule, and +draw four straight lines, so as to enclose a square or nearly a square, +about as large as _a_, Fig. 1. I say nearly a square, because it does +not in the least matter whether it is quite square or not, the object +being merely to get a space enclosed by straight lines. + +[Illustration: FIG. 1.] + +Now, try to fill in that square space with crossed lines, so completely +and evenly that it shall look like a square patch of grey silk or cloth, +cut out and laid on the white paper, as at _b_. Cover it quickly, first +with straightish lines, in any direction you like, not troubling +yourself to draw them much closer or neater than those in the square +_a_. Let them quite dry before retouching them. (If you draw three or +four squares side by side, you may always be going on with one while the +others are drying). Then cover these lines with others in a different +direction, and let those dry; then in another direction still, and let +those dry. Always wait long enough to run no risk of blotting, and then +draw the lines as quickly as you can. Each ought to be laid on as +swiftly as the dash of the pen of a good writer; but if you try to reach +this great speed at first you will go over the edge of the square, which +is a fault in this exercise. Yet it is better to do so now and then than +to draw the lines very slowly; for if you do, the pen leaves a little +dot of ink at the end of each line, and these dots spoil your work. So +draw each line quickly, stopping always as nearly as you can at the edge +of the square. The ends of lines which go over the edge are afterwards +to be removed with the penknife, but not till you have done the whole +work, otherwise you roughen the paper, and the next line that goes over +the edge makes a blot. + +When you have gone over the whole three or four times, you will find +some parts of the square look darker than other parts. Now try to make +the lighter parts as dark as the rest, so that the whole may be of equal +depth or darkness. You will find, on examining the work, that where it +looks darkest the lines are closest, or there are some much darker +lines, than elsewhere; therefore you must put in other lines, or little +scratches and dots, _between_ the lines in the paler parts; and where +there are very conspicuous dark lines, scratch them out lightly with the +penknife, for the eye must not be attracted by any line in particular. +The more carefully and delicately you fill in the little gaps and holes +the better; you will get on faster by doing two or three squares +perfectly than a great many badly. As the tint gets closer and begins to +look even, work with very little ink in your pen, so as hardly to make +any mark on the paper; and at last, where it is too dark, use the edge +of your penknife very lightly, and for some time, to wear it softly into +an even tone. You will find that the greatest difficulty consists in +getting evenness: one bit will always look darker than another bit of +your square; or there will be a granulated and sandy look over the +whole. When you find your paper quite rough and in a mess, give it up +and begin another square, but do not rest satisfied till you have done +your best with every square. The tint at last ought _at least_ to be as +close and even as that in _b_, Fig. 1. You will find, however, that it +is very difficult to get a _pale_ tint; because, naturally, the ink +lines necessary to produce a close tint at all, blacken the paper more +than you want. You must get over this difficulty not so much by leaving +the lines wide apart as by trying to draw them excessively fine, lightly +and swiftly; being very cautious in filling in; and, at last, passing +the penknife over the whole. By keeping several squares in progress at +one time, and reserving your pen for the light one just when the ink is +nearly exhausted, you may get on better. The paper ought, at last, to +look lightly and evenly toned all over, with no lines distinctly +visible. + + +EXERCISE II. + +As this exercise in shading is very tiresome, it will be well to vary it +by proceeding with another at the same time. The power of shading +rightly depends mainly on _lightness_ of hand and _keenness_ of sight; +but there are other qualities required in drawing, dependent not merely +on lightness, but steadiness of hand; and the eye, to be perfect in its +power, must be made _accurate_ as well as keen, and not only see +shrewdly, but measure justly. + +Possess yourself, therefore, of any cheap work on botany containing +_outline_ plates of leaves and flowers, it does not matter whether bad +or good: "Baxter's British Flowering Plants" is quite good enough. Copy +any of the simplest outlines, first with a soft pencil, following it, by +the eye, as nearly as you can; if it does not look right in proportions, +rub out and correct it, always by the eye, till you think it is right: +when you have got it to your mind, lay tracing-paper on the book, on +this paper trace the outline you have been copying, and apply it to your +own; and having thus ascertained the faults, correct them all patiently, +till you have got it as nearly accurate as may be. Work with a very soft +pencil, and do not rub out so hard[200] as to spoil the surface of your +paper; never mind how _dirty_ the paper gets, but do not roughen it; +and let the false outlines alone where they do not really interfere with +the true one. It is a good thing to accustom yourself to hew and shape +your drawing out of a dirty piece of paper. When you have got it as +right as you can, take a quill pen, not very fine at the point; rest +your hand on a book about an inch and a half thick, so as to hold the +pen long; and go over your pencil outline with ink, raising your pen +point as seldom as possible, and never leaning more heavily on one part +of the line than on another. In most outline drawings of the present +day, parts of the curves are thickened to give an effect of shade; all +such outlines are bad, but they will serve well enough for your +exercises, provided you do not imitate this character: it is better, +however, if you can, to choose a book of pure outlines. It does not in +the least matter whether your pen outline be thin or thick; but it +matters greatly that it should be _equal_, not heavier in one place than +in another. The power to be obtained is that of drawing an even line +slowly and in any direction; all _dashing_ lines, or approximations to +penmanship, are bad. The pen should, as it were, walk slowly over the +ground, and you should be able at any moment to stop it, or to turn it +in any other direction, like a well-managed horse. + +As soon as you can copy every curve _slowly_ and accurately, you have +made satisfactory progress; but you will find the difficulty is in the +_slowness_. It is easy to draw what appears to be a good line with a +sweep of the hand, or with what is called freedom;[201] the real +difficulty and masterliness is in never letting the hand _be_ free, but +keeping it under entire control at every part of the line. + + +EXERCISE III. + +Meantime, you are always to be going on with your shaded squares, and +chiefly with these, the outline exercises being taken up only for rest. + +[Illustration: FIG. 2.] + +As soon as you find you have some command of the pen as a shading +instrument, and can lay a pale or dark tint as you choose, try to +produce gradated spaces like Fig. 2., the dark tint passing gradually +into the lighter ones. Nearly _all_ expression of form, in drawing, +depends on your power of gradating delicately; and the gradation is +always most skilful which passes from one tint into another _very +little_ paler. Draw, therefore, two parallel lines for limits to your +work, as in Fig. 2., and try to gradate the shade evenly from white to +black, passing over the greatest possible distance, yet so that every +part of the band may have visible change in it. The perception of +gradation is very deficient in all beginners (not to say, in many +artists), and you will probably, for some time, think your gradation +skilful enough when it is quite patchy and imperfect. By getting a piece +of grey shaded riband, and comparing it with your drawing, you may +arrive, in early stages of your work, at a wholesome dissatisfaction +with it. Widen your band little by little as you get more skilful, so as +to give the gradation more lateral space, and accustom yourself at the +same time to look for gradated spaces in Nature. The sky is the largest +and the most beautiful; watch it at twilight, after the sun is down, and +try to consider each pane of glass in the window you look through as a +piece of paper coloured blue, or grey, or purple, as it happens to be, +and observe how quietly and continuously the gradation extends over the +space in the window, of one or two feet square. Observe the shades on +the outside and inside of a common white cup or bowl, which make it look +round and hollow;[202] and then on folds of white drapery; and thus +gradually you will be led to observe the more subtle transitions of the +light as it increases or declines on flat surfaces. At last, when your +eye gets keen and true, you will see gradation on everything in Nature. + +But it will not be in your power yet awhile to draw from any objects in +which the gradations are varied and complicated; nor will it be a bad +omen for your future progress, and for the use that art is to be made of +by you, if the first thing at which you aim should be a little bit of +sky. So take any narrow space of evening sky, that you can usually see, +between the boughs of a tree, or between two chimneys, or through the +corner of a pane in the window you like best to sit at, and try to +gradate a little space of white paper as evenly as that is gradated--as +_tenderly_ you cannot gradate it without colour, no, nor with colour +either; but you may do it as evenly; or, if you get impatient with your +spots and lines of ink, when you look at the beauty of the sky, the +sense you will have gained of that beauty is something to be thankful +for. But you ought not to be impatient with your pen and ink; for all +great painters, however delicate their perception of colour, are fond of +the peculiar effect of light which may be got in a pen-and-ink sketch, +and in a woodcut, by the gleaming of the white paper between the black +lines; and if you cannot gradate well with pure black lines, you will +never gradate well with pale ones. By looking at any common woodcuts, in +the cheap publications of the day, you may see how gradation is given to +the sky by leaving the lines farther and farther apart; but you must +make your lines as _fine_ as you can, as well as far apart, towards the +light; and do not try to make them long or straight, but let them cross +irregularly in any direction easy to your hand, depending on nothing but +their gradation for your effect. On this point of direction of lines, +however, I shall have to tell you more presently; in the meantime, do +not trouble yourself about it. + + +EXERCISE IV. + +As soon as you find you can gradate tolerably with the pen, take an H. +or HH. pencil, using its point to produce shade, from the darkest +possible to the palest, in exactly the same manner as the pen, +lightening, however, now with India-rubber instead of the penknife. You +will find that all _pale_ tints of shade are thus easily producible with +great precision and tenderness, but that you cannot get the same dark +power as with the pen and ink, and that the surface of the shade is apt +to become glossy and metallic, or dirty-looking, or sandy. Persevere, +however, in trying to bring it to evenness with the fine point, removing +any single speck or line that may be too black, with the _point_ of the +knife: you must not scratch the whole with the knife as you do the ink. +If you find the texture very speckled-looking, lighten it all over with +India-rubber, and recover it again with sharp, and excessively fine +touches of the pencil point, bringing the parts that are too pale to +perfect evenness with the darker spots. + +You cannot use the point too delicately or cunningly in doing this; work +with it as if you were drawing the down on a butterfly's wing. + +At this stage of your progress, if not before, you may be assured that +some clever friend will come in, and hold up his hands in mocking +amazement, and ask you who could set you to that "niggling;" and if you +persevere in it, you will have to sustain considerable persecution from +your artistical acquaintances generally, who will tell you that all good +drawing depends on "boldness." But never mind them. You do not hear them +tell a child, beginning music, to lay its little hand with a crash among +the keys, in imitation of the great masters; yet they might, as +reasonably as they may tell you to be bold in the present state of your +knowledge. Bold, in the sense of being undaunted, yes; but bold in the +sense of being careless, confident, or exhibitory,--no,--no, and a +thousand times no; for, even if you were not a beginner, it would be bad +advice that made you bold. Mischief may easily be done quickly, but good +and beautiful work is generally done slowly; you will find no boldness +in the way a flower or a bird's wing is painted; and if Nature is not +bold at _her_ work, do you think you ought to be at _yours_? So never +mind what people say, but work with your pencil point very patiently; +and if you can trust me in anything, trust me when I tell you, that +though there are all kinds and ways of art,--large work for large +places, small work for narrow places, slow work for people who can wait, +and quick work for people who cannot,--there is one quality, and, I +think, only one, in which all great and good art agrees;--it is all +_delicate_ art. Coarse art is always bad art. You cannot understand this +at present, because you do not know yet how much tender thought, and +subtle care, the great painters put into touches that at first look +coarse; but, believe me, it is true, and you will find it is so in due +time. + +You will be perhaps also troubled, in these first essays at pencil +drawing, by noticing that more delicate gradations are got in an instant +by a chance touch of the India-rubber, than by an hour's labour with the +point; and you may wonder why I tell you to produce tints so painfully, +which might, it appears, be obtained with ease. But there are two +reasons: the first, that when you come to draw forms, you must be able +to gradate with absolute precision, in whatever place and direction you +wish; not in any wise vaguely, as the India-rubber does it; and, +secondly, that all natural shadows are more or less mingled with gleams +of light. In the darkness of ground there is the light of the little +pebbles or dust; in the darkness of foliage, the glitter of the leaves; +in the darkness of flesh, transparency; in that of a stone, granulation: +in every case there is some mingling of light, which cannot be +represented by the leaden tone which you get by rubbing, or by an +instrument known to artists as the "stump." When you can manage the +point properly, you will indeed be able to do much also with this +instrument, or with your fingers; but then you will have to retouch the +flat tints afterwards, so as to put life and light into them, and that +can only be done with the point. Labour on, therefore, courageously, +with that only. + + +EXERCISE V. + +[Illustration: FIG. 3.] + +When you can manage to tint and gradate tenderly with the pencil point, +get a good large alphabet, and try to _tint_ the letters into shape with +the pencil point. Do not outline them first, but measure their height +and extreme breadth with the compasses, as _a b_, _a c_, Fig. 3., and +then scratch in their shapes gradually; the letter A, enclosed within +the lines, being in what Turner would have called a "state of +forwardness." + +Then, when you are satisfied with the shape of the letter, draw pen and +ink lines firmly round the tint, as at _d_, and remove any touches +outside the limit, first with the India-rubber, and then with the +penknife, so that all may look clear and right. If you rub out any of +the pencil inside the outline of the letter, retouch it, closing it up +to the inked line. The straight lines of the outline are all to be +_ruled_,[203] but the curved lines are to be drawn by the eye and hand; +and you will soon find what good practice there is in getting the curved +letters, such as Bs, Cs, &c., to stand quite straight, and come into +accurate form. + +All these exercises are very irksome, and they are not to be persisted +in alone; neither is it necessary to acquire perfect power in any of +them. An entire master of the pencil or brush ought, indeed, to be able +to draw any form at once, as Giotto his circle; but such skill as this +is only to be expected of the consummate master, having pencil in hand +all his life, and all day long, hence the force of Giotto's proof of his +skill; and it is quite possible to draw very beautifully, without +attaining even an approximation to such a power; the main point being, +not that every line should be precisely what we intend or wish, but that +the line which we intended or wished to draw should be right. If we +always see rightly and mean rightly, we shall get on, though the hand +may stagger a little; but if we mean wrongly, or mean nothing, it does +not matter how firm the hand is. Do not, therefore, torment yourself +because you cannot do as well as you would like; but work patiently, +sure that every square and letter will give you a certain increase of +power; and as soon as you can draw your letters pretty well, here is a +more amusing exercise for you. + + +EXERCISE VI. + +Choose any tree that you think pretty, which is nearly bare of leaves, +and which you can see against the sky, or against a pale wall, or other +light ground: it must not be against strong light, or you will find the +looking at it hurts your eyes; nor must it be in sunshine, or you will +be puzzled by the lights on the boughs. But the tree must be in shade; +and the sky blue, or grey, or dull white. A wholly grey or rainy day is +the best for this practice. + +You will see that _all_ the boughs of the tree are _dark_ against the +sky. Consider them as so many dark rivers, to be laid down in a map with +absolute accuracy; and, without the least thought about the _roundness_ +of the stems, map them all out in flat shade, scrawling them in with +pencil, just as you did the limbs of your letters; then correct and +alter them, rubbing out and out again, never minding how much your paper +is dirtied (only not destroying its surface), until every bough is +exactly, or as near as your utmost power can bring it, right in +curvature and in thickness. Look at the white interstices between them +with as much scrupulousness as if they were little estates which you had +to survey, and draw maps of, for some important lawsuit, involving heavy +penalties if you cut the least bit of a corner off any of them, or gave +the hedge anywhere too deep a curve; and try continually to fancy the +whole tree nothing but a flat ramification on a white ground. Do not +take any trouble about the little twigs, which look like a confused +network or mist; leave them all out,[204] drawing only the main branches +as far as you can see them distinctly, your object at present being not +to draw a tree, but to _learn how_ to do so. When you have got the thing +as nearly right as you can--and it is better to make one good study than +twenty left unnecessarily inaccurate--take your pen, and put a fine +outline to all the boughs, as you did to your letter, taking care, as +far as possible, to put the outline within the edge of the shade, so as +not to make the boughs thicker: the main use of the outline is to +_affirm_ the whole more clearly; to do away with little accidental +roughnesses and excrescences, and especially to mark where boughs cross, +or come in front of each other, as at such points their arrangement in +this kind of sketch is unintelligible without the outline. It may +perfectly well happen that in Nature it should be less distinct than +your outline will make it; but it is better in this kind of sketch to +mark the facts clearly. The temptation is always to be slovenly and +careless, and the outline is like a bridle, and forces our indolence +into attention and precision. The outline should be about the thickness +of that in Fig. 4, which represents the ramification of a small stone +pine, only I have not endeavoured to represent the pencil shading within +the outline, as I could not easily express it in a woodcut; and you have +nothing to do at present with the indication of the foliage above, of +which in another place. You may also draw your trees as much larger +than this figure as you like; only, however large they may be, keep the +outline as delicate, and draw the branches far enough into their outer +sprays to give quite as slender ramification as you have in this figure, +otherwise you do not get good enough practice out of them. + +[Illustration: FIG. 4.] + +You cannot do too many studies of this kind: every one will give you +some new notion about trees: but when you are tired of tree boughs, take +any forms whatever which are drawn in flat colour, one upon another; as +patterns on any kind of cloth, or flat china (tiles, for instance), +executed in two colours only; and practice drawing them of the right +shape and size by the eye, and filling them in with shade of the depth +required. + +In doing this, you will first have to meet the difficulty of +representing depth of colour by depth of shade. Thus a pattern of +ultramarine blue will have to be represented by a darker tint of grey +than a pattern of yellow. + +And now it is both time for you to begin to learn the mechanical use of +the brush, and necessary for you to do so in order to provide yourself +with the gradated scale of colour which you will want. If you can, by +any means, get acquainted with any ordinarily skilful water-colour +painter, and prevail on him to show you how to lay on tints with a +brush, by all means do so; not that you are yet, nor for a long while +yet, to begin to colour, but because the brush is often more convenient +than the pencil for laying on masses or tints of shade, and the sooner +you know how to manage it as an instrument the better. If, however, you +have no opportunity of seeing how water-colour is laid on by a workman +of any kind, the following directions will help you:-- + + +EXERCISE VII. + +Get a shilling cake of Prussian blue. Dip the end of it in water so as +to take up a drop, and rub it in a white saucer till you cannot rub much +more, and the colour gets dark, thick, and oily-looking. Put two +teaspoonfuls of water to the colour you have rubbed down, and mix it +well up with a camel's-hair brush about three quarters of an inch long. + +Then take a piece of smooth, but not glossy, Bristol board or +pasteboard; divide it, with your pencil and rule, into squares as large +as those of the very largest chess-board: they need not be perfect +squares, only as nearly so as you can quickly guess. Rest the pasteboard +on something sloping as much as an ordinary desk; then, dipping your +brush into the colour you have mixed, and taking up as much of the +liquid as it will carry, begin at the top of one of the squares, and lay +a pond or runlet of colour along the top edge. Lead this pond of colour +gradually downwards, not faster at one place than another, but as if you +were adding a row of bricks to a building, all along (only building down +instead of up), dipping the brush frequently so as to keep the colour as +full in that, and in as great quantity on the paper, as you can, so only +that it does not run down anywhere in a little stream. But if it should, +never mind; go on quietly with your square till you have covered it all +in. When you get to the bottom, the colour will lodge there in a great +wave. Have ready a piece of blotting-paper; dry your brush on it, and +with the dry brush take up the superfluous colour as you would with a +sponge, till it all looks even. + +In leading the colour down, you will find your brush continually go over +the edge of the square, or leave little gaps within it. Do not endeavour +to retouch these, nor take much care about them; the great thing is to +get the colour to lie smoothly where it reaches, not in alternate blots +and pale patches; try, therefore, to lead it over the square as fast as +possible, with such attention to your limit as you are able to give. The +use of the exercise is, indeed, to enable you finally to strike the +colour up to the limit with perfect accuracy; but the first thing is to +get it even, the power of rightly striking the edge comes only by time +and practice; even the greatest artists rarely can do this quite +perfectly. + +When you have done one square, proceed to do another which does not +communicate with it. When you have thus done all the alternate squares, +as on a chess-board, turn the pasteboard upside down, begin again with +the first, and put another coat over it, and so on over all the others. +The use of turning the paper upside down is to neutralise the increase +of darkness towards the bottom of the squares, which would otherwise +take place from the ponding of the colour. + +Be resolved to use blotting-paper, or a piece of rag, instead of your +lips, to dry the brush. The habit of doing so, once acquired, will save +you from much partial poisoning. Take care, however, always to draw the +brush from root to point, otherwise you will spoil it. You may even wipe +it as you would a pen when you want it very dry, without doing harm, +provided you do not crush it upwards. Get a good brush at first, and +cherish it; it will serve you longer and better than many bad ones. + +When you have done the squares all over again, do them a third time, +always trying to keep your edges as neat as possible. When your colour +is exhausted, mix more in the same proportions, two teaspoonfuls to as +much as you can grind with a drop; and when you have done the alternate +squares three times over, as the paper will be getting very damp, and +dry more slowly, begin on the white squares, and bring them up to the +same tint in the same way. The amount of jagged dark line which then +will mark the limits of the squares will be the exact measure of your +unskilfulness. + +As soon as you tire of squares draw circles (with compasses); and then +draw straight lines irregularly across circles, and fill up the spaces +so produced between the straight line and the circumference; and then +draw any simple shapes of leaves, according to the exercise No. 2., and +fill up those, until you can lay on colour quite evenly in any shape you +want. + +You will find in the course of this practice, as you cannot always put +exactly the same quantity of water to the colour, that the darker the +colour is, the more difficult it becomes to lay it on evenly. Therefore, +when you have gained some definite degree of power, try to fill in the +forms required with a full brush, and a dark tint, at once, instead of +laying several coats one over another; always taking care that the tint, +however dark, be quite liquid; and that, after being laid on, so much of +it is absorbed as to prevent its forming a black line at the edge as it +dries. A little experience will teach you how apt the colour is to do +this, and how to prevent it; not that it needs always to be prevented, +for a great master in water-colours will sometimes draw a firm outline, +when he _wants_ one, simply by letting the colour dry in this way at the +edge. + +When, however, you begin to cover complicated forms with the darker +colour, no rapidity will prevent the tint from drying irregularly as it +is led on from part to part. You will then find the following method +useful. Lay in the colour very pale and liquid; so pale, indeed, that +you can only just see where it is on the paper. Lead it up to all the +outlines, and make it precise in form, keeping it thoroughly wet +everywhere. Then, when it is all in shape, take the darker colour, and +lay some of it _into_ the middle of the liquid colour. It will spread +gradually in a branchy kind of way, and you may now lead it up to the +outlines already determined, and play it with the brush till it fills +its place well; then let it dry, and it will be as flat and pure as a +single dash, yet defining all the complicated forms accurately. + +Having thus obtained the power of laying on a tolerably flat tint, you +must try to lay on a gradated one. Prepare the colour with three or four +teaspoonfuls of water; then, when it is mixed, pour away about +two-thirds of it, keeping a teaspoonful of pale colour. Sloping your +paper as before, draw two pencil lines all the way down, leaving a space +between them of the width of a square on your chess-board. Begin at the +top of your paper, between the lines; and having struck on the first +brushful of colour, and led it down a little, dip your brush deep in +water, and mix up the colour on the plate quickly with as much more +water as the brush takes up at that one dip: then, with this paler +colour, lead the tint farther down. Dip in water again, mix the colour +again, and thus lead down the tint, always dipping in water once between +each replenishing of the brush, and stirring the colour on the plate +well, but as quickly as you can. Go on until the colour has become so +pale that you cannot see it; then wash your brush thoroughly in water, +and carry the wave down a little farther with that, and then absorb it +with the dry brush, and leave it to dry. + +If you get to the bottom of your paper before your colour gets pale, you +may either take longer paper, or begin, with the tint as it was when you +left off, on another sheet; but be sure to exhaust it to pure whiteness +at last. When all is quite dry, recommence at the top with another +similar mixture of colour, and go down in the same way. Then again, and +then again, and so continually until the colour at the top of the paper +is as dark as your cake of Prussian blue, and passes down into pure +white paper at the end of your column, with a perfectly smooth gradation +from one into the other. + +You will find at first that the paper gets mottled or wavy, instead of +evenly gradated; this is because at some places you have taken up more +water in your brush than at others, or not mixed it thoroughly on the +plate, or led one tint too far before replenishing with the next. +Practice only will enable you to do it well; the best artists cannot +always get gradations of this kind quite to their minds; nor do they +ever leave them on their pictures without after touching. + +As you get more power, and can strike the colour more quickly down, you +will be able to gradate in less compass;[205] beginning with a small +quantity of colour, and adding a drop of water, instead of a brushful; +with finer brushes, also, you may gradate to a less scale. But slight +skill will enable you to test the relations of colour to shade as far as +is necessary for your immediate progress, which is to be done thus:-- + +Take cakes of lake, of gamboge, of sepia, of blue-black, of cobalt, and +vermilion; and prepare gradated columns (exactly as you have done with +the Prussian blue) of the lake and blue-black.[206] Cut a narrow slip +all the way down, of each gradated colour, and set the three slips side +by side; fasten them down, and rule lines at equal distances across all +the three, so as to divide them into fifty degrees, and number the +degrees of each, from light to dark, 1, 2, 3, &c. If you have gradated +them rightly, the darkest part either of the red or blue will be nearly +equal in power to the darkest part of the blue-black, and any degree of +the black slip will also, accurately enough for our purpose, balance in +weight the degree similarly numbered in the red or the blue slip. Then, +when you are drawing from objects of a crimson or blue colour, if you +can match their colour by any compartment of the crimson or blue in your +scales, the grey in the compartment of the grey scale marked with the +same number is the grey which must represent that crimson or blue in +your light and shade drawing. + +Next, prepare scales with gamboge, cobalt, and vermilion. You will find +that you cannot darken these beyond a certain point;[207] for yellow and +scarlet, so long as they remain yellow and scarlet, cannot approach to +black; we cannot have, properly speaking, a dark yellow or dark scarlet. +Make your scales of full yellow, blue, and scarlet, half-way down; +passing _then_ gradually to white. Afterwards use lake to darken the +upper half of the vermilion and gamboge; and Prussian blue to darken the +cobalt. You will thus have three more scales, passing from white nearly +to black, through yellow and orange, through sky-blue, and through +scarlet. By mixing the gamboge and Prussian blue you may make another +with green; mixing the cobalt and lake, another with violet; the sepia +alone will make a forcible brown one; and so on, until you have as many +scales as you like, passing from black to white through different +colours. Then, supposing your scales properly gradated and equally +divided, the compartment or degree No. 1. of the grey will represent in +chiaroscuro the No. 1. of all the other colours; No. 2. of grey the No. +2. of the other colours, and so on. + +It is only necessary, however, in this matter that you should understand +the principle; for it would never be possible for you to gradate your +scales so truly as to make them practically accurate and serviceable; +and even if you could, unless you had about ten thousand scales, and +were able to change them faster than ever juggler changed cards, you +could not in a day measure the tints on so much as one side of a +frost-bitten apple: but when once you fully understand the principle, +and see how all colours contain as it were a certain quantity of +darkness, or power of dark relief from white--some more, some less; and +how this pitch or power of each may be represented by equivalent values +of grey, you will soon be able to arrive shrewdly at an approximation by +a glance of the eye, without any measuring scale at all. + +You must now go on, again with the pen, drawing patterns, and any shapes +of shade that you think pretty, as veinings in marble, or +tortoise-shell, spots in surfaces of shells, &c., as tenderly as you +can, in the darknesses that correspond to their colours; and when you +find you can do this successfully, it is time to begin rounding. + + +EXERCISE VIII. + +Go out into your garden, or into the road, and pick up the first round +or oval stone you can find, not very white, nor very dark; and the +smoother it is the better, only it must not _shine_. Draw your table +near the window, and put the stone, which I will suppose is about the +size of _a_ in Fig. 5. (it had better not be much larger), on a piece of +not very white paper, on the table in front of you. Sit so that the +light may come from your left, else the shadow of the pencil point +interferes with your sight of your work. You must not let the _sun_ fall +on the stone, but only ordinary light: therefore choose a window which +the sun does not come in at. If you can shut the shutters of the other +windows in the room it will be all the better; but this is not of much +consequence. + +Now, if you can draw that stone, you can draw anything: I mean, anything +that is drawable. Many things (sea foam, for instance) cannot be drawn +at all, only the idea of them more or less suggested; but if you can +draw the stone _rightly_, every thing within reach of art is also within +yours. + +For all drawing depends, primarily, on your power of representing +_Roundness_. If you can once do that, all the rest is easy and +straightforward; if you cannot do that, nothing else that you may be +able to do will be of any use. For Nature is all made up of roundnesses; +not the roundness of perfect globes, but of variously curved surfaces. +Boughs are rounded, leaves are rounded, stones are rounded, clouds are +rounded, cheeks are rounded, and curls are rounded: there is no more +flatness in the natural world than there is vacancy. The world itself is +round, and so is all that is in it, more or less, except human work, +which is often very flat indeed. + +Therefore, set yourself steadily to conquer that round stone, and you +have won the battle. + +Look your stone antagonist boldly in the face. You will see that the +side of it next the window is lighter than most of the paper: that the +side of it farthest from the window is darker than the paper; and that +the light passes into the dark gradually, while a shadow is thrown to +the right _on_ the paper itself by the stone: the general appearance of +things being more or less as in _a_, Fig. 5., the spots on the stone +excepted, of which more presently. + +Now, remember always what was stated in the outset, that every thing you +can see in Nature is seen only so far as it is lighter or darker than +the things about it, or of a different colour from them. It is either +seen as a patch of one colour on a ground of another; or as a pale thing +relieved from a dark thing, or a dark thing from a pale thing. And if +you can put on patches of colour or shade of exactly the same size, +shape, and gradations as those on the object and its ground, you will +produce the appearance of the object and its ground. The best +draughtsman--Titian and Paul Veronese themselves--could do no more than +this; and you will soon be able to get some power of doing it in an +inferior way, if you once understand the exceeding simplicity of what is +to be done. Suppose you have a brown book on a white sheet of paper, on +a red tablecloth. You have nothing to do but to put on spaces of red, +white, and brown, in the same shape, and gradated from dark to light in +the same degrees, and your drawing is done. If you will not look at what +you see, if you try to put on brighter or duller colours than are there, +if you try to put them on with a dash or a blot, or to cover your paper +with "vigorous" lines, or to produce anything, in fact, but the plain, +unaffected, and finished tranquillity of the thing before you, you need +not hope to get on. Nature will show you nothing if you set yourself up +for her master. But forget yourself, and try to obey _her_, and you will +find obedience easier and happier than you think. + +The real difficulties are to get the _refinement_ of the forms and the +_evenness_ of the gradations. You may depend upon it, when you are +dissatisfied with your work, it is always too coarse or too uneven. It +may not be wrong--in all probability is not wrong, in any (so-called) +_great_ point. But its edges are not true enough in outline; and its +shades are in blotches, or scratches, or full of white holes. Get it +more tender and more true, and you will find it is more powerful. + +[Illustration: FIG. 5.] + +Do not, therefore, think your drawing must be weak because you have a +finely pointed pen in your hand. Till you can draw with that, you can +draw with nothing; when you can draw with that, you can draw with a log +of wood charred at the end. True boldness and power are only to be +gained by care. Even in fencing and dancing, all ultimate ease depends +on early precision in the commencement; much more in singing or +drawing. + +Now, I do not want you to copy Fig. 5., but to copy the stone before you +in the way that Fig. 5. is done. To which end, first measure the extreme +length of the stone with compasses, and mark that length on your paper; +then, between the points marked, leave something like the form of the +stone in light, scrawling the paper all over, round it, as at _b_, Fig. +5. You cannot rightly see what the form of the stone really is till you +begin finishing, so sketch it in quite rudely; only rather leave too +_much_ room for the high light, than too little: and then more +cautiously fill in the shade, shutting the light gradually up, and +putting in the dark cautiously on the dark side. You need not plague +yourself about accuracy of shape, because, till you have practised a +great deal, it is impossible for you to draw that shape quite truly, and +you must gradually gain correctness by means of these various exercises: +what you have mainly to do at present is, to get the stone to look solid +and round, not much minding what its exact contour is--only draw it as +nearly right as you can without vexation; and you will get it _more_ +right by thus feeling your way to it in shade, than if you tried to draw +the outline at first. For you can _see_ no outline; what you see is only +a certain space of gradated shade, with other such spaces about it; and +those pieces of shade you are to imitate as nearly as you can, by +scrawling the paper over till you get them to the right shape, with the +same gradations which they have in Nature. And this is really more +likely to be done well, if you have to fight your way through a little +confusion in the sketch, than if you have an accurately traced outline. +For instance, I was going to draw, beside _a_, another effect on the +stone; reflected light bringing its dark side out from the background: +but when I had laid on the first few touches, I thought it would be +better to stop, and let you see how I had begun it, at _b_. In which +beginning it will be observed that nothing is so determined but that I +can more or less modify, and add to or diminish the contour as I work +on, the lines which suggest the outline being blended with the others if +I do not want them; and the having to fill up the vacancies and conquer +the irregularities of such a sketch, will probably secure a higher +completion at last, than if half an hour had been spent in getting a +true outline before beginning. + +In doing this, however, take care not to get the drawing too dark. In +order to ascertain what the shades of it really are, cut a round hole, +about half the size of a pea, in a piece of white paper, the colour of +that you use to draw on. Hold this bit of paper, with the hole in it, +between you and your stone; and pass the paper backwards and forwards, +so as to see the different portions of the stone (or other subject) +through the hole. You will find that, thus, the circular hole looks like +one of the patches of colour you have been accustomed to match, only +changing in depth as it lets different pieces of the stone be seen +through it. You will be able thus actually to _match_ the colour of the +stone, at any part of it, by tinting the paper beside the circular +opening. And you will find that this opening never looks quite _black_, +but that all the roundings of the stone are given by subdued greys.[208] + +You will probably find, also, that some parts of the stone, or of the +paper it lies on, look luminous through the opening, so that the little +circle then tells as a light spot instead of a dark spot. When this is +so, you cannot imitate it, for you have no means of getting light +brighter than white paper: but by holding the paper more sloped towards +the light, you will find that many parts of the stone, which before +looked light through the hole, then look dark through it; and if you can +place the paper in such a position that every part of the stone looks +slightly dark, the little hole will tell always as a spot of shade, and +if your drawing is put in the same light, you can imitate or match every +gradation. You will be amazed to find, under these circumstances, how +slight the differences of tint are, by which, through infinite delicacy +of gradation, Nature can express form. + +If any part of your subject will obstinately show itself as a light +through the hole, that part you need not hope to imitate. Leave it +white, you can do no more. + +When you have done the best you can to get the general form, proceed to +finish, by imitating the texture and all the cracks and stains of the +stone as closely as you can; and note, in doing this, that cracks or +fissures of any kind, whether between stones in walls, or in the grain +of timber or rocks, or in any of the thousand other conditions they +present, are never expressible by single black lines, or lines of simple +shadow. A crack must always have its complete system of light and shade, +however small its scale. It is in reality a little _ravine_, with a dark +or shady side, and light or sunny side, and, usually, shadow in the +bottom. This is one of the instances in which it may be as well to +understand the reason of the appearance; it is not often so in drawing, +for the aspects of things are so subtle and confused that they cannot in +general be explained; and in the endeavour to explain some, we are sure +to lose sight of others, while the natural overestimate of the +importance of those on which the attention is fixed, causes us to +exaggerate them, so that merely _scientific_ draughtsmen caricature a +third part of Nature, and miss two-thirds. The best scholar is he whose +eye is so keen as to see at once how the thing looks, and who need not, +therefore, trouble himself with any reasons why it looks so: but few +people have this acuteness of perception; and to those who are destitute +of it, a little pointing out of rule and reason will be a help, +especially when a master is not near them. I never allow my own pupils +to ask the reason of anything, because, as I watch their work, I can +always show them how the thing is, and what appearance they are missing +in it; but when a master is not by to direct the sight, science may, +here and there, be allowed to do so in his stead. + +Generally, then, every solid illumined object--for instance, the stone +you are drawing--has a light side turned towards the light, a dark side +turned away from the light, and a shadow, which is cast on something +else (as by the stone on the paper it is set upon). You may sometimes be +placed so as to see only the light side and shadow, and sometimes only +the dark side and shadow, and sometimes both, or either, without the +shadow; but in most positions solid objects will show all the three, as +the stone does here. + +Hold up your hand with the edge of it towards you, as you sit now with +your side to the window, so that the flat of your hand is turned to the +window. You will see one side of your hand distinctly lighted, the other +distinctly in shade. Here are light side and dark side, with no seen +shadow; the shadow being detached, perhaps on the table, perhaps on the +other side of the room; you need not look for it at present. + +Take a sheet of note-paper, and holding it edgeways, as you hold your +hand, wave it up and down past the side of your hand which is turned +from the light, the paper being, of course, farther from the window. You +will see, as it passes a strong gleam of light strike on your hand, and +light it considerably on its dark side. This light is _reflected_ light. +It is thrown back from the paper (on which it strikes first in coming +from the window) to the surface of your hand, just as a ball would be if +somebody threw it through the window at the wall and you caught it at +the rebound. + +Next, instead of the note-paper, take a red book, or a piece of scarlet +cloth. You will see that the gleam of light falling on your hand, as you +wave the book is now reddened. Take a blue book, and you will find the +gleam is blue. Thus every object will cast some of its own colour back +in the light that it reflects. + +Now it is not only these books or papers that reflect light to your +hand: every object in the room, on that side of it, reflects some, but +more feebly, and the colours mixing all together form a neutral[209] +light, which lets the colour of your hand itself be more distinctly seen +than that of any object which reflects light to it; but if there were no +reflected light, that side of your hand would look as black as a coal. + +Objects are seen, therefore in general, partly by direct light, and +partly by light reflected from the objects around them, or from the +atmosphere and clouds. The colour of their light sides depends much on +that of the direct light, and that of the dark sides on the colours of +the objects near them. It is therefore impossible to say beforehand +what colour an object will have at any point of its surface, that colour +depending partly on its own tint, and partly on infinite combinations of +rays reflected from other things. The only certain fact about dark sides +is, that their colour will be changeful, and that a picture which gives +them merely darker shades of the colour of the light sides must +assuredly be bad. + +Now, lay your hand flat on the white paper you are drawing on. You will +see one side of each finger lighted, one side dark, and the shadow of +your hand on the paper. Here, therefore, are the three divisions of +shade seen at once. And although the paper is white, and your hand of a +rosy colour somewhat darker than white, yet you will see that the shadow +all along, just under the finger which casts it, is darker than the +flesh, and is of a very deep grey. The reason of this is, that much +light is reflected from the paper to the dark side of your finger, but +very little is reflected from other things to the paper itself in that +chink under your finger. + +In general, for this reason, a shadow, or, at any rate, the part of the +shadow nearest the object, is darker than the dark side of the object. I +say in general, because a thousand accidents may interfere to prevent +its being so. Take a little bit of glass, as a wine-glass, or the +ink-bottle, and play it about a little on the side of your hand farthest +from the window; you will presently find you are throwing gleams of +light all over the dark side of your hand, and in some positions of the +glass the reflection from it will annihilate the shadow altogether, and +you will see your hand dark on the white paper. Now a stupid painter +would represent, for instance, a drinking-glass beside the hand of one +of his figures, and because he had been taught by rule that "shadow was +darker than the dark side," he would never think of the reflection from +the glass, but paint a dark grey under the hand, just as if no glass +were there. But a great painter would be sure to think of the true +effect, and paint it; and then comes the stupid critic, and wonders why +the hand is so light on its dark side. + +Thus it is always dangerous to assert anything as a _rule_ in matters of +art; yet it is useful for you to remember that, in a general way, a +shadow is darker than the dark side of the thing that casts it, +supposing the colours otherwise the same; that is to say, when a white +object casts a shadow on a white surface, or a dark object on a dark +surface: the rule will not hold if the colours are different, the shadow +of a black object on a white surface being, of course, not so dark, +usually, as the black thing casting it. The only way to ascertain the +ultimate truth in such matters is to _look_ for it; but, in the +meantime, you will be helped by noticing that the cracks in the stone +are little ravines, on one side of which the light strikes sharply, +while the other is in shade. This dark side usually casts a little +darker shadow at the bottom of the crack; and the general tone of the +stone surface is not so bright as the light bank of the ravine. And, +therefore, if you get the surface of the object of a uniform tint, more +or less indicative of shade, and then scratch out a white spot or streak +in it of any shape; by putting a dark touch beside this white one, you +may turn it, as you choose, into either a ridge or an incision, into +either a boss or a cavity. If you put the dark touch on the side of it +nearest the sun, or rather, nearest the place that the light comes from, +you will make it a cut or cavity; if you put it on the opposite side, +you will make it a ridge or mound: and the complete success of the +effect depends less on depth of shade than on the rightness of the +drawing; that is to say, on the evident correspondence of the form of +the shadow with the form that casts it. In drawing rocks, or wood, or +anything irregularly shaped, you will gain far more by a little patience +in following the forms carefully, though with slight touches, than by +laboured finishing of textures of surface and transparencies of shadow. + +When you have got the whole well into shape, proceed to lay on the +stains and spots with great care, quite as much as you gave to the +forms. Very often, spots or bars of local colour do more to express form +than even the light and shade, and they are always interesting as the +means by which Nature carries light into her shadows, and shade into her +lights, an art of which we shall have more to say hereafter, in speaking +of composition. Fig. 5. is a rough sketch of a fossil sea-urchin, in +which the projections of the shell are of black flint, coming through a +chalky surface. These projections form dark spots in the light; and +their sides, rising out of the shadow, form smaller whitish spots in the +dark. You may take such scattered lights as these out with the penknife, +provided you are just as careful to place them rightly, as if you got +them by a more laborious process. + +When you have once got the feeling of the way in which gradation +expresses roundness and projection, you may try your strength on +anything natural or artificial that happens to take your fancy, provided +it be not too complicated in form. I have asked you to draw a stone +first, because any irregularities and failures in your shading will be +less offensive to you, as being partly characteristic of the rough stone +surface, than they would be in a more delicate subject; and you may as +well go on drawing rounded stones of different shapes for a little +while, till you find you can really shade delicately. You may then take +up folds of thick white drapery, a napkin or towel thrown carelessly on +the table is as good as anything, and try to express them in the same +way; only now you will find that your shades must be wrought with +perfect unity and tenderness, or you will lose the flow of the folds. +Always remember that a little bit perfected is worth more than many +scrawls; whenever you feel yourself inclined to scrawl, give up work +resolutely, and do not go back to it till next day. Of course your towel +or napkin must be put on something that may be locked up, so that its +folds shall not be disturbed till you have finished. If you find that +the folds will not look right, get a photograph of a piece of drapery +(there are plenty now to be bought, taken from the sculpture of the +cathedrals of Rheims, Amiens, and Chartres, which will at once educate +your hand and your taste), and copy some piece of that; you will then +ascertain what it is that is wanting in your studies from nature, +whether more gradation, or greater watchfulness of the disposition of +the folds. Probably for some time you will find yourself failing +painfully in both, for drapery is very difficult to follow in its +sweeps; but do not lose courage, for the greater the difficulty, the +greater the gain in the effort. If your eye is more just in measurement +of form than delicate in perception of tint, a pattern on the folded +surface will help you. Try whether it does or not; and if the patterned +drapery confuses you, keep for a time to the simple white one; but if it +helps you, continue to choose patterned stuffs (tartans, and simple +chequered designs are better at first than flowered ones), and even +though it should confuse you, begin pretty soon to use a pattern +occasionally, copying all the distortions and perspective modifications +of it among the folds with scrupulous care. + +Neither must you suppose yourself condescending in doing this. The +greatest masters are always fond of drawing patterns; and the greater +they are, the more pains they take to do it truly.[210] Nor can there be +better practice at any time, as introductory to the nobler complication +of natural detail. For when you can draw the spots which follow the +folds of a printed stuff, you will have some chance of following the +spots which fall into the folds of the skin of a leopard as he leaps; +but if you cannot draw the manufacture, assuredly you will never be able +to draw the creature. So the cloudings on a piece of wood, carefully +drawn, will be the best introduction to the drawing of the clouds of the +sky, or the waves of the sea; and the dead leaf-patterns on a damask +drapery, well rendered, will enable you to disentangle masterfully the +living leaf-patterns of a thorn thicket, or a violet bank. + +Observe, however, in drawing any stuffs, or bindings of books, or other +finely textured substances, do not trouble yourself, as yet, much about +the woolliness or gauziness of the thing; but get it right in shade and +fold, and true in pattern. We shall see, in the course of +after-practice, how the penned lines may be made indicative of texture; +but at present attend only to the light, and shade, and pattern. You +will be puzzled at first by _lustrous_ surfaces, but a little attention +will show you that the expression of these depends merely on the right +drawing of their light, and shade, and reflections. Put a small black +japanned tray on the table in front of some books; and you will see it +reflects the objects beyond it as in a little black rippled pond; its +own colour mingling always with that of the reflected objects. Draw +these reflections of the books properly, making them dark and distorted, +as you will see that they are, and you will find that this gives the +lustre to your tray. It is not well, however, to draw polished objects +in general practice; only you should do one or two in order to +understand the aspect of any lustrous portion of other things, such as +you cannot avoid; the gold, for instance, on the edges of books, or the +shining of silk and damask, in which lies a great part of the expression +of their folds. Observe, also, that there are very few things which are +totally without lustre: you will frequently find a light which puzzles +you, on some apparently dull surface, to be the dim image of another +object. + +And now, as soon as you can conscientiously assure me that with the +point of the pen or pencil you can lay on any form and shade you like, I +give you leave to use the brush with one colour,--sepia, or blue-black, +or mixed cobalt and blue-black, or neutral tint; and this will much +facilitate your study, and refresh you. But, preliminarily, you must do +one or two more exercises in tinting. + + +EXERCISE IX. + +Prepare your colour as before directed. Take a brush full of it, and +strike it on the paper in any irregular shape; as the brush gets dry +sweep the surface of the paper with it as if you were dusting the paper +very lightly; every such sweep of the brush will leave a number of more +or less minute interstices in the colour. The lighter and faster every +dash the better. Then leave the whole to dry, and as soon as it is dry, +with little colour in your brush, so that you can bring it to a fine +point, fill up all the little interstices one by one, so as to make the +whole as even as you can, and fill in the larger gaps with more colour, +always trying to let the edges of the first and of the newly applied +colour exactly meet, and not lap over each other. When your new colour +dries, you will find it in places a little paler than the first. Retouch +it, therefore, trying to get the whole to look quite one piece. A very +small bit of colour thus filled up with your very best care, and brought +to look as if it had been quite even from the first, will give you +better practice and more skill than a great deal filled in carelessly; +so do it with your best patience, not leaving the most minute spot of +white; and do not fill in the large pieces first and then go to the +small, but quietly and steadily cover in the whole up to a marked limit; +then advance a little farther, and so on; thus always seeing distinctly +what is done and what undone. + + +EXERCISE X. + +Lay a coat of the blue, prepared as usual, over a whole square of paper. +Let it dry. Then another coat over four-fifths of the square, or +thereabouts, leaving the edge rather irregular than straight, and let it +dry. Then another coat over three-fifths; another over two-fifths; and +the last over one-fifth; so that the square may present the appearance +of gradual increase in darkness in five bands, each darker than the one +beyond it. Then, with the brush rather dry (as in the former exercise, +when filling up the interstices), try, with small touches, like those +used in the pen etching, only a little broader, to add shade delicately +beyond each edge, so as to lead the darker tints into the paler ones +imperceptibly. By touching the paper very lightly, and putting a +multitude of little touches, crossing and recrossing in every direction, +you will gradually be able to work up to the darker tints, outside of +each, so as quite to efface their edges, and unite them tenderly with +the next tint. The whole square, when done, should look evenly shaded +from dark to pale, with no bars; only a crossing texture of touches, +something like chopped straw, over the whole.[211] + +Next, take your rounded pebble; arrange it in any light and shade you +like; outline it very loosely with the pencil. Put on a wash of colour, +prepared _very_ pale, quite flat over all of it, except the highest +light, leaving the edge of your colour quite sharp. Then another wash, +extending only over the darker parts, leaving the edge of that sharp +also, as in tinting the square. Then another wash over the still darker +parts, and another over the darkest, leaving each edge to dry sharp. +Then, with the small touches, efface the edges, reinforce the darks, and +work the whole delicately together, as you would with the pen, till you +have got it to the likeness of the true light and shade. You will find +that the tint underneath is a great help, and that you can now get +effects much more subtle and complete than with the pen merely. + +The use of leaving the edges always sharp is that you may not trouble or +vex the colour, but let it lie as it falls suddenly on the paper; colour +looks much more lovely when it has been laid on with a dash of the +brush, and left to dry in its own way, than when it has been dragged +about and disturbed; so that it is always better to let the edges and +forms be a _little_ wrong, even if one cannot correct them afterwards, +than to lose this fresh quality of the tint. Very great masters in +water-colour can lay on the true forms at once with a dash, and _bad_ +masters in water-colour lay on grossly false forms with a dash, and +leave them false; for people in general, not knowing false from true, +are as much pleased with the appearance of power in the irregular blot +as with the presence of power in the determined one; but _we_, in our +beginnings, must do as much as we can with the broad dash, and then +correct with the point, till we are quite right. We must take care to be +right, at whatever cost of pains; and then gradually we shall find we +can be right with freedom. + +I have hitherto limited you to colour mixed with two or three +teaspoonfuls of water; but in finishing your light and shade from the +stone, you may, as you efface the edge of the palest coat towards the +light, use the colour for the small touches with more and more water, +till it is so pale as not to be perceptible. Thus you may obtain a +_perfect_ gradation to the light. And in reinforcing the darks, when +they are very dark, you may use less and less water. If you take the +colour tolerably dark on your brush, only always liquid (not pasty), and +dash away the superfluous colour on blotting-paper, you will find that, +touching the paper very lightly with the dry brush, you can, by repeated +touches, produce a dusty kind of bloom, very valuable in giving depth to +shadow; but it requires great patience and delicacy of hand to do this +properly. You will find much of this kind of work in the grounds and +shadows of William Hunt's drawings.[212] + +As you get used to the brush and colour, you will gradually find out +their ways for yourself, and get the management of them. Nothing but +practice will do this perfectly; but you will often save yourself much +discouragement by remembering what I have so often asserted,--that if +anything goes wrong, it is nearly sure to be refinement that is wanting, +not force; and connexion, not alteration. If you dislike the state your +drawing is in, do not lose patience with it, nor dash at it, nor alter +its plan, nor rub it desperately out, at the place you think wrong; but +look if there are no shadows you can gradate more perfectly; no little +gaps and rents you can fill; no forms you can more delicately define: +and do not _rush_ at any of the errors or incompletions thus discerned, +but efface or supply slowly, and you will soon find your drawing take +another look. A very useful expedient in producing some effects, is to +wet the paper, and then lay the colour on it, more or less wet, +according to the effect you want. You will soon see how prettily it +gradates itself as it dries; when dry, you can reinforce it with +delicate stippling when you want it darker. Also, while the colour is +still damp on the paper, by drying your brush thoroughly, and touching +the colour with the brush so dried, you may take out soft lights with +great tenderness and precision. Try all sorts of experiments of this +kind, noticing how the colour behaves; but remembering always that your +final results must be obtained, and can only be obtained, by pure work +with the point, as much as in the pen drawing. + +You will find also, as you deal with more and more complicated subjects, +that Nature's resources in light and shade are so much richer than +yours, that you cannot possibly get all, or anything _like_ all, the +gradations of shadow in any given group. When this is the case, +determine first to keep the broad masses of things distinct: if, for +instance, there is a green book, and a white piece of paper, and a black +inkstand in the group, be sure to keep the white paper as a light mass, +the green book as a middle tint mass, the black inkstand as a dark mass; +and do not shade the folds in the paper, or corners of the book, so as +to equal in depth the darkness of the inkstand. The great difference +between the masters of light and shade, and imperfect artists, is the +power of the former to draw so delicately as to express form in a +dark-coloured object with little light, and in a light-coloured object +with little darkness; and it is better even to leave the forms here and +there unsatisfactorily rendered than to lose the general relations of +the great masses. And this observe, not because masses are grand or +desirable things in your composition (for with composition at present +you have nothing whatever to do), but because it is a _fact_ that things +do so present themselves to the eyes of men, and that we see paper, +book, and inkstand as three separate things, before we see the wrinkles, +or chinks, or corners of any of the three. Understand, therefore, at +once, that no detail can be as strongly expressed in drawing as it is in +the reality; and strive to keep all your shadows and marks and minor +markings on the masses, lighter than they appear to be in Nature, you +are sure otherwise to get them too dark. You will in doing this find +that you cannot get the _projection_ of things sufficiently shown; but +never mind that; there is no need that they should appear to project, +but great need that their relations of shade to each other should be +preserved. All deceptive projection is obtained by partial exaggeration +of shadow; and whenever you see it, you may be sure the drawing is more +or less bad; a thoroughly fine drawing or painting will always show a +slight tendency towards _flatness_. + +Observe, on the other hand, that however white an object may be, there +is always some small point of it whiter than the rest. You must +therefore have a slight tone of grey over everything in your picture +except on the extreme high lights; even the piece of white paper, in +your subject, must be toned slightly down, unless (and there are a +thousand chances to one against its being so) it should all be turned so +as fully to front the light. By examining the treatment of the white +objects in any pictures accessible to you by Paul Veronese or Titian, +you will soon understand this.[213] + +As soon as you feel yourself capable of expressing with the brush the +undulations of surfaces and the relations of masses, you may proceed to +draw more complicated and beautiful things.[214] And first, the boughs +of trees, now not in mere dark relief, but in full rounding. Take the +first bit of branch or stump that comes to hand, with a fork in it; cut +off the ends of the forking branches, so as to leave the whole only +about a foot in length; get a piece of paper the same size, fix your bit +of branch in some place where its position will not be altered, and draw +it thoroughly, in all its light and shade, full size; striving, above +all things, to get an accurate expression of its structure at the fork +of the branch. When once you have mastered the tree at its _armpits_, +you will have little more trouble with it. + +Always draw whatever the background happens to be, exactly as you see +it. Wherever you have fastened the bough, you must draw whatever is +behind it, ugly or not, else you will never know whether the light and +shade are right; they may appear quite wrong to you, only for want of +the background. And this general law is to be observed in all your +studies: whatever you draw, draw completely and unalteringly, else you +never know if what you have done is right, or whether you _could_ have +done it rightly had you tried. There is nothing _visible_ out of which +you may not get useful practice. + +Next, to put the leaves on your boughs. Gather a small twig with four or +five leaves on it, put it into water, put a sheet of light-coloured or +white paper behind it, so that all the leaves may be relieved in dark +from the white field; then sketch in their dark shape carefully with +pencil as you did the complicated boughs, in order to be sure that all +their masses and interstices are right in shape before you begin +shading, and complete as far as you can with pen and ink, in the manner +of Fig. 6., which is a young shoot of lilac. + +[Illustration: FIG. 6.] + +You will probably, in spite of all your pattern drawings, be at first +puzzled by leaf foreshortening; especially because the look of +retirement or projection depends not so much on the perspective of the +leaves themselves as on the double sight of the two eyes. Now there are +certain artifices by which good painters can partly conquer this +difficulty; as slight exaggerations of force or colour in the nearer +parts, and of obscurity in the more distant ones; but you must not +attempt anything of this kind. When you are first sketching the leaves, +shut one of your eyes, fix a point in the background, to bring the point +of one of the leaves against, and so sketch the whole bough as you see +it in a fixed position, looking with one eye only. Your drawing never +can be made to look like the object itself, as you see that object with +_both_ eyes,[215] but it can be made perfectly like the object seen with +one, and you must be content when you have got a resemblance on these +terms. + +In order to get clearly at the notion of the thing to be done, take a +single long leaf, hold it with its point towards you, and as flat as you +can, so as to see nothing of it but its thinness, as if you wanted to +know how thin it was; outline it so. Then slope it down gradually +towards you, and watch it as it lengthens out to its full length, held +perpendicularly down before you. Draw it in three or four different +positions between these extremes, with its ribs as they appear in each +position, and you will soon find out how it must be. + +Draw first only two or three of the leaves; then larger clusters; and +practise, in this way, more and more complicated pieces of bough and +leafage, till you find you can master the most difficult arrangements, +not consisting of more than ten or twelve leaves. You will find as you +do this, if you have an opportunity of visiting any gallery of pictures, +that you take a much more lively interest than before in the work of the +great masters; you will see that very often their best backgrounds are +composed of little more than a few sprays of leafage, carefully studied, +brought against the distant sky; and that another wreath or two form the +chief interest of their foregrounds. If you live in London you may test +your progress _accurately_ by the degree of admiration you feel for the +leaves of vine round the head of the Bacchus, in Titian's Bacchus and +Ariadne. All this, however, will not enable you to draw a mass of +foliage. You will find, on looking at any rich piece of vegetation, that +it is only one or two of the nearer clusters that you can by any +possibility draw in this complete manner. The mass is too vast, and too +intricate, to be thus dealt with. + +[Illustration: FIG. 7. a b c] + +You must now therefore have recourse to some confused mode of execution, +capable of expressing the confusion of Nature. And, first, you must +understand what the character of that confusion is. If you look +carefully at the outer sprays of any tree at twenty or thirty yards' +distance, you will see them defined against the sky in masses, which, at +first, look quite definite; but if you examine them, you will see, +mingled with the real shapes of leaves, many indistinct lines, which +are, some of them, stalks of leaves, and some, leaves seen with the edge +turned towards you, and coming into sight in a broken way; for, +supposing the real leaf shape to be as at _a_, Fig. 7., this, when +removed some yards from the eye, will appear dark against the sky, as at +_b_; then, when removed some yards farther still, the stalk and point +disappear altogether, the middle of the leaf becomes little more than a +line; and the result is the condition at _c_, only with this farther +subtlety in the look of it, inexpressible in the woodcut, that the stalk +and point of the leaf, though they have disappeared to the eye, have yet +some influence in _checking the light_ at the places where they exist, +and cause a slight dimness about the part of the leaf which remains +visible, so that its perfect effect could only be rendered by two layers +of colour, one subduing the sky tone a little, the next drawing the +broken portions of the leaf, as at _c_, and carefully indicating the +greater darkness of the spot in the middle, where the under side of the +leaf is. + +This is the perfect theory of the matter. In practice we cannot reach +such accuracy; but we shall be able to render the general look of the +foliage satisfactorily by the following mode of practice. + +Gather a spray of any tree, about a foot or eighteen inches long. Fix it +firmly by the stem in anything that will support it steadily; put it +about eight feet away from you, or ten if you are far-sighted. Put a +sheet of not very white paper behind it, as usual. Then draw very +carefully, first placing them with pencil, and then filling them up with +ink, every leaf, mass and stalk of it in simple black profile, as you +see them against the paper: Fig. 8. is a bough of Phillyrea so drawn. Do +not be afraid of running the leaves into a black mass when they come +together; this exercise is only to teach you what the actual shapes of +such masses are when seen against the sky. + +[Illustration: FIG. 8.] + +Make two careful studies of this kind of one bough of every common +tree--oak, ash, elm, birch, beech, &c.; in fact, if you are good, and +industrious, you will make one such study carefully at least three times +a week, until you have examples of every sort of tree and shrub you can +get branches of. You are to make two studies of each bough, for this +reason--all masses of foliage have an upper and under surface, and the +side view of them, or profile, shows a wholly different organisation of +branches from that seen in the view from above. They are generally seen +more or less in profile, as you look at the whole tree, and Nature puts +her best composition into the profile arrangement. But the view from +above or below occurs not unfrequently, also, and it is quite necessary +you should draw it if you wish to understand the anatomy of the tree. +The difference between the two views is often far greater than you could +easily conceive. For instance, in Fig. 9., _a_ is the upper view, and +_b_ the profile, of a single spray of Phillyrea. Fig. 8. is an +intermediate view of a larger bough; seen from beneath, but at some +lateral distance also. + +[Illustration: FIG. 9.] + +When you have done a few branches in this manner, take one of the +_drawings_, and put it first a yard away from you, then a yard and a +half, then two yards; observe how the thinner stalks and leaves +gradually disappear, leaving only a vague and slight darkness where they +were, and make another study of the effect at each distance, taking care +to draw nothing more than you really see, for in this consists all the +difference between what would be merely a _miniature_ drawing of the +leaves seen _near_, and a _full-size_ drawing of the same leaves at a +distance. By full size, I mean the size which they would really appear +of if their outline were traced through a pane of glass held at the +same distance from the eye at which you mean to hold your drawing. You +can always ascertain this full size of any object by holding your paper +upright before you, at the distance from your eye at which you wish your +drawing to be seen. Bring its edge across the object you have to draw, +and mark upon this edge the points where the outline of the object +crosses, or goes behind, the edge of the paper. You will always find it, +thus measured, smaller than you supposed. + +When you have made a few careful experiments of this kind on your own +drawings, (which are better for practice, at first, than the real trees, +because the black profile in the drawing is quite stable, and does not +shake, and is not confused by sparkles of lustre on the leaves,) you may +try the extremities of the real trees, only not doing much at a time, +for the brightness of the sky will dazzle and perplex your sight. And +this brightness causes, I believe, some loss of the outline itself; at +least the chemical action of the light in a photograph extends much +within the edges of the leaves, and, as it were, eats them away so that +no tree extremity, stand it ever so still, nor any other form coming +against bright sky, is truly drawn by a photograph; and if you once +succeed in drawing a few sprays rightly, you will find the result much +more lovely and interesting than any photograph can be. + +All this difficulty, however, attaches to the rendering merely the dark +form of the sprays as they come against the sky. Within those sprays, +and in the heart of the tree, there is a complexity of a much more +embarrassing kind; for nearly all leaves have some lustre, and _all_ are +more or less translucent (letting light through them); therefore, in any +given leaf, besides the intricacies of its own proper shadows and +foreshortenings, there are three series of circumstances which alter or +hide its forms. First, shadows cast on it by other leaves--often very +forcibly. Secondly, light reflected from its lustrous surface, sometimes +the blue of the sky, sometimes the white of clouds, or the sun itself +flashing like a star. Thirdly, forms and shadows of other leaves, seen +as darkness _through_ the translucent parts of the leaf; a most +important element of foliage effect, but wholly neglected by landscape +artists in general. + +The consequence of all this is, that except now and then by chance, the +form of a complete leaf is never seen; but a marvellous and quaint +confusion, very definite, indeed, in its evidence of direction of +growth, and unity of action, but wholly indefinable and inextricable, +part by part, by any amount of patience. You cannot possibly work it out +in fac simile, though you took a twelvemonth's time to a tree; and you +must therefore try to discover some mode of execution which will more or +less imitate, by its own variety and mystery, the variety and mystery of +Nature, without absolute delineation of detail. + +Now I have led you to this conclusion by observation of tree form only, +because in that the thing to be proved is clearest. But no natural +object exists which does not involve in some part or parts of it this +inimitableness, this mystery of quantity, which needs peculiarity of +handling and trick of touch to express it completely. If leaves are +intricate, so is moss, so is foam, so is rock cleavage, so are fur and +hair, and texture of drapery, and of clouds. And although methods and +dexterities of handling are wholly useless if you have not gained first +the thorough knowledge of the form of the thing; so that if you cannot +draw a branch perfectly, then much less a tree; and if not a wreath of +mist perfectly, much less a flock of clouds; and if not a single grass +blade perfectly, much less a grass bank; yet having once got this power +over decisive form, you may safely--and must, in order to perfection of +work--carry out your knowledge by every aid of method and dexterity of +hand. + +But, in order to find out what method can do, you must now look at Art +as well as at Nature, and see what means painters and engravers have +actually employed for the expression of these subtleties. Whereupon +arises the question, what opportunity have you to obtain engravings? You +ought, if it is at all in your power, to possess yourself of a certain +number of good examples of Turner's engraved works: if this be not in +your power, you must just make the best use you can of the shop +windows, or of any plates of which you can obtain a loan. Very possibly, +the difficulty of getting sight of them may stimulate you to put them to +better use. But, supposing your means admit of your doing so, possess +yourself, first, of the illustrated edition either of Rogers's Italy or +Rogers's Poems, and then of about a dozen of the plates named in the +annexed lists. The prefixed letters indicate the particular points +deserving your study in each engraving.[216] Be sure, therefore, that +your selection includes, at all events, one plate marked with each +letter--of course the plates marked with two or three letters are, for +the most part, the best. Do not get more than twelve of these plates, +nor even all the twelve at first. For the more engravings you have, the +less attention you will pay to them. It is a general truth, that the +enjoyment derivable from art cannot be increased in quantity, beyond a +certain point, by quantity of possession; it is only spread, as it were, +over a larger surface, and very often dulled by finding ideas repeated +in different works. Now, for a beginner, it is always better that his +attention should be concentrated on one or two good things, and all his +enjoyment founded on them, than that he should look at many, with +divided thoughts. He has much to discover; and his best way of +discovering it is to think long over few things, and watch them +earnestly. It is one of the worst errors of this age to try to know and +to see too much: the men who seem to know everything, never in reality +know anything rightly. Beware of _hand-book_ knowledge. + +These engravings are, in general, more for you to look at than to copy; +and they will be of more use to you when we come to talk of composition, +than they are at present; still, it will do you a great deal of good, +sometimes to try how far you can get their delicate texture, or +gradations of tone; as your pen-and-ink drawing will be apt to incline +too much to a scratchy and broken kind of shade. For instance, the +texture of the white convent wall, and the drawing of its tiled roof, in +the vignette at p. 227. of Rogers's Poems, is as exquisite as work can +possibly be; and it will be a great and profitable achievement if you +can at all approach it. In like manner, if you can at all imitate the +dark distant country at p. 7., or the sky at p. 80., of the same volume, +or the foliage at pp. 12. and 144., it will be good gain; and if you can +once draw the rolling clouds and running river at p. 9. of the "Italy," +or the city in the vignette of Aosta at p. 25., or the moonlight at p. +223., you will find that even Nature herself cannot afterwards very +terribly puzzle you with her torrents, or towers, or moonlight. + +You need not copy touch for touch, but try to get the same effect. And +if you feel discouraged by the delicacy required, and begin to think +that engraving is not drawing, and that copying it cannot help you to +draw, remember that it differs from common drawing only by the +difficulties it has to encounter. You perhaps have got into a careless +habit of thinking that engraving is a mere _business_, easy enough when +one has got into the knack of it. On the contrary, it is a form of +drawing more difficult than common drawing, by exactly so much as it is +more difficult to cut steel than to move the pencil over paper. It is +true that there are certain mechanical aids and methods which reduce it +at certain stages either to pure machine work, or to more or less a +habit of hand and arm; but this is not so in the foliage you are trying +to copy, of which the best and prettiest parts are always etched--that +is, drawn with a fine steel point and free hand: only the line made is +white instead of black, which renders it much more difficult to judge of +what you are about. And the trying to copy these plates will be good for +you, because it will awaken you to the real labour and skill of the +engraver, and make you understand a little how people must work, in +this world, who have really to _do_ anything in it. + +Do not, however, suppose that I give you the engraving as a model--far +from it; but it is necessary you should be able to do as well[217] +before you think of doing better, and you will find many little helps +and hints in the various work of it. Only remember that _all_ engravers' +foregrounds are bad; whenever you see the peculiar wriggling parallel +lines of modern engravings become distinct, you must not copy; nor +admire: it is only the softer masses, and distances; and portions of the +foliage in the plates marked _f_, which you may copy. The best for this +purpose, if you can get it, is the "Chain bridge over the Tees," of the +England series; the thicket on the right is very beautiful and +instructive, and very like Turner. The foliage in the "Ludlow" and +"Powis" is also remarkably good. + +Besides these line engravings, and to protect you from what harm there +is in their influence, you are to provide yourself, if possible, with a +Rembrandt etching, or a photograph of one (of figures, not landscape). +It does not matter of what subject, or whether a sketchy or finished +one, but the sketchy ones are generally cheapest, and will teach you +most. Copy it as well as you can, noticing especially that Rembrandt's +most rapid lines have steady purpose; and that they are laid with almost +inconceivable precision when the object becomes at all interesting. The +"Prodigal Son," "Death of the Virgin," "Abraham and Isaac," and such +others, containing incident and character rather than chiaroscuro, will +be the most instructive. You can buy one; copy it well; then exchange +it, at little loss, for another; and so, gradually, obtain a good +knowledge of his system. Whenever you have an opportunity of examining +his work at museums, &c., do so with the greatest care, not looking at +_many_ things, but a long time at each. You must also provide yourself, +if possible, with an engraving of Albert Durer's. This you will not be +able to copy; but you must keep it beside you, and refer to it as a +standard of precision in line. If you can get one with a _wing_ in it, +it will be best. The crest with the cock, that with the skull and satyr, +and the "Melancholy," are the best you could have, but any will do. +Perfection in chiaroscuro drawing lies between these two masters, +Rembrandt and Durer. Rembrandt is often too loose and vague; and Durer +has little or no effect of mist or uncertainty. If you can see anywhere +a drawing by Leonardo, you will find it balanced between the two +characters; but there are no engravings which present this perfection, +and your style will be best formed, therefore, by alternate study of +Rembrandt and Durer. Lean rather to Durer; it is better for amateurs to +err on the side of precision than on that of vagueness: and though, as I +have just said, you cannot copy a Durer, yet try every now and then a +quarter of an inch square or so, and see how much nearer you can come; +you cannot possibly try to draw the leafly crown of the "Melancholia" +too often. + +If you cannot get either a Rembrandt or a Durer, you may still learn +much by carefully studying any of George Cruikshank's etchings, or +Leech's woodcuts in Punch, on the free side; with Alfred Rethel's and +Richter's[218] on the severe side. But in so doing you will need to +notice the following points: + +When either the material (as the copper or wood) or the time of an +artist, does not permit him to make a perfect drawing,--that is to say, +one in which no lines shall be prominently visible,--and he is reduced +to show the black lines, either drawn by the pen, or on the wood, it is +better to make these lines help, as far as may be, the expression of +texture and form. You will thus find many textures, as of cloth or grass +or flesh, and many subtle effects of light, expressed by Leech with +zigzag or crossed or curiously broken lines; and you will see that +Alfred Rethel and Richter constantly express the direction and rounding +of surfaces by the direction of the lines which shade them. All these +various means of expression will be useful to you, as far as you can +learn them, provided you remember that they are merely a kind of +shorthand; telling certain facts, not in quite the _right_ way, but in +the only possible way under the conditions: and provided in any after +use of such means, you never try to show your own dexterity; but only to +get as much record of the object as you can in a given time; and that +you continually make efforts to go beyond shorthand, and draw portions +of the objects rightly. + +And touching this question of _direction_ of lines as indicating that of +surface, observe these few points: + +[Illustration: FIG. 10.] + +If lines are to be distinctly shown, it is better that, so far as they +_can_ indicate any thing by their direction, they should explain rather +than oppose the general character of the object. Thus, in the piece of +woodcut from Titian, Fig. 10., the lines are serviceable by expressing, +not only the shade of the trunk, but partly also its roundness, and the +flow of its grain. And Albert Durer, whose work was chiefly engraving, +sets himself always thus to make his lines as _valuable_ as possible; +telling much by them, both of shade and direction of surface: and if you +were always to be limited to engraving on copper (and did not want to +express effects of mist or darkness, as well as delicate forms), Albert +Durer's way of work would be the best example for you. But, inasmuch as +the perfect way of drawing is by shade without lines, and the great +painters always conceive their subject as complete, even when they are +sketching it most rapidly, you will find that, when they are not +limited in means, they do not much trust to direction of line, but will +often scratch in the shade of a rounded surface with nearly straight +lines, that is to say, with the easiest and quickest lines possible to +themselves. When the hand is free, the easiest line for it to draw is +one inclining from the left upward to the right, or _vice versâ_, from +the right downwards to the left; and when done very quickly, the line is +hooked a little at the end by the effort at return to the next. Hence, +you will always find the pencil, chalk, or pen sketch of a _very_ great +master full of these kind of lines; and even if he draws carefully, you +will find him using simple straight lines from left to right, when an +inferior master will have used curved ones. Fig. 11. is a fair facsimile +of part of a sketch of Raphael's, which exhibits these characters very +distinctly. Even the careful drawings of Leonardo da Vinci are shaded +most commonly with straight lines; and you may always assume it as a +point increasing the probability of a drawing being by a great master if +you find rounded surfaces, such as those of cheeks or lips, shaded with +straight lines. + +[Illustration: FIG. 11.] + +But you will also now understand how easy it must be for dishonest +dealers to forge or imitate scrawled sketches like Figure 11., and pass +them for the work of great masters; and how the power of determining the +genuineness of a drawing depends entirely on your knowing the _facts_ of +the object drawn, and perceiving whether the hasty handling is _all_ +conducive to the expression of those truths. In a great man's work, at +its fastest, no line is thrown away, and it is not by the rapidity, but +the _economy_ of the execution that you know him to be great. Now to +judge of this economy, you must know exactly what he meant to do, +otherwise you cannot of course discern how far he has done it; that is, +you must know the beauty and nature of the thing he was drawing. All +judgment of art thus finally founds itself on knowledge of Nature. + +But farther observe, that this scrawled, or economic, or impetuous +execution is never _affectedly_ impetuous. If a great man is not in a +hurry, he never pretends to be; if he has no eagerness in his heart, he +puts none into his hand; if he thinks his effect would be better got +with _two_ lines, he never, to show his dexterity, tries to do it with +one. Be assured, therefore (and this is a matter of great importance), +that you will never produce a great drawing by imitating the _execution_ +of a great master. Acquire his knowledge and share his feelings, and the +easy execution will fall from your hand as it did from his; but if you +merely scrawl because he scrawled, or blot because he blotted, you will +not only never advance in power, but every able draughtsman, and every +judge whose opinion is worth having, will know you for a cheat, and +despise you accordingly. + +Again, observe respecting the use of outline: + +All merely outlined drawings are bad, for the simple reason, that an +artist of any power can always do more, and tell more, by quitting his +outlines occasionally, and scratching in a few lines for shade, than he +can by restricting himself to outline only. Hence the fact of his so +restricting himself, whatever may be the occasion, shows him to be a bad +draughtsman, and not to know how to apply his power economically. This +hard law, however, bears only on drawings meant to remain in the state +in which you see them; not on those which were meant to be proceeded +with, or for some mechanical use. It is sometimes necessary to draw pure +outlines, as an incipient arrangement of a composition, to be filled up +afterwards with colour, or to be pricked through and used as patterns or +tracings; but if, with no such ultimate object, making the drawing +wholly for its own sake, and meaning it to remain in the state he leaves +it, an artist restricts himself to outline, he is a bad draughtsman, and +his work is bad. There is no exception to this law. A good artist +habitually sees masses, not edges, and can in every case make his +drawing more expressive (with any given quantity of work) by rapid shade +than by contours; so that all good work whatever is more or less touched +with shade, and more or less interrupted as outline. + +[Illustration: FIG. 12.] + +Hence, the published works of Retsch, and all the English imitations of +them, and all outline engravings from pictures, are bad work, and only +serve to corrupt the public taste, and of such outlines, the worst are +those which are darkened in some part of their course by way of +expressing the dark side, as Flaxman's from Dante, and such others; +because an outline can only be true so long as it accurately represents +the form of the given object with _one_ of its edges. Thus, the outline +_a_ and the outline _b_, Fig. 12., are both _true_ outlines of a ball; +because, however thick the line may be, whether we take the interior or +exterior edge of it, that edge of it always draws a true circle. But _c_ +is a false outline of a ball, because either the inner or outer edge of +the black line must be an untrue circle, else the line could not be +thicker in one place than another. Hence all "force," as it is called, +is gained by falsification of the contours; so that no artist whose eye +is true and fine could endure to look at it. It does indeed often happen +that a painter, sketching rapidly, and trying again and again for some +line which he cannot quite strike, blackens or loads the first line by +setting others beside and across it; and then a careless observer +supposes it has been thickened on purpose; or, sometimes also, at a +place where shade is afterwards to enclose the form, the painter will +strike a broad dash of this shade beside his outline at once, looking as +if he meant to thicken the outline; whereas this broad line is only the +first instalment of the future shadow, and the outline is really drawn +with its inner edge. And thus, far from good draughtsmen darkening the +lines which turn away from the light, the _tendency_ with them is rather +to darken them towards the light, for it is there in general that shade +will ultimately enclose them. The best example of this treatment that I +know is Raphael's sketch, in the Louvre, of the head of the angel +pursuing Heliodorus, the one that shows part of the left eye; where the +dark strong lines which terminate the nose and forehead towards the +light are opposed to tender and light ones behind the ear, and in other +places towards the shade. You will see in Fig. 11. the same principle +variously exemplified; the principal dark lines, in the head and drapery +of the arms, being on the side turned to the light. + +All these refinements and ultimate principles, however, do not affect +your drawing for the present. You must try to make your outlines as +_equal_ as possible; and employ pure outline only for the two following +purposes: either (1.) to steady your hand, as in Exercise II., for if +you cannot draw the line itself, you will never be able to terminate +your shadow in the precise shape required, when the line is absent; or +(2.) to give you shorthand memoranda of forms, when you are pressed for +time. Thus the forms of distant trees in groups are defined, for the +most part, by the light edge of the rounded mass of the nearer one being +shown against the darker part of the rounded mass of a more distant one; +and to draw this properly, nearly as much work is required to round each +tree as to round the stone in Fig. 5. Of course you cannot often get +time to do this; but if you mark the terminal line of each tree as is +done by Durer in Fig. 13., you will get a most useful memorandum of +their arrangement, and a very interesting drawing. Only observe in doing +this, you must not, because the procedure is a quick one, hurry that +procedure itself. You will find, on copying that bit of Durer, that +every one of his lines is firm, deliberate, and accurately descriptive +as far as it goes. It means a bush of such a size and such a shape, +definitely observed and set down; it contains a true "signalement" of +every nut-tree, and apple-tree, and higher bit of hedge, all round that +village. If you have not time to draw thus carefully, do not draw at +all--you are merely wasting your work and spoiling your taste. When you +have had four or five years' practice you may be able to make useful +memoranda at a rapid rate, but not yet; except sometimes of light and +shade, in a way of which I will tell you presently. And this use of +outline, note farther, is wholly confined to objects which have _edges_ +or _limits_. You can outline line a tree or a stone, when it rises +against another tree or stone; but you cannot outline folds in drapery, +or waves in water; if these are to be expressed at all it must be by +some sort of shade, and therefore the rule that no good drawing can +consist throughout of pure outline remains absolute. You see, in that +woodcut of Durer's, his reason for even limiting himself so much to +outline as he has, in those distant woods and plains, is that he may +leave them in bright light, to be thrown out still more by the dark sky +and the dark village spire; and the scene becomes real and sunny only by +the addition of these shades. + +[Illustration: FIG. 13.] + +Understanding, then, thus much of the use of outline, we will go back to +our question about tree drawing left unanswered at page 60. + +[Illustration: FIG. 14.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 15.] + +We were, you remember, in pursuit of mystery among the leaves. Now, it +is quite easy to obtain mystery and disorder, to any extent; but the +difficulty is to keep organisation in the midst of mystery. And you will +never succeed in doing this unless you lean always to the definite side, +and allow yourself rarely to become quite vague, at least through all +your early practice. So, after your single groups of leaves, your first +step must be to conditions like Figs. 14. and 15., which are careful +facsimiles of two portions of a beautiful woodcut of Durer's, the Flight +into Egypt. Copy these carefully,--never mind how little at a time, but +thoroughly; then trace the Durer, and apply it to your drawing, and do +not be content till the one fits the other, else your eye is not true +enough to carry you safely through meshes of real leaves. And in the +course of doing this, you will find that not a line nor dot of Durer's +can be displaced without harm; that all add to the effect, and either +express something, or illumine something, or relieve something. If, +afterwards, you copy any of the pieces of modern tree drawing, of which +so many rich examples are given constantly in our cheap illustrated +periodicals (any of the Christmas numbers of last year's _Illustrated +News_ or _Times_ are full of them), you will see that, though good and +forcible general effect is produced, the lines are thrown in by +thousands without special intention, and might just as well go one way +as another, so only that there be enough of them to produce all together +a well-shaped effect of intricacy: and you will find that a little +careless scratching about with your pen will bring you very near the +same result without an effort; but that no scratching of pen, nor any +fortunate chance, nor anything but downright skill and thought, will +imitate so much as one leaf of Durer's. Yet there is considerable +intricacy and glittering confusion in the interstices of those vine +leaves of his, as well as of the grass. + +[Illustration: FIG. 16.] + +When you have got familiarised to this firm manner, you may draw from +Nature as much as you like in the same way, and when you are tired of +the intense care required for this, you may fall into a little more easy +massing of the leaves, as in Fig. 10. p. 66. This is facsimiled from an +engraving after Titian, but an engraving not quite first-rate in manner, +the leaves being a little too formal; still, it is a good enough model +for your times of rest; and when you cannot carry the thing even so far +as this, you may sketch the forms of the masses, as in Fig. 16.,[219] +taking care always to have thorough command over your hand; that is, not +to let the mass take a free shape because your hand ran glibly over the +paper, but because in nature it has actually a free and noble shape, and +you have faithfully followed the same. + +And now that we have come to questions of _noble_ shape, as well as true +shape, and that we are going to draw from nature at our pleasure, other +considerations enter into the business, which are by no means confined +to _first_ practice, but extend to all practice; these (as this letter +is long enough, I should think, to satisfy even the most exacting of +correspondents) I will arrange in a second letter; praying you only to +excuse the tiresomeness of this first one--tiresomeness inseparable from +directions touching the beginning of any art,--and to believe me, even +though I am trying to set you to dull and hard work. + + Very faithfully yours, + J. RUSKIN. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[199] (N. B. This note is only for the satisfaction of incredulous or +curious readers. You may miss it if you are in a hurry, or are willing +to take the statement in the text on trust.) + +The perception of solid Form is entirely a matter of experience. We +_see_ nothing but flat colours; and it is only by a series of +experiments that we find out that a stain of black or grey indicates the +dark side of a solid substance, or that a faint hue indicates that the +object in which it appears is far away. The whole technical power of +painting depends on our recovery of what may be called the _innocence of +the eye_; that is to say, a sort of childish perception of these flat +stains of colour, merely as such, without consciousness of what they +signify, as a blind man would see them if suddenly gifted with sight. + +For instance; when grass is lighted strongly by the sun in certain +directions, it is turned from green into a peculiar and somewhat +dusty-looking yellow. If we had been born blind, and were suddenly +endowed with sight on a piece of grass thus lighted in some parts by the +sun, it would appear to us that part of the grass was green, and part a +dusty yellow (very nearly of the colour of primroses); and, if there +were primroses near, we should think that the sunlighted grass was +another mass of plants of the same sulphur-yellow colour. We should try +to gather some of them, and then find that the colour went away from the +grass when we stood between it and the sun, but not from the primroses; +and by a series of experiments we should find out that the sun was +really the cause of the colour in the one,--not in the other. We go +through such processes of experiment unconsciously in childhood; and +having once come to conclusions touching the signification of certain +colours, we always suppose that we _see_ what we only know, and have +hardly any consciousness of the real aspect of the signs we have learned +to interpret. Very few people have any idea that sunlighted grass is +yellow. + +Now, a highly accomplished artist has always reduced himself as nearly +as possible to this condition of infantine sight. He sees the colours of +nature exactly as they are, and therefore perceives at once in the +sunlighted grass the precise relation between the two colours that form +its shade and light. To him it does not seem shade and light, but bluish +green barred with gold. + +Strive, therefore, first of all, to convince yourself of this great fact +about sight. This, in your hand, which you know by experience and touch +to be a book, is to your eye nothing but a patch of white, variously +gradated and spotted; this other thing near you, which by experience you +know to be a table, is to your eye only a patch of brown, variously +darkened and veined; and so on: and the whole art of Painting consists +merely in perceiving the shape and depth of these patches of colour, and +putting patches of the same size, depth, and shape on canvas. The only +obstacle to the success of painting is, that many of the real colours +are brighter and paler than it is possible to put on canvas: we must put +darker ones to represent them. + +[200] Stale crumb of bread is better, if you are making a delicate +drawing, than India-rubber, for it disturbs the surface of the paper +less: but it crumbles about the room and makes a mess; and, besides, you +waste the good bread, which is wrong; and your drawing will not for a +long while be worth the crumbs. So use India-rubber very lightly; or, if +heavily pressing it only, not passing it over the paper, and leave what +pencil marks that will not come away so, without minding them. In a +finished drawing the uneffaced penciling is often serviceable, helping +the general tone, and enabling you to take out little bright lights. + +[201] What is usually so much sought after under the term "freedom" is +the character of the drawing of a great master in a hurry, whose hand is +so thoroughly disciplined, that when pressed for time he can let it fly +as it will, and it will not go far wrong. But the hand of a great master +at real _work_ is _never_ free: its swiftest dash is under perfect +government. Paul Veronese or Tintoret could pause within a hair's +breadth of any appointed mark, in their fastest touches; and follow, +within a hair's breadth, the previously intended curve. You must never, +therefore, aim at freedom. It is not required of your drawing that it +should be free, but that it should be _right_: in time you will be able +to do right easily, and then your work will be free in the best sense; +but there is no merit in doing _wrong_ easily. + +These remarks, however, do not apply to the lines used in shading, +which, it will be remembered, are to be made as _quickly_ as possible. +The reason of this is, that the quicker a line is drawn, the lighter it +is at the ends, and therefore the more easily joined with other lines, +and concealed by them; the object in perfect shading being to conceal +the lines as much as possible. + +And observe, in this exercise, the object is more to get firmness of +hand than accuracy of eye for outline; for there are no outlines in +Nature, and the ordinary student is sure to draw them falsely if he +draws them at all. Do not, therefore, be discouraged if you find +mistakes continue to occur in your outlines; be content at present if +you find your hand gaining command over the curves. + +[202] If you can get any pieces of _dead_ white porcelain, not glazed, +they will be useful models. + +[203] Artists who glance at this book may be surprised at this +permission. My chief reason is, that I think it more necessary that the +pupil's eye should be trained to accurate perception of the relations of +curve and right lines, by having the latter absolutely true, than that +he should practice drawing straight lines. But also, I believe, though I +am not quite sure of this, that he never _ought_ to be able to draw a +straight line. I do not believe a perfectly trained hand ever can draw a +line without some curvature in it, or some variety of direction. Prout +could draw a straight line, but I do not believe Raphael could, nor +Tintoret. A great draughtsman can, as far as I have observed, draw every +line _but_ a straight one. + +[204] Or, if you feel able to do so, scratch them in with confused quick +touches, indicating the general shape of the cloud or mist of twigs +round the main branches; but do not take much trouble about them. + +[205] It is more difficult, at first, to get, in colour, a narrow +gradation than an extended one; but the ultimate difficulty is, as with +the pen, to make the gradation go _far_. + +[206] Of course, all the columns of colour are to be of equal length. + +[207] The degree of darkness you can reach with the given colour is +always indicated by the colour of the solid cake in the box. + +[208] The figure _a_, Fig. 5., is very dark, but this is to give an +example of all kinds of depth of tint, without repeated figures. + +[209] Nearly neutral in ordinary circumstances, but yet with quite +different tones in its neutrality, according to the colours of the +various reflected rays that compose it. + +[210] If we had any business with the reasons of this, I might, perhaps, +be able to show you some metaphysical ones for the enjoyment, by truly +artistical minds, of the changes wrought by light, and shade, and +perspective in patterned surfaces; but this is at present not to the +point; and all that you need to know is that the drawing of such things +is good exercise, and moreover a kind of exercise which Titian, +Veronese, Tintoret, Giorgione, and Turner, all enjoyed, and strove to +excel in. + +[211] The use of acquiring this habit of execution is that you may be +able, when you begin to colour, to let one hue be seen in minute +portions, gleaming between the touches of another. + +[212] William Hunt, of the Old Water-colour Society. + +[213] At Marlborough House, among the four principal examples of +Turner's later water-colour drawing, perhaps the most neglected is that +of fishing-boats and fish at sunset. It is one of his most wonderful +works, though unfinished. If you examine the larger white fishing-boat +sail, you will find it has a little spark of pure white in its +right-hand upper corner, about as large as a minute pin's head, and that +all the surface of the sail is gradated to that focus. Try to copy this +sail once or twice, and you will begin to understand Turner's work. +Similarly, the wing of the Cupid in Correggio's large picture in the +National Gallery is focussed to two little grains of white at the top of +it. The points of light on the white flower in the wreath round the head +of the dancing child-faun, in Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne, exemplify +the same thing. + +[214] I shall not henceforward _number_ the exercises recommended; as +they are distinguished only by increasing difficulty of subject, not by +difference of method. + +[215] If you understand the principle of the stereoscope you will know +why; if not, it does not matter; trust me for the truth of the +statement, as I cannot explain the principle without diagrams and much +loss of time. + +[216] If you can, get first the plates marked with a star. The letters +mean as follows:-- + + _a_ stands for architecture, including distant grouping of towns, + cottages, &c. + _c_ clouds, including mist and aërial effects. + _f_ foliage. + _g_ ground, including low hills, when not rocky. + _l_ effects of light. + _m_ mountains, or bold rocky ground. + _p_ power of general arrangement and effect. + _q_ quiet water. + _r_ running or rough water; or rivers, even if calm, when their line of + flow is beautifully marked. + + +_From the England Series._ + + _a c f r._ Arundel. + _a f l._ Ashby de la Zouche. + _a l q r._ Barnard Castle.* + _f m r._ Bolton Abbey. + _f g r._ Buckfastleigh.* + _a l p._ Caernarvon. + _c l q._ Castle Upnor. + _a f l._ Colchester. + _l q._ Cowes. + _c f p._ Dartmouth Cove. + _c l q._ Flint Castle.* + _a f g l._ Knaresborough.* + _m r._ High Force of Tees.* + _a f q._ Trematon. + _a f p._ Lancaster. + _c l m r._ Lancaster Sands.* + _a g f._ Launceston. + _c f l r._ Leicester Abbey. + _f r._ Ludlow. + _a f l._ Margate. + _a l q._ Orford. + _c p._ Plymouth. + _f._ Powis Castle. + _l m q._ Prudhoe Castle. + _f l m r._ Chain Bridge over Tees.* + _m q._ Ulleswater. + _f m._ Valle Crucis. + + +_From the Keepsake._ + + _m p q._ Arona. + _m._ Drachenfells. + _f l._ Marley.* + _p._ St. Germain en Laye. + _l p q._ Florence. + _l m._ Ballyburgh Ness.* + +_From the Bible Series._ + + _f m._ Mount Lebanon. + _m._ Rock of Moses at Sinai. + _a l m._ Jericho. + _a c g._ Joppa. + _c l p q._ Solomon's Pools.* + _a l._ Santa Saba. + _a l._ Pool of Bethesda. + + +_From Scott's Works._ + + _p r._ Melrose. + _f r._ Dryburgh.* + _c m._ Glencoe. + _c m._ Loch Coriskin. + _a l._ Caerlaverock. + +_From the "Rivers of France."_ + + _a q._ Château of Amboise, with large bridge on right. + _l p r._ Rouen, looking down the river, poplars on right.* + _a l p._ Rouen, with cathedral and rainbow, avenue on the left. + _a p._ Rouen Cathedral. + _f p._ Pont de l'Arche. + _f l p._ View on the Seine, with avenue. + _a c p._ Bridge of Meulan. + _c g p r._ Caudebec.* + +[217] As _well_;--not as minutely: the diamond cuts finer lines on the +steel than you can draw on paper with your pen; but you must be able to +get tones as even, and touches as firm. + +[218] See, for account of these plates, the Appendix on "Works to be +studied." + +[219] This sketch is not of a tree standing on its head, though it looks +like it. You will find it explained presently. + + + + +LETTER II. + +SKETCHING FROM NATURE. + + +MY DEAR READER:-- + +The work we have already gone through together has, I hope, enabled you +to draw with fair success, either rounded and simple masses, like +stones, or complicated arrangements of form, like those of leaves; +provided only these masses or complexities will stay quiet for you to +copy, and do not extend into quantity so great as to baffle your +patience. But if we are now to go out to the fields, and to draw +anything like a complete landscape, neither of these conditions will any +more be observed for us. The clouds will not wait while we copy their +heaps or clefts; the shadows will escape from us as we try to shape +them, each, in its stealthy minute march, still leaving light where its +tremulous edge had rested the moment before, and involving in eclipse +objects that had seemed safe from its influence; and instead of the +small clusters of leaves which we could reckon point by point, +embarrassing enough even though numerable, we have now leaves as little +to be counted as the sands of the sea, and restless, perhaps, as its +foam. + +In all that we have to do now, therefore, direct imitation becomes more +or less impossible. It is always to be aimed at so far as it _is_ +possible; and when you have time and opportunity, some portions of a +landscape may, as you gain greater skill, be rendered with an +approximation almost to mirrored portraiture. Still, whatever skill you +may reach, there will always be need of judgment to choose, and of speed +to seize, certain things that are principal or fugitive; and you must +give more and more effort daily to the observance of characteristic +points, and the attainment of concise methods. + +I have directed your attention early to foliage for two reasons. First, +that it is always accessible as a study; and secondly, that its modes of +growth present simple examples of the importance of leading or +governing lines. It is by seizing these leading lines, when we cannot +seize _all_, that likeness and expression are given to a portrait, and +grace and a kind of _vital_ truth to the rendering of every natural +form. I call it _vital_ truth, because these chief lines are always +expressive of the past history and present action of the thing. They +show in a mountain, first, how it was built or heaped up; and secondly, +how it is now being worn away, and from what quarter the wildest storms +strike it. In a tree, they show what kind of fortune it has had to +endure from its childhood; how troublesome trees have come in its way, +and pushed it aside, and tried to strangle or starve it; where and when +kind trees have sheltered it, and grown up lovingly together with it, +bending as it bent; what winds torment it most; what boughs of it behave +best, and bear most fruit; and so on. In a wave or cloud, these leading +lines show the run of the tide and of the wind, and the sort of change +which the water or vapour is at any moment enduring in its form, as it +meets shore, or counterwave, or melting sunshine. Now remember, nothing +distinguishes great men from inferior men more than their always, +whether in life or in art, _knowing the way things are going_. Your +dunce thinks they are standing still, and draws them all fixed; your +wise man sees the change or changing in them, and draws them so--the +animal in its motion, the tree in its growth, the cloud in its course, +the mountain in its wearing away. Try always, whenever you look at a +form, to see the lines in it which have had power over its past fate, +and will have power over its futurity. Those are its _awful_ lines; see +that you seize on those, whatever else you miss. Thus, the leafage in +Fig. 16. (p. 291.) grew round the root of a stone pine, on the brow of a +crag at Sestri, near Genoa, and all the sprays of it are thrust away in +their first budding by the great rude root, and spring out in every +direction round it, as water splashes when a heavy stone is thrown into +it. Then, when they have got clear of the root, they begin to bend up +again; some of them, being little stone pines themselves, have a great +notion of growing upright, if they can; and this struggle of theirs to +recover their straight road towards the sky, after being obliged to +grow sideways in their early years, is the effort that will mainly +influence their future destiny, and determine if they are to be crabbed, +forky pines, striking from that rock of Sestri, whose clefts nourish +them, with bared red lightning of angry arms towards the sea; or if they +are to be goodly and solemn pines, with trunks like pillars of temples, +and the purple burning of their branches sheathed in deep globes of +cloudy green. Those, then, are their fateful lines; see that you give +that spring and resilience, whatever you leave ungiven: depend upon it, +their chief beauty is in these. + +[Illustration: FIG. 17.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 18.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 19.] + +So in trees in general and bushes, large or small, you will notice that, +though the boughs spring irregularly and at various angles, there is a +tendency in all to stoop less and less as they near the top of the tree. +This structure, typified in the simplest possible terms at _c_, Fig. +17., is common to all trees, that I know of, and it gives them a certain +plumy character, and aspect of unity in the hearts of their branches, +which are essential to their beauty. The stem does not merely send off a +wild branch here and there to take its own way, but all the branches +share in one great fountain-like impulse; each has a curve and a path to +take which fills a definite place, and each terminates all its minor +branches at its outer extremity, so as to form a great outer curve, +whose character and proportion are peculiar for each species; that is to +say, the general type or idea of a tree is not as _a_, Fig. 17., but as +_b_, in which, observe, the boughs all carry their minor divisions right +out to the bounding curve; not but that smaller branches, by thousands, +terminate in the heart of the tree, but the idea and main purpose in +every branch are to carry all its child branches well out to the air and +light, and let each of them, however small, take its part in filling the +united flow of the bounding curve, so that the type of each separate +bough is again not _a_ but _b_, Fig. 18.; approximating, that is to +say, so far to the structure of a plant of broccoli as to throw the +great mass of spray and leafage out to a rounded surface; therefore, +beware of getting into a careless habit of drawing boughs with +successive sweeps of the pen or brush, one hanging to the other, as in +Fig. 19. If you look at the tree-boughs in any painting of Wilson's, you +will see this structure, and nearly every other that is to be avoided, +in their intensest types. You will also notice that Wilson never +conceives a tree as a round mass, but flat, as if it had been pressed +and dried. Most people, in drawing pines, seem to fancy, in the same +way, that the boughs come out only on two sides of the trunk, instead of +all round it; always, therefore, take more pains in trying to draw the +boughs of trees that grow _towards_ you, than those that go off to the +sides; anybody can draw the latter, but the foreshortened ones are not +so easy. It will help you in drawing them to observe that in most trees +the ramification of each branch, though not of the tree itself, is more +or less flattened, and approximates, in its position, to the look of a +hand held out to receive something, or shelter something. If you take a +looking-glass, and hold your hand before it slightly hollowed, with the +palm upwards, and the fingers open, as if you were going to support the +base of some great bowl, larger than you could easily hold, and sketch +your hand as you see it in the glass, with the points of the fingers +towards you, it will materially help you in understanding the way trees +generally hold out their hands; and if then you will turn yours with its +palm downwards, as if you were going to try to hide something, but with +the fingers expanded, you will get a good type of the action of the +lower boughs in cedars and such other spreading trees. + +[Illustration: FIG. 20.] + +Fig. 20. will give you a good idea of the simplest way in which these +and other such facts can be rapidly expressed; if you copy it carefully, +you will be surprised to find how the touches all group together, in +expressing the plumy toss of the tree branches, and the springing of the +bushes out of the bank, and the undulation of the ground: note the +careful drawing of the footsteps made by the climbers of the little +mound on the left.[220] It is facsimiled from an etching of Turner's, +and is as good an example as you can have of the use of pure and firm +lines; it will also show you how the particular action in foliage, or +anything else to which you wish to direct attention, may be intensified +by the adjuncts. The tall and upright trees are made to look more tall +and upright still, because their line is continued below by the figure +of the farmer with his stick; and the rounded bushes on the bank are +made to look more rounded because their line is continued in one broad +sweep by the black dog and the boy climbing the wall. These figures are +placed entirely with this object, as we shall see more fully hereafter +when we come to talk about composition; but, if you please, we will not +talk about that yet awhile. What I have been telling you about the +beautiful lines and action of foliage has nothing to do with +composition, but only with fact, and the brief and expressive +representation of fact. But there will be no harm in your looking +forward, if you like to do so, to the account, in Letter III. of the +"Law of Radiation," and reading what it said there about tree growth: +indeed it would in some respects have been better to have said it here +than there, only it would have broken up the account of the principles +of composition somewhat awkwardly. + +Now, although the lines indicative of action are not always quite so +manifest in other things as in trees, a little attention will soon +enable you to see that there _are_ such lines in everything. In an old +house roof, a bad observer and bad draughtsman will only see and draw +the spotty irregularity of tiles or slates all over; but a good +draughtsman will see all the bends of the under timbers, where they are +weakest and the weight is telling on them most, and the tracks of the +run of the water in time of rain, where it runs off fastest, and where +it lies long and feeds the moss; and he will be careful, however few +slates he draws, to mark the way they bend together towards those +hollows (which have the future fate of the roof in them), and crowd +gradually together at the top of the gable, partly diminishing in +perspective, partly, perhaps, diminished on purpose (they are so in most +English old houses) by the slate-layer. So in ground, there is always +the direction of the run of the water to be noticed, which rounds the +earth and cuts it into hollows; and, generally, in any bank, or height +worth drawing, a trace of bedded or other internal structure besides. +The figure 20. will give you some idea of the way in which such facts +may be expressed by a few lines. Do you not feel the depression in the +ground all down the hill where the footsteps are, and how the people +always turn to the left at the top, losing breath a little, and then how +the water runs down in that other hollow towards the valley, behind the +roots of the trees? + +Now, I want you in your first sketches from nature to aim exclusively at +understanding and representing these vital facts of form; using the +pen--not now the steel, but the quill--firmly and steadily, never +scrawling with it, but saying to yourself before you lay on a single +touch,--"_That_ leaf is the main one, _that_ bough is the guiding one, +and this touch, _so_ long, _so_ broad, means that part of it,"--point or +side or knot, as the case may be. Resolve always, as you look at the +thing, what you will take, and what miss of it, and never let your hand +run away with you, or get into any habit or method of touch. If you want +a continuous line, your hand should pass calmly from one end of it to +the other, without a tremor; if you want a shaking and broken line, your +hand should shake, or break off, as easily as a musician's finger shakes +or stops on a note: only remember this, that there is no general way of +doing _any_ thing; no recipe can be given you for so much as the drawing +of a cluster of grass. The grass may be ragged and stiff, or tender and +flowing; sunburnt and sheep-bitten, or rank and languid; fresh or dry; +lustrous or dull: look at it, and try to draw it as it is, and don't +think how somebody "told you to _do_ grass." So a stone may be round and +angular, polished or rough, cracked all over like an ill-glazed teacup, +or as united and broad as the breast of Hercules. It may be as flaky as +a wafer, as powdery as a field puff-ball; it may be knotted like a +ship's hawser, or kneaded like hammered iron, or knit like a Damascus +sabre, or fused like a glass bottle, or crystallised like a hoar-frost, +or veined like a forest leaf: look at it, and don't try to remember how +anybody told you to "do a stone." + +As soon as you find that your hand obeys you thoroughly and that you can +render any form with a firmness and truth approaching that of Turner's +and Durer's work,[221] you must add a simple but equally careful light +and shade to your pen drawing, so as to make each study as complete as +possible: for which you must prepare yourself thus. Get, if you have the +means, a good impression of one plate of Turner's Liber Studiorum; if +possible, one of the subjects named in the note below.[222] + +If you cannot obtain, or even borrow for a little while, any of these +engravings, you must use a photograph instead (how, I will tell you +presently); but, if you can get the Turner, it will be best. You will +see that it is composed of a firm etching in line, with mezzotint shadow +laid over it. You must first copy the etched part of it accurately; to +which end put the print against the window, and trace slowly with the +_greatest_ care every black line; retrace this on smooth drawing-paper; +and, finally, go over the whole with your pen, looking at the original +plate always, so that if you err at all, it may be on the right side, +not making a line which is too curved or too straight already in the +tracing, _more_ curved or _more_ straight, as you go over it. And in +doing this, never work after you are tired, nor to "get the thing done," +for if it is badly done, it will be of no use to you. The true zeal and +patience of a quarter of an hour are better than the sulky and +inattentive labour of a whole day. If you have not made the touches +right at the first going over with the pen, retouch them delicately, +with little ink in your pen, thickening or reinforcing them as they +need: you cannot give too much care to the facsimile. Then keep this +etched outline by you, in order to study at your ease the way in which +Turner uses his line as preparatory for the subsequent shadow;[223] it +is only in getting the two separate that you will be able to reason on +this. Next, copy once more, though for the fourth time, any part of this +etching which you like, and put on the light and shade with the brush, +and any brown colour that matches that of the plate;[224] working it +with the point of the brush as delicately as if you were drawing with +pencil, and dotting and cross-hatching as lightly as you can touch the +paper, till you get the gradations of Turner's engraving. In this +exercise, as in the former one, a quarter of an inch worked to close +resemblance of the copy is worth more than the whole subject carelessly +done. Not that in drawing afterwards from nature, you are to be obliged +to finish every gradation in this way, but that, once having fully +accomplished the drawing _something_ rightly, you will thenceforward +feel and aim at a higher perfection than you could otherwise have +conceived, and the brush will obey you, and bring out quickly and +clearly the loveliest results, with a submissiveness which it would have +wholly refused if you had not put it to severest work. Nothing is more +strange in art than the way that chance and materials seem to favour +you, when once you have thoroughly conquered them. Make yourself quite +independent of chance, get your result in spite of it, and from that day +forward all things will somehow fall as you would have them. Show the +camel's-hair, and the colour in it, that no bending nor blotting are of +any use to escape your will; that the touch and the shade _shall_ +finally be right, if it cost you a year's toil; and from that hour of +corrective conviction, said camel's-hair will bend itself to all your +wishes, and no blot will dare to transgress its appointed border. If you +cannot obtain a print from the Liber Studiorum, get a photograph[225] +of some general landscape subject, with high hills and a village, or +picturesque town, in the middle distance, and some calm water of varied +character (a stream with stones in it, if possible), and copy any part +of it you like, in this same brown colour, working, as I have just +directed you to do from the Liber, a great deal with the point of the +brush. You are under a twofold disadvantage here, however; first, there +are portions in every photograph too delicately done for you at present +to be at all able to copy; and secondly, there are portions always more +obscure or dark than there would be in the real scene, and involved in a +mystery which you will not be able, as yet, to decipher. Both these +characters will be advantageous to you for future study, after you have +gained experience, but they are a little against you in early attempts +at tinting; still you must fight through the difficulty, and get the +power of producing delicate gradations with brown or grey, like those of +the photograph. + +Now observe; the perfection of work would be tinted shadow, like +photography, _without_ any obscurity or exaggerated darkness; and as +long as your effect depends in anywise on visible _lines_, your art is +not perfect, though it may be first-rate of its kind. But to get +complete results in tints merely, requires both long time and consummate +skill; and you will find that a few well-put pen lines, with a tint +dashed over or under them, get more expression of facts than you could +reach in any other way, by the same expenditure of time. The use of the +Liber Studiorum print to you is chiefly as an example of the simplest +shorthand of this kind, a shorthand which is yet capable of dealing with +the most subtle natural effects; for the firm etching gets at the +expression of complicated details, as leaves, masonry, textures of +ground, &c., while the overlaid tint enables you to express the most +tender distances of sky, and forms of playing light, mist or cloud. Most +of the best drawings by the old masters are executed on this principle, +the touches of the pen being useful also to give a look of transparency +to shadows, which could not otherwise be attained but by great finish +of tinting; and if you have access to any ordinarily good public +gallery, or can make friends of any print-sellers who have folios of old +drawings, or facsimiles of them, you will not be at a loss to find some +example of this unity of pen with tinting. Multitudes of photographs +also are now taken from the best drawings by the old masters, and I hope +that our Mechanics' Institutes, and other societies organized with a +view to public instruction, will not fail to possess themselves of +examples of these, and to make them accessible to students of drawing in +the vicinity; a single print from Turner's Liber, to show the unison of +tint with pen etching, and the "St. Catherine," lately photographed by +Thurston Thompson, from Raphael's drawing in the Louvre, to show the +unity of the soft tinting of the stump with chalk, would be all that is +necessary, and would, I believe, be in many cases more serviceable than +a larger collection, and certainly than a whole gallery of second-rate +prints. Two such examples are peculiarly desirable, because all other +modes of drawing, with pen separately, or chalk separately, or colour +separately, may be seen by the poorest student in any cheap illustrated +book, or in shop windows. But this unity of tinting with line he cannot +generally see but by some especial enquiry, and in some out of the way +places he could not find a single example of it. Supposing that this +should be so in your own case, and that you cannot meet with any example +of this kind, try to make the matter out alone, thus: + +Take a small and simple photograph; allow yourself half an hour to +express its subjects with the pen only, using some permanent liquid +colour instead of ink, outlining its buildings or trees firmly, and +laying in the deeper shadows, as you have been accustomed to do in your +bolder pen drawings; then, when this etching is dry, take your sepia or +grey, and tint it over, getting now the finer gradations of the +photograph; and finally, taking out the higher lights with penknife or +blotting-paper. You will soon find what can be done in this way; and by +a series of experiments you may ascertain for yourself how far the pen +may be made serviceable to reinforce shadows, mark characters of +texture, outline unintelligible masses, and so on. The more time you +have, the more delicate you may make the pen drawing, blending it with +the tint; the less you have, the more distinct you must keep the two. +Practice in this way from one photograph, allowing yourself sometimes +only a quarter of an hour for the whole thing, sometimes an hour, +sometimes two or three hours; in each case drawing the whole subject in +full depth of light and shade, but with such degree of finish in the +parts as is possible in the given time. And this exercise, observe, you +will do well to repeat frequently whether you can get prints and +drawings as well as photographs, or not. + +And now at last, when you can copy a piece of Liber Studiorum, or its +photographic substitute, faithfully, you have the complete means in your +power of working from nature on all subjects that interest you, which +you should do in four different ways. + +First. When you have full time, and your subject is one that will stay +quiet for you, make perfect light and shade studies, or as nearly +perfect as you can, with grey or brown colour of any kind, reinforced +and defined with the pen. + +Secondly. When your time is short, or the subject is so rich in detail +that you feel you cannot complete it intelligibly in light and shade, +make a hasty study of the effect, and give the rest of the time to a +Dureresque expression of the details. If the subject seems to you +interesting, and there are points about it which you cannot understand, +try to get five spare minutes to go close up to it, and make a nearer +memorandum; not that you are ever to bring the details of this nearer +sketch into the farther one, but that you may thus perfect your +experience of the aspect of things, and know that such and such a look +of a tower or cottage at five hundred yards off means _that_ sort of +tower or cottage near; while, also, this nearer sketch will be useful to +prevent any future misinterpretation of your own work. If you have time, +however far your light and shade study in the distance may have been +carried, it is always well, for these reasons, to make also your +Dureresque and your near memoranda; for if your light and shade drawing +be good, much of the interesting detail must be lost in it, or +disguised. + +Your hasty study of effect may be made most easily and quickly with a +soft pencil, dashed over when done with one tolerably deep tone of grey, +which will fix the pencil. While this fixing colour is wet, take out the +higher lights with the dry brush; and, when it is quite dry, scratch out +the highest lights with the penknife. Five minutes, carefully applied, +will do much by these means. Of course the paper is to be white. I do +not like studies on grey paper so well; for you can get more gradation +by the taking off your wet tint, and laying it on cunningly a little +darker here and there, than you can with body-colour white, unless you +are consummately skilful. There is no objection to your making your +Dureresque memoranda on grey or yellow paper, and touching or relieving +them with white; only, do not depend much on your white touches, nor +make the sketch for their sake. + +Thirdly. When you have neither time for careful study nor for Dureresque +detail, sketch the outline with pencil, then dash in the shadows with +the brush boldly, trying to do as much as you possibly can at once, and +to get a habit of expedition and decision; laying more colour again and +again into the tints as they dry, using every expedient which your +practice has suggested to you of carrying out your chiaroscuro in the +manageable and moist material, taking the colour off here with the dry +brush, scratching out lights in it there with the wooden handle of the +brush, rubbing it in with your fingers, drying it off with your sponge, +&c. Then, when the colour is in, take your pen and mark the outline +characters vigorously, in the manner of the Liber Studiorum. This kind +of study is very convenient for carrying away pieces of effect which +depend not so much on refinement as on complexity, strange shapes of +involved shadows, sudden effects of sky, &c.; and it is most useful as a +safeguard against any too servile or slow habits which the minute +copying may induce in you; for although the endeavour to obtain velocity +merely for velocity's sake, and dash for display's sake, is as baneful +as it is despicable; there _are_ a velocity and a dash which not only +are compatible with perfect drawing, but obtain certain results which +cannot be had otherwise. And it is perfectly safe for you to study +occasionally for speed and decision, while your continual course of +practice is such as to ensure your retaining an accurate judgment and a +tender touch. Speed, under such circumstances, is rather fatiguing than +tempting; and you will find yourself always beguiled rather into +elaboration than negligence. + +[Illustration: FIG. 21.] + +Fourthly. You will find it of great use, whatever kind of landscape +scenery you are passing through, to get into the habit of making +memoranda of the shapes of shadows. You will find that many objects of +no essential interest in themselves, and neither deserving a finished +study, nor a Dureresque one, may yet become of singular value in +consequence of the fantastic shapes of their shadows; for it happens +often, in distant effect, that the shadow is by much a more important +element than the substance. Thus, in the Alpine bridge, Fig. 21., seen +within a few yards of it, as in the figure, the arrangement of timbers +to which the shadows are owing is perceptible; but at half a mile's +distance, in bright sunlight, the timbers would not be seen; and a good +painter's expression of the bridge would be merely the large spot, and +the crossed bars, of pure grey; wholly without indication of their +cause, as in Fig. 22. _a_; and if we saw it at still greater distances, +it would appear, as in Fig. 22. _b_ and _c_, diminishing at last to a +strange, unintelligible, spider-like spot of grey on the light +hill-side. A perfectly great painter, throughout his distances, +continually reduces his objects to these shadow abstracts; and the +singular, and to many persons unaccountable, effect of the confused +touches in Turner's distances, is owing chiefly to this thorough +accuracy and intense meaning of the shadow abstracts. + +[Illustration: FIG. 22.] + +Studies of this kind are easily made when you are in haste, with an F. +or HB. pencil: it requires some hardness of the point to ensure your +drawing delicately enough when the forms of the shadows are very subtle; +they are sure to be so somewhere, and are generally so everywhere. The +pencil is indeed a very precious instrument after you are master of the +pen and brush, for the pencil, cunningly used, is both, and will draw a +line with the precision of the one and the gradation of the other; +nevertheless, it is so unsatisfactory to see the sharp touches, on which +the best of the detail depends, getting gradually deadened by time, or +to find the places where force was wanted look shiny, and like a +fire-grate, that I should recommend rather the steady use of the pen, or +brush, and colour, whenever time admits of it; keeping only a small +memorandum-book in the breast-pocket, with its well-cut, sheathed +pencil, ready for notes on passing opportunities: but never being +without this. + +Thus much, then, respecting the _manner_ in which you are at first to +draw from nature. But it may perhaps be serviceable to you, if I also +note one or two points respecting your _choice_ of subjects for study, +and the best special methods of treating some of them; for one of by no +means the least difficulties which you have at first to encounter is a +peculiar instinct, common, as far as I have noticed, to all beginners, +to fix on exactly the most unmanageable feature in the given scene. +There are many things in every landscape which can be drawn, if at all, +only by the most accomplished artists; and I have noticed that it is +nearly always these which a beginner will dash at; or, if not these, it +will be something which, though pleasing to him in itself, is unfit for +a picture, and in which, when he has drawn it, he will have little +pleasure. As some slight protection against this evil genius of +beginners, the following general warnings may be useful: + +1. Do not draw things that you love, on account of their associations; +or at least do not draw them because you love them; but merely when you +cannot get anything else to draw. If you try to draw places that you +love, you are sure to be always entangled amongst neat brick walls, iron +railings, gravel walks, greenhouses, and quickset hedges; besides that +you will be continually led into some endeavour to make your drawing +pretty, or complete, which will be fatal to your progress. You need +never hope to get on, if you are the least anxious that the drawing you +are actually at work upon should look nice when it is done. All you have +to care about is to make it _right_, and to learn as much in doing it as +possible. So then, though when you are sitting in your friend's parlour, +or in your own, and have nothing else to do, you may draw any thing that +is there, for practice; even the fire-irons or the pattern on the +carpet: be sure that it _is_ for practice, and not because it is a +beloved carpet, nor a friendly poker and tongs, nor because you wish to +please your friend by drawing her room. + +Also, never make presents of your drawings. Of course I am addressing +you as a _beginner_--a time may come when your work will be precious to +everybody; but be resolute not to give it away till you know that it is +worth something (as soon as it is worth anything you will know that it +is so). If any one asks you for a present of a drawing, send them a +couple of cakes of colour and a piece of Bristol board: those materials +are, for the present, of more value in that form than if you had spread +the one over the other. + +The main reason for this rule is, however, that its observance will +much protect you from the great danger of trying to make your drawings +pretty. + +2. Never, by choice, draw anything polished; especially if complicated +in form. Avoid all brass rods and curtain ornaments, chandeliers, plate, +glass, and fine steel. A shining knob of a piece of furniture does not +matter if it comes in your way; but do not fret yourself if it will not +look right, and choose only things that do not shine. + +3. Avoid all very neat things. They are exceedingly difficult to draw, +and very ugly when drawn. Choose rough, worn, and clumsy-looking things +as much as possible; for instance, you cannot have a more difficult or +profitless study than a newly-painted Thames wherry, nor a better study +than an old empty coal-barge, lying ashore at low-tide: in general, +everything that you think very ugly will be good for you to draw. + +4. Avoid, as much as possible, studies in which one thing is seen +_through_ another. You will constantly find a thin tree standing before +your chosen cottage, or between you and the turn of the river; its near +branches all entangled with the distance. It is intensely difficult to +represent this; and though, when the tree _is_ there, you must not +imaginarily cut it down, but do it as well as you can, yet always look +for subjects that fall into definite masses, not into network; that is, +rather for a cottage with a dark tree _beside_ it, than for one with a +thin tree in front of it; rather for a mass of wood, soft, blue, and +rounded, than for a ragged copse, or confusion of intricate stems. + +5. Avoid, as far as possible, country divided by hedges. Perhaps nothing +in the whole compass of landscape is so utterly unpicturesque and +unmanageable as the ordinary English patchwork of field and hedge, with +trees dotted over it in independent spots, gnawed straight at the cattle +line. + +Still, do not be discouraged if you find you have chosen ill, and that +the subject overmasters you. It is much better that it should, than that +you should think you had entirely mastered _it_. But at first, and even +for some time, you must be prepared for very discomfortable failure; +which, nevertheless, will not be without some wholesome result. + +As, however, I have told you what most definitely to avoid, I may, +perhaps, help you a little by saying what to seek. In general, all +_banks_ are beautiful things, and will reward work better than large +landscapes. If you live in a lowland country, you must look for places +where the ground is broken to the river's edges, with decayed posts, or +roots of trees; or, if by great good luck there should be such things +within your reach, for remnants of stone quays or steps, mossy +mill-dams, &c. Nearly every other mile of road in chalk country will +present beautiful bits of broken bank at its sides; better in form and +colour than high chalk cliffs. In woods, one or two trunks, with the +flowery ground below, are at once the richest and easiest kind of study: +a not very thick trunk, say nine inches or a foot in diameter, with ivy +running up it sparingly, is an easy, and always a rewarding subject. + +Large nests of buildings in the middle distance are always beautiful, +when drawn carefully, provided they are not modern rows of pattern +cottages; or villas with Ionic and Doric porticos. Any old English +village, or cluster of farm-houses, drawn with all its ins and outs, and +haystacks, and palings, is sure to be lovely; much more a French one. +French landscape is generally as much superior to English as Swiss +landscape is to French; in some respects, the French is incomparable. +Such scenes as that avenue on the Seine, which I have recommended you to +buy the engraving of, admit no rivalship in their expression of graceful +rusticity and cheerful peace, and in the beauty of component lines. + +In drawing villages, take great pains with the gardens; a rustic garden +is in every way beautiful. If you have time, draw all the rows of +cabbages, and hollyhocks, and broken fences, and wandering eglantines, +and bossy roses: you cannot have better practice, nor be kept by +anything in purer thoughts. + +Make intimate friends of all the brooks in your neighbourhood, and study +them ripple by ripple. + +Village churches in England are not often good subjects; there is a +peculiar meanness about most of them, and awkwardness of line. Old +manor-houses are often pretty. Ruins are usually, with us, too prim, and +cathedrals too orderly. I do not think there is a single cathedral in +England from which it is possible to obtain _one_ subject for an +impressive drawing. There is always some discordant civility, or jarring +vergerism about them. + +If you live in a mountain or hill country, your only danger is +redundance of subject. Be resolved, in the first place, to draw a piece +of rounded rock, with its variegated lichens, quite rightly, getting its +complete roundings, and all the patterns of the lichen in true local +colour. Till you can do this, it is of no use your thinking of sketching +among hills; but when once you have done this, the forms of distant +hills will be comparatively easy. + +When you have practised for a little time from such of these subjects as +may be accessible to you, you will certainly find difficulties arising +which will make you wish more than ever for a master's help: these +difficulties will vary according to the character of your own mind (one +question occurring to one person, and one to another), so that it is +impossible to anticipate them all; and it would make this too large a +book if I answered all that I _can_ anticipate; you must be content to +work on, in good hope that nature will, in her own time, interpret to +you much for herself; that farther experience on your own part will make +some difficulties disappear; and that others will be removed by the +occasional observation of such artists' work as may come in your way. +Nevertheless, I will not close this letter without a few general +remarks, such as may be useful to you after you are somewhat advanced in +power; and these remarks may, I think, be conveniently arranged under +three heads, having reference to the drawing of vegetation, water, and +skies. + +And, first, of vegetation. You may think, perhaps, we have said enough +about trees already; yet if you have done as you were bid, and tried to +draw them frequently enough, and carefully enough, you will be ready by +this time to hear a little more of them. You will also recollect that we +left our question, respecting the mode of expressing intricacy of +leafage, partly unsettled in the first letter. I left it so because I +wanted you to learn the real structure of leaves, by drawing them for +yourself, before I troubled you with the most subtle considerations as +to _method_ in drawing them. And by this time, I imagine, you must have +found out two principal things, universal facts, about leaves; namely, +that they always, in the main tendencies of their lines, indicate a +beautiful divergence of growth, according to the law of radiation, +already referred to;[226] and the second, that this divergence is never +formal, but carried out with endless variety of individual line. I must +now press both these facts on your attention a little farther. + +You may perhaps have been surprised that I have not yet spoken of the +works of J. D. Harding, especially if you happen to have met with the +passages referring to them in "Modern Painters," in which they are +highly praised. They are deservedly praised, for they are the only works +by a modern draughtsman which express in any wise the energy of trees, +and the laws of growth, of which we have been speaking. There are no +lithographic sketches which, for truth of general character, obtained +with little cost of time, at all rival Harding's. Calame, Robert, and +the other lithographic landscape sketchers are altogether inferior in +power, though sometimes a little deeper in meaning. But you must not +take even Harding for a model, though you may use his works for +occasional reference; and if you can afford to buy his "Lessons on +Trees,"[227] it will be serviceable to you in various ways, and will at +present help me to explain the point under consideration. And it is well +that I should illustrate this point by reference to Harding's works, +because their great influence on young students renders it desirable +that their real character should be thoroughly understood. + +You will find, first, in the title-page of the "Lessons on Trees," a +pretty woodcut, in which the tree stems are drawn with great truth, and +in a very interesting arrangement of lines. Plate 1. is not quite worthy +of Mr. Harding, tending too much to make his pupil, at starting, think +everything depends on black dots; still the main lines are good, and +very characteristic of tree growth. Then, in Plate 2., we come to the +point at issue. The first examples in that plate are given to the pupil +that he may practise from them till his hand gets into the habit of +arranging lines freely in a similar manner; and they are stated by Mr. +Harding to be universal in application; "all outlines expressive of +foliage," he says, "are but modifications of them." They consist of +groups of lines, more or less resembling our Fig. 23.; and the +characters especially insisted upon are, that they "tend at their inner +ends to a common centre;" that "their ends terminate in [are enclosed +by] ovoid curves;" and that "the outer ends are most emphatic." + +[Illustration: FIG. 23.] + +Now, as thus expressive of the great laws of radiation and enclosure, +the main principle of this method of execution confirms, in a very +interesting way, our conclusions respecting foliage composition. The +reason of the last rule, that the outer end of the line is to be most +emphatic, does not indeed at first appear; for the line at one end of a +natural leaf is not more emphatic than the line at the other: but +ultimately, in Harding's method, this darker part of the touch stands +more or less for the shade at the outer extremity of the leaf mass; and, +as Harding uses these touches, they express as much of tree character as +any mere habit of touch _can_ express. But, unfortunately, there is +another law of tree growth, quite as fixed as the law of radiation, +which this and all other conventional modes of execution wholly lose +sight of. This second law is, that the radiating tendency shall be +carried out only as a ruling spirit in reconcilement with perpetual +individual caprice on the part of the separate leaves. So that the +moment a touch is monotonous, it must be also false, the liberty of the +leaf individually being just as essential a truth, as its unity of +growth with its companions in the radiating group. + +[Illustration: FIG. 24.] + +It does not matter how small or apparently symmetrical the cluster may +be, nor how large or vague. You can hardly have a more formal one than +_b_ in Fig. 9. p. 276., nor a less formal one than this shoot of Spanish +chestnut, shedding its leaves, Fig. 24.; but in either of them, even the +general reader, unpractised in any of the previously recommended +exercises, must see that there are wandering lines mixed with the +radiating ones, and radiating lines with the wild ones: and if he takes +the pen and tries to copy either of these examples, he will find that +neither play of hand to left nor to right, neither a free touch nor a +firm touch, nor any learnable or describable touch whatsoever, will +enable him to produce, currently, a resemblance of it; but that he must +either draw it slowly, or give it up. And (which makes the matter worse +still) though gathering the bough, and putting it close to you, or +seeing a piece of near foliage against the sky, you may draw the entire +outline of the leaves, yet if the spray has light upon it, and is ever +so little a way off, you will miss, as we have seen, a point of a leaf +here, and an edge there; some of the surfaces will be confused by +glitter, and some spotted with shade; and if you look carefully through +this confusion for the edges or dark stems which you really _can see_, +and put only those down, the result will be neither like Fig. 9. nor +Fig. 24., but such an interrupted and puzzling piece of work as Fig. +25.[228] + +Now, it is in the perfect acknowledgment and expression of these _three_ +laws that all good drawing of landscape consists. There is, first, the +organic unity; the law, whether of radiation, or parallelism, or +concurrent action, which rules the masses of herbs and trees, of rocks, +and clouds, and waves; secondly, the individual liberty of the members +subjected to these laws of unity; and, lastly, the mystery under which +the separate character of each is more or less concealed. + +I say, first, there must be observance of the ruling organic law. This +is the first distinction between good artists and bad artists. Your +common sketcher or bad painter puts his leaves on the trees as if they +were moss tied to sticks; he cannot see the lines of action or growth; +he scatters the shapeless clouds over his sky, not perceiving the sweeps +of associated curves which the real clouds are following as they fly; +and he breaks his mountain side into rugged fragments, wholly +unconscious of the lines of force with which the real rocks have risen, +or of the lines of couch in which they repose. On the contrary, it is +the main delight of the great draughtsman to trace these laws of +government; and his tendency to error is always in the exaggeration of +their authority rather than in its denial. + +[Illustration: FIG. 25.] + +Secondly, I say, we have to show the individual character and liberty of +the separate leaves, clouds, or rocks. And herein the great masters +separate themselves finally from the inferior ones; for if the men of +inferior genius ever express law at all, it is by the sacrifice of +individuality. Thus, Salvator Rosa has great perception of the sweep of +foliage and rolling of clouds, but never draws a single leaflet or mist +wreath accurately. Similarly, Gainsborough, in his landscape, has great +feeling for masses of form and harmony of colour; but in the detail +gives nothing but meaningless touches; not even so much as the species +of tree, much less the variety of its leafage, being ever discernable. +Now, although both these expressions of government and individuality are +essential to masterly work, the individuality is the _more_ essential, +and the more difficult of attainment; and, therefore, that attainment +separates the great masters _finally_ from the inferior ones. It is the +more essential, because, in these matters of beautiful arrangement in +visible things, the same rules hold that hold in moral things. It is a +lamentable and unnatural thing to see a number of men subject to no +government, actuated by no ruling principle, and associated by no common +affection: but it would be a more lamentable thing still, were it +possible to see a number of men so oppressed into assimilation as to +have no more any individual hope or character, no differences in aim, no +dissimilarities of passion, no irregularities of judgment; a society in +which no man could help another, since none would be feebler than +himself; no man admire another, since none would be stronger than +himself; no man be grateful to another, since by none he could be +relieved; no man reverence another, since by none he could be +instructed; a society in which every soul would be as the syllable of a +stammerer instead of the word of a speaker, in which every man would +walk as in a frightful dream, seeing spectres of himself, in everlasting +multiplication, gliding helplessly around him in a speechless darkness. +Therefore it is that perpetual difference, play, and change in groups of +form are more essential to them even than their being subdued by some +great gathering law: the law is needful to them for their perfection and +their power, but the difference is needful to them for their _life_. + +And here it may be noted in passing, that if you enjoy the pursuit of +analogies and types, and have any ingenuity of judgment in discerning +them, you may always accurately ascertain what are the noble characters +in a piece of painting, by merely considering what are the noble +characters of man in his association with his fellows. What grace of +manner and refinement of habit are in society, grace of line and +refinement of form are in the association of visible objects. What +advantage or harm there may be in sharpness, ruggedness, or quaintness +in the dealings or conversations of men; precisely that relative degree +of advantage or harm there is in them as elements of pictorial +composition. What power is in liberty or relaxation to strengthen or +relieve human souls; that power, precisely in the same relative degree, +play and laxity of line have to strengthen or refresh the expression of +a picture. And what goodness or greatness we can conceive to arise in +companies of men, from chastity of thought, regularity of life, +simplicity of custom, and balance of authority; precisely that kind of +goodness and greatness may be given to a picture by the purity of its +colour, the severity of its forms, and the symmetry of its masses. + +You need not be in the least afraid of pushing these analogies too far. +They cannot be pushed too far; they are so precise and complete, that +the farther you pursue them, the clearer, the more certain, the more +useful you will find them. They will not fail you in one particular, or +in any direction of enquiry. There is no moral vice, no moral virtue, +which has not its _precise_ prototype in the art of painting; so that +you may at your will illustrate the moral habit by the art, or the art +by the moral habit. Affection and discord, fretfulness and quietness, +feebleness and firmness, luxury and purity, pride and modesty, and all +other such habits, and every conceivable modification and mingling of +them, may be illustrated, with mathematical exactness, by conditions of +line and colour; and not merely these definable vices and virtues, but +also every conceivable shade of human character and passion, from the +righteous or unrighteous majesty of the king, to the innocent or +faultful simplicity of the shepherd boy. + +The pursuit of this subject belongs properly, however, to the +investigation of the higher branches of composition, matters which it +would be quite useless to treat of in this book; and I only allude to +them here, in order that you may understand how the utmost nobleness of +art are concerned in this minute work, to which I have set you in your +beginning of it. For it is only by the closest attention, and the most +noble execution, that it is possible to express these varieties of +individual character, on which all excellence of portraiture depends, +whether of masses of mankind, or of groups of leaves. + +Now you will be able to understand, among other matters, wherein +consists the excellence, and wherein the shortcoming, of the +tree-drawing of Harding. It is excellent in so far as it fondly +observes, with more truth than any other work of the kind, the great +laws of growth and action in trees: it fails--and observe, not in a +minor, but in a principal point--because it cannot rightly render any +one individual detail or incident of foliage. And in this it fails, not +from mere carelessness or incompletion, but of necessity; the true +drawing of detail being for evermore _impossible_ to a hand which has +contracted a _habit_ of execution. The noble draughtsman draws a leaf, +and stops, and says calmly--That leaf is of such and such a character; I +will give him a friend who will entirely suit him: then he considers +what his friend ought to be, and having determined, he draws his friend. +This process may be as quick as lightning when the master is great--one +of the sons of the giants; or it may be slow and timid: but the process +is always gone through, no touch or form is ever added to another by a +good painter without a mental determination and affirmation. But when +the hand has got into a habit, leaf No. 1. necessitates leaf No. 2.; you +cannot stop, your hand is as a horse with the bit in its teeth; or +rather is, for the time, a machine, throwing out leaves to order and +pattern, all alike. You must stop that hand of yours, however painfully; +make it understand that it is not to have its own way any more, that it +shall never more slip from, one touch to another without orders; +otherwise it is not you who are the master, but your fingers. You may +therefore study Harding's drawing, and take pleasure in it;[229] and you +may properly admire the dexterity which applies the habit of the hand +so well, and produces results on the whole so satisfactory: but you +must never copy it, otherwise your progress will be at once arrested. +The utmost you can ever hope to do, would be a sketch in Harding's +manner, but of far inferior dexterity; for he has given his life's toil +to gain his dexterity, and you, I suppose, have other things to work at +besides drawing. You would also incapacitate yourself from ever +understanding what truly great work was, or what Nature was; but by the +earnest and complete study of facts, you will gradually come to +understand the one and love the other more and more, whether you can +draw well yourself or not. + +I have yet to say a few words respecting the third law above stated, +that of mystery; the law, namely, that nothing is ever seen perfectly, +but only by fragments, and under various conditions of obscurity.[230] +This last fact renders the visible objects of Nature complete as a type +of the human nature. We have, observe, first, Subordination; secondly, +Individuality; lastly, and this not the least essential character, +Incomprehensibility; a perpetual lesson in every serrated point and +shining vein which escape or deceive our sight among the forest leaves, +how little we may hope to discern clearly, or judge justly, the rents +and veins of the human heart; how much of all that is round us, in men's +actions or spirits, which we at first think we understand, a closer and +more loving watchfulness would show to be full of mystery, never to be +either fathomed or withdrawn. + +[Illustration: FIG. 26.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 27.] + +The expression of this final character in landscape has never been +completely reached by any except Turner; nor can you hope to reach it at +all until you have given much time to the practice of art. Only try +always when you are sketching any object with a view to completion in +light and shade, to draw only those parts of it which you really see +definitely; _preparing_ for the after development of the forms by +chiaroscuro. It is this preparation by isolated touches for a future +arrangement of superimposed light and shade which renders the etchings +of the Liber Studiorum so inestimable as examples and so peculiar. The +character exists more or less in them exactly in proportion to the pains +that Turner has taken. Thus the Æsacus and Hespérie was wrought out with +the greatest possible care; and the principal branch on the near tree is +etched as in Fig. 26. The work looks at first like a scholar's instead +of a master's; but when the light and shade are added, every touch falls +into its place, and a perfect expression of grace and complexity +results. Nay even before the light and shade are added, you ought to be +able to see that these irregular and broken lines, especially where the +expression is given of the way the stem loses itself in the leaves, are +more true than the monotonous though graceful leaf-drawing which, before +Turner's time, had been employed, even by the best masters, in their +distant masses. Fig. 27. is sufficiently characteristic of the manner of +the old woodcuts after Titian; in which, you see, the leaves are too +much of one shape, like bunches of fruit; and the boughs too completely +seen, besides being somewhat soft and leathery in aspect, owing to the +want of angles in their outline. By great men like Titian, this somewhat +conventional structure was only given in haste to distant masses; and +their exquisite delineation of the foreground, kept their +conventionalism from degeneracy: but in the drawing of the Caracci and +other derivative masters, the conventionalism prevails everywhere, and +sinks gradually into scrawled work, like Fig. 28., about the worst which +it is possible to get into the habit of using, though an ignorant person +might perhaps suppose it more "free," and therefore better than Fig. 26. +Note, also, that in noble outline drawing, it does not follow that a +bough is wrongly drawn, because it looks contracted unnaturally +somewhere, as in Fig. 26., just above the foliage. Very often the +muscular action which is to be expressed by the line, runs into the +_middle_ of the branch, and the actual outline of the branch at that +place may be dimly seen, or not at all; and it is then only by the +future shade that its actual shape, or the cause of its disappearance, +will be indicated. + +[Illustration: FIG. 28.] + +One point more remains to be noted about trees, and I have done. In the +minds of our ordinary water-colour artists, a distant tree seems only to +be conceived as a flat green blot, grouping pleasantly with other +masses, and giving cool colour to the landscape, but differing nowise, +in _texture_, from the blots of other shapes, which these painters use +to express stones, or water, or figures. But as soon as you have drawn +trees carefully a little while, you will be impressed, and impressed +more strongly the better you draw them, with the idea of their +_softness_ of surface. A distant tree is not a flat and even piece of +colour, but a more or less globular mass of a downy or bloomy texture, +partly passing into a misty vagueness. I find, practically, this lovely +softness of far-away trees the most difficult of all characters to +reach, because it cannot be got by mere scratching or roughening the +surface, but is always associated with such delicate expressions of form +and growth as are only imitable by very careful drawing. The penknife +passed lightly _over_ this careful drawing, will do a good deal; but you +must accustom yourself, from the beginning, to aim much at this softness +in the lines of the drawing itself, by crossing them delicately, and +more or less effacing and confusing the edges. You must invent, +according to the character of tree, various modes of execution adapted +to express its texture; but always keep this character of softness in +your mind and in your scope of aim; for in most landscapes it is the +intention of nature that the tenderness and transparent infinitude of +her foliage should be felt, even at the far distance, in the most +distinct opposition to the solid masses and flat surfaces of rocks or +buildings. + + * * * * * + +II. We were, in the second place, to consider a little the modes of +representing water, of which important feature of landscape I have +hardly said anything yet. + +Water is expressed, in common drawings, by conventional lines, whose +horizontality is supposed to convey the idea of its surface. In +paintings, white dashes or bars of light are used for the same purpose. + +But these and all other such expedients are vain and absurd. A piece of +calm water always contains a picture in itself, an exquisite reflection +of the objects above it. If you give the time necessary to draw these +reflections, disturbing them here and there as you see the breeze or +current disturb them, you will get the effect of the water; but if you +have not patience to draw the reflections, no expedient will give you a +true effect. The picture in the pool needs nearly as much delicate +drawing as the picture above the pool; except only that if there be the +least motion on the water, the horizontal lines of the images will be +diffused and broken, while the vertical ones will remain decisive, and +the oblique ones decisive in proportion to their steepness. + +A few close studies will soon teach you this: the only thing you need to +be told is to watch carefully the lines of _disturbance_ on the surface, +as when a bird swims across it, or a fish rises, or the current plays +round a stone, reed, or other obstacle. Take the greatest pains to get +the _curves_ of these lines true; the whole value of your careful +drawing of the reflections may be lost by your admitting a single false +curve of ripple from a wild duck's breast. And (as in other subjects) if +you are dissatisfied with your result, always try for more unity and +delicacy: if your reflections are only soft and gradated enough, they +are nearly sure to give you a pleasant effect. When you are taking +pains, work the softer reflections, where they are drawn out by motion +in the water, with touches as nearly horizontal as may be; but when you +are in a hurry, indicate the place and play of the images with vertical +lines. The actual _construction_ of a calm elongated reflection is with +horizontal lines: but it is often impossible to draw the descending +shades delicately enough with a horizontal touch; and it is best always +when you are in a hurry, and sometimes when you are not, to use the +vertical touch. When the ripples are large, the reflections become +shaken, and must be drawn with bold undulatory descending lines. + +I need not, I should think, tell you that it is of the greatest possible +importance to draw the curves of the shore rightly. Their perspective +is, if not more subtle, at least more stringent than that of any other +lines in Nature. It will not be detected by the general observer, if you +miss the curve of a branch, or the sweep of a cloud, or the perspective +of a building;[231] but every intelligent spectator will feel the +difference between a rightly drawn bend of shore or shingle, and a false +one. _Absolutely_ right, in difficult river perspectives seen from +heights, I believe no one but Turner ever has been yet; and observe, +there is NO rule for them. To develope the curve mathematically would +require a knowledge of the exact quantity of water in the river, the +shape of its bed, and the hardness of the rock or shore; and even with +these data, the problem would be one which no mathematician could solve +but approximatively. The instinct of the eye can do it; nothing else. + +If, after a little study from Nature, you get puzzled by the great +differences between the aspect of the reflected image and that of the +object casting it; and if you wish to know the law of reflection, it is +simply this: Suppose all the objects above the water _actually_ reversed +(not in appearance, but in fact) beneath the water, and precisely the +same in form and in relative position, only all topsy-turvy. Then, +whatever you can see, from the place in which you stand, of the solid +objects so reversed under the water, you will see in the reflection, +always in the true perspective of the solid objects so reversed. + +If you cannot quite understand this in looking at water, take a mirror, +lay it horizontally on the table, put some books and papers upon it, and +draw them and their reflections; moving them about, and watching how +their reflections alter, and chiefly how their reflected colours and +shades differ from their own colours and shades, by being brought into +other oppositions. This difference in chiaroscuro is a more important +character in water painting than mere difference in form. + +When you are drawing shallow or muddy water, you will see shadows on the +bottom, or on the surface, continually modifying the reflections; and in +a clear mountain stream, the most wonderful complications of effect +resulting from the shadows and reflections of the stones in it, mingling +with the aspect of the stones themselves seen through the water. Do not +be frightened at the complexity; but, on the other hand, do not hope to +render it hastily. Look at it well, making out everything that you see, +and distinguishing each component part of the effect. There will be, +first, the stones seen through the water, distorted always by +refraction, so that if the general structure of the stone shows straight +parallel lines above the water, you may be sure they will be bent where +they enter it; then the reflection of the part of the stone above the +water crosses and interferes with the part that is seen through it, so +that you can hardly tell which is which; and wherever the reflection is +darkest, you will see through the water best, and _vice versâ_. Then the +real shadow of the stone crosses both these images, and where that +shadow falls, it makes the water more reflective, and where the sunshine +falls, you will see more of the surface of the water, and of any dust +or motes that may be floating on it: but whether you are to see, at the +same spot, most of the bottom of the water, or of the reflection of the +objects above, depends on the position of the eye. The more you look +down into the water, the better you see objects through it; the more you +look along it, the eye being low, the more you see the reflection of +objects above it. Hence the colour of a given space of surface in a +stream will entirely change while you stand still in the same spot, +merely as you stoop or raise your head; and thus the colours with which +water is painted are an indication of the position of the spectator, and +connected inseparably with the perspective of the shores. The most +beautiful of all results that I know in mountain streams is when the +water is shallow, and the stones at the bottom are rich reddish-orange +and black, and the water is seen at an angle which exactly divides the +visible colours between those of the stones and that of the sky, and the +sky is of clear, full blue. The resulting purple obtained by the +blending of the blue and the orange-red, broken by the play of +innumerable gradations in the stones, is indescribably lovely. + +All this seems complicated enough already; but if there be a strong +colour in the clear water itself, as of green or blue in the Swiss +lakes, all these phenomena are doubly involved; for the darker +reflections now become of the colour of the water. The reflection of a +black gondola, for instance, at Venice, is never black, but pure dark +green. And, farther, the colour of the water itself is of three kinds: +one, seen on the surface, is a kind of milky bloom; the next is seen +where the waves let light through them, at their edges; and the third, +shown as a change of colour on the objects seen through the water. Thus, +the same wave that makes a white object look of a clear blue, when seen +through it, will take a red or violet-coloured bloom on its surface, and +will be made pure emerald green by transmitted sunshine through its +edges. With all this, however, you are not much concerned at present, +but I tell it you partly as a preparation for what we have afterwards to +say about colour, and partly that you may approach lakes and streams +with reverence, and study them as carefully as other things, not hoping +to express them by a few horizontal dashes of white, or a few tremulous +blots.[232] Not but that much may be done by tremulous blots, when you +know precisely what you mean by them, as you will see by many of the +Turner sketches, which are now framed at the National Gallery; but you +must have painted water many and many a day--yes, and all day +long--before you can hope to do anything like those. + + * * * * * + +III. Lastly. You may perhaps wonder why, before passing to the clouds, I +say nothing special about _ground_.[233] But there is too much to be +said about that to admit of my saying it here. You will find the +principal laws of its structure examined at length in the fourth volume +of "Modern Painters;" and if you can get that volume, and copy carefully +Plate 21., which I have etched after Turner with great pains, it will +give you as much help as you need in the linear expression of +ground-surface. Strive to get the retirement and succession of masses in +irregular ground: much may be done in this way by careful watching of +the perspective diminutions of its herbage, as well as by contour; and +much also by shadows. If you draw the shadows of leaves and tree trunks +on any undulating ground with entire carefulness, you will be surprised +to find how much they explain of the form and distance of the earth on +which they fall. + +Passing then to skies, note that there is this great peculiarity about +sky subject, as distinguished from earth subject;--that the clouds, not +being much liable to man's interference, are always beautifully +arranged. You cannot be sure of this in any other features of landscape. +The rock on which the effect of a mountain scene especially depends is +always precisely that which the roadmaker blasts or the landlord +quarries; and the spot of green which Nature left with a special purpose +by her dark forest sides, and finished with her most delicate grasses, +is always that which the farmer ploughs or builds upon. But the clouds, +though we can hide them with smoke, and mix them with poison, cannot be +quarried nor built over, and they are always therefore gloriously +arranged; so gloriously, that unless you have notable powers of memory +you need not hope to approach the effect of any sky that interests you. +For both its grace and its glow depend upon the united influence of +every cloud within its compass: they all move and burn together in a +marvellous harmony; not a cloud of them is out of its appointed place, +or fails of its part in the choir: and if you are not able to recollect +(which in the case of a complicated sky it is impossible you should) +precisely the form and position of all the clouds at a given moment, you +cannot draw the sky at all; for the clouds will not fit if you draw one +part of them three or four minutes before another. You must try +therefore to help what memory you have, by sketching at the utmost +possible speed the whole range of the clouds; marking, by any shorthand +or symbolic work you can hit upon, the peculiar character of each, as +transparent, or fleecy, or linear, or undulatory; giving afterwards such +completion to the parts as your recollection will enable you to do. +This, however, only when the sky is interesting from its general aspect; +at other times, do not try to draw all the sky, but a single cloud: +sometimes a round cumulus will stay five or six minutes quite steady +enough to let you mark out his principal masses: and one or two white or +crimson lines which cross the sunrise will often stay without serious +change for as long. And in order to be the readier in drawing them, +practise occasionally drawing lumps of cotton, which will teach you +better than any other stable thing the kind of softness there is in +clouds. For you will find when you have made a few genuine studies of +sky, and then look at any ancient or modern painting, that ordinary +artists have always fallen into one of two faults: either, in rounding +the clouds, they make them as solid and hard-edged as a heap of stones +tied up in a sack, or they represent them not as rounded at all, but as +vague wreaths of mist or flat lights in the sky; and think they have +done enough in leaving a little white paper between dashes of blue, or +in taking an irregular space out with the sponge. Now clouds are not as +solid as flour-sacks; but, on the other hand, they are neither spongy +nor flat. They are definite and very beautiful forms of sculptured mist; +sculptured is a perfectly accurate word; they are not more _drifted_ +into form than they are _carved_ into form, the warm air around them +cutting them into shape by absorbing the visible vapour beyond certain +limits; hence their angular and fantastic outlines, as different from a +swollen, spherical, or globular formation, on the one hand, as from that +of flat films or shapeless mists on the other. And the worst of all is, +that while these forms are difficult enough to draw on any terms, +especially considering that they never stay quiet, they must be drawn +also at greater disadvantage of light and shade than any others, the +force of light in clouds being wholly unattainable by art; so that if we +put shade enough to express their form as positively as it is expressed +in reality, we must make them painfully too dark on the dark sides. +Nevertheless, they are so beautiful, if you in the least succeed with +them, that you will hardly, I think, lose courage. Outline them often +with the pen, as you can catch them here and there; one of the chief +uses of doing this will be, not so much the memorandum so obtained as +the lesson you will get respecting the softness of the cloud-outlines. +You will always find yourself at a loss to see where the outline really +is; and when drawn it will always look hard and false, and will +assuredly be either too round or too square, however often you alter it, +merely passing from the one fault to the other and back again, the real +cloud striking an inexpressible mean between roundness and squareness in +all its coils or battlements. I speak at present, of course, only of the +cumulus cloud: the lighter wreaths and flakes of the upper sky cannot +be outlined--they can only be sketched, like locks of hair, by many +lines of the pen. Firmly developed bars of cloud on the horizon are in +general easy enough, and may be drawn with decision. When you have thus +accustomed yourself a little to the placing and action of clouds, try to +work out their light and shade, just as carefully as you do that of +other things, looking _exclusively_ for examples of treatment to the +vignettes in Rogers's Italy and Poems, and to the Liber Studiorum, +unless you have access to some examples of Turner's own work. No other +artist ever yet drew the sky: even Titian's clouds, and Tintoret's, are +conventional. The clouds in the "Ben Arthur," "Source of Arveron," and +"Calais Pier," are among the best of Turner's storm studies; and of the +upper clouds, the vignettes to Rogers's Poems furnish as many examples +as you need. + +And now, as our first lesson was taken from the sky, so, for the +present, let our last be. I do not advise you to be in any haste to +master the contents of my next letter. If you have any real talent for +drawing, you will take delight in the discoveries of natural loveliness, +which the studies I have already proposed will lead you into, among the +fields and hills; and be assured that the more quietly and +single-heartedly you take each step in the art, the quicker, on the +whole, will your progress be. I would rather, indeed, have discussed the +subjects of the following letter at greater length, and in a separate +work addressed to more advanced students; but as there are one or two +things to be said on composition which may set the young artist's mind +somewhat more at rest, or furnish him with defence from the urgency of +ill-advisers, I will glance over the main heads of the matter here; +trusting that my doing so may not beguile you, my dear reader, from your +serious work, or lead you to think me, in occupying part of this book +with talk not altogether relevant to it, less entirely or + + Faithfully yours, + + J. RUSKIN. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[220] It is meant, I believe, for "Salt Hill." + +[221] I do not mean that you can approach Turner or Durer in their +strength, that is to say, in their imagination or power of design. But +you may approach them, by perseverance, in truth of manner. + +[222] The following are the most desirable plates: + + Grande Chartreuse. + Æsacus and Hespérie. + Cephalus and Procris. + Source of Arveron. + Ben Arthur. + Watermill. + Hindhead Hill. + Hedging and Ditching. + Dumblane Abbey. + Morpeth. + Calais Pier. + Pembury Mill. + Little Devil's Bridge. + River Wye (_not_ Wye and Severn). + Holy Island. + Clyde. + Lauffenbourg. + Blair Athol. + Alps from Grenoble. + Raglan. (Subject with quiet brook, trees, and castle on the right.) + +If you cannot get one of these, any of the others will be serviceable, +except only the twelve following, which are quite useless:-- + +1. Scene in Italy, with goats on a walled road, and trees above. + +2. Interior of church. + +3. Scene with bridge, and trees above; figures on left, one playing a +pipe. + +4. Scene with figure playing on tambourine. + +5. Scene on Thames with high trees, and a square tower of a church seen +through them. + +6. Fifth Plague of Egypt. + +7. Tenth Plague of Egypt. + +8. Rivaulx Abbey. + +9. Wye and Severn. + +10. Scene with castle in centre, cows under trees on the left. + +11. Martello Towers. + +12. Calm. + +It is very unlikely that you should meet with one of the original +etchings; if you should, it will be a drawing-master in itself alone, +for it is not only equivalent to a pen-and-ink drawing by Turner, but to +a very careful one: only observe, the Source of Arveron, Raglan, and +Dumblane were not etched by Turner; and the etchings of those three are +not good for separate study, though it is deeply interesting to see how +Turner, apparently provoked at the failure of the beginnings in the +Arveron and Raglan, took the plates up himself, and either conquered or +brought into use the bad etching by his marvellous engraving. The +Dumblane was, however, well etched by Mr. Lupton, and beautifully +engraved by him. The finest Turner etching is of an aqueduct with a +stork standing in a mountain stream, not in the published series; and +next to it, are the unpublished etchings of the Via Mala and Crowhurst. +Turner seems to have been so fond of these plates that he kept +retouching and finishing them, and never made up his mind to let them +go. The Via Mala is certainly, in the state in which Turner left it, the +finest of the whole series: its etching is, as I said, the best after +that of the aqueduct. Figure 20., above, is part of another fine +unpublished etching, "Windsor, from Salt Hill." Of the published +etchings, the finest are the Ben Arthur, Æsacus, Cephalus, and Stone +Pines, with the Girl washing at a Cistern; the three latter are the more +generally instructive. Hindhead Hill, Isis, Jason, and Morpeth, are also +very desirable. + +[223] You will find more notice of this point in the account of +Harding's tree-drawing, a little farther on. + +[224] The impressions vary so much in colour that no brown can be +specified. + +[225] You had better get such a photograph, even if you have a Liber +print as well. + +[226] See the closing letter in this volume. + +[227] Bogue, Fleet Street. If you are not acquainted with Harding's +works (an unlikely supposition, considering their popularity), and +cannot meet with the one in question, the diagrams given here will +enable you to understand all that is needful for our purposes. + +[228] I draw this figure (a young shoot of oak) in outline only, it +being impossible to express the refinements of shade in distant foliage +in a woodcut. + +[229] His lithographic sketches, those, for instance, in the Park and +the Forest, and his various lessons on foliage, possess greater merit +than the more ambitious engravings in his "Principles and Practice of +Art." There are many useful remarks, however, dispersed through this +latter work. + +[230] On this law you will do well, if you can get access to it, to look +at the fourth chapter of the fourth volume of "Modern Painters." + +[231] The student may hardly at first believe that the perspective of +buildings is of little consequence: but he will find it so ultimately. +See the remarks on this point in the Preface. + +[232] It is a useful piece of study to dissolve some Prussian blue in +water, so as to make the liquid definitely blue: fill a large white +basin with the solution, and put anything you like to float on it, or +lie in it; walnut shells, bits of wood, leaves of flowers, &c. Then +study the effects of the reflections, and of the stems of the flowers or +submerged portions of the floating objects, as they appear through the +blue liquid; noting especially how, as you lower your head and look +along the surface, you see the reflections clearly; and how, as you +raise your head, you lose the reflections, and see the submerged stems +clearly. + +[233] Respecting Architectural Drawing, see the notice of the works of +Prout in the Appendix. + + + + +LETTER III. + +ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION. + + +MY DEAR READER:-- + +If you have been obedient, and have hitherto done all that I have told +you, I trust it has not been without much subdued remonstrance, and some +serious vexation. For I should be sorry if, when you were led by the +course of your study to observe closely such things as are beautiful in +colour, you had not longed to paint them, and felt considerable +difficulty in complying with your restriction to the use of black, or +blue, or grey. You _ought_ to love colour, and to think nothing quite +beautiful or perfect without it; and if you really do love it, for its +own sake, and are not merely desirous to colour because you think +painting a finer thing than drawing, there is some chance you may colour +well. Nevertheless, you need not hope ever to produce anything more than +pleasant helps to memory, or useful and suggestive sketches in colour, +unless you mean to be wholly an artist. You may, in the time which other +vocations leave at your disposal, produce finished, beautiful, and +masterly drawings in light and shade. But to colour well, requires your +life. It cannot be done cheaper. The difficulty of doing right is +increased--not twofold nor threefold, but a thousandfold, and more--by +the addition of colour to your work. For the chances are more than a +thousand to one against your being right both in form and colour with a +given touch: it is difficult enough to be right in form, if you attend +to that only; but when you have to attend, at the same moment, to a much +more subtle thing than the form, the difficulty is strangely +increased--and multiplied almost to infinity by this great fact, that, +while form is absolute, so that you can say at the moment you draw any +line that it is either right or wrong, colour is wholly _relative_. +Every hue throughout your work is altered by every touch that you add in +other places; so that what was warm a minute ago, becomes cold when you +have put a hotter colour in another place, and what was in harmony when +you left it, becomes discordant as you set other colours beside it; so +that every touch must be laid, not with a view to its effect at the +time, but with a view to its effect in futurity, the result upon it of +all that is afterwards to be done being previously considered. You may +easily understand that, this being so, nothing but the devotion of life, +and great genius besides, can make a colourist. + +But though you cannot produce finished coloured drawings of any value, +you may give yourself much pleasure, and be of great use to other +people, by occasionally sketching with a view to colour only; and +preserving distinct statements of certain colour facts--as that the +harvest-moon at rising was of such and such a red, and surrounded by +clouds of such and such a rosy grey; that the mountains at evening were +in truth so deep in purple; and the waves by the boat's side were indeed +of that incredible green. This only, observe, if you have an eye for +colour; but you may presume that you have this, if you enjoy colour. + +And, though of course you should always give as much form to your +subject as your attention to its colour will admit of, remember that the +whole value of what you are about depends, in a coloured sketch, on the +colour _merely_. If the colour is wrong, everything is wrong: just as, +if you are singing, and sing false notes, it does not matter how true +the words are. If you sing at all, you must sing sweetly; and if you +colour at all, you must colour rightly. Give up _all_ the form, rather +than the slightest part of the colour: just as, if you felt yourself in +danger of a false note, you would give up the word, and sing a +meaningless sound, if you felt that so you could save the note. Never +mind though your houses are all tumbling down--though your clouds are +mere blots, and your trees mere knobs, and your sun and moon like +crooked sixpences--so only that trees, clouds, houses, and sun or moon, +are of the right colours. Of course, the discipline you have gone +through will enable you to hint something of form, even in the fastest +sweep of the brush; but do not let the thought of form hamper you in the +least, when you begin to make coloured memoranda. If you want the form +of the subject, draw it in black and white. If you want its colour, take +its colour, and be sure you _have_ it, and not a spurious, treacherous, +half-measured piece of mutual concession, with the colours all wrong, +and the forms still anything but right. It is best to get into the habit +of considering the coloured work merely as supplementary to your other +studies; making your careful drawings of the subject first, and then a +coloured memorandum separately, as shapeless as you like, but faithful +in hue, and entirely minding its own business. This principle, however, +bears chiefly on large and distant subjects; in foregrounds and near +studies, the colour cannot be had without a good deal of definition of +form. For if you do not map the mosses on the stones accurately, you +will not have the right quantity of colour in each bit of moss pattern, +and then none of the colours will look right; but it always simplifies +the work much if you are clear as to your point of aim, and satisfied, +when necessary, to fail of all but that. + +Now, of course, if I were to enter into detail respecting colouring, +which is the beginning and end of a painter's craft, I should need to +make this a work in three volumes instead of three letters, and to +illustrate it in the costliest way. I only hope at present to set you +pleasantly and profitably to work, leaving you, within the tethering of +certain leading-strings, to gather what advantages you can from the +works of art of which every year brings a greater number within your +reach;--and from the instruction which, every year, our rising artists +will be more ready to give kindly, and better able to give wisely. + +And, first, of materials. Use hard cake colours, not moist colours: +grind a sufficient quantity of each on your palette every morning, +keeping a separate plate, large and deep, for colours to be used in +broad washes, and wash both plate and palette every evening, so as to be +able always to get good and pure colour when you need it; and force +yourself into cleanly and orderly habits about your colours. The two +best colourists of modern times, Turner and Rossetti,[234] afford us, I +am sorry to say, no confirmation of this precept by their practice. +Turner was, and Rossetti is, as slovenly in all their procedures as men +can well be; but the result of this was, with Turner, that the colours +have altered in all his pictures, and in many of his drawings; and the +result of it with Rossetti is, that, though his colours are safe, he has +sometimes to throw aside work that was half done, and begin over again. +William Hunt, of the Old Water-colour, is very neat in his practice; so, +I believe, is Mulready; so is John Lewis; and so are the leading +Pre-Raphaelites, Rossetti only excepted. And there can be no doubt about +the goodness of the advice, if it were only for this reason, that the +more particular you are about your colours the more you will get into a +deliberate and methodical habit in using them, and all true _speed_ in +colouring comes of this deliberation. + +Use Chinese white, well ground, to mix with your colours in order to +pale them, instead of a quantity of water. You will thus be able to +shape your masses more quietly, and play the colours about with more +ease; they will not damp your paper so much, and you will be able to go +on continually, and lay forms of passing cloud and other fugitive or +delicately shaped lights, otherwise unattainable except by time. + +This mixing of white with the pigments, so as to render them opaque, +constitutes _body_-colour drawing as opposed to _transparent_-colour +drawing and you will, perhaps, have it often said to you that this +body-colour is "illegitimate." It is just as legitimate as oil-painting, +being, so far as handling is concerned, the same process, only without +its uncleanliness, its unwholesomeness, or its inconvenience; for oil +will not dry quickly, nor carry safely, nor give the same effects of +atmosphere without tenfold labour. And if you hear it said that the +body-colour looks chalky or opaque, and, as is very likely, think so +yourself, be yet assured of this, that though certain effects of glow +and transparencies of gloom are not to be reached without transparent +colour, those glows and glooms are _not_ the noblest aim of art. After +many years' study of the various results of fresco and oil painting in +Italy, and of body-colour and transparent colour in England, I am now +entirely convinced that the greatest things that are to be done in art +must be done in dead colour. The habit of depending on varnish or on +lucid tints transparency, makes the painter comparatively lose sight of +the nobler translucence which is obtained by breaking various colours +amidst each other: and even when, as by Correggio, exquisite play of hue +is joined with exquisite transparency, the delight in the depth almost +always leads the painter into mean and false chiaroscuro; it leads him +to like dark backgrounds instead of luminous ones,[235] and to enjoy, in +general, quality of colour more than grandeur of composition, and +confined light rather than open sunshine: so that the really greatest +thoughts of the greatest men have always, so far as I remember, been +reached in dead colour, and the noblest oil pictures of Tintoret and +Veronese are those which are likest frescos. + +Besides all this, the fact is, that though sometimes a little chalky and +coarse-looking, body-colour is, in a sketch, infinitely liker nature +than transparent colour: the bloom and mist of distance are accurately +and instantly represented by the film of opaque blue (_quite_ +accurately, I think, by _nothing_ else); and for ground, rocks, and +buildings, the earthy and solid surface is, of course, always truer than +the most finished and carefully wrought work in transparent tints can +ever be. + +Against one thing, however, I must steadily caution you. All kinds of +colour are equally illegitimate, if you think they will allow you to +alter at your pleasure, or blunder at your ease. There is _no_ vehicle +or method of colour which admits of alteration or repentance; you must +be right at once, or never; and you might as well hope to catch a rifle +bullet in your hand, and put it straight, when it was going wrong, as to +recover a tint once spoiled. The secret of all good colour in oil, +water, or anything else, lies primarily in that sentence spoken to me by +Mulready: "Know what you have to do." The process may be a long one, +perhaps: you may have to ground with one colour; to touch it with +fragments of a second; to crumble a third into the interstices; a fourth +into the interstices of the third; to glaze the whole with a fifth; and +to reinforce in points with a sixth: but whether you have one, or ten, +or twenty processes to go through, you must go _straight_ through them, +knowingly and foreseeingly all the way; and if you get the thing once +wrong, there is no hope for you but in washing or scraping boldly down +to the white ground, and beginning again. + +The drawing in body-colour will tend to teach you all this, more than +any other method, and above all it will prevent you from falling into +the pestilent habit of sponging to get texture; a trick which has nearly +ruined our modern water-colour school of art. There are sometimes places +in which a skilful artist will roughen his paper a little to get certain +conditions of dusty colour with more ease than he could otherwise; and +sometimes a skilfully rased piece of paper will, in the midst of +transparent tints, answer nearly the purpose of chalky body-colour in +representing the surfaces of rocks or buildings. But artifices of this +kind are always treacherous in a tyro's hands, tempting him to trust in +them; and you had better always work on white or grey paper as smooth as +silk;[236] and never disturb the surface of your colour or paper, except +finally to scratch out the very highest lights if you are using +transparent colours. + +I have said above that body-colour drawing will teach you the use of +colour better than working with merely transparent tints; but this is +not because the process is an easier one, but because it is a more +_complete_ one, and also because it involves _some_ working with +transparent tints in the best way. You are not to think that because you +use body-colour you may make any kind of mess that you like, and yet get +out of it. But you are to avail yourself of the characters of your +material, which enable you most nearly to imitate the processes of +Nature. Thus, suppose you have a red rocky cliff to sketch, with blue +clouds floating over it. You paint your cliff first firmly, then take +your blue, mixing it to such a tint (and here is a great part of the +skill needed), that when it is laid over the red, in the thickness +required for the effect of the mist, the warm rock-colour showing +through the blue cloud-colour, may bring it to exactly the hue you want; +(your upper tint, therefore, must be mixed colder than you want it;) +then you lay it on, varying it as you strike it, getting the forms of +the mist at once, and, if it be rightly done, with exquisite quality of +colour, from the warm tint's showing through and between the particles +of the other. When it is dry, you may add a little colour to retouch the +edges where they want shape, or heighten the lights where they want +roundness, or put another tone over the whole; but you can take none +away. If you touch or disturb the surface, or by any untoward accident +mix the under and upper colours together, all is lost irrecoverably. +Begin your drawing from the ground again if you like, or throw it into +the fire if you like. But do not waste time in trying to mend it.[237] + +This discussion of the relative merits of transparent and opaque colour +has, however, led us a little beyond the point where we should have +begun; we must go back to our palette, if you please. Get a cake of each +of the hard colours named in the note below[238] and try experiments on +their simple combinations, by mixing each colour with every other. If +you like to do it in an orderly way, you may prepare a squared piece of +pasteboard, and put the pure colours in columns at the top and side; +the mixed tints being given at the intersections, thus (the letters +standing for colours): + + b c d e f &c. + + a ab ac ad ae af + b -- bc bd be bf + c -- -- cd ce cf + d -- -- -- de df + e -- -- -- -- ef + &c. + +This will give you some general notion of the characters of mixed tints +of two colours only, and it is better in practice to confine yourself as +much as possible to these, and to get more complicated colours, either +by putting a third _over_ the first blended tint, or by putting the +third into its interstices. Nothing but watchful practice will teach you +the effects that colours have on each other when thus put over, or +beside, each other. + +[Illustration: FIG. 29.] + +When you have got a little used to the principal combinations, place +yourself at a window which the sun does not shine in at, commanding some +simple piece of landscape; outline this landscape roughly; then take a +piece of white cardboard, cut out a hole in it about the size of a large +pea; and supposing _R_ is the room, _a d_ the window, and you are +sitting at _a_, Fig. 29., hold this cardboard a little outside of the +window, upright, and in the direction _b d_, parallel a little turned to +the side of the window, or so as to catch more light, as at _a d_, never +turned as at _c d_, or the paper will be dark. Then you will see the +landscape, bit by bit, through the circular hole. Match the colours of +each important bit as nearly as you can, mixing your tints with white, +beside the aperture. When matched, put a touch of the same tint at the +top of your paper, writing under it: "dark tree colour," "hill colour," +"field colour," as the case may be. Then wash the tint away from beside +the opening, and the cardboard will be ready to match another piece of +the landscape.[239] When you have got the colours of the principal +masses thus indicated, lay on a piece of each in your sketch in its +right place, and then proceed to complete the sketch in harmony with +them, by your eye. + +In the course of your early experiments, you will be much struck by two +things: the first, the inimitable brilliancy of light in sky and in +sunlighted things: and the second, that among the tints which you can +imitate, those which you thought the darkest will continually turn out +to be in reality the lightest. Darkness of objects is estimated by us, +under ordinary circumstances, much more by _knowledge_ than by sight; +thus, a cedar or Scotch fir, at 200 yards off, will be thought of darker +green than an elm or oak near us; because we know by experience that the +peculiar colour they exhibit, at that distance, is the _sign_ of +darkness of foliage. But when we try them through the cardboard, the +near oak will be found, indeed, rather dark green, and the distant +cedar, perhaps, pale gray-purple. The quantity of purple and grey in +Nature is, by the way, another somewhat surprising subject of discovery. + +Well, having ascertained thus your principal tints, you may proceed to +fill up your sketch; in doing which observe these following particulars: + +1. Many portions of your subject appeared through the aperture in the +paper brighter than the paper, as sky, sunlighted grass, &c. Leave these +portions, for the present, white; and proceed with the parts of which +you can match the tints. + +2. As you tried your subject with the cardboard, you must have observed +how many changes of hue took place over small spaces. In filling up your +work, try to educate your eye to perceive these differences of hue +without the help of the cardboard, and lay them deliberately, like a +mosaic-worker, as separate colours, preparing each carefully on your +palatte, and laying it as if it were a patch of coloured cloth, cut out, +to be fitted neatly by its edge to the next patch; so that the _fault_ +of your work may be, not a slurred or misty look, but a patched +bed-cover look, as if it had all been cut out with scissors. For +instance, in drawing the trunk of a birch tree, there will be probably +white high lights, then a pale rosy grey round them on the light side, +then a (probably greenish) deeper grey on the dark side, varied by +reflected colours, and over all, rich black strips of bark and brown +spots of moss. Lay first the rosy grey, leaving white for the high +lights _and for the spots of moss_, and not touching the dark side. Then +lay the grey for the dark side, fitting it well up to the rosy grey of +the light, leaving also in this darker grey the white paper in the +places for the black and brown moss; then prepare the moss colours +separately for each spot, and lay each in the white place left for it. +Not one grain of white, except that purposely left for the high lights, +must be visible when the work is done, even through a magnifying-glass, +so cunningly must you fit the edges to each other. Finally, take your +background colours, and put them on each side of the tree-trunk, fitting +them carefully to its edge. + +Fine work you would make of this, wouldn't you, if you had not learned +to draw first, and could not now draw a good outline for the stem, much +less terminate a colour mass in the outline you wanted? + +Your work will look very odd for some time, when you first begin to +paint in this way, and before you can modify it, as I shall tell you +presently how; but never mind; it is of the greatest possible importance +that you should practice this separate laying on of the hues, for all +good colouring finally depends on it. It is, indeed, often necessary, +and sometimes desirable, to lay one colour and form boldly over another: +thus, in laying leaves on blue sky, it is impossible always in large +pictures, or when pressed for time, to fill in the blue through the +interstices of the leaves; and the great Venetians constantly lay their +blue ground first, and then, having let it dry, strike the golden brown +over it in the form of the leaf, leaving the under blue to shine through +the gold, and subdue it to the olive green they want. But in the most +precious and perfect work each leaf is inlaid, and the blue worked round +it: and, whether you use one or other mode of getting your result, it is +equally necessary to be absolute and decisive in your laying the colour. +Either your ground must be laid firmly first, and then your upper colour +struck upon it in perfect form, for ever, thenceforward, unalterable; or +else the two colours must be individually put in their places, and led +up to each other till they meet at their appointed border, equally, +thenceforward, unchangeable. Either process, you see, involves +_absolute_ decision. If you once begin to slur, or change, or sketch, or +try this way and that with your colour, it is all over with it and with +you. You will continually see bad copyists trying to imitate the +Venetians, by daubing their colours about, and retouching, and +finishing, and softening: when every touch and every added hue only lead +them farther into chaos. There is a dog between two children in a +Veronese in the Louvre, which gives the copyist much employment. He has +a dark ground behind him, which Veronese has painted first, and then +when it was dry, or nearly so, struck the locks of the dog's white hair +over it with some half-dozen curling sweeps of his brush, right at once, +and forever. Had one line or hair of them gone wrong, it would have been +wrong forever; no retouching could have mended it. The poor copyists +daub in first some background, and then some dog's hair; then retouch +the background, then the hair, work for hours at it, expecting it always +to come right to-morrow--"when it is finished." They _may_ work for +centuries at it, and they will never do it. If they can do it with +Veronese's allowance of work, half a dozen sweeps of the hand over the +dark background, well; if not, they may ask the dog himself whether it +will ever come right, and get true answer from him--on Launce's +conditions: "If he say 'ay,' it will; if he say 'no,' it will; if he +shake his tail and say nothing, it will." + +Whenever you lay on a mass of colour, be sure that however large it may +be, or however small, it shall be gradated. No colour exists in Nature +under ordinary circumstances without gradation. If you do not see this, +it is the fault of your inexperience; you _will_ see it in due time, if +you practise enough. But in general you may see it at once. In the birch +trunk, for instance, the rosy grey _must_ be gradated by the roundness +of the stem till it meets the shaded side; similarly the shaded side is +gradated by reflected, light. Accordingly, whether by adding water, or +white paint, or by unequal force of touch (this you will do at pleasure, +according to the texture you wish to produce), you must, in every tint +you lay on, make it a little paler at one part than another, and get an +even gradation between the two depths. This is very like laying down a +formal law or recipe for you; but you will find it is merely the +assertion of a natural fact. It is not indeed physically impossible to +meet with an ungradated piece of colour, but it is so supremely +improbable, that you had better get into the habit of asking yourself +invariably, when you are going to copy a tint,--not "_Is_ that +gradated?" but "_Which way_ is it gradated?" and at least in ninety-nine +out of a hundred instances, you will be able to answer decisively after +a careful glance, though the gradation may have been so subtle that you +did not see it at first. And it does not matter how small the touch of +colour may be, though not larger than the smallest pin's head, if one +part of it is not darker than the rest, it is a bad touch; for it is not +merely because the natural fact is so, that your colour should be +gradated; the preciousness and pleasantness of the colour itself depends +more on this than on any other of its qualities, for gradation is to +colours just what curvature is to lines, both being felt to be beautiful +by the pure instinct of every human mind, and both, considered as types, +expressing the law of gradual change and progress in the human soul +itself. What the difference is in mere beauty between a gradated and +ungradated colour, may be seen easily by laying an even tint of +rose-colour on paper, and putting a rose leaf beside it. The victorious +beauty of the rose as compared with other flowers, depends wholly on the +delicacy and quantity of its colour gradations, all other flowers being +either less rich in gradation, not having so many folds of leaf; or less +tender, being patched and veined instead of flushed. + +4. But observe, it is not enough in general that colour should be +gradated by being made merely paler or darker at one place than another. +Generally colour _changes_ as it _diminishes_, and is not merely +_darker_ at one spot, but also _purer_ at one spot than anywhere else. +It does not in the least follow that the darkest spot should be the +purest; still less so that the lightest should be the purest. Very often +the two gradations more or less cross each other, one passing in one +direction from paleness to darkness, another in another direction from +purity to dullness, but there will almost always be both of them, +however reconciled; and you must never be satisfied with a piece of +colour until you have got both: that is to say, every piece of blue that +you lay on must be _quite_ blue only at some given spot, nor that a +large spot; and must be gradated from that into less pure blue--greyish +blue, or greenish blue, or purplish blue, over all the rest of the space +it occupies. And this you must do in one of three ways: either, while +the colour is wet, mix it with the colour which is to subdue it, adding +gradually a little more and a little more; or else, when the colour is +quite dry, strike a gradated touch of another colour over it, leaving +only a point of the first tint visible: or else, lay the subduing tints +on in small touches, as in the exercise of tinting the chess-board. Of +each of these methods I have something to tell you separately: but that +is distinct from the subject of gradation, which I must not quit without +once more pressing upon you the preëminent necessity of introducing it +everywhere. I have profound dislike of anything like _habit_ of hand, +and yet, in this one instance, I feel almost tempted to encourage you to +get into a habit of never touching paper with colour, without securing a +gradation. You will not in Turner's largest oil pictures, perhaps six or +seven feet long by four or five high, find one spot of colour as large +as a grain of wheat ungradated: and you will find in practice, that +brilliancy of hue, and vigour of light, and even the aspect of +transparency in shade, are essentially dependent on this character +alone; hardness, coldness, and opacity resulting far more from +_equality_ of colour than from nature of colour. Give me some mud off a +city crossing, some ochre out of a gravel pit, a little whitening, and +some coal-dust, and I will paint you a luminous picture, if you give me +time to gradate my mud, and subdue my dust: but though you had the red +of the ruby, the blue of the gentian, snow for the light, and amber for +the gold, you cannot paint a luminous picture, if you keep the masses of +those colours unbroken in purity, and unvarying in depth. + +5. Next note the three processes by which gradation and other characters +are to be obtained: + +A. Mixing while the colour is wet. + +You may be confused by my first telling you to lay on the hues in +separate patches, and then telling you to mix hues together as you lay +them on: but the separate masses are to be laid, when colours distinctly +oppose each other at a given limit; the hues to be mixed, when they +palpitate one through the other, or fade one into the other. It is +better to err a little on the distinct side. Thus I told you to paint +the dark and light sides of the birch trunk separately, though in +reality, the two tints change, as the trunk turns away from the light, +gradually one into the other: and, after being laid separately on, will +need some farther touching to harmonize them: but they do so in a very +narrow space, marked distinctly all the way up the trunk; and it is +easier and safer, therefore, to keep them separate at first. Whereas it +often happens that the whole beauty of two colours will depend on the +one being continued well through the other, and playing in the midst of +it: blue and green often do so in water: blue and grey, or purple and +scarlet, in sky; in hundreds of such instances the most beautiful and +truthful results may be obtained by laying one colour into the other +while wet; judging wisely how far it will spread, or blending it with +the brush in somewhat thicker consistence of wet body-colour; only +observe, never mix in this way two _mixtures_; let the colour you lay +into the other be always a simple, not a compound tint. + +B. Laying one colour over another. + +If you lay on a solid touch of vermilion, and, after it is quite dry, +strike a little very wet carmine quickly over it, you will obtain a much +more brilliant red than by mixing the carmine and vermilion. Similarly, +if you lay a dark colour first, and strike a little blue or white +body-colour lightly over it, you will get a more beautiful grey than by +mixing the colour and the blue or white. In very perfect painting, +artifices of this kind are continually used; but I would not have you +trust much to them; they are apt to make you think too much of quality +of colour. I should like you to depend on little more than the dead +colours, simply laid on, only observe always this, that the _less_ +colour you do the work with, the better it will always be:[240] so that +if you have laid a red colour, and you want a purple one above, do not +mix the purple on your palette and lay it on so thick as to overpower +the red, but take a little thin blue from your palette, and lay it +lightly over the red, so as to let the red be seen through, and thus +produce the required purple; and if you want a green hue over a blue +one, do not lay a quantity of green on the blue, but a _little_ yellow, +and so on, always bringing the under colour into service as far as you +possibly can. If, however, the colour beneath is wholly opposed to the +one you have to lay on, as, suppose, if green is to be laid over +scarlet, you must either remove the required parts of the under colour +daintily first with your knife, or with water; or else, lay solid white +over it massively, and leave that to dry, and then glaze the white with +the upper colour. This is better, in general, than laying the upper +colour itself so thick as to conquer the ground, which, in fact, if it +be a transparent colour, you cannot do. Thus, if you have to strike +warm boughs and leaves of trees over blue sky, and they are too +intricate to have their places left for them in laying the blue, it is +better to lay them first in solid white, and then glaze with sienna and +ochre, than to mix the sienna and white; though, of course, the process +is longer and more troublesome. Nevertheless, if the forms of touches +required are very delicate, the after glazing is impossible. You must +then mix the warm colour thick at once, and so use it: and this is often +necessary for delicate grasses, and such other fine threads of light in +foreground work. + +C. Breaking one colour in small points through or over another. + +This is the most important of all processes in good modern[241] oil and +water-colour painting, but you need not hope to attain very great skill +in it. To do it well is very laborious, and requires such skill and +delicacy of hand as can only be acquired by unceasing practice. But you +will find advantage in noting the following points: + +(_a._) In distant effects of rich subjects, wood, or rippled water, or +broken clouds, much may be done by touches or crumbling dashes of rather +dry colour, with other colours afterwards put cunningly into the +interstices. The more you practise this, when the subject evidently +calls for it, the more your eye will enjoy the higher qualities of +colour. The process is, in fact, the carrying out of the principle of +separate colours to the utmost possible refinement; using atoms of +colour in juxtaposition, instead of large spaces. And note, in filling +up minute interstices of this kind, that if you want the colour you fill +them with to show brightly, it is better to put a rather positive point +of it, with a little white left beside or round it in the interstice, +than to put a pale tint of the colour over the whole interstice. Yellow +or orange will hardly show, if pale, in small spaces; but they show +brightly in firm touches, however small, with white beside them. + +(_b._) If a colour is to be darkened by superimposed portions of +another, it is, in many cases, better to lay the uppermost colour in +rather vigorous small touches, like finely chopped straw, over the under +one, than to lay it on as a tint, for two reasons: the first, that the +play of the two colours together is pleasant to the eye; the second, +that much expression of form may be got by wise administration of the +upper dark touches. In distant mountains they may be made pines of, or +broken crags, or villages, or stones, or whatever you choose; in clouds +they may indicate the direction of the rain, the roll and outline of the +cloud masses; and in water, the minor waves. All noble effects of dark +atmosphere are got in good water-colour drawing by these two expedients, +interlacing the colours, or retouching the lower one with fine darker +drawing in an upper. Sponging and washing for dark atmospheric effect is +barbarous, and mere tyro's work, though it is often useful for passages +of delicate atmospheric light. + +(_c._) When you have time, practice the production of mixed tints by +interlaced touches of the pure colours out of which they are formed, and +use the process at the parts of your sketches where you wish to get rich +and luscious effects. Study the works of William Hunt, of the Old +Water-colour Society, in this respect, continually, and make frequent +memoranda of the variegations in flowers; not painting the flower +completely, but laying the ground colour of one petal, and painting the +spots on it with studious precision: a series of single petals of +lilies, geraniums, tulips, &c., numbered with proper reference to their +position in the flower, will be interesting to you on many grounds +besides those of art. Be careful to get the _gradated_ distribution of +the spots well followed in the calceolarias, foxgloves, and the like; +and work out the odd, indefinite hues of the spots themselves with +minute grains of pure interlaced colour, otherwise you will never get +their richness of bloom. You will be surprised to find, as you do this, +first the universality of the law of gradation we have so much insisted +upon; secondly, that Nature is just as economical of _her_ fine colours +as I have told you to be of yours. You would think, by the way she +paints, that her colours cost her something enormous: she will only give +you a single pure touch just where the petal turns into light; but down +in the bell all is subdued, and under the petal all is subdued, even in +the showiest flower. What you thought was bright blue is, when you look +close, only dusty grey, or green, or purple, or every colour in the +world at once, only a single gleam or streak of pure blue in the centre +of it. And so with all her colours. Sometimes I have really thought her +miserliness intolerable: in a gentian, for instance, the way she +economises her ultramarine down in the bell is a little too bad. + +Next, respecting general tone. I said, just now, that, for the sake of +students, my tax should not be laid on black or on white pigments; but +if you mean to be a colourist, you must lay a tax on them yourselves +when you begin to use true colour; that is to say, you must use them +little and make of them much. There is no better test of your colour +tones being good, than your having made the white in your picture +precious, and the black conspicuous. + +I say, first, the white precious. I do not mean merely glittering or +brilliant; it is easy to scratch white seagulls out of black clouds and +dot clumsy foliage with chalky dew; but, when white is well managed, it +ought to be strangely delicious--tender as well as bright--like inlaid +mother of pearl, or white roses washed in milk. The eye ought to seek it +for rest, brilliant though it may be; and to feel it as a space of +strange, heavenly paleness in the midst of the flushing of the colours. +This effect you can only reach by general depth of middle tint, by +absolutely refusing to allow any white to exist except where you need +it, and by keeping the white itself subdued by grey, except at a few +points of chief lustre. + +Secondly, you must make the black conspicuous. However small a point of +black may be, it ought to catch the eye, otherwise your work is too +heavy in the shadow. All the ordinary shadows should be of some +_colour_--never black, nor approaching black, they should be evidently +and always of a luminous nature, and the black should look strange among +them; never occurring except in a black object, or in small points +indicative of intense shade in the very centre of masses of shadow. +Shadows of absolutely negative grey, however, may be beautifully used +with white, or with gold; but still though the black thus, in subdued +strength, becomes _spacious_, it should always be _conspicuous_; the +spectator should notice this grey neutrality with some wonder, and +enjoy, all the more intensely on account of it, the gold colour and the +white which it relieves. Of all the great colourists Velasquez is the +greatest master of the black chords. His black is more precious than +most other people's crimson. + +It is not, however, only white and black which you must make valuable; +you must give rare worth to every colour you use; but the white and +black ought to separate themselves quaintly from the rest, while the +other colours should be continually passing one into the other, being +all evidently companions in the same gay world; while the white, black, +and neutral grey should stand monkishly aloof in the midst of them. You +may melt your crimson into purple, your purple into blue and your blue +into green, but you must not melt any of them into black. You should, +however, try, as I said, to give _preciousness_ to all your colours; and +this especially by never using a grain more than will just do the work, +and giving each hue the highest value by opposition. All fine colouring, +like fine drawing, is _delicate_; and so delicate that if, at last, you +_see_ the colour you are putting on, you are putting on too much. You +ought to feel a change wrought in the general tone, by touches of colour +which individually are too pale to be seen; and if there is one atom of +any colour in the whole picture which is unnecessary to it, that atom +hurts it. + +Notice also, that nearly all good compound colours are _odd_ colours. +You shall look at a hue in a good painter's work ten minutes before you +know what to call it. You thought it was brown, presently, you feel that +it is red; next that there is, somehow, yellow in it; presently +afterwards that there is blue in it. If you try to copy it you will +always find your colour too warm or too cold--no colour in the box will +seem to have any affinity with it; and yet it will be as pure as if it +were laid at a single touch with a single colour. + +As to the choice and harmony of colours in general, if you cannot +choose and harmonize them by instinct, you will never do it at all. If +you need examples of utterly harsh and horrible colour, you may find +plenty given in treatises upon colouring, to illustrate the laws of +harmony; and if you want to colour beautifully, colour as best pleases +yourself at _quiet times_, not so as to catch the eye, nor to look as if +it were clever or difficult to colour in that way, but so that the +colour may be pleasant to you when you are happy, or thoughtful. Look +much at the morning and evening sky, and much at simple +flowers--dog-roses, wood hyacinths, violets, poppies, thistles, heather, +and such like--as Nature arranges them in the woods and fields. If ever +any scientific person tells you that two colours are "discordant," make +a note of the two colours, and put them together whenever you can. I +have actually heard people say that blue and green were discordant; the +two colours which Nature seems to intend never to be separated and never +to be felt, either of them, in its full beauty without the other!--a +peacock's neck, or a blue sky through green leaves, or a blue wave with +green lights though it, being precisely the loveliest things, next to +clouds at sunrise, in this coloured world of ours. If you have a good +eye for colours, you will soon find out how constantly Nature puts +purple and green together, purple and scarlet, green and blue, yellow +and neutral grey, and the like; and how she strikes these +colour-concords for general tones, and then works into them with +innumerable subordinate ones; and you will gradually come to like what +she does, and find out new and beautiful chords of colour in her work +every day. If you _enjoy_ them, depend upon it you will paint them to a +certain point right: or, at least, if you do not enjoy them, you are +certain to paint them wrong. If colour does not give you _intense_ +pleasure, let it alone; depend upon it, you are only tormenting the eyes +and senses of people who feel colour, whenever you touch it; and that is +unkind and improper. You will find, also, your power of colouring depend +much on your state of health and right balance of mind; when you are +fatigued or ill you will not see colours well, and when you are +ill-tempered you will not choose them well: thus, though not infallibly +a test of character in individuals, colour power is a great sign of +mental health in nations; when they are in a state of intellectual +decline, their colouring always gets dull.[242] You must also take great +care not to be misled by affected talk about colour from people who have +not the gift of it: numbers are eager and voluble about it who probably +never in all their lives received one genuine colour-sensation. The +modern religionists of the school of Overbeck are just like people who +eat slate-pencil and chalk, and assure everybody that they are nicer and +purer than strawberries and plums. + +Take care also never to be misled into any idea that colour can help or +display _form_; colour[243] always disguises form, and is meant to do +so. + +It is a favourite dogma among modern writers on colour that "warm +colours" (reds and yellows) "approach" or express nearness, and "cold +colours" (blue and grey) "retire" or express distance. So far is this +from being the case, that no expression of distance in the world is so +great as that of the gold and orange in twilight sky. Colours, as such, +are ABSOLUTELY inexpressive respecting distance. It is their _quality_ +(as depth, delicacy, &c.) which expresses distance, not their tint. A +blue bandbox set on the same shelf with a yellow one will not look an +inch farther off, but a red or orange cloud, in the upper sky, will +always appear to be beyond a blue cloud close to us, as it is in +reality. It is quite true that in certain objects, blue is a _sign_ of +distance; but that is not because blue is a retiring colour, but because +the mist in the air is blue, and therefore any warm colour which has not +strength of light enough to pierce the mist is lost or subdued in its +blue: but blue is no more, on this account, a "retiring colour," than +brown is a retiring colour, because, when stones are seen through brown +water, the deeper they lie the browner they look; or than yellow is a +retiring colour, because when objects are seen through a London fog, the +farther off they are the yellower they look. Neither blue, nor yellow, +nor red, can have, as such, the _smallest_ power of expressing either +nearness or distance: they express them only under the peculiar +circumstances which render them at the moment, or in that place, _signs_ +of nearness or distance. Thus, vivid orange in an orange is a sign of +nearness, for if you put the orange a great way off, its colour will not +look so bright; but vivid orange in sky is a sign of distance, because +you cannot get the colour of orange in a cloud near you. So purple in a +violet or a hyacinth is a sign of nearness, because the closer you look +at them the more purple you see. But purple in a mountain is a sign of +distance, because a mountain close to you is not purple, but green or +grey. It may, indeed, be generally assumed that a tender or pale colour +will more or less express distance, and a powerful or dark colour +nearness; but even this is not always so. Heathery hills will usually +give a pale and tender purple near, and an intense and dark purple far +away; the rose colour of sunset on snow is pale on the snow at your +feet, deep and full on the snow in the distance; and the green of a +Swiss lake is pale in the clear waves on the beach, but intense as an +emerald in the sunstreak, six miles from shore. And in any case, when +the foreground is in strong light, with much water about it, or white +surface, casting intense reflections, all its colours may be perfectly +delicate, pale, and faint; while the distance, when it is in shadow, may +relieve the whole foreground with intense darks of purple, blue green, +or ultramarine blue. So that, on the whole, it is quite hopeless and +absurd to expect any help from laws of "aërial perspective." Look for +the natural effects, and set them down as fully as you can, and as +faithfully, and _never_ alter a colour because it won't look in its +right place. Put the colour strong, if it be strong, though far off; +faint, if it be faint, though close to you. Why should you suppose that +Nature always means you to know exactly how far one thing is from +another? She certainly intends you always to enjoy her colouring, but +she does not wish you always to measure her space. You would be hard put +to it, every time you painted the sun setting, if you had to express his +95,000,000 miles of distance in "aërial perspective." + +There is, however, I think, one law about distance, which has some +claims to be considered a constant one: namely, that dullness and +heaviness of colour are more or less indicative of nearness. All distant +colour is _pure_ colour: it may not be bright, but it is clear and +lovely, not opaque nor soiled; for the air and light coming between us +and any earthy or imperfect colour, purify or harmonise it; hence a bad +colourist is peculiarly incapable of expressing distance. I do not of +course mean that you are to use bad colours in your foreground by way of +making it come forward; but only that a failure in colour, there, will +not put it out of its place; while a failure in colour in the distance +will at once do away with its remoteness: your dull-coloured foreground +will still be a foreground, though ill-painted; but your ill-painted +distance will not be merely a dull distance,--it will be no distance at +all. + +I have only one thing more to advise you, namely, never to colour +petulantly or hurriedly. You will not, indeed, be able, if you attend +properly to your colouring, to get anything like the quantity of form +you could in a chiaroscuro sketch; nevertheless, if you do not dash or +rush at your work, nor do it lazily, you may always get enough form to +be satisfactory. An extra quarter of an hour, distributed in quietness +over the course of the whole study, may just make the difference +between a quite intelligible drawing, and a slovenly and obscure one. If +you determine well beforehand what outline each piece of colour is to +have; and, when it is on the paper, guide it without nervousness, as far +as you can, into the form required; and then, after it is dry, consider +thoroughly what touches are needed to complete it, before laying one of +them on; you will be surprised to find how masterly the work will soon +look, as compared with a hurried or ill-considered sketch. In no process +that I know of--least of all in sketching--can time be really gained by +precipitation. It is gained only by caution; and gained in all sorts of +ways: for not only truth of form, but force of light, is always added by +an intelligent and shapely laying of the shadow colours. You may often +make a simple flat tint, rightly gradated and edged, express a +complicated piece of subject without a single retouch. The two Swiss +cottages, for instance, with their balconies, and glittering windows, +and general character of shingly eaves, are expressed in Fig. 30., with +one tint of grey, and a few dispersed spots and lines of it; all of +which you ought to be able to lay on without more than thrice dipping +your brush, and without a single touch after the tint is dry. + +[Illustration: FIG. 30.] + +Here, then, for I cannot without coloured illustrations tell you more, I +must leave you to follow out the subject for yourself, with such help as +you may receive from the water-colour drawings accessible to you; or +from any of the little treatises on their art which have been published +lately by our water-colour painters.[244] But do not trust much to works +of this kind. You may get valuable hints from them as to mixture of +colours; and here and there you will find a useful artifice or process +explained; but nearly all such books are written only to help idle +amateurs to a meretricious skill, and they are full of precepts and +principles which may, for the most part, be interpreted by their +_precise_ negatives, and then acted upon, with advantage. Most of them +praise boldness, when the only safe attendant spirit of a beginner is +caution;--advise velocity, when the first condition of success is +deliberation;--and plead for generalisation, when all the foundations of +power must be laid in knowledge of specialty. + +And now, in the last place, I have a few things to tell you respecting +that dangerous nobleness of consummate art,--COMPOSITION. For though it +is quite unnecessary for you yet awhile to attempt it, and it _may_ be +inexpedient for you to attempt it at all, you ought to know what it +means, and to look for and enjoy it in the art of others. + +Composition means, literally and simply, putting several things +together, so as to make _one_ thing out of them; the nature and goodness +of which they all have a share in producing. Thus a musician composes an +air, by putting notes together in certain relations; a poet composes a +poem; by putting thoughts and words in pleasant order; and a painter a +picture, by putting thoughts, forms, and colours in pleasant order. + +In all these cases, observe, an intended unity must be the result of +composition. A paviour cannot be said to compose the heap of stones +which he empties from his cart, nor the sower the handful of seed which +he scatters from his hand. It is the essence of composition that +everything should be in a determined place, perform an intended part, +and act, in that part, advantageously for everything that is connected +with it. + +Composition, understood in this pure sense, is the type, in the arts of +mankind, of the Providential government of the world.[245] It is an +exhibition, in the order given to notes, or colours, or forms, of the +advantage of perfect fellowship, discipline, and contentment. In a +well-composed air, no note, however short or low, can be spared, but the +least is as necessary as the greatest: no note, however prolonged, is +tedious; but the others prepare for, and are benefited by, its duration; +no note, however high, is tyrannous; the others prepare for and are +benefited by, its exaltation: no note, however low, is overpowered, the +others prepare for, and sympathise with, its humility: and the result +is, that each and every note has a value in the position assigned to it, +which by itself, it never possessed, and of which by separation from the +others, it would instantly be deprived. + +Similarly, in a good poem, each word and thought enhances the value of +those which precede and follow it; and every syllable has a loveliness +which depends not so much on its abstract sound as on its position. Look +at the same word in a dictionary, and you will hardly recognise it. + +Much more in a great picture; every line and colour is so arranged as to +advantage the rest. None are inessential, however slight; and none are +independent, however forcible. It is not enough that they truly +represent natural objects; but they must fit into certain places, and +gather into certain harmonious groups: so that, for instance, the red +chimney of a cottage is not merely set in its place as a chimney, but +that it may affect, in a certain way pleasurable to the eye, the pieces +of green or blue in other parts of the picture; and we ought to see that +the work is masterly, merely by the positions and quantities of these +patches of green, red, and blue, even at a distance which renders it +perfectly impossible to determine what the colours represent: or to see +whether the red is a chimney, or an old woman's cloak; and whether the +blue is smoke, sky, or water. + +It seems to be appointed, in order to remind us, in all we do, of the +great laws of Divine government and human polity, that composition in +the arts should strongly affect every order of mind, however unlearned +or thoughtless. Hence the popular delight in rhythm and metre, and in +simple musical melodies. But it is also appointed that _power_ of +composition in the fine arts should be an exclusive attribute of great +intellect All men can more or less copy what they see, and, more or +less, remember it: powers of reflection and investigation are also +common to us all, so that the decision of inferiority in these rests +only on questions of _degree_. A. has a better memory than B., and C. +reflects more profoundly than D. But the gift of composition is not +given _at all_ to more than one man in a thousand; in its highest range, +it does not occur above three or four times in a century. + +It follows, from these general truths, that it is impossible to give +rules which will enable you to compose. You might much more easily +receive rules to enable you to be witty. If it were possible to be witty +by rule, wit would cease to be either admirable or amusing: if it were +possible to compose melody by rule, Mozart and Cimarosa need not have +been born: if it were possible to compose pictures by rule, Titian and +Veronese would be ordinary men. The essence of composition lies +precisely in the fact of its being unteachable, in its being the +operation of an individual mind of range and power exalted above others. + +But though no one can _invent_ by rule, there are some simple laws of +arrangement which it is well for you to know, because, though they will +not enable you to produce a good picture, they will often assist you to +set forth what goodness may be in your work in a more telling way than +you could have done otherwise; and by tracing them in the work of good +composers, you may better understand the grasp of their imagination, and +the power it possesses over their materials I shall briefly state the +chief of these laws. + + +1. THE LAW OF PRINCIPALITY. + +The great object of composition being always to secure unity; that is, +to make out of many things one whole; the first mode in which this can +be effected is, by determining that _one_ feature shall be more +important than all the rest, and that the others shall group with it in +subordinate positions. + +This is the simplest law of ordinary ornamentation. Thus the group of +two leaves, _a_, Fig. 31., is unsatisfactory, because it has no leading +leaf; but that at _b_ _is_ prettier, because it has a head or master +leaf; and _c_ more satisfactory still, because the subordination of the +other members to this head leaf is made more manifest by their gradual +loss of size as they fall back from it. Hence part of the pleasure we +have in the Greek honeysuckle ornament, and such others. + +[Illustration: FIG. 31.] + +Thus, also, good pictures have always one light larger or brighter than +the other lights, or one figure more prominent than the other figures, +or one mass of colour dominant over all the other masses; and in general +you will find it much benefit your sketch if you manage that there shall +be one light on the cottage wall, or one blue cloud in the sky, which +may attract the eye as leading light, or leading gloom, above all +others. But the observance of the rule is often so cunningly concealed +by the great composers, that its force is hardly at first traceable; and +you will generally find that they are vulgar pictures in which the law +is _strikingly_ manifest. This may be simply illustrated by musical +melody; for instance, in such phrases as this: + +[Illustration] + +one note (here the upper G) rules the whole passage, and has the full +energy of it concentrated in itself. Such passages, corresponding to +completely subordinated compositions in painting, are apt to be +wearisome if often repeated. But in such a phrase as this: + +[Illustration] + +it is very difficult to say, which is the principal note. The A in the +last bar is lightly dominant, but there is a very equal current of +power running through the whole; and such passages rarely weary. And +this principle holds through vast scales of arrangement; so that in the +grandest compositions, such as Paul Veronese's Marriage in Cana, or +Raphael's Disputa, it is not easy to fix at once on the principal +figure; and very commonly the figure which is really chief does not +catch the eye at first, but is gradually felt to be more and more +conspicuous as we gaze. Thus in Titian's grand composition of the +Cornaro Family, the figure meant to be principal is a youth of fifteen +or sixteen, whose portrait it was evidently the painter's object to make +as interesting as possible. But a grand Madonna, and a St. George with a +drifting banner, and many figures more, occupy the centre of the +picture, and first catch the eye; little by little we are led away from +them to a gleam of pearly light in the lower corner, and find that, from +the head which it shines upon, we can turn our eyes no more. + +As, in every good picture, nearly all laws of design are more or less +exemplified, it will, on the whole, be an easier way of explaining them +to analyse one composition thoroughly, than to give instances from +various works. I shall therefore take one of Turner's simplest; which +will allow us, so to speak, easily to decompose it, and illustrate each +law by it as we proceed. + +Figure 32. is a rude sketch of the arrangement of the whole subject; the +old bridge over the Moselle at Coblentz, the town of Coblentz on the +right, Ehrenbreitstein on the left. The leading or master feature is, of +course the tower on the bridge. It is kept from being _too_ principal by +an important group on each side of it; the boats, on the right, and +Ehrenbreitstein beyond. The boats are large in mass, and more forcible +in colour, but they are broken into small divisions, while the tower is +simple, and therefore it still leads. Ehrenbreitstein is noble in its +mass, but so reduced by aërial perspective of colour that it cannot +contend with the tower, which therefore holds the eye, and becomes the +key of the picture. We shall see presently how the very objects which +seem at first to contend with it for the mastery are made, occultly to +increase its preëminence. + +[Illustration: FIG. 32.] + + +2. THE LAW OF REPETITION. + +Another important means of expressing unity is to mark some kind of +sympathy among the different objects, and perhaps the pleasantest, +because most surprising, kind of sympathy, is when one group imitates or +repeats another; not in the way of balance or symmetry, but +subordinately, like a far-away and broken echo of it. Prout has insisted +much on this law in all his writings on composition; and I think it is +even more authoritatively present in the minds of most great composers +than the law of principality. It is quite curious to see the pains that +Turner sometimes takes to echo an important passage of colour; in the +Pembroke Castle for instance, there are two fishing-boats, one with a +red, and another with a white sail. In a line with them, on the beach, +are two fish in precisely the same relative positions; one red and one +white. It is observable that he uses the artifice chiefly in pictures +where he wishes to obtain an expression of repose: in my notice of the +plate of Scarborough, in the series of the "Harbours of England," I have +already had occasion to dwell on this point, and I extract in the +note[246] one or two sentences which explain the principle. In the +composition I have chosen for our illustration, this reduplication is +employed to a singular extent. The tower, or leading feature, is first +repeated by the low echo of it to the left; put your finger over this +lower tower, and see how the picture is spoiled. Then the spires of +Coblentz are all arranged in couples (how they are arranged in reality +does not matter; when we are composing a great picture, we must play the +towers about till they come right, as fearlessly as if they were +chessmen instead of cathedrals). The dual arrangement of these towers +would have been too easily seen, were it not for a little one which +pretends to make a triad of the last group on the right, but is so faint +as hardly to be discernible: it just takes off the attention from the +artifice, helped in doing so by the mast at the head of the boat, which, +however, has instantly its own duplicate put at the stern.[247] Then +there is the large boat near, and its echo beyond it. That echo is +divided into two again, and each of those two smaller boats has two +figures in it; while two figures are also sitting together on the great +rudder that lies half in the water, and half aground. Then, finally, the +great mass of Ehrenbreitstein, which appears at first to have no +answering form, has almost its _facsimile_ in the bank on which the girl +is sitting; this bank is as absolutely essential to the completion of +the picture as any object in the whole series. All this is done to +deepen the effect of repose. + +Symmetry or the balance of parts or masses in nearly equal opposition, +is one of the conditions of treatment under the law of Repetition. For +the opposition, in a symmetrical object, is of like things reflecting +each other; it is not the balance of contrary natures (like that of day +and night) but of like natures or like forms; one side of a leaf being +set like the reflection of the other in water. + +Symmetry in Nature is, however, never formal nor accurate. She takes the +greatest care to secure some difference between the corresponding things +or parts of things; and an approximation to accurate symmetry is only +permitted in animals because their motions secure perpetual difference +between the balancing parts. Stand before a mirror; hold your arms in +precisely the same position at each side, your head upright your body +straight; divide your hair exactly in the middle, and get it as nearly +as you can into exactly the same shape over each ear, and you will see +the effect of accurate symmetry; you will see, no less, how all grace +and power in the human form result from the interference of motion and +life with symmetry, and from the reconciliation of its balance with its +changefulness. Your position, as seen in the mirror, is the highest type +of symmetry as understood by modern architects. + +In many sacred compositions, living symmetry, the balance of harmonious +opposites, is one of the profoundest sources of their power: almost any +works of the early painters, Angelico, Perugino, Giotto, &c., will +furnish you with notable instances of it. The Madonna of Perugino in the +National Gallery, with the angel Michael on one side and Raphael on the +other, is as beautiful an example as you can have. + +In landscape, the principle of balance is more or less carried out in +proportion to the wish of the painter to express disciplined calmness. +In bad compositions as in bad architecture, it is formal, a tree on one +side answering a tree on the other; but in good compositions, as in +graceful statues, it is always easy, and sometimes hardly traceable. In +the Coblentz, however, you cannot have much difficulty in seeing how the +boats on one side of the tower and the figures on the other are set in +nearly equal balance; the tower, as a central mass uniting both. + + +3. THE LAW OF CONTINUITY. + +Another important and pleasurable way of expressing unity is by giving +some orderly succession to a number of objects more or less similar. And +this succession is most interesting when it is connected with some +gradual change in the aspect or character of the objects. Thus the +succession of the pillars of a cathedral aisle is most interesting when +they retire in perspective, becoming more and more obscure in distance; +so the succession of mountain promontories one behind another, on the +flanks of a valley; so the succession of clouds, fading farther and +farther towards the horizon; each promontory and each cloud being of +different shape, yet all evidently following in a calm and appointed +order. If there be no change at all in the shape or size of the objects, +there is no continuity; there is only repetition--monotony. It is the +change in shape which suggests the idea of their being individually +free, and able to escape, if they liked, from the law that rules them, +and yet submitting to it. I will leave our chosen illustrative +composition for a moment to take up another, still more expressive of +this law. It is one of Turner's most tender studies, a sketch on Calais +Sands at sunset; so delicate in the expression of wave and cloud, that +it is of no use for me to try to reach it with any kind of outline in a +woodcut; but the rough sketch, Fig. 33., is enough to give an idea of +its arrangement. The aim of the painter has been to give the intensest +expression of repose, together with the enchanted lulling, monotonous +motion of cloud and wave. All the clouds are moving in innumerable ranks +after the sun, meeting towards the point in the horizon where he has +set; and the tidal waves gain in winding currents upon the sand, with +that stealthy haste in which they cross each other so quietly, at their +edges: just folding one over another as they meet, like a little piece +of ruffled silk, and leaping up a little as two children kiss and clap +their hands, and then going on again, each in its silent hurry, drawing +pointed arches on the sand as their thin edges intersect in parting; but +all this would not have been enough expressed without the line of the +old pier-timbers, black with weeds, strained and bent by the storm +waves, and now seeming to stoop in following one another, like dark +ghosts escaping slowly from the cruelty of the pursuing sea. + +I need not, I hope, point out to the reader the illustration of this law +of continuance in the subject chosen for our general illustration. It +was simply that gradual succession of the retiring arches of the bridge +which induced Turner to paint the subject at all; and it was this same +principle which led him always to seize on subjects including long +bridges where-ever he could find them; but especially, observe, unequal +bridges, having the highest arch at one side rather than at the centre. +There is a reason for this, irrespective of general laws of composition, +and connected with the nature of rivers, which I may as well stop a +minute to tell you about, and let you rest from the study of +composition. + +[Illustration: FIG. 33.] + +All rivers, small or large, agree in one character, they like to lean a +little on one side: they cannot bear to have their channels deepest in +the middle, but will always, if they can, have one bank to sun +themselves upon, and another to get cool under; one shingly shore to +play over, where they may be shallow, and foolish, and childlike, and +another steep shore, under which they can pause, and purify themselves, +and get their strength of waves fully together for due occasion. Rivers +in this way are just like wise men, who keep one side of their life for +play, and another for work; and can be brilliant, and chattering, and +transparent, when they are at ease, and yet take deep counsel on the +other side when they set themselves to their main purpose. And rivers +are just in this divided, also, like wicked and good men: the good +rivers have serviceable deep places all along their banks, that ships +can sail in; but the wicked rivers go scoopingly irregularly under their +banks until they get full of strangling eddies, which no boat can row +over without being twisted against the rocks; and pools like wells, +which no one can get out of but the water-kelpie that lives at the +bottom;--but, wicked or good, the rivers all agree in having two kinds +of sides. Now the natural way in which a village stonemason therefore +throws a bridge over a strong stream is, of course, to build a great +door to let the cat through, and little doors to let the kittens +through; a great arch for the great current, to give it room in flood +time, and little arches for the little currents along the shallow shore. +This, even without any prudential respect for the floods of the great +current, he would do in simple economy of work and stone; for the +smaller your arches are, the less material you want on their flanks. Two +arches over the same span of river, supposing the butments are at the +same depth, are cheaper than one, and that by a great deal; so that, +where the current is shallow, the village mason makes his arches many +and low; as the water gets deeper, and it becomes troublesome to build +his piers up from the bottom, he throws his arches wider; at last he +comes to the deep stream, and, as he cannot build at the bottom of that, +he throws his largest arch over it with a leap, and with another little +one or so gains the opposite shore. Of course as arches are wider they +must be higher, or they will not stand; so the roadway must rise as the +arches widen. And thus we have the general type of bridge, with its +highest and widest arch towards one side, and a train of minor arches +running over the flat shore on the other; usually a steep bank at the +river-side next the large arch; always, of course, a flat shore on the +side of the small ones; and the bend of the river assuredly concave +towards this flat, cutting round, with a sweep into the steep bank; or, +if there is no steep bank, still assuredly cutting into the shore at the +steep end of the bridge. + +Now this kind of bridge, sympathising, as it does, with the spirit of +the river, and marking the nature of the thing it has to deal with and +conquer, is the ideal of a bridge; and all endeavours to do the thing in +a grand engineer's manner, with a level roadway and equal arches, are +barbarous; not only because all monotonous forms are ugly in themselves, +but because the mind perceives at once that there has been cost +uselessly thrown away for the sake of formality.[248] + +Well, to return to our continuity. We see that the Turnerian bridge in +Fig. 32. is of the absolutely perfect type, and is still farther +interesting by having its main arch crowned by a watch-tower. But as I +want you to note especially what perhaps was not the case in the real +bridge, but is entirely Turner's doing, you will find that though the +arches diminish gradually, not one is _regularly_ diminished--they are +all of different shapes and sizes: you cannot see this clearly in 32., +but in the larger diagram, Fig. 34., opposite, you will with ease. This +is indeed also part of the ideal of a bridge, because the lateral +currents near the shore are of course irregular in size, and a simple +builder would naturally vary his arches accordingly; and also, if the +bottom was rocky, build his piers where the rocks came. But it is not as +a part of bridge ideal, but as a necessity of all noble composition, +that this irregularity is introduced by Turner. It at once raises the +object thus treated from the lower or vulgar unity of rigid law to the +greater unity of clouds, and waves, and trees, and human souls, each +different, each obedient, and each in harmonious service. + + +4. THE LAW OF CURVATURE. + +There is, however, another point to be noticed in this bridge of +Turner's. Not only does it slope away unequally at its sides, but it +slopes in a gradual though very subtle curve. And if you substitute a +straight line for this curve (drawing one with a rule from the base of +the tower on each side to the ends of the bridge, in Fig. 34., and +effacing the curve), you will instantly see that the design has suffered +grievously. You may ascertain, by experiment, that all beautiful objects +whatsoever are thus terminated by delicately curved lines, except where +the straight line is indispensable to their use or stability: and that +when a complete system of straight lines, throughout the form, is +necessary to that stability, as in crystals, the beauty, if any exists, +is in colour and transparency, not in form. Cut out the shape of any +crystal you like, in white wax or wood, and put it beside a white lily, +and you will feel the force of the curvature in its purity, irrespective +of added colour, or other interfering elements of beauty. + +[Illustration: FIG. 34.] + +Well, as curves are more beautiful than straight lines, it is necessary +to a good composition that its continuities of object, mass, or colour +should be, if possible, in curves, rather than straight lines or angular +ones. Perhaps one of the simplest and prettiest examples of a graceful +continuity of this kind is in the line traced at any moment by the corks +of a net as it is being drawn: nearly every person is more or less +attracted by the beauty of the dotted line. Now it is almost always +possible, not only to secure such a continuity in the arrangement or +boundaries of objects which, like these bridge arches or the corks of +the net, are actually connected with each other, but--and this is a +still more noble and interesting kind of continuity--among features +which appear at first entirely separate. Thus the towers of +Ehrenbreitstein, on the left, in Fig. 32., appear at first independent +of each other; but when I give their profile, on a larger scale, Fig. +35., the reader may easily perceive that there is a subtle cadence and +harmony among them. The reason of this is, that they are all bounded by +one grand curve, traced by the dotted line; out of the seven towers, +four precisely touch this curve, the others only falling back from it +here and there to keep the eye from discovering it too easily. + +[Illustration: FIG. 35.] + +And it is not only always _possible_ to obtain continuities of this +kind: it is, in drawing large forest or mountain forms essential to +truth. The towers of Ehrenbreitstein might or might not in reality fall +into such a curve, but assuredly the basalt rock on which they stand +did; for all mountain forms not cloven into absolute precipice, nor +covered by straight slopes of shales, are more or less governed by these +great curves, it being one of the aims of Nature in all her work to +produce them. The reader must already know this, if he has been able to +sketch at all among the mountains; if not, let him merely draw for +himself, carefully, the outlines of any low hills accessible to him, +where they are tolerably steep, or of the woods which grow on them. The +steeper shore of the Thames at Maidenhead, or any of the downs at +Brighton or Dover, or, even nearer, about Croydon (as Addington Hills), +are easily accessible to a Londoner; and he will soon find not only how +constant, but how graceful the curvature is. Graceful curvature is +distinguished from ungraceful by two characters: first, its moderation, +that is to say, its close approach to straightness in some parts of its +course;[249] and, secondly, by its variation, that is to say, its never +remaining equal in degree at different parts of its course. + +This variation is itself twofold in all good curves. + +[Illustration: FIG. 36.] + +A. There is, first, a steady change through the whole line from less to +more curvature, or more to less, so that _no_ part of the line is a +segment of a circle, or can be drawn by compasses in any way whatever. +Thus, in Fig. 36., _a_ is a bad curve, because it is part of a circle, +and is therefore monotonous throughout; but _b_ is a good curve, because +it continually changes its direction as it proceeds. + +[Illustration: FIG. 37.] + +The _first_ difference between good and bad drawing of tree boughs +consists in observance of this fact. Thus, when I put leaves on the line +_b_, as in Fig. 37., you can immediately feel the springiness of +character dependent on the changefulness of the curve. You may put +leaves on the other line for yourself, but you will find you cannot make +a right tree spray of it. For _all_ tree boughs, large or small, as well +as all noble natural lines whatsoever, agree in this character; and it +is a point of primal necessity that your eye should always seize and +your hand trace it. Here are two more portions of good curves, with +leaves put on them at the extremities instead of the flanks, Fig. 38.; +and two showing the arrangement of masses of foliage seen a little +farther off, Fig. 39., which you may in like manner amuse yourself by +turning into segments of circles--you will see with what result. I hope, +however, you have beside you by this time, many good studies of tree +boughs carefully made, in which you may study variations of curvature in +their most complicated and lovely forms.[250] + +[Illustration: FIG. 38.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 39.] + +B. Not only does every good curve vary in general tendency, but it is +modulated, as it proceeds, by myriads of subordinate curves. Thus the +outlines of a tree trunk are never as at _a_, Fig. 40, but as at _b_. So +also in waves, clouds, and all other nobly formed masses. Thus another +essential difference between good and bad drawing, or good and bad +sculpture, depends on the quantity and refinement of minor curvatures +carried, by good work, into the great lines. Strictly speaking, however, +this is not variation in large curves, but composition of large curves +out of small ones; it is an increase in the quantity of the beautiful +element, _but not a change in its nature_. + + +5. THE LAW OF RADIATION. + +[Illustration: FIG. 40.] + +We have hitherto been concerned only with the binding of our various +objects into beautiful lines or processions. The next point we have to +consider is, how we may unite these lines or processions themselves, so +as to make groups of _them_. + +Now, there are two kinds of harmonies of lines. One in which, moving +more or less side by side, they variously, but evidently with consent, +retire from or approach each other, intersect or oppose each other: +currents of melody in music, for different voices, thus approach and +cross, fall and rise, in harmony; so the waves of the sea, as they +approach the shore, flow into one another or cross, but with a great +unity through all; and so various lines of composition often flow +harmoniously through and across each other in a picture. But the most +simple and perfect connexion of lines is by radiation; that is, by their +all springing from one point, or closing towards it: and this harmony is +often, in Nature almost always, united with the other; as the boughs of +trees, though they intersect and play amongst each other irregularly, +indicate by their general tendency their origin from one root. An +essential part of the beauty of all vegetable form is in this radiation: +it is seen most simply in a single flower or leaf, as in a convolvulus +bell, or chestnut leaf; but more beautifully in the complicated +arrangements of the large boughs and sprays. For a leaf is only a flat +piece of radiation; but the tree throws its branches on all sides, and +even in every profile view of it, which presents a radiation more or +less correspondent to that of its leaves, it is more beautiful, because +varied by the freedom of the separate branches. I believe it has been +ascertained that, in all trees, the angle at which, in their leaves, the +lateral ribs are set on their central rib is approximately the same at +which the branches leave the great stem; and thus each section of the +tree would present a kind of magnified view of its own leaf, were it not +for the interfering force of gravity on the masses of foliage. This +force in proportion to their age, and the lateral leverage upon them, +bears them downwards at the extremities, so that, as before noticed, the +lower the bough grows on the stem, the more it droops (Fig. 17, p. +295.); besides this, nearly all beautiful trees have a tendency to +divide into two or more principal masses, which give a prettier and more +complicated symmetry than if one stem ran all the way up the centre. +Fig. 41. may thus be considered the simplest type of tree radiation, as +opposed to leaf radiation. In this figure, however, all secondary +ramification is unrepresented, for the sake of simplicity; but if we +take one half of such a tree, and merely give two secondary branches to +each main branch (as represented in the general branch structure shown +at _b_, Fig. 18., p. 296), we shall have the form, Fig. 42. This I +consider the perfect general type of tree structure; and it is curiously +connected with certain forms of Greek, Byzantine, and Gothic +ornamentation, into the discussion of which, however, we must not enter +here. It will be observed, that both in Figs. 41. and 42. all the +branches so spring from the main stem as very nearly to suggest their +united radiation from the root R. This is by no means universally the +case; but if the branches do not bend towards a point in the root, they +at least converge to some point or other. In the examples in Fig. 43., +the mathematical centre of curvature, _a_, is thus, in one case, on the +ground at some distance from the root, and in the other, near the top of +the tree. Half, only, of each tree is given, for the sake of clearness: +Fig. 44. gives both sides of another example, in which the origins of +curvature are below the root. As the positions of such points may be +varied without end, and as the arrangement of the lines is also farther +complicated by the fact of the boughs springing for the most part in a +spiral order round the tree, and at proportionate distances, the systems +of curvature which regulate the form of vegetation are quite infinite. +Infinite is a word easily said, and easily written, and people do not +always mean it when they say it; in this case I _do_ mean it; the number +of systems is incalculable, and even to furnish any thing like a +representative number of types, I should have to give several hundreds +of figures such as Fig. 44.[251] + +[Illustration: FIG. 41.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 42.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 43.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 44.] + +Thus far, however, we have only been speaking of the great relations of +stem and branches. The forms of the branches themselves are regulated by +still more subtle laws, for they occupy an intermediate position between +the form of the tree and of the leaf. The leaf has a flat ramification; +the tree a completely rounded one; the bough is neither rounded nor +flat, but has a structure exactly balanced between the two, in a +half-flattened, half-rounded flake, closely resembling in shape one of +the thick leaves of an artichoke or the flake of a fir cone; by +combination forming the solid mass of the tree, as the leaves compose +the artichoke head. I have before pointed out to you the general +resemblance of these branch flakes to an extended hand; but they may be +more accurately represented by the ribs of a boat. If you can imagine a +very broad-headed and flattened boat applied by its keel to the end of a +main branch,[252] as in Fig. 45., the lines which its ribs will take, +and the general contour of it, as seen in different directions, from +above and below; and from one side and another, will give you the +closest approximation to the perspectives and foreshortenings of a +well-grown branch-flake. Fig. 25. above, page 316., is an unharmed and +unrestrained shoot of healthy young oak; and if you compare it with Fig. +45., you will understand at once the action of the lines of leafage; the +boat only failing as a type in that its ribs are too nearly parallel to +each other at the sides, while the bough sends all its ramification well +forwards, rounding to the head, that it may accomplish its part in the +outer form of the whole tree, yet always securing the compliance with +the great universal law that the branches nearest the root bend most +back; and, of course, throwing _some_ always back as well as forwards; +the appearance of reversed action being much increased, and rendered +more striking and beautiful, by perspective. Figure 25. shows the +perspective of such a bough as it is seen from below; Fig. 46. gives +rudely the look it would have from above. + +[Illustration: FIG. 45.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 46.] + +You may suppose, if you have not already discovered, what subtleties of +perspective and light and shade are involved in the drawing of these +branch-flakes, as you see them in different directions and actions; now +raised, now depressed; touched on the edges by the wind, or lifted up +and bent back so as to show all the white under surfaces of the leaves +shivering in light, as the bottom of a boat rises white with spray at +the surge-crest; or drooping in quietness towards the dew of the grass +beneath them in windless mornings, or bowed down under oppressive grace +of deep-charged snow. Snow time, by the way, is one of the best for +practice in the placing of tree masses; but you will only be able to +understand them thoroughly by beginning with a single bough and a few +leaves placed tolerably even, as in Fig. 38. page 372. First one with +three leaves, a central and two lateral ones, as at _a_; then with five, +as at _b_, and so on; directing your whole attention to the expression, +both by contour and light and shade, of the boat-like arrangements, +which in your earlier studies, will have been a good deal confused, +partly owing to your inexperience, and partly to the depth of shade, or +absolute blackness of mass required in those studies. + +One thing more remains to be noted, and I will let you out of the wood. +You see that in every generally representative figure I have surrounded +the radiating branches with a dotted line: such lines do indeed +terminate every vegetable form; and you see that they are themselves +beautiful curves, which, according to their flow, and the width or +narrowness of the spaces they enclose, characterize the species of tree +or leaf, and express its free or formal action, its grace of youth or +weight of age. So that, throughout all the freedom of her wildest +foliage, Nature is resolved on expressing an encompassing limit; and +marking a unity in the whole tree, caused not only by the rising of its +branches from a common root, but by their joining in one work, and being +bound by a common law. And having ascertained this, let us turn back for +a moment to a point in leaf structure which, I doubt not, you must +already have observed in your earlier studies, but which it is well to +state here, as connected with the unity of the branches in the great +trees. You must have noticed, I should think, that whenever a leaf is +compound,--that is to say, divided into other leaflets which in any way +repeat or imitate the form of the whole leaf,--those leaflets are not +symmetrical as the whole leaf is, but always smaller on the side towards +the point of the great leaf, so as to express their subordination to it, +and show, even when they are pulled off, that they are not small +independent leaves, but members of one large leaf. + +[Illustration: FIG. 47.] + +Fig. 47., which is a block-plan of a leaf of columbine, without its +minor divisions on the edges, will illustrate the principle clearly. It +is composed of a central large mass, A, and two lateral ones, of which +the one on the right only is lettered, B. Each of these masses is again +composed of three others, a central and two lateral ones; but observe, +the minor one, _a_ of A, is balanced equally by its opposite; but the +minor _b_1 of B is larger than its opposite _b_2. Again, each of these +minor masses is divided into three; but while the central mass, A of A, +is symmetrically divided, the B of B is unsymmetrical, its largest +side-lobe being lowest. Again _b_2, the lobe _c_1 (its lowest lobe in +relation to B) is larger than _c_2; and so also in _b_1. So that +universally one lobe of a lateral leaf is always larger than the other, +and the smaller lobe is that which is nearer the central mass; the lower +leaf, as it were by courtesy, subduing some of its own dignity or +power, in the immediate presence of the greater or captain leaf; and +always expressing, therefore, its own subordination and secondary +character. This law is carried out even in single leaves. As far as I +know, the upper half, towards the point of the spray, is always the +smaller; and a slightly different curve, more convex at the springing, +is used for the lower side, giving an exquisite variety to the form of +the whole leaf; so that one of the chief elements in the beauty of every +subordinate leaf throughout the tree, is made to depend on its +confession of its own lowliness and subjection. + +And now, if we bring together in one view the principles we have +ascertained in trees, we shall find they may be summed under four great +laws; and that all perfect[253] vegetable form is appointed to express +these four laws in noble balance of authority. + +1. Support from one living root. + +2. Radiation, or tendency of force from some one given point, either in +the root, or in some stated connexion with it. + +3. Liberty of each bough to seek its own livelihood and happiness +according to its needs, by irregularities of action both in its play and +its work, either stretching out to get its required nourishment from +light and rain, by finding some sufficient breathing-place among the +other branches, or knotting and gathering itself up to get strength for +any load which its fruitful blossoms may lay upon it, and for any stress +of its storm-tossed luxuriance of leaves; or playing hither and thither +as the fitful sunshine may tempt its young shoots, in their undecided +states of mind about their future life. + +4. Imperative requirement of each bough to stop within certain limits, +expressive of its kindly fellowship and fraternity with the boughs in +its neighborhood; and to work with them according to its power, +magnitude, and state of health, to bring out the general perfectness of +the great curve, and circumferent stateliness of the whole tree. + +I think I may leave you, unhelped, to work out the moral analogies of +these laws; you may, perhaps, however, be a little puzzled to see the +meeting of the second one. It typically expresses that healthy human +actions should spring radiantly (like rays) from some single heart +motive; the most beautiful systems of action taking place when this +motive lies at the root of the whole life, and the action is clearly +seen to proceed from it; while also many beautiful secondary systems of +action taking place from motives not so deep or central, but in some +beautiful subordinate connexion with the central or life motive. + +The other laws, if you think over them, you will find equally +significative; and as you draw trees more and more in their various +states of health and hardship, you will be every day more struck by the +beauty of the types they present of the truths most essential for +mankind to know;[254] and you will see what this vegetation of the +earth, which is necessary to our life, first, as purifying the air for +us and then as food, and just as necessary to our joy in all places of +the earth,--what these trees and leaves, I say, are meant to teach us as +we contemplate them, and read or hear their lovely language, written or +spoken for us, not in frightful black letters, nor in dull sentences, +but in fair green and shadowy shapes of waving words, and blossomed +brightness of odoriferous wit, and sweet whispers of unintrusive wisdom, +and playful morality. + +Well, I am sorry myself to leave the wood, whatever my reader may be; +but leave it we must, or we shall compose no more pictures to-day. + +This law of radiation, then, enforcing unison of action in arising from, +or proceeding to, some given point, is perhaps, of all principles of +composition, the most influential in producing the beauty of groups of +form. Other laws make them forcible or interesting, but this generally +is chief in rendering them beautiful. In the arrangement of masses in +pictures, it is constantly obeyed by the great composers; but, like the +law of principality, with careful concealment of its imperativeness, the +point to which the lines of main curvature are directed being very often +far away out of the picture. Sometimes, however, a system of curves will +be employed definitely to exalt, by their concurrence, the value of some +leading object, and then the law becomes traceable enough. + +In the instance before us, the principal object being, as we have seen, +the tower on the bridge, Turner has determined that his system of +curvature should have its origin in the top of this tower. The diagram +Fig. 34. page 369, compared with Fig. 32. page 361, will show how this +is done. One curve joins the two towers, and is continued by the back of +the figure sitting on the bank into the piece of bent timber. This is a +limiting curve of great importance, and Turner has drawn a considerable +part of it with the edge of the timber very carefully, and then led the +eye up to the sitting girl by some white spots and indications of a +ledge in the bank; then the passage to the tops of the towers cannot be +missed. + +The next curve is begun and drawn carefully for half an inch of its +course by the rudder; it is then taken up by the basket and the heads of +the figures, and leads accurately to the tower angle. The gunwales of +both the boats begin the next two curves, which meet in the same point; +and all are centralised by the long reflection which continues the +vertical lines. + +Subordinated to this first system of curves there is another, begun by +the small crossing bar of wood inserted in the angle behind the rudder; +continued by the bottom of the bank on which the figure sits, +interrupted forcibly beyond it,[255] but taken up again by the +water-line leading to the bridge foot, and passing on in delicate +shadows under the arches, not easily shown in so rude a diagram, towards +the other extremity of the bridge. This is a most important curve, +indicating that the force and sweep of the river have indeed been in old +times under the large arches; while the antiquity of the bridge is told +us by the long tongue of land, either of carted rubbish, or washed down +by some minor stream, which has interrupted this curve, and is now used +as a landing-place for the boats, and for embarkation of merchandise, of +which some bales and bundles are laid in a heap, immediately beneath the +great tower. A common composer would have put these bales to one side or +the other, but Turner knows better; he uses them as a foundation for his +tower, adding to its importance precisely as the sculptured base adorns +a pillar; and he farther increases the aspect of its height by throwing +the reflection of it far down in the nearer water. All the great +composers have this same feeling about sustaining their vertical masses: +you will constantly find Prout using the artifice most dexterously (see, +for instance, the figure with the wheelbarrow under the great tower, in +the sketch of St. Nicolas, at Prague, and the white group of figures +under the tower in the sketch of Augsburg[256]); and Veronese, Titian, +and Tintoret continually put their principal figures at bases of +pillars. Turner found out their secret very early, the most prominent +instance of his composition on this principle being the drawing of Turin +from the Superga, in Hakewell's Italy. + +I chose Fig. 20., already given to illustrate foliage drawing, chiefly +because, being another instance of precisely the same arrangement, it +will serve to convince you of its being intentional. There, the +vertical, formed by the larger tree, is continued by the figure of the +farmer, and that of one of the smaller trees by his stick. The lines of +the interior mass of the bushes radiate, under the law of radiation, +from a point behind the farmer's head; but their outline curves are +carried on and repeated, under the law of continuity, by the curves of +the dog and boy--by the way, note the remarkable instance in these of +the use of darkest lines towards the light;--all more or less guiding +the eye up to the right, in order to bring it finally to the Keep of +Windsor, which is the central object of the picture, as the bridge tower +is in the Coblentz. The wall on which the boy climbs answers the purpose +of contrasting, both in direction and character, with these greater +curves; thus corresponding as nearly as possible to the minor tongue of +land in the Coblentz. This, however, introduces us to another law, which +we must consider separately. + + +6. THE LAW OF CONTRAST. + +Of course the character of everything is best manifested by Contrast. +Rest can only be enjoyed after labour; sound, to be heard clearly, must +rise out of silence; light is exhibited by darkness, darkness by light; +and so on in all things. Now in art every colour has an opponent colour, +which, if brought near it, will relieve it more completely than any +other; so, also, every form and line may be made more striking to the +eye by an opponent form or line near them; a curved line is set off by a +straight one, a massy form by a slight one, and so on; and in all good +work nearly double the value, which any given colour or form would have +uncombined, is given to each by contrast.[257] + +In this case again, however, a too manifest use of the artifice +vulgarises a picture. Great painters do not commonly, or very visibly, +admit violent contrast. They introduce it by stealth and with +intermediate links of tender change; allowing, indeed, the opposition to +tell upon the mind as a surprise, but not as a shock.[258] + +Thus in the rock of Ehrenbreitstein, Fig. 35., the main current of the +lines being downwards, in a convex swell, they are suddenly stopped at +the lowest tower by a counter series of beds, directed nearly straight +across them. This adverse force sets off and relieves the great +curvature, but it is reconciled to it by a series of radiating lines +below, which at first sympathize with the oblique bar, then gradually +get steeper, till they meet and join in the fall of the great curve. No +passage, however intentionally monotonous, is ever introduced by a good +artist without _some_ slight counter current of this kind; so much, +indeed, do the great composers feel the necessity of it, that they will +even do things purposely ill or unsatisfactorily, in order to give +greater value to their well-doing in other places. In a skilful poet's +versification the so-called bad or inferior lines are not inferior +because he could not do them better, but because he feels that if all +were equally weighty, there would be no real sense of weight anywhere; +if all were equally melodious, the melody itself would be fatiguing; and +he purposely introduces the labouring or discordant verse, that the full +ring may be felt in his main sentence, and the finished sweetness in his +chosen rhythm.[259] And continually in painting, inferior artists +destroy their work by giving too much of all that they think is good, +while the great painter gives just enough to be enjoyed, and passes to +an opposite kind of enjoyment, or to an inferior state of enjoyment: he +gives a passage of rich, involved, exquisitely wrought colour, then +passes away into slight, and pale and simple colour; he paints for a +minute or two with intense decision, then suddenly becomes, as the +spectator thinks, slovenly; but he is not slovenly: you could not have +_taken_ any more decision from him just then; you have had as much as is +good for you; he paints over a great space of his picture forms of the +most rounded and melting tenderness, and suddenly, as you think by a +freak, gives you a bit as jagged and sharp as a leafless blackthorn. +Perhaps the most exquisite piece of subtle contrast in the world of +painting is the arrow point, laid sharp against the white side and among +the flowing hair of Correggio's Antiope. It is quite singular how very +little contrast will sometimes serve to make an entire group of forms +interesting which would otherwise have been valueless. There is a good +deal of picturesque material, for instance, in this top of an old tower, +Fig. 48., tiles and stones and sloping roof not disagreeably mingled; +but all would have been unsatisfactory if there had not happened to be +that iron ring on the inner wall, which by its vigorous black +_circular_ line precisely opposes all the square and angular characters +of the battlements and roof. Draw the tower without the ring, and see +what a difference it will make. + +[Illustration: FIG. 48.] + +One of the most important applications of the law of contrast is in +association with the law of continuity, causing an unexpected but gentle +break in a continuous series. This artifice is perpetual in music, and +perpetual also in good illumination; the way in which little surprises +of change are prepared in any current borders, or chains of ornamental +design, being one of the most subtle characteristics of the work of the +good periods. We take, for instance, a bar of ornament between two +written columns of an early 14th Century MS., and at the first glance we +suppose it to be quite monotonous all the way up, composed of a winding +tendril, with alternately a blue leaf and a scarlet bud. Presently, +however, we see that, in order to observe the law of principality there +is one large scarlet leaf instead of a bud, nearly half-way up, which +forms a centre to the whole rod; and when we begin to examine the order +of the leaves, we find it varied carefully. Let A stand for scarlet bud, +_b_ for blue leaf, _c_ for two blue leaves on one stalk, _s_ for a stalk +without a leaf, and R for the large red leaf. Then counting from the +ground, the order begins as follows: + +_b_, _b_, A; _b_, _s_, _b_, A; _b_, _b_, A; _b_, _b_, A; and we think we +shall have two _b_'s and an A all the way, when suddenly it becomes _b_, +A; _b_, R; _b_, A; _b_, A; _b_, A; and we think we are going to have +_b_, A continued; but no: here it becomes _b_, _s_; _b_, _s_; _b_, A; +_b_, _s_; _b_, _s_; _c_, _s_; _b_, _s_; _b_, _s_; and we think we are +surely going to have _b_, _s_ continued, but behold it runs away to the +end with a quick _b_, _b_, A; _b_, _b_, _b_, _b_![260] Very often, +however, the designer is satisfied with _one_ surprise, but I never saw +a good illuminated border without one at least; and no series of any +kind is ever introduced by a great composer in a painting without a snap +somewhere. There is a pretty one in Turner's drawing of Rome, with the +large balustrade for a foreground in the Hakewell's Italy series: the +single baluster struck out of the line, and showing the street below +through the gap, simply makes the whole composition right, when +otherwise, it would have been stiff and absurd. + +If you look back to Fig. 48. you will see, in the arrangement of the +battlements, a simple instance of the use of such variation. The whole +top of the tower, though actually three sides of a square, strikes the +eye as a continuous series of five masses. The first two, on the left, +somewhat square and blank; then the next two higher and richer, the +tiles being seen on their slopes. Both these groups being couples, there +is enough monotony in the series to make a change pleasant; and the last +battlement, therefore, is a little higher than the first two,--a little +lower than the second two,--and different in shape from either. Hide it +with your finger, and see how ugly and formal the other four battlements +look. + +There are in this figure several other simple illustrations of the laws +we have been tracing. Thus the whole shape of the wall's mass being +square, it is well, still for the sake of contrast, to oppose it not +only by the element of curvature, in the ring, and lines of the roof +below, but by that of sharpness; hence the pleasure which the eye takes +in the projecting point of the roof. Also because the walls are thick +and sturdy, it is well to contrast their strength with weakness; +therefore we enjoy the evident decrepitude of this roof as it sinks +between them. The whole mass being nearly white, we want a contrasting +shadow somewhere; and get it, under our piece of decrepitude. This +shade, with the tiles of the wall below, forms another pointed mass, +necessary to the first by the law of repetition. Hide this inferior +angle with your finger, and see how ugly the other looks. A sense of the +law of symmetry, though you might hardly suppose it, has some share in +the feeling with which you look at the battlements; there is a certain +pleasure in the opposed slopes of their top, on one side down to the +left, on the other to the right. Still less would you think the law of +radiation had anything to do with the matter: but if you take the +extreme point of the black shadow on the left for a centre and follow +first the low curve of the eaves of the wall, it will lead you, if you +continue it, to the point of the tower cornice; follow the second curve, +the top of the tiles of the wall, and it will strike the top of the +right-hand battlement; then draw a curve from the highest point of the +angle battlement on the left, through the points of the roof and its +dark echo; and you will see how the whole top of the tower radiates from +this lowest dark point. There are other curvatures crossing these main +ones, to keep them from being too conspicuous. Follow the curve of the +upper roof, it will take you to the top of the highest battlement; and +the stones indicated at the right-hand side of the tower are more +extended at the bottom, in order to get some less direct expression of +sympathy, such as irregular stones may be capable of, with the general +flow of the curves from left to right. + +You may not readily believe, at first, that all these laws are indeed +involved in so trifling a piece of composition. But as you study longer, +you will discover that these laws, and many more, are obeyed by the +powerful composers in every _touch_: that literally, there is never a +dash of their pencil which is not carrying out appointed purposes of +this kind in twenty various ways at once; and that there is as much +difference, in way of intention and authority, between one of the great +composers ruling his colours, and a common painter confused by them, as +there is between a general directing the march of an army, and an old +lady carried off her feet by a mob. + + +7. THE LAW OF INTERCHANGE. + +Closely connected with the law of contrast is a law which enforces the +unity of opposite things, by giving to each a portion of the character +of the other. If, for instance, you divide a shield into two masses of +colour, all the way down--suppose blue and white, and put a bar, or +figure of an animal, partly on one division, partly on the other, you +will find it pleasant to the eye if you make the part of the animal blue +which comes upon the white half, and white which comes upon the blue +half. This is done in heraldry, partly for the sake of perfect +intelligibility, but yet more for the sake of delight in interchange of +colour, since, in all ornamentation whatever, the practice is +continual, in the ages of good design. + +Sometimes this alternation is merely a reversal of contrasts; as that, +after red has been for some time on one side, and blue on the other, red +shall pass to blue's side and blue to red's. This kind of alternation +takes place simply in four-quartered shields; in more subtle pieces of +treatment, a little bit only of each colour is carried into the other, +and they are as it were dovetailed together. One of the most curious +facts which will impress itself upon you, when you have drawn some time +carefully from Nature in light and shade, is the appearance of +intentional artifice with which contrasts of this alternate kind are +produced by her; the artistry with which she will darken a tree trunk as +long as it comes against light sky, and throw sunlight on it precisely +at the spot where it comes against a dark hill, and similarly treat all +her masses of shade and colour, is so great, that if you only follow her +closely, every one who looks at your drawing with attention will think +that you have been inventing the most artifically and unnaturally +delightful interchanges of shadow that could possibly be devised by +human wit. + +You will find this law of interchange insisted upon at length by Prout +in his "Lessons on Light and Shade:" it seems, of all his principles of +composition, to be the one he is most conscious of; many others he obeys +by instinct, but this he formally accepts and forcibly declares. + +The typical purpose of the law of interchange is, of course, to teach us +how opposite natures may be helped and strengthened by receiving each, +as far as they can, some impress or imparted power, from the other. + + +8. THE LAW OF CONSISTENCY. + +It is to be remembered, in the next place, that while contrast exhibits +the _characters_ of things, it very often neutralises or paralyses their +_power_. A number of white things may be shown to be clearly white by +opposition of a black thing, but if you want the full power of their +gathered light, the black thing may be seriously in our way. Thus, while +contrast displays things, it is unity and sympathy which employ them, +concentrating the power of several into a mass. And, not in art merely, +but in all the affairs of life, the wisdom of man is continually called +upon to reconcile these opposite methods of exhibiting, or using, the +materials in his power. By change he gives them pleasantness, and by +consistency value; by change he is refreshed, and by perseverence +strengthened. + +Hence many compositions address themselves to the spectator by aggregate +force of colour or line, more than by contrasts of either; many noble +pictures are painted almost exclusively in various tones of red, or +grey, or gold, so as to be instantly striking by their breadth of flush, +or glow, or tender coldness, these qualities being exhibited only by +slight and subtle use of contrast. Similarly as to form; some +compositions associate massive and rugged forms, others slight and +graceful ones, each with few interruptions by lines of contrary +character. And, in general, such compositions possess higher sublimity +than those which are more mingled in their elements. They tell a special +tale, and summon a definite state of feeling, while the grand +compositions merely please the eye. + +This unity or breadth of character generally attaches most to the works +of the greatest men; their separate pictures have all separate aims. We +have not, in each, grey colour set against sombre, and sharp forms +against soft, and loud passages against low; but we have the bright +picture, with its delicate sadness; the sombre picture, with its single +ray of relief; the stern picture, with only one tender group of lines; +the soft and calm picture, with only one rock angle at its flank; and so +on. Hence the variety of their work, as well as its impressiveness. The +principal bearing of this law, however, is on the separate masses or +divisions of a picture: the character of the whole composition may be +broken or various, if we please, but there must certainly be a tendency +to consistent assemblage in its divisions. As an army may act on several +points at once, but can only act effectually by having somewhere formed +and regular masses, and not wholly by skirmishers; so a picture may be +various in its tendencies, but must be somewhere united and coherent in +its masses. Good composers are always associating their colours in great +groups; binding their forms together by encompassing lines, and +securing, by various dexterities of expedient, what they themselves call +"breadth:" that is to say, a large gathering of each kind of thing into +one place; light being gathered to light, darkness to darkness, and +colour to colour. If, however, this be done by introducing false lights +or false colours, it is absurd and monstrous; the skill of a painter +consists in obtaining breadth by rational arrangement of his objects, +not by forced or wanton treatment of them. It is an easy matter to paint +one thing all white, and another all black or brown; but not an easy +matter to assemble all the circumstances which will naturally produce +white in one place, and brown in another. Generally speaking, however, +breadth will result in sufficient degree from fidelity of study: Nature +is always broad; and if you paint her colours in true relations, you +will paint them in majestic masses. If you find your work look broken +and scattered, it is, in all probability, not only ill composed, but +untrue. + +The opposite quality to breadth, that of division or scattering of light +and colour, has a certain contrasting charm, and is occasionally +introduced with exquisite effect by good composers.[261] Still, it is +never the mere scattering, but the order discernible through this +scattering, which is the real source of pleasure; not the mere +multitude, but the constellation of multitude. The broken lights in the +work of a good painter wander like flocks upon the hills, not +unshepherded; speaking of life and peace: the broken lights of a bad +painter fall like hailstones, and are capable only of mischief, leaving +it to be wished they were also of dissolution. + + +9. THE LAW OF HARMONY. + +This last law is not, strictly speaking, so much one of composition as +of truth, but it must guide composition, and is properly, therefore, to +be stated in this place. + +Good drawing is, as we have seen, an _abstract_ of natural facts; you +cannot represent all that you would, but must continually be falling +short, whether you will or no, of the force, or quantity, of Nature. +Now, suppose that your means and time do not admit of your giving the +depth of colour in the scene, and that you are obliged to paint it +paler. If you paint all the colours proportionately paler, as if an +equal quantity of tint had been washed away from each of them, you still +obtain a harmonious, though not an equally forcible statement of natural +fact. But if you take away the colours unequally, and leave some tints +nearly as deep as they are in Nature, while others are much subdued, you +have no longer a true statement. You cannot say to the observer, "Fancy +all those colours a little deeper, and you will have the actual fact." +However he adds in imagination, or takes away, something is sure to be +still wrong. The picture is out of harmony. + +It will happen, however, much more frequently, that you have to darken +the whole system of colours, than to make them paler. You remember, in +your first studies of colour from Nature, you were to leave the passages +of light which were too bright to be imitated, as white paper. But, in +completing the picture, it becomes necessary to put colour into them; +and then the other colours must be made darker, in some fixed relation +to them. If you deepen all proportionately, though the whole scene is +darker than reality, it is only as if you were looking at the reality in +a lower light: but if, while you darken some of the tints, you leave +others undarkened, the picture is out of harmony, and will not give the +impression of truth. + +It is not, indeed, possible to deepen _all_ the colours so much as to +relieve the lights in their natural degree; you would merely sink most +of your colours, if you tried to do so, into a broad mass of blackness: +but it is quite possible to lower them harmoniously, and yet more in +some parts of the picture than in others, so as to allow you to show the +light you want in a visible relief. In well-harmonised pictures this is +done by gradually deepening the tone of the picture towards the lighter +parts of it, without materially lowering it in the very dark parts; the +tendency in such pictures being, of course, to include large masses of +middle tints. But the principal point to be observed in doing this, is +to deepen the individual tints without dirtying or obscuring them. It is +easy to lower the tone of the picture by washing it over with grey or +brown; and easy to see the effect of the landscape, when its colours are +thus universally polluted with black, by using the black convex mirror, +one of the most pestilent inventions for falsifying nature and degrading +art which ever was put into an artist's hand.[262] For the thing +required is not to darken pale yellow by mixing grey with it, but to +deepen the pure yellow; not to darken crimson by mixing black with it, +but by making it deeper and richer crimson: and thus the required effect +could only be seen in Nature, if you had pieces of glass of the colour +of every object in your landscape, and of every minor hue that made up +those colours, and then could see the real landscape through this deep +gorgeousness of the varied glass. You cannot do this with glass, but you +can do it for yourself as you work; that is to say, you can put deep +blue for pale blue, deep gold for pale gold, and so on, in the +proportion you need; and then you may paint as forcibly as you choose, +but your work will still be in the manner of Titian, not of Caravaggio +or Spagnoletto, or any other of the black slaves of painting.[263] + +Supposing those scales of colour, which I told you to prepare in order +to show you the relations of colour to grey, were quite accurately made, +and numerous enough, you would have nothing more to do, in order to +obtain a deeper tone in any given mass of colour, than to substitute for +each of its hues the hue as many degrees deeper in the scale as you +wanted, that is to say, if you want to deepen the whole two degrees, +substituting for the yellow No. 5. the yellow No. 7., and for the red +No. 9. the red No. 11., and so on; but the hues of any object in Nature +are far too numerous, and their degrees too subtle, to admit of so +mechanical a process. Still, you may see the principle of the whole +matter clearly by taking a group of colours out of your scale, arranging +them prettily, and then washing them all over with grey: that represents +the treatment of Nature by the black mirror. Then arrange the same group +of colours, with the tints five or six degrees deeper in the scale; and +that will represent the treatment of Nature by Titian. + +You can only, however, feel your way fully to the right of the thing by +working from Nature. + +The best subject on which to begin a piece of study of this kind is a +good thick tree trunk, seen against blue sky with some white clouds in +it. Paint the clouds in true and tenderly gradated white; then give the +sky a bold full blue, bringing them well out; then paint the trunk and +leaves grandly dark against all, but in such glowing dark green and +brown as you see they will bear. Afterwards proceed to more complicated +studies, matching the colours carefully first by your old method; then +deepening each colour with its own tint, and being careful, above all +things, to keep truth of equal change when the colours are connected +with each other, as in dark and light sides of the same object. Much +more aspect and sense of harmony are gained by the precision with which +you observe the relation of colours in dark sides and light sides, and +the influence of modifying reflections, than by mere accuracy of added +depth in independent colours. + +This harmony of tone, as it is generally called, is the most important +of those which the artist has to regard. But there are all kinds of +harmonies in a picture, according to its mode of production. There is +even a harmony of _touch_. If you paint one part of it very rapidly and +forcibly, and another part slowly and delicately, each division of the +picture may be right separately, but they will not agree together: the +whole will be effectless and valueless, out of harmony. Similarly, if +you paint one part of it by a yellow light in a warm day, and another by +a grey light in a cold day, though both may have been sunlight, and both +may be well toned, and have their relative shadows truly cast, neither +will look like light: they will destroy each other's power, by being out +of harmony. These are only broad and definable instances of discordance; +but there is an extent of harmony in all good work much too subtle for +definition; depending on the draughtsman's carrying everything he draws +up to just the balancing and harmonious point, in finish, and colour, +and depth of tone, and intensity of moral feeling, and style of touch, +all considered at once; and never allowing himself to lean too +emphatically on detached parts, or exalt one thing at the expense of +another, or feel acutely in one place and coldly in another. If you have +got some of Cruikshank's etchings, you will be able, I think, to feel +the nature of harmonious treatment in a simple kind, by comparing them +with any of Richter's illustrations to the numerous German story-books +lately published at Christmas, with all the German stories spoiled. +Cruikshank's work is often incomplete in character and poor in incident, +but, as drawing, it is _perfect_ in harmony. The pure and simple effects +of daylight which he gets by his thorough mastery of treatment in this +respect, are quite unrivalled, as far as I know, by any other work +executed with so few touches. His vignettes to Grimm's German stories, +already recommended, are the most remarkable in this quality. Richter's +illustrations, on the contrary, are of a very high stamp as respects +understanding of human character, with infinite playfulness and +tenderness of fancy; but, as drawings, they are almost unendurably out +of harmony, violent blacks in one place being continually opposed to +trenchant white in another; and, as is almost sure to be the case with +bad harmonists, the local colour hardly felt anywhere. All German work +is apt to be out of harmony, in consequence of its too frequent +conditions of affectation, and its wilful refusals of fact; as well as +by reason of a feverish kind of excitement, which dwells violently on +particular points, and makes all the lines of thought in the picture to +stand on end, as it were, like a cat's fur electrified; while good work +is always as quiet as a couchant leopard, and as strong. + +I have now stated to you all the laws of composition which occur to me +as capable of being illustrated or defined; but there are multitudes of +others which, in the present state of my knowledge, I cannot define, and +others which I never hope to define; and these the most important, and +connected with the deepest powers of the art. Among those which I hope +to be able to explain when I have thought of them more, are the laws +which relate to nobleness and ignobleness; that ignobleness especially +which we commonly call "vulgarity," and which, in its essence, is one of +the most curious subjects of inquiry connected with human feeling. Among +those which I never hope to explain, are chiefly laws of expression, and +others bearing simply on simple matters; but, for that very reason, more +influential than any others. These are, from the first, as inexplicable +as our bodily sensations are; it being just as impossible, I think, to +explain why one succession of musical notes[264] shall be noble and +pathetic, and such as might have been sung by Casella to Dante, and why +another succession is base and ridiculous, and would be fit only for the +reasonably good ear of Bottom, as to explain why we like sweetness, and +dislike bitterness. The best part of every great work is always +inexplicable: it is good because it is good; and innocently gracious, +opening as the green of the earth, or falling as the dew of heaven. + +But though you cannot explain them, you may always render yourself more +and more sensitive to these higher qualities by the discipline which you +generally give to your character, and this especially with regard to the +choice of incidents; a kind of composition in some sort easier than the +artistical arrangements of lines and colours, but in every sort nobler, +because addressed to deeper feelings. + +For instance, in the "Datur Hora Quieti," the last vignette to Roger's +Poems, the plough in the foreground has three purposes. The first +purpose is to meet the stream of sunlight on the river, and make it +brighter by opposition; but any dark object whatever would have done +this. Its second purpose is by its two arms, to repeat the cadence of +the group of the two ships, and thus give a greater expression of +repose; but two sitting figures would have done this. Its third and +chief, or pathetic, purpose is, as it lies abandoned in the furrow (the +vessels also being moored, and having their sails down), to be a type of +human labour closed with the close of day. The parts of it on which the +hand leans are brought most clearly into sight; and they are the chief +dark of the picture, because the tillage of the ground is required of +man as a punishment; but they make the soft light of the setting sun +brighter, because rest is sweetest after toil. These thoughts may never +occur to us as we glance carelessly at the design; and yet their under +current assuredly affects the feelings, and increases, as the painter +meant it should, the impression of melancholy, and of peace. + +Again, in the "Lancaster Sands," which is one of the plates I have +marked as most desirable for your possession; the stream of light which +falls from the setting sun on the advancing tide stands similarly in +need of some force of near object to relieve its brightness. But the +incident which Turner has here adopted is the swoop of an angry seagull +at a dog, who yelps at it, drawing back as the wave rises over his feet, +and the bird shrieks within a foot of his face. Its unexpected boldness +is a type of the anger of its ocean element, and warns us of the sea's +advance just as surely as the abandoned plough told us of the ceased +labour of the day. + +It is not, however, so much in the selection of single incidents of +this kind as in the feeling which regulates the arrangement of the whole +subject that the mind of a great composer is known. A single incident +may be suggested by a felicitous chance, as a pretty motto might be for +the heading of a chapter. But the great composers so arrange _all_ their +designs that one incident illustrates another, just as one colour +relieves another. Perhaps the "Heysham," of the Yorkshire series which, +as to its locality, may be considered a companion to the last drawing we +have spoken of, the "Lancaster Sands," presents as interesting an +example as we could find of Turner's feeling in this respect. The +subject is a simple north-country village, on the shore of Morecambe +Bay; not in the common sense, a picturesque village: there are no pretty +bow-windows, or red roofs, or rocky steps of entrance to the rustic +doors, or quaint gables; nothing but a single street of thatched and +chiefly clay-built cottages, ranged in a somewhat monotonous line, the +roofs so green with moss that at first we hardly discern the houses from +the fields and trees. The village street is closed at the end by a +wooden gate, indicating the little traffic there is on the road through +it, and giving it something the look of a large farmstead, in which a +right of way lies through the yard. The road which leads to this gate is +full of ruts, and winds down a bad bit of hill between two broken banks +of moor ground, succeeding immediately to the few enclosures which +surround the village; they can hardly be called gardens; but a decayed +fragment or two of fencing fill the gaps in the bank; and a +clothes-line, with some clothes on it, striped blue and red, and a +smock-frock, is stretched between the trunks of some stunted willows; a +_very_ small haystack and pigstye being seen at the back of the cottage +beyond. An empty, two-wheeled, lumbering cart, drawn by a pair of horses +with huge wooden collars, the driver sitting lazily in the sun, sideways +on the leader, is going slowly home along the rough road, it being about +country dinner-time. At the end of the village there is a better house, +with three chimneys and a dormer window in its roof, and the roof is of +stone shingle instead of thatch, but very rough. This house is no doubt +the clergyman's; there is some smoke from one of its chimneys, none +from any other in the village; this smoke is from the lowest chimney at +the back, evidently that of the kitchen, and it is rather thick, the +fire not having been long lighted. A few hundred yards from the +clergyman's house, nearer the shore, is the church, discernible from the +cottage only by its low-arched belfry, a little neater than one would +expect in such a village; perhaps lately built by the Puseyite +incumbent;[265] and beyond the church, close to the sea, are two +fragments of a border war-tower, standing on their circular mound, worn +on its brow deep into edges and furrows by the feet of the village +children. On the bank of moor, which forms the foreground, are a few +cows, the carter's dog barking at a vixenish one: the milkmaid is +feeding another, a gentle white one, which turns its head to her, +expectant of a handful of fresh hay, which she has brought for it in her +blue apron, fastened up round her waist; she stands with her pail on her +head, evidently the village coquette, for she has a neat bodice, and +pretty striped petticoat under the blue apron, and red stockings. Nearer +us, the cowherd, barefooted, stands on a piece of the limestone rock +(for the ground is thistly and not pleasurable to bare feet);--whether +boy or girl we are not sure; it may be a boy, with a girl's worn-out +bonnet on, or a girl with a pair of ragged trowsers on; probably the +first, as the old bonnet is evidently useful to keep the sun out of our +eyes when we are looking for strayed cows among the moorland hollows, +and helps us at present to watch (holding the bonnet's edge down) the +quarrel of the vixenish cow with the dog, which, leaning on our long +stick, we allow to proceed without any interference. A little to the +right the hay is being got in, of which the milkmaid has just taken her +apronful to the white cow; but the hay is very thin, and cannot well be +raked up because of the rocks; we must glean it like corn, hence the +smallness of our stack behind the willows, and a woman is pressing a +bundle of it hard together, kneeling against the rock's edge, to carry +it safely to the hay-cart without dropping any. Beyond the village is a +rocky hill, deep set with brushwood, a square crag or two of limestone +emerging here and there, with pleasant turf on their brows, heaved in +russet and mossy mounds against the sky, which, clear and calm, and as +golden as the moss, stretches down behind it towards the sea. A single +cottage just shows its roof over the edge of the hill, looking seaward; +perhaps one of the village shepherds is a sea captain now, and may have +built it there, that his mother may first see the sails of his ship +whenever it runs into the bay. Then under the hill, and beyond the +border tower, is the blue sea itself, the waves flowing in over the sand +in long curved lines, slowly; shadows of cloud and gleams of shallow +water on white sand alternating--miles away; but no sail is visible, not +one fisherboat on the beach, not one dark speck on the quiet horizon. +Beyond all are the Cumberland mountains, clear in the sun, with rosy +light on all their crags. + +I should think the reader cannot but feel the kind of harmony there is +in this composition; the entire purpose of the painter to give us the +impression of wild, yet gentle, country life, monotonous as the +succession of the noiseless waves, patient and enduring as the rocks; +but peaceful, and full of health and quiet hope, and sanctified by the +pure mountain air and baptismal dew of heaven, falling softly between +days of toil and nights of innocence. + +All noble composition of this kind can be reached only by instinct: you +cannot set yourself to arrange such a subject; you may see it, and seize +it, at all times, but never laboriously invent it. And your power of +discerning what is best in expression, among natural subjects, depends +wholly on the temper in which you keep your own mind; above all, on your +living so much alone as to allow it to become acutely sensitive in its +own stillness. The noisy life of modern days is wholly incompatible with +any true perception of natural beauty. If you go down into Cumberland by +the railroad, live in some frequented hotel, and explore the hills with +merry companions, however much you may enjoy your tour or their +conversation, depend upon it you will never choose so much as one +pictorial subject rightly; you will not see into the depth of any. But +take knapsack and stick, walk towards the hills by short day's +journeys--ten or twelve miles a day--taking a week from some +starting-place sixty or seventy miles away: sleep at the pretty little +wayside inns, or the rough village ones; then take the hills as they +tempt you, following glen or shore as your eye glances or your heart +guides, wholly scornful of local fame or fashion, and of everything +which it is the ordinary traveller's duty to see or pride to do. Never +force yourself to admire anything when you are not in the humour; but +never force yourself away from what you feel to be lovely, in search of +anything better: and gradually the deeper scenes of the natural world +will unfold themselves to you in still increasing fulness of passionate +power; and your difficulty will be no more to seek or to compose +subjects, but only to choose one from among the multitude of melodious +thoughts with which you will be haunted, thoughts which will of course +be noble or original in proportion to your own depth of character and +general power of mind: for it is not so much by the consideration you +give to any single drawing, as by the previous discipline of your powers +of thought, that the character of your composition will be determined. +Simplicity of life will make you sensitive to the refinement and modesty +of scenery, just as inordinate excitement and pomp of daily life will +make you enjoy coarse colours and affected forms. Habits of patient +comparison and accurate judgment will make your art precious, as they +will make your actions wise; and every increase of noble enthusiasm in +your living spirit will be measured by the reflection of its light upon +the works of your hands. + + Faithfully yours, + + J. RUSKIN. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[234] I give Rossetti this preëminence, because, though the leading +Pre-Raphaelites have all about equal power over colour in the abstract, +Rossetti and Holman Hunt are distinguished above the rest for rendering +colour under effects of light; and of these two, Rossetti composes with +richer fancy and with a deeper sense of beauty, Hunt's stern realism +leading him continually into harshness. Rossetti's carelessness, to do +him justice, is only in water-colour, never in oil. + +[235] All the degradation of art which was brought about, after the rise +of the Dutch school, by asphaltum, yellow varnish, and brown trees, +would have been prevented, if only painters had been forced to work in +dead colour. Any colour will do for some people, if it is browned and +shining; but fallacy in dead colour is detected on the instant. I even +believe that whenever a painter begins to _wish_ that he could touch any +portion of his work with gum, he is going wrong. + +It is necessary, however, in this matter, carefully to distinguish +between translucency and lustre. Translucency, though, as I have said +above, a dangerous temptation, is, in its place, beautiful; but lustre, +or _shininess_, is always, in painting, a defect. Nay, one of my best +painter-friends (the "best" being understood to attach to both divisions +of that awkward compound word), tried the other day to persuade me +thatlustre was an ignobleness in _anything_; and it was only the fear of +treason to ladies' eyes, and to mountain streams, and to morning dew, +which kept me from yielding the point to him. One is apt always to +generalise too quickly in such matters; but there can be no question +that lustre is destructive of loveliness in colour, as it is of +intelligibility in form. Whatever may be the pride of a young beauty in +the knowledge that her eyes shine (though perhaps even eyes are most +beautiful in dimness), she would be sorry if her cheeks did; and which +of us would wish to polish a rose? + +[236] But not shiny or greasy. Bristol board, or hot-pressed imperial, +or grey paper that feels slightly adhesive to the hand, is best. Coarse, +gritty, and sandy papers are fit only for blotters and blunderers; no +good draughtsman would lay a line on them. Turner worked much on a thin +tough paper, dead in surface; rolling up his sketches in tight bundles +that would go deep into his pockets. + +[237] I insist upon this unalterability of colour the more because I +address you as a beginner, or an amateur; a great artist can sometimes +get out of a difficulty with credit, or repent without confession. Yet +even Titian's alterations usually show as stains on his work. + +[238] It is, I think, a piece of affectation to try to work with few +colours; it saves time to have enough tints prepared without mixing, and +you may at once allow yourself these twenty-four. If you arrange them in +your colour-box in the order I have set them down, you will always +easily put your finger on the one you want. + + Cobalt. Smalt. Antwerp blue. Prussian blue. + Black. Gamboge. Emerald green. Hooker's green. + Lemon yellow. Cadmium yellow. Yellow ochre. Roman ochre. + Raw sienna. Burnt sienna. Light red. Indian red. + Mars orange. Ext't of vermilion. Carmine. Violet carmine. + Brown madder. Burnt umber. Vandyke brown. Sepia. + +Antwerp blue and Prussian blue are not very permanent colours, but you +need not care much about permanence in your own work as yet, and they +are both beautiful; while Indigo is marked by Field as more fugitive +still, and is very ugly. Hooker's green is a mixed colour, put in the +box merely to save you loss of time in mixing gamboge and Prussian blue. +No. 1. is the best tint of it. Violet carmine is a noble colour for +laying broken shadows with, to be worked into afterwards with other +colours. + +If you wish to take up colouring seriously, you had better get Field's +"Chromatography" at once; only do not attend to anything it says about +principles or harmonies of colour; but only to its statements of +practical serviceableness in pigments, and of their operations on each +other when mixed, &c. + +[239] A more methodical, though, under general circumstances, uselessly +prolix way, is to cut a square hole, some half an inch wide, in the +sheet of cardboard, and a series of small circular holes in a slip of +cardboard an inch wide. Pass the slip over the square opening, and match +each colour beside one of the circular openings. You will thus have no +occasion to wash any of the colours away. But the first rough method is +generally all you want, as after a little practice, you only need to +_look_ at the hue through the opening in order to be able to transfer it +to your drawing at once. + +[240] If colours were twenty times as costly as they are, we should have +many more good painters. If I were Chancellor of the Exchequer I would +lay a tax of twenty shillings a cake on all colours except black, +Prussian blue, Vandyke brown, and Chinese white, which I would leave for +students. I don't say this jestingly; I believe such a tax would do more +to advance real art than a great many schools of design. + +[241] I say _modern_, because Titian's quiet way of blending colours, +which is the perfectly right one, is not understood now by any artist. +The best colour we reach is got by stippling; but this not quite right. + +[242] The worst general character that colour can possibly have is a +prevalent tendency to a dirty yellowish green, like that of a decaying +heap of vegetables; this colour is _accurately_ indicative of decline or +paralysis in missal-painting. + +[243] That is to say, local colour inherent in the object. The +gradations of colour in the various shadows belonging to various lights +exhibit form, and therefore no one but a colourist can ever draw _forms_ +perfectly (see "Modern Painters," vol. iv. chap. iii. at the end); but +all notions of explaining form by superimposed colour, as in +architectural mouldings, are absurd. Colour adorns form, but does not +interpret it. An apple is prettier, because it is striped, but it does +not look a bit rounder; and a cheek is prettier because it is flushed, +but you would see the form of the cheek bone better if it were not. +Colour may, indeed, detach one shape from another, as in grounding a +bas-relief, but it always diminishes the appearance of projection, and +whether you put blue, purple, red, yellow, or green, for your ground, +the bas-relief will be just as clearly or just as imperfectly relieved, +as long as the colours are of equal depth. The blue ground will not +retire the hundredth part of an inch more than the red one. + +[244] See, however, at the close of this letter, the notice of one more +point connected with the management of colour, under the head "Law of +Harmony." + +[245] See farther, on this subject, "Modern Painters," vol. iv. chap. +viii § 6. + +[246] "In general, throughout Nature, reflection and repetition are +peaceful things, associated with the idea of quiet succession in events, +that one day should be like another day, or one history the repetition +of another history, being more or less results of quietness, while +dissimilarity and non-succession are results of interference and +disquietude. Thus, though an echo actually increases the quantity of +sound heard, its repetition of the note or syllable gives an idea of +calmness attainable in no other way; hence also the feeling of calm +given to a landscape by the voice of a cuckoo." + +[247] This is obscure in the rude woodcut, the masts being so delicate +that they are confused among the lines of reflection. In the original +they have orange light upon them, relieved against purple behind. + +[248] The cost of art in getting a bridge level is _always_ lost, for +you must get up to the height of the central arch at any rate, and you +only can make the whole bridge level by putting the hill farther back, +and pretending to have got rid of it when you have not, but have only +wasted money in building an unnecessary embankment. Of course, the +bridge should not be difficultly or dangerously steep, but the necessary +slope, whatever it may be, should be in the bridge itself, as far as the +bridge can take it, and not pushed aside into the approach, as in our +Waterloo road; the only rational excuse for doing which is that when the +slope must be long it is inconvenient to put on a drag at the top of the +bridge, and that any restiveness of the horse is more dangerous on the +bridge than on the embankment. To this I answer: first, it is not more +dangerous in reality, though it looks so, for the bridge is always +guarded by an effective parapet, but the embankment is sure to have no +parapet, or only a useless rail; and secondly, that it is better to have +the slope on the bridge, and make the roadway wide in proportion, so as +to be quite safe, because a little waste of space on the river is no +loss, but your wide embankment at the side loses good ground; and so my +picturesque bridges are right as well as beautiful, and I hope to see +them built again some day, instead of the frightful straight-backed +things which we fancy are fine, and accept from the pontifical +rigidities of the engineering mind. + +[249] I cannot waste space here by reprinting what I have said in other +books: but the reader ought, if possible, to refer to the notices of +this part of our subject in "Modern Painters," vol. iv. chap. xviii., +and "Stones of Venice," vol. iii. chap. i. § 8. + +[250] If you happen to be reading at this part of the book, without +having gone through any previous practice, turn back to the sketch of +the ramification of stone pine, Fig. 4. page 30., and examine the curves +of its boughs one by one, trying them by the conditions here stated +under the heads A. and B. + +[251] The reader, I hope, observes always that every line in these +figures is itself one of varying curvature, and cannot be drawn by +compasses. + +[252] I hope the reader understands that these woodcuts are merely +facsimiles of the sketches I make at the side of my paper to illustrate +my meaning as I write--often sadly scrawled if I want to get on to +something else. This one is really a little too careless; but it would +take more time and trouble to make a proper drawing of so odd a boat +than the matter is worth. It will answer the purpose well enough as it +is. + +[253] Imperfect vegetable form I consider that which is in its nature +dependent, as in runners and climbers; or which is susceptible of +continual injury without materially losing the power of giving pleasure +by its aspect, as in the case of the smaller grasses. I have not, of +course, space here to explain these minor distinctions, but the laws +above stated apply to all the more important trees and shrubs likely to +be familiar to the student. + +[254] There is a very tender lesson of this kind in the shadows of +leaves upon the ground; shadows which are the most likely of all to +attract attention, by their pretty play and change. If you examine them, +you will find that the shadows do not take the forms of the leaves, but +that, through each interstice, the light falls, at a little distance, in +the form of a round or oval spot; that is to say, it produces the image +of the sun itself, cast either vertically or obliquely, in circle or +ellipse according to the slope of the ground. Of course the sun's rays +produce the same effect, when they fall through any small aperture: but +the openings between leaves are the only ones likely to show it to an +ordinary observer, or to attract his attention to it by its frequency, +and lead him to think what this type may signify respecting the greater +Sun; and how it may show us that, even when the opening through which +the earth receives light is too small to let us see the Sun himself, the +ray of light that enters, if it comes straight from Him, will still bear +with it His image. + +[255] In the smaller figure (32.), it will be seen that this +interruption is caused by a cart coming down to the water's edge; and +this object is serviceable as beginning another system of curves leading +out of the picture on the right, but so obscurely drawn as not to be +easily represented in outline. As it is unnecessary to the explanation +of our point here, it has been omitted in the larger diagram, the +direction of the curve it begins being indicated by the dashes only. + +[256] Both in the Sketches in Flanders and Germany. + +[257] If you happen to meet with the plate of Durer's representing a +coat of arms with a skull in the shield, note the value given to the +concave curves and sharp point of the helmet by the convex leafage +carried round it in front; and the use of the blank white part of the +shield in opposing the rich folds of the dress. + +[258] Turner hardly ever, as far as I remember, allows a strong light to +oppose a full dark, without some intervening tint. His suns never set +behind dark mountains without a film of cloud above the mountain's edge. + +[259] + + "A prudent chief not always must display + His powers in equal ranks and fair array, + But with the occasion and the place comply, + Conceal his force; nay, seem sometimes to fly. + Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, + Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream." + +_Essay on Criticism._ + +[260] I am describing from a MS., _circa_ 1300, of Gregory's +"Decretalia" in my own possession. + +[261] One of the most wonderful compositions of Tintoret in Venice, is +little more than a field of subdued crimson, spotted with flakes of +scattered gold. The upper clouds in the most beautiful skies owe great +part of their power to infinitude of division; order being marked +through this division. + +[262] I fully believe that the strange grey gloom, accompanied by +considerable power of effect, which prevails in modern French art must +be owing to the use of this mischievous instrument; the French landscape +always gives me the idea of Nature seen carelessly in the dark mirror, +and painted coarsely, but scientifically, through the veil of its +perversion. + +[263] Various other parts of this subject are entered into, especially +in their bearing on the ideal of painting, in "Modern Painters," vol. +iv. chap. iii. + +[264] In all the best arrangements of colour, the delight occasioned by +their mode of succession is entirely inexplicable, nor can it be +reasoned about; we like it just as we like an air in music, but cannot +reason any refractory person into liking it, if they do not: and yet +there is distinctly a right and a wrong in it, and a good taste and bad +taste respecting it, as also in music. + +[265] "Puseyism" was unknown in the days when this drawing was made; but +the kindly and helpful influences of what may be called ecclesiastical +sentiment, which, in a morbidly exaggerated condition, forms one of the +principal elements of "Puseyism,"--I use this word regretfully, no other +existing which will serve for it,--had been known and felt in our wild +northern districts long before. + + + + +APPENDIX. + + +THINGS TO BE STUDIED. + +The worst danger by far, to which a solitary student is exposed, is that +of liking things that he should not. It is not so much his difficulties, +as his tastes, which he must set himself to conquer; and although, under +the guidance of a master, many works of art may be made instructive, +which are only of partial excellence (the good and bad of them being +duly distinguished), his safeguard, as long as he studies alone, will be +in allowing himself to possess only things, in their way, so free from +faults, that nothing he copies in them can seriously mislead him, and to +contemplate only those works of art which he knows to be either perfect +or noble in their errors. I will therefore set down in clear order, the +names of the masters whom you may safely admire, and a few of the books +which you may safely possess. In these days of cheap illustration, the +danger is always rather of your possessing too much than too little. It +may admit of some question, how far the looking at bad art may set off +and illustrate the characters of the good; but, on the whole, I believe +it is best to live always on quite wholesome food, and that our taste of +it will not be made more acute by feeding, however temporarily, on +ashes. Of course the works of the great masters can only be serviceable +to the student after he has made considerable progress himself. It only +wastes the time and dulls the feelings of young persons, to drag them +through picture galleries; at least, unless they themselves wish to look +at particular pictures. Generally, young people only care to enter a +picture gallery when there is a chance of getting leave to run a race to +the other end of it; and they had better do that in the garden below. +If, however, they have any real enjoyment of pictures, and want to look +at this one or that, the principal point is never to disturb them in +looking at what interests them, and never to make them look at what does +not. Nothing is of the least use to young people (nor, by the way, of +much use to old ones), but what interests them; and therefore, though it +is of great importance to put nothing but good art into their +possession, yet when they are passing through great houses or galleries, +they should be allowed to look precisely at what pleases them: if it is +not useful to them as art, it will be in some other way: and the +healthiest way in which art can interest them is when they look at it, +not as art, but because it represents something they like in nature. If +a boy has had his heart filled by the life of some great man, and goes +up thirstily to a Vandyck portrait of him, to see what he was like, that +is the wholesomest way in which he can begin the study of portraiture; +if he love mountains, and dwell on a Turner drawing because he sees in +it a likeness to a Yorkshire scar, or an Alpine pass, that is the +wholesomest way in which he can begin the study of landscape; and if a +girl's mind is filled with dreams of angels and saints, and she pauses +before an Angelico because she thinks it must surely be indeed like +heaven, that is the wholesomest way for her to begin the study of +religious art. + +When, however, the student has made some definite progress, and every +picture becomes really a guide to him, false or true, in his own work, +it is of great importance that he should never so much as look at bad +art; and then, if the reader is willing to trust me in the matter, the +following advice will be useful to him. In which, with his permission, I +will quit the indirect and return to the epistolary address, as being +the more convenient. + +First, in Galleries of Pictures: + +1. You may look, with trust in their being always right, at Titian, +Veronese, Tintoret, Giorgione, John Bellini, and Velasquez; the +authenticity of the picture being of course established for you by +proper authority. + +2. You may look with admiration, admitting, however question of right +and wrong,[266] at Van Eyck, Holbein, Perugino, Francia, Angelico, +Leonardo da Vinci, Correggio, Vandyck, Rembrandt, Reynolds, +Gainsborough, Turner, and the modern Pre-Raphaelites.[267] You had +better look at no other painters than these, for you run a chance, +otherwise, of being led far off the road, or into grievous faults, by +some of the other great ones, as Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Rubens; +and of being, besides, corrupted in taste by the base ones, as Murillo, +Salvator, Claude, Gasper Poussin, Teniers, and such others. You may +look, however, for examples of evil, with safe universality of +reprobation, being sure that everything you see is bad, at Domenichino, +the Caracci, Bronzino, and the figure pieces of Salvator. + +Among those named for study under question, you cannot look too much at, +nor grow too enthusiastically fond of, Angelico, Correggio, Reynolds, +Turner, and the Pre-Raphaelites; but, if you find yourself getting +especially fond of any of the others, leave off looking at them, for you +must be going wrong some way or other. If, for instance, you begin to +like Rembrandt or Leonardo especially, you are losing your feeling for +colour; if you like Van Eyck or Perugino especially, you must be getting +too fond of rigid detail; and if you like Vandyck or Gainsborough +especially, you must be too much attracted by gentlemanly flimsiness. + +Secondly, of published, or otherwise multiplied, art, such as you may be +able to get yourself, or to see at private houses or in shops, the works +of the following masters are the most desirable, after the Turners, +Rembrandts, and Durers, which I have asked you to get first: + + +1. Samuel Prout. + +All his published lithographic sketches are of the greatest value, +wholly unrivalled in power of composition, and in love and feeling of +architectural subject. His somewhat mannered linear execution, though +not to be imitated in your own sketches from Nature, may be occasionally +copied, for discipline's sake, with great advantage; it will give you a +peculiar steadiness of hand, not quickly attainable in any other way; +and there is no fear of your getting into any faultful mannerism as long +as you carry out the different modes of more delicate study above +recommended. + +If you are interested in architecture, and wish to make it your chief +study, you should draw much from photographs of it; and then from the +architecture itself, with the same completion of detail and gradation, +only keeping the shadows of due paleness, in photographs they are always +about four times as dark as they ought to be; and treat buildings with +as much care and love as artists do their rock foregrounds, drawing all +the moss and weeds, and stains upon them. But if, without caring to +understand architecture, you merely want the picturesque character of +it, and to be able to sketch it fast, you cannot do better than take +Prout for your _exclusive_ master; only do not think that you are +copying Prout by drawing straight lines with dots at the end of them. +Get first his "Rhine," and draw the subjects that have most hills, and +least architecture in them, with chalk on smooth paper, till you can lay +on his broad flat tints, and get his gradations of light, which are very +wonderful; then take up the architectural subjects in the "Rhine," and +draw again and again the groups of figures, &c., in his "Microcosm," and +"Lessons on Light and Shadow." After that, proceed to copy the grand +subjects in the sketches in "Flanders and Germany;" or in "Switzerland +and Italy," if you cannot get the Flanders; but the Switzerland is very +far inferior. Then work from Nature, not trying to Proutise Nature, by +breaking smooth buildings into rough ones, but only drawing _what you +see_, with Prout's simple method and firm lines. Don't copy his coloured +works. They are good, but not at all equal to his chalk and pencil +drawings, and you will become a mere imitator, and a very feeble +imitator, if you use colour at all in Prout's method. I have not space +to explain why this is so, it would take a long piece of reasoning; +trust me for the statement. + + +2. John Lewis. + +His sketches in Spain, lithographed by himself, are very valuable. Get +them, if you can, and also some engravings (about eight or ten, I think, +altogether) of wild beasts, executed by his own hand a long time ago; +they are very precious in every way. The series of the "Alhambra" is +rather slight, and few of the subjects are lithographed by himself; +still it is well worth having. + +But let _no_ lithographic work come into the house, if you can help it, +nor even look at any, except Prout's, and those sketches of Lewis's. + + +3. George Cruikshank. + +If you ever happen to meet with the two volumes of "Grimm's German +Stories," which were illustrated by him long ago, pounce upon them +instantly; the etchings in them are the finest things, next to +Rembrandt's, that, as far as I know, have been done since etching was +invented. You cannot look at them too much, nor copy them too often. + +All his works are very valuable, though disagreeable when they touch on +the worst vulgarities of modern life; and often much spoiled by a +curiously mistaken type of face, divided so as to give too much to the +mouth and eyes, and leave too little for forehead, the eyes being set +about two thirds up, instead of at half the height of the head. But his +manner of work is always right; and his tragic power, though rarely +developed, and warped by habits of caricature, is, in reality, as great +as his grotesque power. + +There is no fear of his hurting your taste, as long as your principal +work lies among art of so totally different a character as most of that +which I have recommended to you; and you may, therefore, get great good +by copying almost anything of his that may come in your way; except only +his illustrations lately published to "Cinderella," and "Jack and the +Beanstalk," and "Tom Thumb," which are much over-laboured, and confused +in line. You should get them, but do not copy them. + + +4. Alfred Rethel. + +I only know two publications by him; one, the "Dance of Death," with +text by Reinick, published in Leipsic, but to be had now of any London +bookseller for the sum, I believe, of eighteen pence, and containing six +plates full of instructive character; the other, of two plates only, +"Death the Avenger," and "Death the Friend." These two are far superior +to the "Todtentanz," and, if you can get them, will be enough in +themselves, to show all that Rethel can teach you. If you dislike +ghastly subjects, get "Death the Friend" only. + + +5. Bewick. + +The execution of the plumage in Bewick's birds is the most masterly +thing ever yet done in wood-cutting; it is just worked as Paul Veronese +would have worked in wood, had he taken to it. His vignettes, though too +coarse in execution, and vulgar in types of form, to be good copies, +show, nevertheless, intellectual power of the highest order; and there +are pieces of sentiment in them, either pathetic or satirical, which +have never since been equalled in illustrations of this simple kind; the +bitter intensity of the feeling being just like that which characterises +some of the leading Pre-Raphaelites. Bewick is the Burns of painting. + + +6. Blake. + +The "Book of Job," engraved by himself, is of the highest rank in +certain characters of imagination and expression; in the mode of +obtaining certain effects of light it will also be a very useful example +to you. In expressing conditions of glaring and flickering light, Blake +is greater than Rembrandt. + + +7. Richter. + +I have already told you what to guard against in looking at his works. I +am a little doubtful whether I have done well in including them in this +catalogue at all; but the fancies in them are so pretty and numberless, +that I must risk, for their sake, the chance of hurting you a little in +judgment of style. If you want to make presents of story-books to +children, his are the best you can now get. + + +8. Rossetti. + +An edition of Tennyson, lately published, contains woodcuts from +drawings by Rossetti and other chief Pre-Raphaelite masters. They are +terribly spoiled in the cutting, and generally the best part, the +expression of feature, _entirely_ lost;[268] still they are full of +instruction, and cannot be studied too closely. But observe, respecting +these woodcuts, that if you have been in the habit of looking at much +spurious work, in which sentiment, action, and style are borrowed or +artificial, you will assuredly be offended at first by all genuine work, +which is intense in feeling. Genuine art, which is merely art, such as +Veronese's or Titian's, may not offend you, though the chances are that +you will not care about it: but genuine works of feeling, such as Maude +and Aurora Leigh in poetry, or the grand Pre-Raphaelite designs in +painting, are sure to offend you; and if you cease to work hard, and +persist in looking at vicious and false art, they will continue to +offend you. It will be well, therefore, to have one type of entirely +false art, in order to know what to guard against. Flaxman's outlines to +Dante contain, I think, examples of almost every kind of falsehood and +feebleness which it is possible for a trained artist, not base in +thought, to commit or admit, both in design and execution. Base or +degraded choice of subject, such as you will constantly find in Teniers +and others of the Dutch painters, I need not, I hope, warn you against; +you will simply turn away from it in disgust; while mere bad or feeble +drawing, which makes mistakes in every direction at once, cannot teach +you the particular sort of educated fallacy in question. But, in these +designs of Flaxman's, you have gentlemanly feeling, and fair knowledge +of anatomy, and firm setting down of lines, all applied in the +foolishest and worst possible way; you cannot have a more finished +example of learned error, amiable want of meaning, and bad drawing with +a steady hand.[269] Retsch's outlines have more real material in them +than Flaxman's, occasionally showing true fancy and power; in artistic +principle they are nearly as bad, and in taste worse. All outlines from +statuary, as given in works on classical art, will be very hurtful to +you if you in the least like them; and _nearly_ all finished line +engravings. Some particular prints I could name which possess +instructive qualities, but it would take too long to distinguish them, +and the best way is to avoid line engravings of figures altogether. If +you happen to be a rich person, possessing quantities of them, and if +you are fond of the large finished prints from Raphael, Correggio, &c., +it is wholly impossible that you can make any progress in knowledge of +real art till you have sold them all--or burnt them, which would be a +greater benefit to the world. I hope that some day, true and noble +engravings will be made from the few pictures of the great schools, +which the restorations undertaken by the modern managers of foreign +galleries may leave us; but the existing engravings have nothing +whatever in common with the good in the works they profess to represent, +and if you like them, you like in the originals of them hardly anything +but their errors. + +Finally, your judgment will be, of course, much affected by your taste +in literature. Indeed, I know many persons who have the purest taste in +literature, and yet false taste in art, and it is a phenomenon which +puzzles me not a little: but I have never known any one with false taste +in books, and true taste in pictures. It is also of the greatest +importance to you, not only for art's sake, but for all kinds of sake, +in these days of book deluge, to keep out of the salt swamps of +literature, and live on a rocky island of your own, with a spring and a +lake in it, pure and good. I cannot, of course, suggest the choice of +your library to you, every several mind needs different books; but there +are some books which we all need, and assuredly, if you read Homer,[270] +Plato, Æschylus, Herodotus, Dante,[271] Shakspeare, and Spenser, as much +as you ought, you will not require wide enlargement of shelves to right +and left of them for purposes of perpetual study. Among modern books, +avoid generally magazine and review literature. Sometimes it may contain +a useful abridgement or a wholesome piece of criticism; but the chances +are ten to one it will either waste your time or mislead you. If you +want to understand any subject whatever, read the best book upon it you +can hear of; not a review of the book. If you don't like the first book +you try, seek for another; but do not hope ever to understand the +subject without pains, by a reviewer's help. Avoid especially that class +of literature which has a knowing tone; it is the most poisonous of all. +Every good book, or piece of book, is full of admiration and awe; it may +contain firm assertion or stern satire, but it never sneers coldly, nor +asserts haughtily, and it always leads you to reverence or love +something with your whole heart. It is not always easy to distinguish +the satire of the venomous race of books from the satire of the noble +and pure ones; but in general you may notice that the cold-blooded +Crustacean and Batrachian books will sneer at sentiment; and the +warm-blooded, human books, at sin. Then, in general, the more you can +restrain your serious reading to reflective or lyric poetry, history, +and natural history, avoiding fiction and the drama, the healthier your +mind will become. Of modern poetry keep to Scott, Wordsworth, Keats, +Crabbe, Tennyson, the two Brownings, Lowell, Longfellow, and Coventry +Patmore, whose "Angel in the House" is a most finished piece of writing, +and the sweetest analysis we possess of quiet modern domestic feeling; +while Mrs. Browning's "Aurora Leigh" is, as far as I know, the greatest +poem which the century has produced in any language. Cast Coleridge at +once aside, as sickly and useless; and Shelley as shallow and verbose; +Byron, until your taste is fully formed, and you are able to discern the +magnificence in him from the wrong. Never read bad or common poetry, nor +write any poetry yourself; there is, perhaps, rather too much than too +little in the world already. + +Of reflective prose, read chiefly Bacon, Johnson, and Helps. Carlyle is +hardly to be named as a writer for "beginners," because his teaching, +though to some of us vitally necessary, may to others be hurtful. If you +understand and like him, read him; if he offends you, you are not yet +ready for him, and perhaps may never be so; at all events, give him up, +as you would sea-bathing if you found it hurt you, till you are +stronger. Of fiction, read Sir Charles Grandison, Scott's novels, Miss +Edgeworth's, and, if you are a young lady, Madame de Genlis', the French +Miss Edgeworth; making these, I mean, your constant companions. Of +course you must, or will read other books for amusement, once or twice; +but you will find that these have an element of perpetuity in them, +existing in nothing else of their kind: while their peculiar quietness +and repose of manner will also be of the greatest value in teaching you +to feel the same characters in art. Read little at a time, trying to +feel interest in little things, and reading not so much for the sake of +the story as to get acquainted with the pleasant people into whose +company these writers bring you. A common book will often give you much +amusement, but it is only a noble book which will give you dear friends. +Remember also that it is of less importance to you in your earlier +years, that the books you read should be clever, than that they should +be right. I do not mean oppressively or repulsively instructive; but +that the thoughts they express should be just, and the feelings they +excite generous. It is not necessary for you to read the wittiest or the +most suggestive books: it is better, in general, to hear what is already +known, and may be simply said. Much of the literature of the present +day, though good to be read by persons of ripe age, has a tendency to +agitate rather than confirm, and leaves its readers too frequently in a +helpless or hopeless indignation, the worst possible state into which +the mind of youth can be thrown. It may, indeed, become necessary for +you, as you advance in life, to set your hand to things that need to be +altered in the world, or apply your heart chiefly to what must be pitied +in it, or condemned; but, for a young person, the safest temper is one +of reverence, and the safest place one of obscurity. Certainly at +present, and perhaps through all your life, your teachers are wisest +when they make you content in quiet virtue, and that literature and art +are best for you which point out, in common life and familiar things, +the objects for hopeful labour, and for humble love. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[266] I do not mean necessarily to imply inferiority of rank, in saying +that this second class of painters have questionable qualities. The +greatest men have often many faults, and sometimes their faults are a +part of their greatness; but such men are not, of course, to be looked +upon by the student with absolute implicitness of faith. + +[267] Including under this term, John Lewis, and William Hunt of the Old +Water-colour, who, take him all in all, is the best painter of still +life, I believe, that ever existed. + +[268] This is especially the case in the St. Cecily, Rossetti's first +illustration to the "palace of art," which would have been the best in +the book had it been well engraved. The whole work should be taken up +again, and done by line engraving, perfectly; and wholly from +Pre-Raphaelite designs, with which no other modern work can bear the +least comparison. + +[269] The praise I have given incidentally to Flaxman's sculpture in the +"Seven Lamps," and elsewhere, refers wholly to his studies from Nature, +and simple groups in marble, which were always good and interesting. +Still, I have overrated him, even in this respect; and it is generally +to be remembered that, in speaking of artists whose works I cannot be +supposed to have specially studied, the errors I fall into will always +be on the side of praise. For, of course, praise is most likely to be +given when the thing praised is above one's knowledge; and, therefore, +as our knowledge increases, such things may be found less praiseworthy +than we thought. But blame can only be justly given when the thing +blamed is below one's level of sight; and, practically, I never do blame +anything until I have got well past it, and am certain that there is +demonstrable falsehood in it. I believe, therefore, all my blame to be +wholly trustworthy, having never yet had occasion to repent of one +depreciatory word that I have ever written, while I have often found +that, with respect to things I had not time to study closely, I was led +too far by sudden admiration, helped, perhaps, by peculiar associations, +or other deceptive accidents; and this the more, because I never care to +check an expression of delight, thinking the chances are, that, even if +mistaken, it will do more good than harm; but I weigh every word of +blame with scrupulous caution. I have sometimes erased a strong passage +of blame from second editions of my books; but this was only when I +found it offended the reader without convincing him, never because I +repented of it myself. + +[270] Chapman's, if not the original. + +[271] Carey's or Cayley's, if not the original. I do not know which are +the best translations of Plato. Herodotus and Æschylus can only be read +in the original. It may seem strange that I name books like these for +"beginners:" but all the greatest books contain food for all ages; and +an intelligent and rightly bred youth or girl ought to enjoy much, even +in Plato, by the time they are fifteen or sixteen. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE*** + + +******* This file should be named 26716-8.txt or 26716-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/1/26716 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |